While it would be foolish to dismiss such warnings as this latest one on bird flu, it is important we keep a sense of proportion and not let them distract us from countering the unfashionable but widespread potential killers such as tuberculosis, HIV/Aids, diabetes, cancer, dengue and malaria. These are the diseases already causing widespread illness and economic harm….

Rather than competing for cash, the threat from newer diseases should serve as a catalyst to combat existing epidemics.

Competing for cash is key.

Funding for TB languishes, dengue incidence expands, more people with the AIDS virus are getting treated but new infections continue to occur, water scarcity (and displacement because of wars and natural disasters) makes diarrheal illness a persistent problem, and malaria transmission continues to threaten billions of people who live in tropical and subtropical regions — but flu preparedness dominates the public health scene.   Why?

Here’s the infernal logic of WHO and the public health officers of wealthy countries (U.S., U.K., etc.):  (a) At the start of the H1N1 outbreak in 2009, a sensible worst-cast forecast was about a million deaths worldwide; the more likely scenario was well under 500,000 deaths.  (b) TB + malaria + diarrhea + AIDS together kill 6 or 7 million people a year.   (c) Immunization against flu is notoriously variable in its effectiveness and mass immunization is almost never effective (except if instituted in an isolated population well before the flu virus makes inroads into the population).

Sounds like it would be worth it to pump lots of resources into reducing the incidence of malaria, TB, AIDS, and diarrhea.  But that’s hard.  It takes political will.  Whereas immunizing against flu is easy: it just takes money.  And national health officials were eager (it turned out) to transfer billions of dollars, pounds, and euros into the hands of vaccine manufacturers in order to be able to immunize their populations against H1N1 flu.

To an official whose job is to watch out for the needs of the economic machine, immunization pays.

One flu vaccine manufacturer estimates that in the U.S., employers lose $2.1 billion each year in productivity because of flu-related absences from work.  Let’s be skeptical about this estimate, coming as it does from one of the beneficiaries of federal largesse in response to flu fears.  But the point is clear enough:  it was a great boon to the private sector to have the federal government spend $1.6 billion of taxpayer money on flu vaccine in 2009 even though the outbreak was mild and vaccine did virtually nothing to stop it.  Because with the feds footing the bill, the burden on corporations was slight, whereas the private sector would have lost a lot of money if many Americans had fallen ill with flu.

It’s not just the vaccine manufacturers and pharmaceutical companies who stand to capitalize on the absurd calculus of protecting American businesses instead of poor people’s lives:  scientists do, too.

Robert Webster is an eminent virologist who has become dean of those American scientists who purport to be able to foresee a future flu catastrophe.  Perhaps he’s right, but of course nobody knows.  So when Webster says

We may think we can relax and influenza is no longer a problem. I want to assure you that that is not the case,

as he just did in a meeting in Hong Kong, it’s a good sign that the preparedness crusaders are worried about their funding.  They should be.

The preparedness crusaders have been unmasked as shameless shills for the private sector,  even if the vaccine and antiviral manufacturers aren’t paying them directly.  And the ones who are scientists have been revealed as self-important promoters of their own research — so fiercely protective of their own turf that they might use their prestige and the imprimatur of science to hoodwink officials into ignoring the more serious, and more certain, problems of the developing world.

Let’s hope that more opinion makers take the stand that the editors in Bangkok just did.

What has changed?  How does the story of wrangling over the sodium content of American food merit space in the main news sections of the most influential media — even the front pages of the NY Times or LA Times?

1.  One answer is that health occupies much of the American conversation today.  A visitor from another planet watching our TV news shows or reading the main newspapers would have to be forgiven for thinking that Americans are dying from a multitude of irrepressible disease threats.  We can’t seem to stop talking about how to improve our health.

(In fact, as Michael Haines notes at the Economic History Association website, U.S. life expectancy almost doubled between 1850 and 1960, from 39.5 years to 70.7 years; since then it has increased slowly, and is now estimated to be about 78.2 years.  In other words, health wasn’t a matter of news much during the time when longevity was improving dramatically, in the late 19th century and first half of the 20th.  By the time health became a cultural preoccupation, the majority of Americans were living well past middle age.)

2.  Another answer, perhaps more important is that when we talk about health today we mean personal responsibility.

When I began studying epidemiology, in the late 1970s, public health essentially meant disease control.  Yes, lip service was paid to so-called health promotion — much was made of the World Health Organization’s definition of health, promulgated in 1946:

Health is a state of complete physical, mental and social well-being and not merely the absence of disease or infirmity.

But no metric for complete well-being was widely recognized.  And the usual epidemiologic measures of incidence and mortality rates, life expectancy, and so forth seemed to work just fine as ways of understanding why some groups of people lived longer and more capable lives, while others lived miserably and died young.

Sometime since then, the health sector, including public health, has turned to individual responsibility as the key to well-being.

If each of us is responsible for his or her own health, then it’s our own fault if we get sick.  Naturally, advice abounds:  buckle up, use a condom, eat less fat, know your cholesterol level, wash your hands, use mosquito repellent containing DEET, wear sunblock, eat fresh fruit and vegetables every day, lower your stress.

The advice adds up to this:  know your limits.  Federally sponsored research tells us that self-control is ontagious.

The personal-responsibility view of health says, “control your appetites.”

3.  But let’s think about another change:  more people are concerned about the American diet.  As noted last week, the food movement has given us ways to think about eating that go beyond the tiresome story of obesity and hypertension — Beyond Fat and Salt, you could say.

Of course, the main media outlets still tell the food story in Fat-and-Salt language, as the news articles in the NY Times, LA Times, and others show.  It’s the food industry vs. the foodies, or the food industry vs. public health, or the food industry and public health vs. appetites — anyway, somebody against somebody in the name of health.

The media aren’t quite past obesity and hypertension yet.  But as the culture moves beyond obsessive self-inspection in the name of health, no doubt media will, too.

In an article posted on the NY Times website Sunday (and published in the print edition Monday), McNeil reports on the inability of treatment programs in parts of Africa (this piece focuses on Uganda) to keep up with the need for AIDS medication as funding falls.   A very compelling video report accompanies the online version of the article.

An accompanying article explains the decline in funding, starting with the fall in the U.S. administration’s request on behalf of PEPFAR, as a Times graphic shows.

The number of new infections with the AIDS virus is estimated to be about 2 million per year now.  Some observers think annual incidence will rise as the population expands; even if not, the annual number of new AIDS virus infections is unlikely to fall in the near future, given present circumstances.

At the same time, the Times reports, anticipated PEPFAR funding is essentially flat to 2013, at $5 to $5.5 billion per year.  Financing for AIDS medications through the Global Fund to Fight AIDS, Tuberculosis and Malaria is in dire straits.

In terms of people, not dollars:  of the 33 million or so individuals who are infected with the AIDS virus worldwide, only about 4 million get regular antiretroviral therapy.

A few years ago, I wondered why,  after a quarter-century of AIDS and with the availability of effective treatment (at least in wealthy countries), Americans still didn’t see AIDS as an ordinary illness.

Now I have an answer:  we do see AIDS as ordinary… for poor countries.  To us, AIDS is no longer an epidemic problem worth our getting worked up over, or so it would seem judging by PEPFAR.  AIDS is like malaria, tuberculosis, or schistosomiasis.  It’s like diarrhea.  The Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation will put money into research or specific programs but we as a country will not need to care anymore.  We shift the funding away from the people in Africa, who are going to die young anyway, and put it into the hands of institutions (often, pharmaceutical companies) that can give us the promise of immunity from disaster.

The U.S. put less funding last year into PEPFAR than it did into preparations for H1N1 flu ($7.6 billion) or the school lunch program ($14.9 billion, according to the Robert Wood Johnson Foundation’s Center to Prevent Childhood Obesity), battleground in the war against childhood obesity.

Flu and obesity are epidemic.  They threaten American assumptions about ourselves.  “Epidemic” means:  crisis in our society.  Our epidemiologists say that malaria, diarrhea, and the other problems that collectively kill 20,000 or 25,000 people (mostly children) every day are endemic. 

“Endemic” means:  not our problem.

AIDS is endemic too, now.  It has gone to ground, gone the route of other once-dreaded infections that caused calamity in America and triggered heated debate (yellow fever, cholera, typhoid, TB) but have disappeared from our scene.  It’s their problem, now.

The policy seems to be based primarily on a secondary analysis of longitudinal data from a multi-center study of HIV-infected people in the U.S. and Canada, the NA-ACCORD study.  The results were reported in the New England Journal of Medicine a year ago.  In that analysis, people with HIV whose CD4 counts were between 351 and 500 who began ART immediately were compared to those who deferred ART until CD4 count was 350 or less.  The deferred-ART group was found to have a 69% higher risk of mortality (from any cause) than were those who began ART before CD4 count fell to <350.  Similarly, among HIV-infected people with CD4 counts above 500, those who began ART after CD4 count was <500 had a 94% higher risk of mortality compared to those who began ART immediately.

But is this a good basis for across-the-board policy for a city the size of San Francisco?  Some physicians worry about the development of drug resistance among viral strains.  Others are concerned about toxicity, always a problem worth considering.  Paul E. Sax tracks the history of the idea and includes a few quotes in his blog post yesterday.

Some commentators wonder whether the new policy is meant to be a boon to pharmaceutical companies.  That’s not a crazy concern:  the Bay Area Reporter noted a couple of weeks ago that San Francisco plans to shift to a “status awareness” policy, increasing HIV testing by 70,000 people per year in an effort to halve the rate of new infections by 2015.  If successful, the increase in testing combined with an increase in recommendations for early ART would expand the market for antiviral medications substantially.

A few aspects of the April 2009 report on NA-ACCORD raise worries about whether it should be the basis for broad-based policy.  First, people who deferred therapy were observed very briefly (median 1.3 years, many of them for only 6 months), so any advantage to early therapy appears to refer to the period immediately post onset of therapy.  That’s important because toxicity and/or resistance might not be evident right away.  Second, looking only at people with an initial CD4 count above 500 and holding constant self-reported history of drug injection, there was only weak evidence for a slight effect of early treatment on mortality (the relative mortality hazard was 1.28 (95% confidence interval 0.85 to 1.83)).  Drug users had a higher mortality risk, and this finding—on which the authors of the New England Journal paper do not comment—suggests that early ART did not reduce the hazard of death for drug users.

Also, the authors of the NEJM paper could not possibly account for some of the hard-to-regiment aspects of HIV infection.  These would include variations in cause of death, treatment adherence, and monitoring of treatment effects — all of which would either not be evident in a cohort study or could not be controlled in a secondary analysis.

Finally, the authors are slightly cagey about the effect of drug-injection history in the above-500-CD4-count group, reporting a twofold increase in death hazard for those who delay ART after excluding people with a drug-injection history – but never reporting information on the effect of ART delay among drug injectors alone.

Most important, observations on people who transitioned to the next-lower CD4 compartment (i.e., from above 500 to <500, or from 351-500 to <350) were censored after 6 months if the individual had not yet initiated ART.  Therefore, the real comparison the NEJM authors are making is between immediate-onset ART while CD4 count remains in the same CD4 compartment vs. immediate-onset ART after CD4 count has dropped to the next lower compartment.  It’s not really a study of immediate versus delayed onset ART.

There’s plenty of reason (including the 2009 NEJM paper) to think that suppressing HIV early rather than late should be helpful, and some reason to think that the reduction in viral load produced by ART will lower infectivity in a way that makes transmission to uninfected sexual or drug-sharing partners less likely.  That in turn could be of public-health value.

Of course, nobody is being forced to start ART before he or she wants to, no matter the policy recommendation. Still, it’s worth wondering whether the expansion of testing and extension of early treatment will substantially improve the public’s health in a way that makes the cost, and self-evident advantages to pharmaceutical (and test-kit) manufacturers, worthwhile.

At H5N1 yesterday, Crof picked up the U.K. government’s announcement that it would sponsor an independent review of decision making in response to H1N1 swine flu last year.  The U.K.’s Minister of Health, Liam Donaldson, told WebMD that it is

vital that we learn from what we have seen in this pandemic, for the sake of those who find themselves tackling … the next. It is likely to be worse.

Anybody who claims to know what the next pandemic will be like is asserting a special ability to read mysterious auguries that nobody else can see.  So it’s all the more shocking that Donaldson goes on to obfuscate his own failure to ask critical questions by claiming to have been using expert predictions:

Would it have been acceptable to hide and conceal statistical projections provided by statistical modellers of international standing, even though releasing them publicly caused alarm in some quarters?

As if the flak he had taken last July were for a perfectly rational assertion, not an apocalyptic forecast — when he said that there could be 65,000 deaths from flu in Britain.  Donaldson later dropped the forecast to 19,000 deaths.  (The actual number was less than 400 during 2009, 457 to date.)

And as if Donaldson had not made the same off-base prediction back in October 2005, when he said that there would be an avian flu outbreak in the U.K. with 50,000 deaths.  That was Donaldson’s excuse to use public money to purchase two and a half million doses of antivirals for stockpiling.

As if, that is, the problem were that people are just benightedly opposed to science — not genuinely concerned about malfeasance.

To its credit, the Parliamentary Assembly of the Council of Europe continues its investigation of decision making around the H1N1 outbreak response, holding a second public hearing on Monday.  Briefs of experts’ statements at the first hearing, back in January, are available here, and links to full statements and video are at the PACE site here.

Some of my friends and colleagues in public health wonder if this kind of questioning comes from misunderstanding the seriousness of flu and others are fearful that it will diminish the authority of public-health physicians.  A few, but too few, back the redoubtable Tom Jefferson, who has been questioning the reliance on flu vaccine for a long time.  Shouldn’t scientists — especially scientists — question authority?

Officials’ legitimacy ought to be diminished if they’re not serving the public.  Particularly when their decisions mean that private companies benefit from taxpayers’ monies.  Clearly, the transfer of funds is what happened with the H1N1 flu response.  Was it based on sound decision making?  More transparency would be a good thing.

Now that the Council of Europe and the U.K., are investigating official responses to H1N1 flu, could we please hear from the United States?

As New Scientist points out, the GMC’s finding removes any impediment to charging Wakefield and two of his colleagues with misconduct.  GMC may rule on that score in a few months, according to the BBC.

By and large, the talk about the verdict hasn’t been about the substance of the contentious vaccine-autism link.  At Autism Science Foundation, Alison Singer (the group’s president) writes that

Anti vaccine autism advocates continue to see Wakefield as a hero who remains willing to take on the establishment and fight for their children.  In the meantime, Wakefield’s actions have had a lasting negative effect on children’s health in that some people are still afraid of immunizations. In some cases, the younger siblings of children with autism are being denied life saving vaccines. This population of baby siblings, already at higher risk for developing autism, is now also being placed at risk for life threatening, vaccine preventable disease, despite mountains of scientific evidence indicating no link between vaccines and autism. This is the Wakefield legacy.

On the other side, Generation Rescue writes in support of Wakefield at Age of Autism.  GR isn’t as cogent as Singer, but brings up the point that tends to complicate this and most discussions of autism:    “Do you think pharmaceutical companies have too much influence in the laws, policies, and regulations of our government?  We do.”

Liz Ditz provides a great service, compiling blog posts pro-Wakefield and, separately, those criticizing Wakefield and/or supporting the GMC’s decision.  (As of today, the Wakefield critics seem to have been more prolific.)

Thursday’s BBC report concludes with a graphic showing a decline in MMR coverage in the UK between 1996-97, when it stood at around 90%, and 2004, when it bottomed at around 80%.  Superimposed is the number of measles cases, which increased from a few dozen in 2005 to over 1200 in 2008.  The implication is that Wakefield’s report was somehow responsible for the drop in coverage in the late ’90s and that that decline led to a sharp uptick in measles incidence.  The graphic also implies that after Lancet retracted the original paper in 2004, public acceptance of MMR vaccine improved after Wakefield had been repudiated — but too late to prevent the measles upsurge.

Without supporting Wakefield’s methods, it’s still worth asking whether his 1998 paper should be held accountable for the decline in vaccine acceptability.  As early as February 1998, England’s Communicable Disease Surveillance Centre was reporting on the drop in MMR coverage from 1996 and ’97 data and BMJ reported in 2003 that the British trend was consonant with declines in MMR uptake in Europe generally:

[T]he experts say that coverage is substandard across Europe owing to a surprising lack of political will to implement an effective disease prevention programme, given the region’s stated goal to eliminate measles by 2007.

A decline in nationwide vaccine coverage to 80%  is probably less important as an explanation for increasing measles incidence in the U.K. than two other factors:  locally deficient MMR coverage and immigration from countries with lower vaccination rates.  In fact, measles increases in the UK seem to have been attributable to outbreaks in the northern part of the country and to high incidences among very young children in London, according the UK’s Health Protection Agency.

What’s to be learned from the Wakefield mess?

1. The role of pharmaceutical companies (including vaccine makers) in setting scientific agendas and moving policy remains an issue for many people.  Defenders of Big Public Health, like Mark Honigsbaum who writes an interesting piece in The Guardian today, tend to be dismissive of allegations that public health has become a game for technocrats in which corporations have too much sway.  But the defenders misunderstand those critiques.  The critics are not saying that government predictions are wrong where they should be right, nor that officials are on the take; the critique is this:  the relationship between profit makers and public agencies is sometimes awfully cozy and the attentiveness to real suffering is remarkably slight.

2. The pre-eminence of ethics boards, like Britain’s GMC, doesn’t always sit well.  With the Wakefield case, the MMR-autism controversy steps onto the slippery terrain of moral decision making in regard to research.  Many people don’t feel perfectly reassured about the ethics of medical practice when the overseers are themselves physicians, and the moral reasoning often seems restricted to “did the physician follow the rules?”

3. The stance of official agencies on autism doesn’t inspire confidence.  Vaccination is hard to exonerate as a cause of autism as long as the official approach is that autism is a disease, and by implication preventable — rather than a disability, which might or might not have a cause but whose sufferers, in either case, can be afforded decent lives.  To make matters worse, official agencies’ stance doesn’t defuse the controversy.  In the U.S. and U.K., they respond to anti-immunization claims with assertions about the safety of MMR in particular.  But they don’t seem to want to support the research that would test whether some children might be susceptible to damage incurred cumulatively by undergoing the numerous vaccinations that are scheduled for children today.  It’s unlikely that the scrutiny of immunization, or the controversy, is going to go away unless officials soften that stance.

We’ll probably hear more on this if the GMC rules to disbar Wakefield from practicing medicine.

Federal agencies are already scrambling to spin the disaster as a victory.  “From our point of view, this looks very successful,” CDC spokesman Richard Quartarone tells Stobbe.  Despite the fact (also noted in the AP story) that vaccine uptake was barely better among the flu-vulnerable groups who were the focus of the immunization effort:  22 percent of personnel at health care facilities, 38 percent of pregnant women.  Some success.

Apparently, New York State Health Commissioner Daines doesn’t want to be left off the victory train.  He announced on Friday that the law requiring immunization of staff of health care facilities would be enforced — even though a restraining order was issued by state Supreme Court Justice Thomas McNamara in October prohibiting enforcement.

(A federal district court judge in San Diego ruled this week in favor of the Rady Children’s Hospital’s union of nurses and technicians, according to San Diego CityBeat.  The union had requested arbitration of the hospital’s mandatory flu-immunization policy which, they claim, violates their collective-bargaining agreement.)

Health officials’ pandemic-flu-disaster story was flimsy from the get-go.  The evidence for a serious flu outbreak was slim, despite the attempts by officials and some reporters to make the situation look dire.  But through autumn 2009, at least there were some hospitalizations and deaths that served to maintain the sense of impending catastrophe that the disaster story sought to achieve.  Now, though, with flu activity in the U.S. less than usual for this time of year and no widespread occurrence of H1N1 flu reported, officials are playing with the numbers in their desperate attempt to peddle vaccine.

In her talk at Hunter College, for instance, Secretary Sibelius noted that “over a thousand” infants and children had died from H1N1 flu.  The CDC’s latest flu update counts 300 pediatric flu deaths from April 2009 through the beginning of the new year.  And it notes that about a third of the 236 pediatric flu deaths in the current season had bacteria cultured from sterile sites — suggesting the question of whether more timely medical care, rather than immunization, might have saved many of those kids.  Where the remaining 700 of Secretary Sibelius’s thousand pediatric flu deaths are to be found remains a mystery.

What’s happening here?  The federal government ordered 250 million doses of swine-flu vaccine last year.   Vaccine makers were looking at terrific earnings from this outbreak.  But they are now worried about losses in the anticipated $7.6 billion worth of global sales — because so much vaccine has gone unused.  Western European countries are stopping their orders and seeking to off-load existing stocks.  Americans don’t want the vaccine, at least not when swine flu seems to be less damaging than regular, seasonal flu and they aren’t feeling reassured about the safety of the rapidly produced vaccine.

Federal and state officials won’t let go, though.  It’s dispiriting.

The disaster in Haiti put the spotlight on suffering this past week.   Not just the tremendous death and damage from the event itself, but the penury and misery in which many Haitians lived even before they had to live with, or die in, the earthquake.  And the earthquake should have reminded anyone who was watching — which is to say, nearly everyone — to be appalled at the amount and degree of suffering in the world, even on days when there are no natural disasters making the news.

The disquieting thing, especially this week, is that people who are in a position to devote themselves to alleviating illness and dispelling misery — health officials, I mean — are preoccupied with covering up for their mistakes on flu and satisfying the needs of the pharmaceutical companies.  Instead of looking at the suffering in our midst.

May CDC become a force for real public health, not an advocate for the risk-avoidance canard.  May the new director, Dr. Frieden, stop favoring pharmaceutical companies’ profit making through expansion of immunization.  And may he direct the agency to begin to address legitimate public needs, like sound answers about vaccines and autism, and clear communication about what is — and isn’t — dangerous about obesity.

May WHO officials stop playing with the pandemic threat barometer.  May WHO begin demanding that the world’s wealthy countries devote at least the same resources to stopping diarrheal diseases, malaria, and TB as they do to dealing with high-news-value problems like new strains of flu.   Diarrheal illness kills as many children in Africa and Asia in any given week as the 2009 swine flu killed Americans in eight months.  So does malaria.   Direct policy, and money, toward sanitation, pure water free of parasites, adequate treatment of TB, mosquito control, and prevention of other causes of heavy mortality in the developing world — not just flu strains that threaten North America, Europe, and Japan.

May public health professionals lose their obsessions with bad habits. May the public health profession return to the problem of ensuring basic rights — access to sufficient food, clean water, decent housing, good education, a livable wage, and adequate child care — and ease up on its moralistic obsessions with nicotine and overeating (for recent examples of the preoccupation with tobacco, see this article or this one (abstracts here; subscription needed for full articles) in recent issues of the American Journal of Public Health).

May science be what Joanne Manaster does at her incomparable website: looking at the world with wonder, asking without dogmatic preconceptions how it works, and accepting that its irrepressible quirkiness makes it impossible to know the world perfectly.  May science not be the crystal-ball-gazing thing whose so-called “scientific” forecasts are really doomsday scenes worthy of the medieval Church — predictions of liquefied icecaps and rising seas,  hundreds of millions of deaths in a flu pandemic, or catastrophic plagues sparked by people with engineered smallpox virus.  There are plenty of reasons to be concerned about both the environment and disease outbreaks based on sound here-and-now observations; leave the forecasts of Apocalypse to the clergy, who know how to handle dread.

A new year’s wish (from the valedictory exhortation in Tony Kushner’s Angels in America):  “More life!”

But how can every day not be AIDS Day?  Over 5,000 people die of AIDS each day, worldwide — even now, in the era of effective therapy.  In south Asia alone, more people die of AIDS every two weeks than have died of the H1N1 swine flu worldwide in the past six months (about 8,000).  In Africa, AIDS takes that toll every two or three days.

AIDS is a big problem in far-away poor countries, in other words.  But unlike the usual poor-nation problems that are easily ignored in comfortable North America — malaria, sleeping sickness, dengue, diarrhea, and more — AIDS is still a problem here, too.   Surely, you might think, we ought not to need any reminders about AIDS.

Much has been said about AIDS, and much has been done.  What does World AIDS Day add?

A harder question, perhaps: why can’t AIDS just be an ordinary disease? Surely, you might think, it isn’t special anymore.

Here are some thoughts on the problem of ordinariness, published in the American Scholar a few years ago.  The occasion was the 25th anniversary of the announcement of the first U.S. cases of AIDS.

In dealing with the issue of a pandemic, if we stick to finding out how to block the infection completely, we may take extreme measures and, as a result, trigger a pandemic panic. Is there a way to avoid the pandemic without adding to people’s concern more than necessary? (full text of query here).

Since the question of balancing response with panic promotion is on many minds, this seems worth addressing.  But there’s the larger problem:  do we need even to ask this question?  Is there a crisis on hand with flu?

We think not.

“Marx claimed that great events of history occur twice, first as tragedy and then as farce,” we pointed out.

“The swine flu of 2009 certainly looks like a farcical replay of the great influenza outbreak of 1918…. [It's] not a funny farce…but death from contagion is a normal part of life in an unpredictable universe.”  A few thousand deaths in the course of six months is lamentable, certainly.  But it’s hardly out of the ordinary for flu.

The collusion of officials and big corporations has been allowed to construct a global crisis. The farce is that the imagined flu crisis will benefit exactly the people who constructed it.

The vaccine manufacturers can expect to see a great expansion of markets (don’t miss Brownlee and Lenzer on flu immunization in the Nov. ’09 Atlantic).

The antiviral-medication manufacturers, the makers of Tamiflu especially, are already bringing in plenty of money for a treatment that is useful in rare clinical situations but has never been shown to stop the spread of flu in large populations.

Officials benefit, too.  They claim they must roll out flu vaccine and provide frequent information updates in order to  “prevent panic.”  And then they’ll look like they’ve done a good job — since, there being no crisis, people are staying calm.

Read the full post here.

In this week’s Lancet, Dr. Steven Black, from Cincinnati Children’s Hospital, and colleagues present calculations of the expected frequencies of adverse consequences (abstract at link; subscription required for full text) likely to result from flu immunization.  The intent being to provide a basis for comparison, so that when events do occur following immunization, the vaccine won’t be blamed for them.

“Widespread beliefs that such false associations [of adverse events with vaccination] are true can and do disrupt immunization programs, often to the detriment of public health,” the authors write.

Testament to the persuasiveness of the rhetoric, an experienced and knowledgeable Reuters reporter is taken in.  Covering the Lancet article, Maggie Fox writes:

People have special fears about Guillain Barre Syndrome (GBS). a rare neurological condition that was linked to a 1976 U.S. swine flu vaccination campaign. Although no case of GBS was ever linked to the vaccine, a belief that the vaccine was worse than the illness remains widespread.

Not exactly.  At least 500 cases of GBS were linked to flu vaccine in 1976 — “linked” in the sense that Fox uses the word in the first sentence:  they occurred in vaccine recipients and were in excess of the number of GBS cases likely to have occurred had there been no adverse effect of vaccination.  Thirty-two of those cases were fatal.  That they were not “linked” in her second sentence means that the criteria for association have shifted, or can shift.

The method by which the 1976 GBS cases were linked to vaccine was exactly the same as the method Black and his colleagues propose as the test for determining whether adverse events are linked to the 2009 immunizations.

But if the nature of association can shift, then Black and company can play a double game.  On the one hand, no illness or death can be attributed to vaccine if it occurs at a rate less than that expected in normal times, sans vaccination.  That’s the premise of this week’s Lancet article.

On the other hand, no illness or death that occurs at a rate greater than expected can be attributed to vaccine unless there is some additional proof — not just statistics but, we imagine, pathology results from surgery or autopsy — demonstrating a link between vaccine and illness, or vaccine and death.  That’s the conclusion that the Reuters correspondent drew after talking with Black and company.

In other words, the vaccine “scientists” have already demonstrated that you’re wrong if you think vaccine has done anything bad.   Don’t bother alleging that vaccine harmed your child, spouse, or parent.

We have to wonder why physicians (the main authors of the Lancet paper are all MDs, as are the public health officials who are promoting mass immunization as a flu-control strategy) are mounting their defense of flu vaccination, when hardly anyone has been immunized yet.

And we have to wonder why physicians call themselves scientists when they don’t want to deal with evidence — only their own certainty that vaccination is a good public health strategy.  A strategy whose inevitable shortcomings they’re already defending.

This month’s American Journal of Public Health brings us a primer (abstract here; subscription required for full text), written by lawyers supported by the Robert Wood Johnson Foundation, teaching “policymakers to avoid potential constitutional problems in the formation of obesity prevention policy.”

The article isn’t exactly a Steal This Book for the anti-obesity crusaders, but the authors’ stated aim is to help those crusaders skirt legal challenges to statutes that might, for instance, ban fast foods or require the posting of accurate calorie counts on restaurant menus:  “This primer is meant not to deter obesity prevention efforts but to foster them,” the authors adumbrate.

Of course, the anti-obesity crusade is well on its way to using the law to tighten the control of behavior already.  And the failure of restaurant calorie counts to show any effect on eating patterns isn’t dampening enthusiasm, it seems.

Brian Elbel of NYU and colleagues just reported in Health Affairs that the calorie counts now posted by law in New York (another piece of legislation backed by our bluenose mayor) don’t affect how much people eat,  based on a study of over a thousand New Yorkers from minority neighborhoods (abstract here, full article here).  At Freakonomics, Stephen Dubner surmises that this sort of program only helps people “who are already the most vigilant about their health and well-being.”  But it’s hard to find anyone in public health who is opposed.

They should be.   The public health industry, which likes to claim its main interest is human dignity, should be lobbying for less regulation of human appetites, not more.

But public health is often the pre-eminent paradigm of control in our society. Rename the acts or traits you find morally repugnant as diseases, and you can hand them to the health sector for management.   Once you say you’ve got an epidemic on your hands, you can count on the public health industry to respond.  Alcoholism, addiction, smoking, obesity, social anxiety… there seems to be a big supply of epidemics that used to be moral offenses or threats to the social order and are now opportunities for your doctor or your health commissioner — not your clergyman — to tell you how to act.

The neat thing about the control exercised through public health is that you never have to sermonize, read Bible verses, or prophesy Apocalypse.  The rhetoric of risk is a lot easier for the self-professed progressives in public health to swallow than religious sermonizing would be.  Even when the sermon and the risk rhetoric have the identical goal: wiping out the moral offense.

From Junkfood Science, we learn that

Employers will now perform random tests of employees for evidence that they’ve smoked outside of work and will weigh employees in the workplace and report their BMIs to the state. Employees deemed noncompliant with the State Health Plan’s employer wellness initiative, will pay one-third-more for health insurance. Employers believed that eliminating smokers and fat people would lower health costs.

And from WSJ Health Blog, that the CEO of pharmaceutical corporation Schering-Plough agreed (at a meeting at the Cleveland Clinic) that people with unhealthy behavior should pay more for health insurance.  Sure — you certainly wouldn’t want the wealthy to pay more.

That’s not the only problem with the public health industry’s vigorous embrace of behavioral control, but it’s a big one.  Start classifying people based on how they behave, and you begin discriminating against the ones who don’t act right.  But the ones who you think don’t act right are almost always the ones society was already discriminating against — the poor, most of all.

And even when the poor aren’t getting shafted in the crusade against the unhealthy, inquiry about how a just society should work is going down the tubes.  The profound moral-philosophical questions of what is the right way to live a life, the right way to raise children, the nature of liberty, and so forth, are surrendered in the public health paradigm – replaced with the simple dichotomy:  healthy vs. not-healthy.

Joshua Holland’s post at AlterNet yesterday tries to explain why H1N1 swine flu shouldn’t be cause for hysteria.  He puts this outbreak in the context of flu history and the threat posed by other, more harmful, conditions — malaria for instance.  Holland plays a little bit fast and loose with the numbers:  it probably isn’t accurate to extrapolate, from the number of confirmed flu deaths so far, to get a total number of deaths that will be caused by the swine H1N1 strain this year — more efficient spread in the  cities of the Northern hemisphere in the coming few months is likely to produce fatalities at a higher rate than the more sporadic outbreaks here in April and May.  And he’s overly critical of the media — a point brought out by Revere in a response to Holland at Effect Measure today.

But, as Frank Furedi has been telling us (recently in Erasmus Law Review, for example), try to explain how people’s deep-seated anxieties drive perceptions that risk is extraordinary and unprecedented (and contribute to demands for more and better high-cost technology to deal with it) and you get some people riled up.  Disappointingly, even Effect Measure, whose assessments are consistently level-headed and cogent, slips here, flashing the moral-entrepreneur card at Mr. Holland:

Joshua Holland has never cared for a critically ill person with Acute Respiratory Distress Syndrome (ARDS), which is often the terminal event for flu patients. So I’ll tell him. It doesn’t matter if it’s caused by bacteria (many are). Half of them die no matter what you do and no matter what intensive care unit you have available to you or what antibiotic or what computer controlled respirator. We still can’t do much.

Nobody thinks it’s a good idea to let people get ARDS, and Holland acknowledges that flu is a problem that should be dealt with.  But that’s not always enough.  Question the intensity of perceived risk or the need for all the technology, and you find this out fast.

But Revere is back on track when noting that lots of problems — including malaria — are horrendous and deserve attention, and probably don’t get it because they happen to people far away.

Where would the impetus to deal with global problems besides flu come from?  A global organization that can keep things in perspective would be useful.  Poor W.H.O. isn’t positioned to do that.  Yesterday’s flu advisory from W.H.O. emphasizes the use of antivirals (oseltamivir and zanamivir) to treat people with severe or possibly severe flu:

Early treatment is especially important for patients who are at increased risk of developing complications, those who present with severe illness or those with worsening signs and symptoms.

Yet, the W.H.O. also warns against hastening the development of resistance.  This agency gets a lot of flak for not doing more and for panic-mongering when it does do more.  But, really, it’s only doing its job:  offer advice, and support interventions when invited.  It isn’t consistent, naturally.  It can’t make binding policy.  It faces a limitless and essentially insuperable legitimation problem.  In a way, W.H.O.’s hardest job is simply to maintain its own legitimacy.

Still, in a world poised to interpret signs of illness as evidence of risk and eager for technical fixes to alleviate the sense of vulnerability risk instills, the W.H.O.’s announcements can seem authoritative — and look like beckoning to the drug makers.  A Reuters story yesterday is entitled “Early Use of Antivirals Key in H1N1 Flu: WHO,” and highlights the value of the two antiviral medications more than the caution W.H.O. wants to instill.

Meanwhile, agencies that should be making real policy are focusing on immunization.  In today’s Washington Post, Rob Stein reports on health care workers’ resistance to mandatory flu vaccination.  New York State made flu immunization mandatory early on, not only for salaried health care workers but for anyone — including medical and nursing students — who might come in contact with patients, and is putting teeth into the requirement with sanctions for refuseniks.  The state resorts to high  moral rhetoric to justify its policy.  The state’s health commissioner told Stein that “the rationale begins with the health-care ethic, which is: The patient’s well-being comes ahead of the personal preferences of health-care workers.”

And at CDC, the director is cautioning that there might be a rough start-up to the swine flu immunization campaign, as the first doses of vaccine will be made available in early October.  According to the NY Times, there should be 40 million doses of vaccine available by mid-October.

We wonder whether immunization will be of any public health value at all, by the time there’s enough vaccine that it can be offered to anyone other than health care workers and a few of the people who really need protection (young people, infants’ caregivers, and pregnant women, especially — DemFromCT’s round-up at DailyKos is always worth reading).  Given the rapidity of spread of flu — in 37 U.S. states, H1N1 spread is already regional or widespread; flu is spreading locally in 12 more states, Puerto Rico, and Washington, D.C. — and based on the usual course of flu outbreaks, it seems possible that this outbreak will peak by mid November.  There’s no knowing if that will be so, obviously.  Even if it is, immunization would continue to be useful to prevent severe cases among people who are likely to get very sick if infected.

But mass immunization would no longer be of much use in preventing further incidence of infection on a population level if high levels of acquired immunity are reached across much of the population by the time vaccine is widely available.

That’s the problem with relying on mass immunization as the centerpiece of public health response: as in the old joke about comedy, timing is everything.  In 1976, there was too much immunization, too soon.  It might turn out that this year, there’s too little, too late.  The dynamics of vaccine availability and the dynamics of flu spread have to be watched in tandem, and policy updated accordingly.

In any case, with vaccine at the center, the rest of the story — the complex environmental interactions that allow flu genomes to recombine, the trade in animals and feed that allow viruses to move around, the problems of affordability and immune status and competing viral subtypes, the health care facilities to handle severe cases, and so on — gets shoved to the side.

The NEJM paper argues that there would be health benefits of a tax on sugar-sweetened drinks — preferably to take the form of about a penny’s worth of excise tax levied per fluid ounce for any beverage containing “added caloric sweetener” (possibly to be defined as more than 1 g of sugar per 30 ml of beverage).

There’s much to be learned by the response.  The NY Times article, in its Business section Wednesday, was titled “Proposed Tax on Sugary Beverages Debated” but was generally slanted strongly in favor of the proposal.  If you read only the Times, you would think that objections to the tax come only from industry, which obviously has an economic interest in keeping sales of soda and sport drinks up by keeping the price down.

Shirley S. Wang at yesterday’s WSJ Health Blog adds some insight.  She points out that a 2-liter bottle of soda subject to the proposed tax, assuming the tax is entirely passed along to consumers in the form of higher prices, would still be much cheaper than a half-gallon of orange juice.

James Knickman of the NY State Health Foundation, writing in the NY Daily News last week, acknowledged that a soda tax would be essentially regressive, affecting the poor more powerfully than it does the wealthy.  He urges that

To counteract the soda tax’s regressive nature, revenue generated from the tax should go to health-related programs that benefit the poor – essentially putting the money back into their pockets. The revenue could be used for myriad initiatives, including subsidies for federal health reform – which is estimated to cost $1 trillion over the next 10 years – subsidies of fresh fruits and vegetables and other healthy foods in low-income community grocery stores, and food stamp increases for the purchase of fresh fruit and vegetables.

Knickman gets at one of the main purposes of a tax like this:  to get the poor to pay more of the costs of doing business.

But what isn’t being discussed, it seems, is the underlying logic.

First, there’s the assumption that obesity is uniformly and intensely bad.  The NEJM article begins with the statement “The consumption of sugar-sweetened beverages has been linked to risks for obesity, diabetes, and heart disease,” citing three articles — two of them authored, in part, by the same men who helped write this week’s soda-tax NEJM article.

What’s the point of the misleading opening in the NEJM paper (apart from getting some additional citations for the authors’ other work)?  The line suggests that drinking sugar-added beverages causes heart disease, yet no evidence suggests that.  Extra calories might add up to extra weight, some people (less than half) who have BMIs in the “obese” range report having diabetes, and diabetes can predispose to heart disease — but the NEJM authors make it seem that the sugar-heart connection is somehow direct.  The point is to create an impression of uniform and unavoidable harm. Who would want to be for heart disease?

The supposition that obesity is a terrible illness responsible for broad impairments to Americans’ health — a premise that the soda tax depends on –  is amply and cogently criticized in a series of posts by Sandy Szwarc at Junkfood Science (start here, for instance, or here).  In fact, epidemiologic studies point to a relatively small effect of obesity on mortality, primarily at the upper end of the weight-for-height (body mass index, BMI) scale.  A careful analysis of national survey data from a few years ago (Flegal et al., JAMA 2005) shows that the effect of high BMI on mortality has been declining over time and almost entirely vanishes after age 70.  In fact, some studies point to a protective effect of high BMI for older Americans.

And the claim that increasing the price of sugary beverages is a suitable inducement to Americans to change their behavior rests on standard — but flawed — economists’ analysis.  It’s rational choice theory come home to roost at your refrigerator door.  If you know that it’s going to cost two bucks and a half to replace that 2-liter bottle of root beer in the fridge, you’ll drink it more sparingly than if it cost only $1.29, the theory goes.  Here is where the regressive aspect comes in.  It’s primarily to the poor that coming up with $2.50 for a bottle of root beer seems substantially more difficult than $1.29.  Here, the soda tax reveals itself as just another attempt to get members of what is perhaps America’s most despised ethnicity — the poor — to “fix” their behavior.

And it all rests on a premise so common we might call it the American assumption:  that people only do things that might harm their health because they don’t know any better or because they can’t stop themselves.  Ergo, laws and rules, to make sure everyone knows where and how to draw the line — taxes, bans on smoking in restaurants (or, perhaps soon, parks) and bans on serving trans fats, removal into foster care of kids whose mothers use drugs, prosecution of parents whose kids are too fat, et cetera.  And of course, we need the products that will provide substitute enjoyment or relief.  Thus:  sugar-free soda, trans-fat-free potato chips, Prozac and other SSRIs, diet books, gyms, alcohol-free beer, and so on.

And we need it all to be wrapped up and rationalized in the language of avoiding risk.

Apparently, it isn’t plausible to the doctors and scientists who wrote the NEJM paper, or the legislators who are eager to institute the proposed soda tax, that people might drink too much soda — or eat too much, or smoke, or stay home and watch TV instead of jogging — with full awareness of the possible consequences.   In the risk-free zone of America as envisaged by the public health industry, only the insane and the uninformed would engage in “risky behavior.”

Nobody, in risk-free America, does anything because it feels good, knowing it might be harmful.  Nobody overeats because it brings her pleasure, nobody screws without a condom because it turns him on, nobody smokes because she had a bad day or a good day or because the day hasn’t started but it looks unpromising, nobody rides her bike without a helmet because she likes the feel of the wind in her hair.  It’s risky.  We all know better.

The libertarians think it’s big government you give up your private choices to, and the progressives think it’s big business.  But really, it’s neither — or both, working together.  And the public health and medical industries are complicit.  It’s not a conspiracy.  It’s more like religion.

The PCAST’s 2009-H1N1 Working Group has some illustrious names, and some great scientists.  So did the Advisory Committee on Immunization Practices which met in early March 1976, resolving to recommend mass immunization against swine flu.  And the parallels don’t end there.

This month’s PCAST report has some strengths.  One is its emphatic assertion that we are not looking at a reprise of the 1918 flu.  Another is its reminder that America must occupy a generous place in the world — offering advice or help to countries whose structures or resources don’t allow them to purchase vaccine or otherwise organize themselves for a bad flu outbreak.

But some of the report’s pieces just don’t quite connect up.

For one, the third chapter “Anticipating the Return of H1N1,” makes clear that the PCAST’s flu working group aimed to develop scenarios for a second wave of H1N1 cases in the U.S.   It set out to look at possibilities, not to make predictions.  “We emphasize again that the baseline scenario and the alternatives above are given as examples for planning purposes; they are not predictions of what will happen,” reads a caveat on p. 18.

Fair enough — but that begs two questions.

First, what’s the distinction between a scenario and a prediction?  Surely, when a Washington Post article is published within hours of the report’s release, with the lede that “Swine flu could infect half the U.S. population this fall and winter, hospitalizing up to 1.8 million people and causing as many as 90,000 deaths,” the PCAST is understood to have made a prediction — not just projected possibilities in an academic way.

Second, what predictions the PCAST makes!  By the day after the report was released CDC was expressing doubts about the estimate (sorry, “scenario”) of 90,000 deaths.  As VaccineEthics reports, CDC officials distanced themselves quickly — one telling Don McNeil, Jr. of the NY Times that “if the virus keeps behaving the way it is now, I don’t think anyone here [at CDC] expects anything like 90,000 deaths.”  And the estimate of 50% of Americans being infected by H1N1 would require much greater infectivity than we’ve seen so far.

The report doesn’t address the caution about the timing of H1N1 “waves” offered by Morens and Taubenberger in their recent JAMA article “Understanding Influenza Backward” (JAMA.2009; 302: 679-680) — PCAST’s scenarios simply assume that H1N1 will be back in the fall.  With WHO now explicit about a “second wave,” there will be even less impetus to (as Morens and Taubenberger suggest), look back.

The PCAST report also features a disconnect between the infectivity estimate and the mortality estimate.

It’s hard to explain how, if flu transmissibility really were to become high enough that a third to a half of all Americans were infected with H1N1 flu, virulence would remain so low that only 0.03% of the population would die of it.  If PCAST’s scenario of 150 million infections came to pass, then surely PCAST would want to caution authorities to watch for the development of high-virulence viral variants, either arising spontaneously within the genome of the current strain or through recombination with other circulating human or animal flu viruses.

Why bother to get people worked up over a horror scenario of 150 million infections if you aren’t going to remind flu watchers that your darkly viewed future  would allow for even further horrors in the form of new strains?

Narrative seems relevant here.  The PCAST report, its weak disclaimers about scenarios-not-predictions aside, sometimes seems to aim at crafting the leading narrative more than at practical planning.

The narrative, as told by PCAST, involves inevitable return of swine flu, America unprepared, special needs that can only be met by vaccine manufacturers and pharmaceutical companies, and vulnerable groups who need special administrative attention.

Here, too, the PCAST report is reminiscent of the 1976 swine flu episode.  The main effect of the meetings held by officials in the Department of Health, Education, and Welfare (the predecessor of today’s Health and Human Services) in March of ’76 was to create a narrative of inevitable return of a dreadful flu strain, America unprepared, and special needs that can only be met by immediate production of vaccine.

One lesson we learned from 1976 was the danger of allowing the narrative to precede the facts.

A concern at first glance is whether this panel of estimable scientists is repeating an error of commission made by an earlier panel of also-estimable scientists — in 1976.

As DemFromCT points out at DailyKos today, “timing is everything” when it comes to response to this flu outbreak.

Along this line the PCAST report is clear:  Having made the point that a return of swine flu this fall could infect a great many Americans, PCAST suggests that the federal government might decide to accelerate production of H1N1 vaccine.

The idea, generated by the PCAST’s 2009-H1N1 Flu Working Group, is that an early resurgence of flu would encounter an essentially unimmunized population — based on current expectations about availability of H1N1 vaccine.  On p. 18, the report states that

“if an increase in severity is detected with the expected rate of transmission, broader administration of vaccine before complete clinical trial data are available may be appropriate…”

But here we note a disturbing replication of a disturbing history.  The Advisory Committee on Immunization Practices, meeting on 10 March 1976, voted to recommend rapid preparation of swine flu vaccine and mass immunization of the American public in response to findings of H1N1 flu at Fort Dix, NJ.

At the March ’76 meeting, Russell Alexander of the U. of Washington School of Public Health asked how, if there were to be a mass immunization program, federal officials would know when to abandon it.  What was the bail-out point to be?  Would the committee specify a level of adverse vaccine events beyond which mass immunization would be suspended?  Would it specify an incidence of H1N1 cases, or deaths, below which vaccine would be stockpiled but not administered?

The answer to Alexander was No.  The directors of the CDC and other federal agencies did not want to be caught stockpiling usable vaccine if people were getting sick and dying of flu.

As it happened, Alexander’s suggestion might have saved a few lives, a lot of money, and a few officials’ jobs.  By the time the 1976 immunizations began, it was known that there had been very limited spread of the swine flu strain beyond Fort Dix.  Watchful waiting might have forestalled the 1976 fiasco.

If flu vaccine is again to be rushed into production and disseminated early, how should officials know when to put the program on hold — or to bail out entirely?

Schafer is arguing for a precautionary-principle approach:  why would you take the chance of exposing a lot of people to a vaccine too new to allow its long-term effects to be known perfectly?  Especially, we might add, when the flu outbreak you are confronting is very mild, thus far?

Not everyone finds this satisfying, though.  In fact, some people feel there’s a duty to protect the public against the eventuality of widespread virulent flu. (Two facts should trouble this argument:  the historical fact that such a flu outbreak has happened exactly once in history, and the ancillary fact that, even in 1918, before flu immunization existed, the outbreak spared over 99% of the American public. But they don’t.  We’ll ignore them for now, just as most people do.).

Of course, if you really think there’s a duty to protect then you make immunization mandatory.  There’s precedent, and it’s been upheld by the nation’s highest court of law — in Jacobson v. Massachusetts (1905).  Justice Harlan, writing for the majority, held that the state of Massachusetts was within its rights to require Henning Jacobson to undergo smallpox vaccination when an outbreak threatened the city of Cambridge, and to fine him $5 for his refusal to be immunized.

The Jacobson case is taught in schools of public health as a prime assertion of the police power, i.e., the right of states to make laws to protect the public’s health.  And to validate the reach of such laws, even to mild intrusions on individual liberty. Harlan writes that “the liberty secured by the Constitution of the United States to every person within its jurisdiction does not import an absolute right in each person to be, at all times and in all circumstances, wholly freed from restraint.”

But the nuances of Justice Harlan’s decision are instructive.  He made the point that the state’s legislature deemed smallpox vaccination to be effective and of minimal harm, and allowed the city to require vaccination only when a properly constituted board of health determined that that was necessary for public health.  In other words, the police power allows a state to limit liberty in the name of public health, but not for just any excuse, by any means, or without considering consequences.

And, we note, Harlan’s decision hinged on the legislative power.  That is, mandatory vaccination wasn’t  okay just because a board of health had said so; it was okay because the legislature had passed a law allowing the board to make such a decision, and the law was reasonable and sound.

Harlan’s basic standard was the “necessity of the case.”   Cambridge could make Mr. Jacobson undergo vaccination because the state law gave the board of health the power to decide when universal vaccination was necessary, in view of the situation.  And the board had looked at the situation, and decided that vaccination was indeed necessary

What should we make of that today?  In view of the current swine flu situation, should we then stand with Schafer, and argue that the most basic of the tenets — necessity — on which the police power is predicated has not yet been met?

Or should we say that the potential for a severe flu outbreak — a possibility not yet realized but, well, possible — creates a necessity to vaccinate?

Or is Jacobson simply out of date?

Alex Jones reports that the proposal was ratified early this month, over the objection of the NY State Nurses’ Association.

Word on the street is that NYC’s Department of Health and Mental Hygiene is now getting into mandatory vaccination in a big way.  It is strong-arming medical centers into forcing their staff to undergo flu vaccination, telling administrators, we hear, that they would be required to fire employees who refuse to undergo flu immunization.   And the mandate would extend beyond direct-care personnel, to include general staff — anyone who might come into contact with a patient.

Since specific vaccine against H1N1 flu is not yet ready, the current plans are said to be for mandatory vaccination against seasonal flu; presumably swine flu vaccine would be added if it becomes available.

No official substantiation yet of the NYC officials’ actions — in fact, we really hope we’re wrong on this.  But we notice that requiring universal vaccination for health care workers would not be out of line with the city’s Pandemic Influenza Preparedness and Response Plan — especially chapter 7, “Vaccine Management.”

Clearly, a plan to require immunization of all health care workers — in a city whose health care workforce numbers in the hundreds of thousands — could be a boon to the vaccine makers.

Would it help the public?   If this coming flu season is mild, universal immunization of medical-center staff will be at least partly superfluous.

If there’s a widespread outbreak of virulent flu, the effectiveness of mandatory vaccination in health care centers would depend on the current level of flu-immunization coverage among med-center staff.   As many caregivers routinely undergo seasonal-flu immunization anyway, it isn’t clear that mandatory immunization orders would add any public health value to the current situation.

So far, there hasn’t been much outcry from the public health profession. Perhaps that will change as we get into autumn.

“We all want to believe that a pill or potion that comes from sea coral or from the Amazon jungle will cure that pain for which little else has worked,” Verghese writes.  The “flip side,” he says, “is that we are extraordinarily sensitive to any suggestion that someone is taking away something we think is good for our health.”

And magical thinking’s influence isn’t limited to cruising the natural supplements aisle or reading the ads in a health magazine.  Sometimes it’s part of expert opinion — and so it becomes part of widespread belief.

Consider how the flu experts talk about the possibility of swine flu’s return this fall. In Monday’s Washington Post, the experts’ words wax electric.  Dr. William Schaffner, chair of Preventive Medicine at Vanderbilt U.’s medical school, asserts that “The virus is still around and ready to explode…. We’re potentially looking at a very big mess.” And Dr. Arnold Monto, a physician epidemiologist at U. Michigan’s School of Public Health, worries “about our ability to handle a surge of severe cases.”

So, even as H5N1 reports that an article in The Independent finds scientists skeptical as to whether there will be a so-called second wave of serious flu outbreaks in the northern hemisphere this fall, we’ve got American scientists suggesting — in high-voltage terms — that something awful is going to happen.

They’re not wrong: something bad might happen.  That’s always true.

But language matters.  And language coming from so-called experts matters a lot.  It has magic.

Vigorous metaphors promote popular fears.  The last time swine flu came around, in early 1976, respected virologist Edwin Kilbourne published an influential op-ed piece in the NY Times (13 Feb 1976), called “Flu to the Starboard! Man the Harpoons! Fill with Vaccine! Get the Captain! Hurry!” Kilbourne urged officials to prepare for an “imminent natural disaster.” Fair enough:  a serious H1N1 flu might have happened in ’76 (it didn’t) — but his whaling metaphor appealed to more than just preparation.  It was about power and authority (“get the captain!”).  Presumably, the authority of science, industry, and government.

And so with other metaphors that are meant to be calls to arms.  There were the warfare metaphors about the alleged threat of bioterrorism, and the plague metaphors about AIDS.  Now, there are explosive metaphors about obesity.

Last year, acting U.S. Surgeon General Dr. Steven Galson called childhood obesity a “national catastrophe,” for instance.  And Dr. Risa Lavizzo-Mourey, president of the Robert Wood Johnson Foundation, warned of obesity’s “corrosive” effects, which, she asserted, imperil a generation of America’s youth.  According to Dr. Matthew Gillman of Harvard “You build [obesity] up over generations” — like an electrical charge in a capacitor, like explosive potential, the reader has to presume.

Talking about childhood obesity, Dr. Eric Hoffman of Stanford told the Washington Post that “we have taught our children how to kill themselves.”

Invoking metaphors to create magical thinking isn’t just an American habit.  Childhood obesity is a “time bomb,” according to physician Howard Stoate, chair of Britain’s All-Parliamentary Group on Primary Care and Public Health.

Verghese’s right.  People can be afraid to let go of what they believe they need for their health — however magically.  And magical thinking is inside the way our experts talk to us about health.  That sort of magic can run deep.

Last Tuesday, a post by Revere at Effect Measure highlighted the effect that cultural anxieties have on the production of scientific knowledge — specifically with regard to modes of contagion.   In the 1920s, a time of worry about immigrants and socialists, public health “concentrate[d] on society’s most marginal people, in keeping with the Zeitgeist.”  Thus Typhoid Mary, and other concerns about germ carriers.  By contrast, when the environment is of most concern, people worry about transmission via objects — fomites in our odd epidemiology jargon (from Latin fomes:  touchwood or tinder).  There are reminders to wash hands after touching the subway handholds, not to handle other kids’ toys, to think about doorknobs.

On Thursday, “Swine flu this fall:  turbulence ahead” took the time to work through the results of mathematical modeling — a highly readable post which explains why some modeling results suggest a rationale for the belief that swine flu might spread intensely in the northern hemisphere this fall.  Revere does the favor of reminding the reader that models are not always good predictors of what will happen.

History shows that the metaphors that guide scientists’ focus in tracking contagion aren’t always perfectly either/or.   They don’t alternate neatly between people-directed or environment-directed, that is — more typically, many myths and metaphors compete for attention, with certain ones winning out at any given moment.  Now, the alleged toxicity of the environment seems very compelling to some people, and there are also contagion concepts based on fears of foreigners, suspicions of supposedy nefarious corporations, worries about open borders, anxieties about public education, concerns that governments keep secrets, and so forth.

The guiding metaphors for contagion breathe life into moral, political, or profit-making campaigns.  The magic-bullet concept remains compelling, for instance, and perhaps accounts for some of the interest not only in Tamiflu but in whether or not flu strains are resistant to it, and whether or not it will be made available,  to whom, and at what cost.  There’s a post at H5N1 on this today.

But there’s an overarching truth about swine flu:  our society can’t seem to leave it alone.  No matter how small the tally of confirmed H1N1 flu deaths (WHO counted 1154 as of the end of July, the European Centre for Disease Prevention and Control‘s report today puts the number of deaths at 1645 — but even the higher number yields an exceptionally low case-fatality ratio:  under 0.1%, roughly on the order of seasonal flu.  So this remains a far-reaching but so-far mild outbreak.

Yet the question of whether or not it will become more severe — more virulent, more deadly — remains front and center for public health people, and stays alive as a media story.

Okay, yes, it’s important to be prepared.  It would be shameful if there were deaths that would have been preventable with a little forethought and planning.

That accounts for the assiduous tracking by serious public-health people.  But what accounts for the prominence of this rather mild outbreak in the public consciousness?

This is an era of epidemics.  Which is to say, it is an era of fear.  There must be something wrong, it is so easy to think.  This is not just the work of media (although they help, and it doesn’t hurt that playing on fear sells).  It runs deeper than that.  Our modern civilization seems, sometimes, deeply uncomfortable with the world we’ve created.

Last Thursday, for instance, the  New York Times ran a story featuring a study that claimed TV viewing is linked to blood pressure increases in kids.  It’s a story of toxicity in the constructed environment — of the ways contemporary arrangements are inherently and latently harmful (yes, latently:  TV isn’t causing kids to shoot other kids, at least not in this story; it is allegedly causing them to develop a so-called risk factor for later harm).

How do we keep an eye on flu, or other outbreaks, and seek ways to protect everyone from harm as best we can, but avoid hysteria about contaminated toys, subway riding, TV viewing, processed foods, and so forth?  This is a challenge.  It means examining what makes us anxious, and it means understanding that life has risks that can’t be avoided.