Philip Alcabes discusses myths of health, disease and risk.

Bugs in New York

I admit that I haven’t followed the story of the blossoming bedbug population avidly.  Not that I’m cold to the heartache (and itch) that bedbug infestations can bring.  It’s just that an epidemiologist always gets more worked-up about bugs like mosquitoes and ticks that are vectors for microbial pathogens — and bedbugs aren’t.

But this AP article grabbed me.  According to New York City, over 6 percent of residents who responded to a community health survey claimed to have dealt with bedbugs in the past year.  In response, the city will withhold half-million dollars normally budgeted for the city’s health department  and redirect the funds to an anti-bedbug campaign.

Some might argue that the $500,000 would be better used for preventing deadly illnesses and accidents, not just bug bites.  Still, the campaign seems right.  According to the AP story, environmental health people will work with a “top entomologist.” (Professionals collaborating across sectors:  One City, One Health.  Good.)  A note by Javier Hernandez at the NY Times‘s City Room blog is guarded, but some (like Molly Fischer at the NY Observer) seem relieved that there will be a big anti-bedbug crusade at last.

Not a very big crusade, but at least a multifaceted one, as the Bed Bug Advisory Board’s Report suggests.

Media Culture: Beyond Fat and Salt?

Over at Media, Culture & Health, Steven Gorelick notes that a story on salt and the food industry, which appeared on page A1 of the print NY Times on Sunday, would not have made the front page in the past.

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.


Transparency on Pandemics

How bad would it be for officials to be more open about how they make decisions on “preparedness”?  Should the public know more about how so-called experts forecast coming danger?  What’s the influence of media reports, like the coverage of last year’s flu outbreak which suggested, from day one, that it would resemble the 1918 flu?  How influential are the pharmaceutical companies and other vaccine makers?

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?

In Memoriam: A Public Health Exemplar

Megan Charlop, a friend and former student, died yesterday.  She was in the Bronx, bicycling to work, and collided with a bus.

Megan was an exemplar.  She was director for community health at Montefiore Medical Center’s School Health Program, had established lead poisoning prevention programs in Bronx communities, was a founding member of the NY City Coalition to End Lead Poisoning, added a school-based education component to the Hunts Point Asthma Initiative, organized community gardens and helped develop the clean-up of the Bronx River, among many, many other neighborhood health initiatives.  She and her husband Richie were recognized recently by the Rotary Club for taking in three children who had come to the Bronx for heart surgery.

Bronx News Network posted a short obituary, paying tribute to Megan’s community spirit.

Everything Megan did seemed to be about serving, in the most personal of ways:  making people’s lives a little better, reducing suffering a little, making the neighborhood a little less dangerous, cheering people up.  For me, she exemplified what public health could be about:  caring, first of all and most of all; reducing suffering; making an impact among friends and neighbors; and hoping others might be similarly influential.

Megan wasn’t known as a public health “expert.”  She wasn’t a maker of big policy.  She was a maker of many small differences.  That seems precious.  She’s irreplaceable.  It’s a terrible loss.

Science, Race, and Silence

The coverage of the Feb. 12th shootings at the University of Alabama in Huntsville has been preoccupied, by and large, with the accused killer.   There are details about her background, the 1986 shooting of her brother, her training at Harvard, the 1993 investigation of a bomb mailed to a Harvard professor, her research, her publications, her tenure case at UAH, her husband.

And there has been new talk about the usual issues:  The  perpetual vexation about tenure.  The problem of safety on campuses.   The question, now customary, of whether a shooter’s  writing offers any clues to her or his psyche.

But there hasn’t been much discussion about the victims.  Two of the three who were killed, Maria Ragland Davis and Adriel D. Johnson, Sr., were African American professors.  All three of the deceased — the other, Prof. Gopi Podila, was department chair — were known for their support of students, according to obituaries published by the Chronicle of Higher Education.   This in itself is both laudable and rare enough, in a field increasingly driven by the quest for research grants, to deserve mention.  But the sudden death of two science professors who were themselves black Americans and who devoted themselves to educating black students in the sciences is a particularly profound loss to higher education.

That Dr. Ragland Davis was a black woman, one of the rarest of beings in the scientific professoriate, makes the loss particularly poignant.

Statistics are no solace, of course.  But the silence about the loss of two black American professors who died by gunfire is part of the greater, even more stunning, silence about the great many black Americans who die by gunfire every year.

In 2006, the last year for which complete data have been posted by the National Center for Health Statistics (see table 18), 30,896 Americans died by gunshot.  Almost half, 12,791, were murders.  That’s 35 firearm murders per day, on average.   About one every 40 minutes.

Black Americans are over twice as likely to die by gunshot than are white Americans (see table 19 at the link above).  The gunshot death rates are roughly 22 deaths per 100,000 per year and roughly 9 per 100,000 per year, respectively.  Those risks have been remarkably constant, even as deaths from Americans’ main form of deadly mishap, vehicle crashes, have declined.

This is not a plea for gun control.  Better gun control laws would allow a lot of people to live longer, and improve the public’s health — but we hear such pleas every time  a multiple shooting makes the news.  That’s not the point here.

The point is the problem of giving chances to people who haven’t had them.  Or, to put it more bluntly, the point is race.

In particular, the impossibility, still, of talking about how science should be done by people who have not historically been included in shaping it and defining it.  By people other than the ones who, at least until recently, made all the decisions about what’s worth studying and what’s worth changing.  By women, by black Americans, by people who grew up poor, by people who did not attend elite universities on the east coast or in California.

Universities — the elite ones and the many non-elite ones — are indispensable in the endeavor to change science, for all sorts of reasons.  Maybe the best reason is the presence of professors who support and encourage students who aren’t drawn from the usual class of people.

The deaths at UAH should be an occasion for great mourning, not only for professors who died doing their work, but for the project of changing science.  If the silence over the Huntsville victims were the silence of grief, it wouldn’t seem so bad.  But I think it’s the silence of not really caring, or of not wanting to face a shameful truth.  Compared to talking about the links among race, science, and education… well, it’s less taxing to wonder about the shooter’s unpublished novel.