Meltdown: the media and mad cows

Thursday

Newspapers, whose columnists had been burbling on about the delights of eating British beef only weeks before, cleared their front pages for what they said might be the biggest public health calamity this century. They took their lead from the previous night's television programmes. In successive appearances, an increasingly palefaced Stephen Dorrell reprised his Commons statement of that afternoon (p795). Professor John Pattison, head of the government's Spongiform Encephalopathy Advisory Committee, refused to offer much reassurance other than attributing the 10 new cases of Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease (CJD) to exposure to affected beef before 1989. (No one probed the plausibility of this attribution hard enough.)

The opinions of Professor Richard Lacey, who had been consigned to the scientific wilderness for his views on spongiform encephalopathies, were suddenly of interest. But few newspapers could bring themselves to quote his upper estimate of 500,000 new cases of CJD a year.

Thursday was human victims day, with the blurred family snaps of those who had succumbed to CJD staring Out from the front pages. One of them was repeatedly referred to as a vegetarian - which he had been at the time of his death-despite his distraught mother telling television audiences the night before that his favourite snack was hamburgers. This "it's all so confusing; even the experts can't agree" line can be reliably depended on to cloud public understanding of any complex scientific issue.

The Daily Telegraph argued that any alarm should be kept in perspective. "Life is a hazardous business. But among all the hazards we face, eating beef must rank as minor, even after yesterday's news." Similarly, the Evening Standard called for a sense of proportion. "A calm and rational assessment of risks was needed. All our lives bear some measure of risk, even when we cross the roads." Its columnist, Simon Jenkins, returned to the theme next day, decrying how long children spend on algebra "when a crash course on probability might just save their lives." (He did not say how.) The Sun was heavy on reassurance, quoting the chief medical officer and publishing an article by Douglas Hogg, the agriculture minister. Its editorial, entitled "Mad Harriet," seemed to rate the shadow secretary for health, Harriet Harman, as more dangerous than BSE, although its editorial line changed as its telephone poll found that two out of three Sun readers were turning their backs on beef.

Friday

Next day, Britain's beef producers had replaced consumers as victims, as the world removed British beef from the menu. As is traditional in these matters, the French came in for most flak; the Times had a cartoon of "The Burgers of Calais," with Rodin's figures spitting out hamburgers. Newspaper photographs of downcast farmers at Banbury cattle auction replaced those of doomed teenagers. Many commentators pointed out that the government's previous attempts to protect the beef industry, by talking down the possibility of transmission of the BSE agent from cows to humans, had produced the worst possible outcome - for farmers, consumers, and the government itself. A consensus rapidly emerged that the Ministry of Agriculture, Fisheries, and Food could no longer be trusted to protect the interests of both producers and consumers.

In what was National Science Week, the limits of science and scientists were much discussed, particularly as Stephen Dorrell was consistently maintaining that he was putting his faith in the government's scientific advisers. Such a position attracted criticism ("What is Mr Dorrell for?" asked Joe Rogaly in Saturday's Financial Times), but it means that any future policy errors can be blamed on the advisers.

The Daily Telegraph worried that scientific advisers may not have the breadth of vision necessary to make the right decision, given the apocalyptic consequences for the farming industry of a total ban on British beef. "No matter how categorical scientific opinion may be . . . it will have to be weighed against all the other considerations involved before a decision is made." Other newspapers worried about the composition of the advisory group and the fate of advisers who had been promoting unorthodox views on the topic over the past decade.

Saturday

By Saturday the newspapers had time to take stock. Both the Guardian and the Times assessed the importance of beef to Britain's self image. "Beef is one of the great unifying symbols of our culture," claimed the Guardian. "The Roast Beef of Old England is a fetish, a household god, which has suddenly been revealed as a Trojan horse for our destruction." For the Times, "Beef became the symbol of the advantages Britons enjoyed which were denied lesser breeds across the water. In 1792 Gillray contrasted the citizens of Revolutionary France reduced to eating scallions and in fear of their freedom with the prosperous and independent Briton plump and free to enjoy the best beef." Neither newspaper felt inclined to examine whether British beef's current fall from grace reflected the state of the nation circa 1996.

Thursday's newspapers had printed extracts virtually verbatim from the chronology of events regarding BSE, circulated at the government's press conference the previous day; by Saturday they were querying how fast the recommended safeguards had been implemented. Although the prime minister had told the Commons on Thursday that the government had "accepted totally and immediately," lists of exceptions began to appear.

For example, the Financial Times wondered why the government never implemented the proposal by its BSE scientific committee in June 1989 that brains of cattle sent for slaughter should routinely be monitored to check the extent of unrecognised infection.

Sunday

But the government's chronology should have started earlier.The Observer and Independent on Sunday began earlier with changes in the rendering process in the early 1980s, which may have been the key event in the disease "jumping" from sheep to cattle. Apparently, the Labour government had been aware of the problem with cattle feed before the 1979 election and had published draft guidelines prohibiting any process that did not kill organisms. According to the Independent on Sunday, Mrs Thatcher's administration favoured new arrangements that "reflected the wish of ministers that in the present economic climate the industry should itself determine how best to produce a high quality product." So almost first on to the incoming government's bonfire of regulations were the draft guidelines.

Monday

Five days on from Stephen Dorrell's original statement to the Commons, bovine spongiform encephalopathy and Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease were still front page news, with most newspapers (incorrectly) suggesting that the government would cull all cows aged over 30 months. With McDonald's banning British beef and other hamburger chains following suit, the crisis seemed to be deepening.

The Financial Times noted the increasing criticism of the government over its failure to blunt the impact of its announcement. The government seems to be stunned, reported the Guardian: "It appears to have absolutely no contingency plans for dealing with an issue that has been threatening to explode for five years." The Daily Mail wanted ministers to "get a grip."

Tuesday

In an attempt to get a grip and restore public confidence, ministers rejected curbs on sales of British beef, insisted children were not in special danger, and ruled out mass slaughter of cattle. But this was undercut by the European Union's indefinite ban on British beef (which apparently was meant to be worldwide) and reports of two new cases of CJD.

The fire this time

What we had last week was the very unusual spectacle, for this government, of a completely unmanaged, long running series of events. Like a bushfire out of control the flames moved fast and unpredictably, at various times threatening to engulf the firefighters and to leap to previously "safe" areas such as milk, lambs' meat, blood transfusion, and surgical instruments. The speed with which the government decided to go public with its news precluded the setting of the usual firebreaks - the off the record briefings, the reassurance from authoritative "neutral" spokespeople, the spin doctoring by special interest groups. As we went to press the fire looked anything but burnt out.

TONY DELAMOTHE
BMJ