Reading reflection - Week 4

Wow, "The Unthinkable" just continues to amaze me. I've started underlining interesting passages in pencil because Ripley makes so many notable observations. This week's chapters were on groupthink, panic and paralysis. As I read through, I noticed myself laughing at some of the situations, especially the one about the panic at the pizzaria after a water heater exploded. Of course people getting trampled is not funny, but the way Ripley describes how humans behave in certain situations is comical. It's irrational and to a person not experiencing it, it easily sounds ridiculous.

Key takeaways:

I didn't expect people to maintain their hierarchy in a disaster. The scenes I see in movies show that people just start panicking and don't observe any type of order or hierarchy. It was fascinating to read that the woman who was getting married acted as the leader during the fire. She felt responsibility because it was her wedding.

I thought the section about reciprocity made sense. It's really fascinating to see that we maintain our ties to the natural world even though we live pretty separate from it. The millenia of survival traits matter more than the changes from the last century, which is essentially just a second in human evolution. Our decisions are ultimately selfish, even if we are saving other people's lives. I haven't consciously thought about it as selfish, but it really does make sense.

One of the most shocking observations Ripley made is that our disaster models don't mimic human behavior. The line about the EXODUS model developed by Ed Galea being too complex and containing too much human behavior is ridiculous. I don't understand why planners don't take this into account until after the disaster has struck. Seems that the concept of using the easiest possible solution (heuristics) to a problem is costing lives.

The section about fire scared the shit out of me. I am not prepared for a fire at all. I went around our house and checked the batteries in the smoke detectors and found that most of them had dead batteries. I'm also planning to figure out the best escape routes with my boyfriend this week. I had no idea that standing up out of bed would likely kill me. We learn stop, drop and roll, but I honestly haven't thought about it in years. It's also terrifying to read that the materials in homes are much more deadly than they were just 25 years ago.

I would have liked Ripley to talk more about why the animals sought higher ground hours before the tsunami struck. How did they know something bad was coming? Did they sense something in the air? Is this instinct something that humans could learn and mimic?

In the panic chapter, I was fascinated to read about the stampedes around the Jamarat. I didn't know about this particular ritual in Saudi Arabia and realized I need to read more about it. I have been in many crowds before during concerts, at rush hour in New York and while traveling through Indian streets, and I've felt the powerlessness that occurs when the one-square yard of space rule is violated. You lose control of your movements and are vulnerable to the whims of the crowd. It's both exhilarating and terrifying. I also learned that people can be killed without ever having fallen. I actually thought the true danger was falling but learned that pressure can also be a risk.

Enrico L. Quarantelli tried to quantify panic, which I think is a useful and enlightening subject. I love how Ripley notes that these studies are tough to get past the IRB. Useful but way understudied as a result. Quarantelli found that there must be three conditions present for people to panic:

1. People must feel that they may be trapped
2. Panic requires a sensation of great helplessness
3. Panic requires a profound sense of isolation.

Ripley concludes that panic is "what happens when human beings glimpse their own impending mortality — and know that it didn't have to be so."

It's so dark and terrifying. It's also fascinating that people are measuring and attempting to quantify a reaction that seems like it is so instinctual. As a result, city and building planners are able to foresee problems and adjust spaces so that panic is less likely to ensue.

According to Ripley, there are two types of anxiety and these can help predict the chance of inexplicable decision-making in a high-stress environment. State anxiety describes "how a person reacts to stressful situations," while trait anxiety describes "a person's general tendency to see things as stressful to begin with." What I learned from the experiment William Morgan ran is that people with higher trait anxiety should probably try to avoid putting themselves in high-stress environments like diving or firefighting without lots of preparation and self-awareness.

When an animal is paralyzed by fear, its heart rate drops, its body temperature drops, its respiration goes up, its body becomes numb to pain and it stares it an unfocused gaze. I don't think I've ever seen an animal or a person freeze in fear. But after reading this chapter, I have more respect for the response. I also have a much greater understanding of rape survivors. Researchers found that 40 percent of rape survivors remember feeling some sort of paralysis and 10 percent reported being completely immobile. As Ripley pointed out, this reaction makes it much easier for perpetrators to say they gained consent and for people to prosecute because the person was unable to fight back. Including this type of research in reporting, especially in longer-form reporting would be incredibly beneficial to readers. It would help people understand the response and hopefully, be less likely to blame the victim.

The evolutionary response for paralysis is also really interesting. It's actually a strategy used by animals because predators are less likely to eat sick or rotting prey. It's a hard-wired way to avoid food poisoning.

The bummer is that paralysis doesn't work in certain situations when the predator is actually a burning plane or a sinking boat. But seems to be more effective in human-on-human attacks such as rapes or shootings. So we have to train ourselves to assess the type of situation quickly, practice various responses to each and then hope we respond appropriately when the time comes.

Reading reflection - Week 3

"The Unthinkable" continues to be one of my favorite books of grad school. Amanda Ripley finds such compelling characters and her writing really just flows so naturally. I can tell she is in love with her topic.

The chapter on resilience is fantastic. I like how she breaks down resilience into different parts and acknowledges that there is no one recipe or measurement for success. Just like a genetic predisposition to a disease, the size of the hippocampus or the level of neuropeptide Y or the circle of friends a person has can predict relative risk but not with any complete certainty.

I underlined the three underlying advantages of people who are resilient: a belief that they can influence life events; a tendency to find meaningful purpose in life's turmoil; and a conviction that they can learn from both positive and negative experiences. She's onto something with these elements.

People who have an internal, rather than external locus of control, believe they can change outcomes. I used to live in a culture that would constantly explain good fortune or hardship by saying, dine Hudah bilya (only God knows). The outcomes of their lives were dependent upon the dictates of God. God controlled their lives, past, present and future. I noticed that people with this fatalistic outlook often felt apathetic about the position in life. If God is in control, nothing can be done to change it because it's God's will. Turkmen society, as a result, doesn't protest human rights offenses, it doesn't ask for changes; it accepts what happens even if it means suffering for everyday people.

I raged against this worldview because I have a strong internal locus of control. I believe that things can be changed. Maybe not everything, but certainly some things. I don't think I ever lost that sense of injustice at not being able to affect change, but other Americans did. They adopted the Turkmen thinking as a defense mechanism, which I definitely understand. It's less exhausting.

Near the end of my service I went with another Peace Corps Volunteer to buy tickets to India. The man at the ticket counter said that we had to buy our tickets in U.S dollars because we are American. We were paid our salaries in local currency, manats, so this required us to change money, which was a big hassle and cost us for the conversion. It was also a made up rule. The guy just wanted dollars.

I refused and started to make a scene. I told him it wasn't fair. I thought I should stand up for us as well as the Americans who would follow. Kera was shocked at my reactions. Some things aren't fair she said. Get over it. She told me I needed to stop overreacting. It was fascinating. She didn't think we could change that corruption, but I did. It came down to a belief that we could alter the outcomes. I adopted some of her thinking to see how it effected me and noticed that I while I became more accepting and more calm, I lost some of my optimism.

Second on the list is a tendency to find meaningful purpose in life's turmoil. Again, it's all about perspective and it's highly likely that this can be altered throughout life. Challenges can become lessons rather than something to suffer through. I think I experienced this one in a big way as a young adult. I had reconstructive jaw surgery to fix a malformed jaw when I was about 17. Years before that, I suffered with arthritis and chronic pain. It wasn't until I was in my early 20s that I saw that experience in my teens as a character-building exercise. I used to view it as a detraction from my life, but as the years passed, I saw it as something that helped me become stronger. It definitely took some things from me: I couldn't play the clarinet, I had to quit soccer, I would never be able to feel my lower face again. I mourned those things and reframed it. It made me stronger and not weaker. This one can years of struggle to finally realize. I think it did for me. But the larger lesson is to start with small stuff and work up.

The final aspect is a conviction that a person can learn from both positive and negative experiences. Again, I agree. Learning from all experiences is healthy. It creates a more resilient outlook, but it's hard. Sometimes negative experiences are easier forgotten. But I think the thing to realize is that nothing is ever truly forgotten. Bad experiences and negative emotions lurk in the dreamspace and subconscious thinking. So, it's healthier to face them head on and acknowledge that something can be learned. School is a little microcosm of this lesson. I notice that I easily remember  mistakes I make while reporting, writing and editing. I store them away and save them for a future experience. With non-school or work-related stuff, this can be a little harder. Finding the lesson in my Papa's death is hard. Mostly I just miss him. But the conviction that something can be gained is what makes that loss easier to comprehend and process.

Other comments about the readings. I liked the lecture from George Bonnano. I'm really glad I took quantitative research methods because it helped me understand what he was talking about with the study types. Key takeaway is that the majority of people continue along the same path and have the same mental outlook even after life-changing events. The study on spinal cord injuries was especially fascinating to me because I've always just assumed that I'd become permanently depressed after an accident like that.

Chapter 5 in "Covering Violence" is fantastic. Thinking about the interview itself is great advice. I've never consciously thought about the considerations the writers discuss: where to stand, how to make first contact, what to think about for a follow-up interview, how gender plays a role, getting consent, setting ground rules, bringing up the name of the media outlet multiple times and how to listen. I also underlined appropriate sentiments: I'm sorry this happened to you, I'm glad you weren't killed, It's not your fault. The second one would not probably cross my mind as something that would be appropriate to say, but it seems like it would ring true for people who have just witnessed trauma.

My topic for the semester: epidemics (week 3)

I've always been fascinated with epidemics. When I was about 13 I read Richard Preston's "The Hot Zone" one Sunday afternoon. I couldn't put the book down and then asked my dad if we could watch Outbreak (a Hollywood film about an outbreak in the U.S.). It starred Dustin Hoffman and included a romantic plotline, which, on a side note, I remember thinking was completely beside the point (ha - prepubescent self!).

I'm not entirely sure I actually know or can identify the reason I'm so drawn to this topic, but I think it has something to do with health, teamwork and behavior change.

I'm looking forward to analyzing news coverage of epidemics. Seems like my best bet this semester will be coverage of Ebola, but I'm also going to look for flu coverage and other contagious outbreaks. Last summer and fall, I read every article, viewed every infographic and watched every video the New York Times produced on Ebola. So, I think I have pretty good context of that one media outlet. The problem is that I didn't really view coverage from anyone else. So, I'm going to need to widen the scope and see if I can watch some news coverage, listen to some radio shows and look at other news websites. It's a good challenge and will definitely help me get a better sense of the range of coverage.

Reminder to self, focus on: frequency, framing, word choice, social response and my reaction to the coverage.

Prompt response - week 2

I've never been much of a TV person, so I naturally gravitate toward online news articles during times of duress and conflict. During the ISIS upheaval last fall, I read about the beheadings of journalists and opted not to view the videos. But about a week after news of the beheadings started, my Global Journalist professor asked us to watch a new documentary from VICE news about the rise of ISIS. I was amazed how much I learned by watching. So, while I think it can be jarring and difficult to watch conflict either on TV or in online videos, I think that it's always going to be beneficial to strive for a moderation of words, pictures and video. The key is moderation and variety.

Without moderation, coverage of crises can quickly sap a person's energy and leave them more pessimistic. I am reminded of this reality constantly by my Nana who watches broadcast all day long and thinks the world is going to hell in a hand basket. She lives in fear for me and others in my family because she doesn't temper her broadcast viewing with long-form nonfiction writing from the New York Times, etc. I try to remind her that we live in one of the most peaceful times in human history, but she can't comprehend what I'm saying because she sees the blasts, the wars and the catastrophe.

So, I guess what I tell myself when I'm reading or viewing tragedy is that it's important to keep it in context, look at the big picture and if it becomes too much, to take a break. After some especially disturbing coverage of ISIS, I noticed that I was having nightmares more often. I did yoga and I consumed fewer ISIS coverage. I read op-eds and the Daily Show and remembered to laugh. I think it's easy to get caught up in the coverage, especially as a journalist, but like Amanda Ripley cautioned, tunnel-vision can be deadly. It's crucial to take a step back and look at the big picture.

I am newer to Twitter, so I'm not sure I've experienced the Twitter echo chamber before. I believe it's what happens when people just keep saying the same thing about a topic and no one brings a fresh perspective. Again, I think the key to this issue is to step back, take a wider look and explore the wider landscape.

Moving across fault lines is a great way to escape this narrowness. A small example would be when I Skype with my Turkmen students. I always like to ask them their take on situations. I spoke with one student named Bahar (Spring) earlier this morning. She studies in Minsk, Belarus, which borders Ukraine to the north, so I asked her what people there are saying about the conflict in eastern Ukraine. I was surprised to hear that people in Minsk don't really talk about it. Belarus has a tightly controlled media and is ruled by an authoritarian government, so she said discussions about politics are not common. Her wording was that it's "very tight here." This is fascinating. So different from our 24/7 CNN coverage. Anyway, conversations like these help me take a wider view of the world and give me things to chew on when I'm pondering the whys and the hows.

Reading reflection - Week 2

When I was 18 and a freshman in college, I was about 20 feet away from a homicide-suicide shooting. A man enraged with jealousy walked onto my campus in Tacoma, Washington, and sought out a professor in the music department to kill and then turned the gun on himself. A friend and I were walking up from the science lab to our dorms and just seconds before the shooting began, we parted ways. I headed to the administration building and she headed toward the dorm. A few moments later, I heard the shots. Boom, boom, in quick succession and then a pause before another boom.

At first I thought it was fireworks, but I remember the feelings in the air changed. It felt different and chilling. It was scary. Once I realized it was a shooting, I ran behind a tree. I don't remember how long I crouched behind that tree waiting. Time passed and I eventually decided to run. Without looking back, with my backpack still on my back, I ran toward the administration building. I remember running into the lobby and shouting that someone had a gun and someone had been shot. I have no idea how I knew that. I hadn't seen anything or heard anyone say anything. But maybe I had. My memories are jumbled. Everyone stared at me and some people looked at me like I was crazy. The students weren't responding so I ran to the back of the building and asked someone to call 911 (this was the world before cell phones). I don't remember going back to my dorm room after that. I was in a daze. My friend, the one who had walked toward her dorm and witnessed the entire incident, transferred schools a few semesters later. She was the one who gave the bloodied and already dead professor CPR. Unlike me, she knew the shooter was dead. The only thought I remember having while crouching behind the nearby tree was that I needed to get away. I was close and if the shooter picked a new target, he could find me there.

Looking back, I should have gone to a counselor after this experience. For years, I hated the Fourth of July because the fireworks reminded me of that shooting. I didn't have nightmares or flackbacks and I'm certain I didn't have PTSD, but it was upsetting and it probably would have helped to talk with someone. But the great thing is that it's never too late.

The first few chapters of "The Unthinkable" were really fascinating to read, both because it is very instructive by itself, but also because it offered me a framework for my reactions to that event. As I read through the phases of a disaster response, I remembered entering each one. The denial phase occurred when I thought the gunshots were fireworks. I'm not sure how long that phase lasted. It could have been minutes. I do remember time almost standing still. Then I saw a nearby tree and knew I needed to get behind it. My deliberation phase also probably lasted awhile. I crouched behind that tree calculating my risk. I was trying to decide it the shooter would come for me or if her or she would shoot me while I was running. My "disaster personality" as Amanda Ripley calls it, decided to run for it. And instead of dropping everything to make for a quicker getaway, I took everything with me. It doesn't make sense, but that's what I did. My disaster self also apparently doesn't rescue. I ran the other direction of the shooting, so it seems I'm not going to be the person to stop a shooter. But, it seems like I am the person who wants to alert authorities. It was my mission to get help. I remember not needing to convince people that there was indeed a shooting. When people didn't believe me I didn't stop to convince them, I just kept searching for someone who would take action as quickly as possible. Once they did, I felt my part was done. I left the scene, but I don't recall where I went.

My impressions of the phases are that they are quite simple. Denial, deliberation, action. But, as you can see from the length of the blog post and from the length of the reading, they are moments that last much longer than any normal moments. In disasters, seconds last minutes. It was really clear from the reading and my own experience that the way time is perceived changes. I think the time distortion and the assertion that you just don't know how you'll behave are my key takeaways from that school shooting experience. And Ripley illustrated the realities so well in her examples. It's a part of the human experience you see for only a few moments in your life and it's something you never really forget.

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Interesting quotes from The Unthinkable (Introduction through chapter 2.)

The survival arc: denial (the initial shock), deliberation (we know something is wrong, but we don't know what to do about it), the decisive moment (taking action).

In a disaster, "Life becomes like molten metal. Old customs crumble, and instability rules." -Samuel Henry Prince

"Hazards have personalities" -Paul Slovic

Democratic societies breed distrust.

Making a call (or not) (week 1)

This week, our professor asked us to think about what justifies a "death knock," which is shorthand for reaching out to a person who has just experienced the death of someone close, either by proximity or relationship or both. She also asked us to determine when we think a death knock is warranted, especially concerning new reporters.

In general, I don't think we talk about death enough as a society. But people who go through the experience of watching a loved one die want to talk about it. I learned this after my friend Laura Barker's dad died suddenly of pneumonia. His death was not shocking because he had recently undergone a bone marrow transplant for leukemia. It was also the second time in his life that he had cancer. The first time he lost his leg. Even though it was an experience everyone feared and had seriously thought about, the finality of his death was hard to take.

After Ken Barker died, I wondered if I should bring up his death with her and how often. My instincts told me to ask and to ask often. A few months later she thanked me for checking in so much. She said people avoided asking her about her dad because they wanted to be respectful, but she would have preferred the questions they assumed were too intrusive. Losing her dad at 23 was terrible, and she really just wanted to talk about it.

I know that's just one story, so it's anecdotal, but I think the theme rings true. Most people want to share their story, work through their grief and tell people what happened. It seems we find meaning or hope to find meaning by telling others about our grief. The question for the media comes down to timing. Immediately following death, myriad reactions are possible.

So, in deciding whether to assign a reporter to a story about someone who has recently died, I would go with my instincts. In general, I would err on the side of asking them to call, which gives the person the choice of whether they'd like to respond. The approach would be crucial and I'd debrief with the reporter both before and after the call and the assignment. The source needs to know that the choice to interview is in their hands and that the reporter will make a good faith effort to avoid all and any mistakes. The incident itself would be a consideration as well. I would not send a reporter to an actively dangerous scene such as an active shooting incident or to an Ebola outbreak without knowing that they had proper training and/or protection. I'd also assess the reporter's ability to handle stress, though this could be tricky since everyone responds differently. Angela Anderson told me that one reporter who came to interview her started sobbing, and Anderson said it was inappropriate. The reporter hadn't just lost two of her children.

Also, if the situation seemed too dangerous or too intrusive, I'd consider following up later. In the case of Anna Steele's mom, I agree that an immediate call might be too triggering and intrusive, but a call after the initial shock has passed could be acceptable if she is willing to share. More time would also give the reporter a chance to write a stronger article and include information and context about shaken baby syndrome, etc.

Before sending a reporter out, I'd stress the importance of leaving the scene if they sense any sort of danger. A story is not worth getting injured, dying or becoming psychologically scarred. Bearing witness is important, but, in my opinion, is not worth dying for. I know some journalists would disagree with this, and I thank them for taking such risks and putting their lives on the line. I would not ask a reporter to stay in a dangerous situation. 

With new reporters, I'd also be sure to check in after the experience to make sure they debrief and have time to process the experience, especially if the reporter witnessed devastation or a grisly accident. First-time experiences can leave a more lasting impression because defense mechanisms have not been built up yet, so that's why it's important to spend more time talking about it and guiding them through the experience.

It's a tough question and I'm sure one that takes years of practice and reconsideration.

Reading reflection - Week 1

I wanted to study two things when I first came back from the Peace Corps: journalism and emergency medicine. Two months after getting back to Oregon, I found myself at Portland Community College enrolled in an emergency medical technician class. I had taken a few first aid courses and had anxiously enrolled. The instructor talked authoritatively and passionately about the great responsibility and honor that is involved in being an EMT. It's a tough job, the pay is low, but it saves lives and it's a practical skill. (sound familiar?)

I loved it, but I felt myself stepping back. Something deep inside me told me I was in the wrong place. I chatted later that night with my friend Dilanga, a paramedic from L.A. who has spent the past several years building up emergency response systems in Asia. I told him I desperately wanted to learn those skills, but that my heart was telling me to go study journalism. He said I had to listen to that voice. Emergency medicine would always be there; I could learn it later. That Friday, I withdrew from the course, packed my bags for New York City and started the long process of applying to graduate schools in journalism.

I also kept wondering why in the world I wanted to study those two things. My mom even commented: how are those two disciplines related? I couldn't say. I just knew I wanted to learn more about both.

The writers in this week's reading introduce journalists as first responders. I'd never thought of it before. Two and a half years later, I finally realize there is some overlap. Of course, I realize the job skills are quite different from each other, but the overarching principles are stunningly similar.

Assessment skills, quick thinking, piecing together information, evaluating risks, arriving first. A journalist and an EMT must do these things in order to be effective. It's a parallel I've never thought about before.

It's going to be really helpful to frame my work as a first responder. My whole life I have taken it for granted that in an emergency situation, the media show up. Bloodhounds, they've been called. Our news values have mixed into a strange reality of breaking news. There's the public's need and right to know, our collective fascination with trauma and violence and the pressure to break the story first.

Somehow the public never considered that watching all of this tragedy unravel might be taking a toll on the journalists, too. I have to admit I never considered the possibility that it might be hard either. Then I was assigned a life story. Death sits eerily nearby during those calls. It's close and undeniable. It's part of what makes us human and also part of what makes those life stories important.

I think talking about trauma in any field is necessary, but often neglected. Even though I attended only one session, my EMT instructor took the time to talk about self-care during that first session. It's a high burnout job and the work can be overwhelming, he warned us. Indeed. I didn't know it at the time, but his advice would also apply to me — a different type of first responder.