I'm not a plumber, but I could play one on TV. Or at least on YouTube, where I'd learn the trade by watching hours of videos instructing me how to fix leaks and fit fixtures.
This would be especially beneficial, as I have a leaky toilet.
Just as Idon't have answers for my plumbing problem, armchair epidemiologists don't have answers about Covid-19.
It hasn't stopped them from sharing disinformation and dismissing doctors, scientists, government and non-governmental health organisations as promoting conspiracies against you and me. "Sheep!" they cry, when you tell them their ideas are loony. "You are being deceived!"
No one has the full picture of the coronavirus pandemic. Not you. Not me. Not even the experts. Not the faith healer down the street or the herbal therapist across town.
We're learning together.
It could be years, if ever, until we understand how this virus attacks and mutates; why some people die from it and others never sniffle. It's like a skip-hop tornado, sparing some homes while flattening others.
Instead of a tornado, Covid-19 has unleashed a tsunami of disinformation. If you haven't seen a conspiracy theory video or anti-vaxxer postulating theories about how vitamins will cure novel coronavirus, you're either lucky or have a small social media circle.
I don't pretend to understand everything I read about Covid-19, especially studies in medical journals heavy on data, equations and jargon. I'm also not trying to sell a product or write clickbait-y falsehoods to see how many suckers I can snag.
What's terrifying is how misinformation maestros are spreading information faster than you can say "global pandemic". Even scarier, millions of people swallow the hogwash before sharing it with others.
You may have seen "Plandemic" before YouTube, Vimeo and Facebook removed the viral conspiracy video. The Washington Post and many other outlets reported the video made false claims about the coronavirus pandemic, including suggestions for medically unsubstantiated diagnostic advice. The video features an extended interview with someone well known in the anti-vaccination movement who made discredited claims about vaccines.
I have no time for anti-vaccine theories. According to the World Health Organisation, they're partly responsible for a measles outbreak that last year infected more than a half-million people worldwide, more than a thousand of them in New Zealand. During 2019, there were more measles cases reported worldwide than in any year since 2006, and the WHO says vaccine hesitancy attributed to anti-vaccination campaigns is a major reason. The latest data available from 2018 shows more than 140,000 individuals died of measles. This didn't have to happen because, unlike Covid-19, we have a vaccine for measles.
An article in Popular Science may help explain why people cling to false information and fringe views. Research shows those polarised on either end of the political, science or religious spectrum lack facility for metacognition: they rarely question their own beliefs in a way people with more moderate views would. The lead researcher said, "It's been known for some time now that in studies of people holding radical beliefs, that they tend to… express higher confidence in their beliefs than others."
How do we help people examine boring facts when conspiracy theories are more exciting? I wouldn't be upset if these theories didn't kill people. Muse about who shot JFK all you want. Don't screw around with half-baked hypotheses during a global pandemic.
We can all be manipulated. The slick video with music and scary testimonials can tug at your heartstrings as well as your purse strings. The person touting a miracle "cure" hopes to monetise your misery. The propagandist isn't trying to teach you anything; they're trying to spread fear. Alternative promoters attempt to gain your sympathy by portraying themselves as the underdog fighting the deep state, the establishment, "the man". See them for the snake oil salesmen they are.
People used to bloodlet to cure disease; wrapped dirty socks in bacon to place around sore throats; used rattlesnakes for arthritis and placed sliced onions around the house to ward off flu. I'm certain someone wrote up these ''alternative cures'' in a journal.
We need more digital literacy, to learn how to weigh data, to learn basic truths about science, such as anecdotes and the single expert are the weakest forms of evidence. We need to know more about how real science works if we're to resist alarmists whose shoddy statistics have already been discredited by researchers esteemed in their fields.
You don't cure Covid-19 with elbow grease, vitamins or by pretending vaccines are unsafe.
This pandemic provides a chance for us to scale new heights in protecting public health. Hopefully, we can shift the mindset adopted by too many people across the globe which is anti-science and anti-expert.
Often it's not the most learned voice, but the loudest, that wins the debate. Don't let their persistent roar replace science.
When someone shares a message "THEY don't want you to see," touting a miracle Covid treatment or bashing a vaccine before it has even been developed, flick the video, meme or message where it belongs - the digital scrap heap. Just as social distancing has helped Kiwis stop the spread of novel coronavirus, social media savvy can help stop the spread of lies. Keep scrubbing the twaddle from your timeline while singing "Staying Alive" for at least 20 seconds.
Back to the leaky toilet. Did I stop the drops because hours of online study made me a plumbing guru? Did I resist calling a plumber because they're all part of a vast conspiracy to deny me my DIY rights? Nope. When I want to properly fix something beyond my scope, I call an expert.