Diana Wichtel: Radio rules in post-cyclone time of need

Newstalk ZB host Marcus Lush. Photo / Jason Oxenham

OPINION

On Marcus Lush Nights, Newstalk ZB, the calls are coming in. Carl, from Gisborne: “We’ve been put up at a Top 10. Some awesome people. In a bit of a daze. We lost our house.” James: “We haven’t had Eftpos for four or five days. I’ve been reduced to three small tins of tuna, 2 cans of pasta sauce and a couple of onions.”

There’s a shout out from Janine in Hawke’s Bay to a local helicopter pilot. His own house is gone. “He’s been taking people off roofs in Esk Valley and all around Waiohiki. He’s been doing it in his stepfather’s undies ‘cos he had no clothes.” A tribute to the kindness of neighbours: “The beer is warm but he’s still giving it to me for free.”

In the lead-up to Cyclone Gabrielle, Lush gathered useful information, including how to secure your tramp. We’ve had a freakish number of opportunities lately to be reminded how vital communication is in a pandemic, a natural disaster. Lush provided a masterclass. Television and social media have risen to the occasion. In some communities, local papers heroically went to press. But a lot of people in affected regions had no TV. Radio has its own unique, intimate place in the conversation. You can’t call Mike McRoberts for a yarn when times are tough.

Lush’s shows came as a relief after some talk radio that was oddly in denial about what was about to happen. The closure of most Auckland schools or an unarguably factual headline - “There will be destruction” - set off an increasingly familiar soliloquy about how anxious, soft, hysterical we have become. It’s just some rain. What cyclone? Some commentators link this disinclination to listen to experts with the Covid lockdown contrarianism. It’s just the flu.

Maybe it goes deeper, a throwback to a pioneering past when looking back, or ahead, just slowed you down. She’ll be right. That legacy informs a certain brand of individualistic thinking. Personal responsibility. User pays. Pull your socks up. But there’s no such thing as small government when disasters of this order strike. The market won’t fix it. People need support, leadership, collective action. It’s a reminder that everyone is only a serious health event or an unprecedented storm away from needing help. It’s a warning that things that can’t be ignored, like climate change, will demand fundamental changes to the status quo. Even when reality is about to scream in on a wall of water full of forestry slash, there are those who don’t want to see it. She’ll be right.

On Lush’s show callers were sharing the routes they were using to get around, where people were getting fuel. “Was there a long queue at Havelock North Mobil? This is good information.” Blair, an electrician, rang in. “She’s pretty bad,” he said, “We’re here to help.”

Lush spoke for many when he launched his silt monologue: “So much damn silt ... I can’t work out how so much silt was generated. ...But the silt!” Inconceivable devastation. “The dauntingness of the situation,” as Lush put it. “The mammothness of the task required.”

Why do some people, even professional communicators, have so little faith in predictions and warnings that saved lives in what turned out to be the worst weather event this century? Lush considered the denialist narrative, more in sorrow than in anger. “Suddenly people say it’s just hype … In some ways, the official information is not as trusted as it once was because we live in that time of misinformation now,” he mused. “People think they are trying to control us.”

Meanwhile, he got busy initiating a service for callers low on cellphone battery. The show would call them back – “It’s called Rapid Dan Callback!” - so they didn’t wait on the line. And there was good news from Napier: “Marcus, it’s Janice here. The power has come on. Wonderful!”