In news that will surprise absolutely no one who has paid attention to the last decade of global health, a British nurse who survived the Ebola virus has emerged from a well-earned retirement to inform us that the current outbreak in the Democratic Republic of Congo presents 'massive challenges'. Well, I say 'inform' but it's more like she read a statement written by someone whose job it is to state the bleeding obvious.
Let's set the scene: Congolese health workers, already knee-deep in a conflict that makes the Bourne films look like a picnic, are now battling a virus that turns its victims into fountains of internal bleeding. Meanwhile, the British government has dispatched a nurse who once survived Ebola to... what exactly? Offer moral support? Remind us that things are bad? Or perhaps to make a grand BBC documentary about her heroic efforts, because nothing says 'we care' quite like a primetime slot.
Now, I don't mean to disparage the nurse herself. She's clearly made of sterner stuff than the rest of us gin-soaked journalists. She survived a disease that kills over half its victims, and she's now offering her expertise. But the framing here is pure farce. The headline screams 'URGENT: British nurse warns of massive challenges' as if we were all sitting around wondering whether the Congo outbreak was going to be a walk in the park. Spoiler alert: it's Ebola in a war zone. It's never going to be a walk in the park unless that park is a crater of death.
What we have here is a classic case of the British media's obsession with making every global disaster about a plucky Brit. 'Nurse who survived Ebola warns outbreak poses massive challenges' is newspeak for 'We saw an opportunity to use a Brit to make a story about a foreign crisis more palatable for our viewers.' It's the same logic that turns every foreign earthquake into a story about a couple from Barnsley who were on holiday. 'Tragedy strikes Costa Rica, but let's focus on Alan and Brenda from Doncaster who missed their connecting flight.'
And can we talk about the phrase 'massive challenges' for a moment? It has the distinct whiff of a press release written by a communications officer who was paid to say something but not to actually say anything useful. 'Massive challenges' is the linguistic equivalent of shrugging. It tells us nothing. Are the challenges logistical? Political? Microbiological? Or is it simply that the local gin supply has run dry? I need specifics, not vapid platitudes that could apply equally to a third-world epidemic or a particularly tricky game of Tetris.
Meanwhile, back in the real world, Congolese doctors are risking their lives with inadequate protective gear, and here we are, safe in our London offices, clucking our tongues and tutting at the 'massive challenges'. The irony is so thick you could spread it on a scone.
So, let's put this in proper perspective. A nurse who survived Ebola is warning that Ebola is still hard to deal with. More at eleven. But in the meantime, I'm going to pour myself a stiff drink and contemplate the remarkable resilience of the human spirit, which can turn even the deadliest outbreak into a platform for British exceptionalism.
And to the nurse: Good luck. You're going to need it. Because 'massive challenges' is the disease, and the cure we seem to have settled on is saying things that don't mean anything.
