Thinking About the (No Longer) Unthinkable   

When news breaks, the journalistic instinct is to respond quickly and in force. But are the rules different when the news is a chemical, biological or radiological attack?

An explosion shakes the business district of a major U.S. city.

Editors hear a blast on their police scanners and instinctively dispatch reporters and news crews. But in a post-9/11 world, should they reconsider?

An explosion in a populated area saturated with public and government buildings could indicate a terrorist attack, perhaps one with chemical, biological or radiological weapons. The editors hesitate, then, eager to get the story, advise reporters to approach the scene cautiously, preferably upwind and uphill. The reporters head for the emergency responders' command post at a safe distance from the blast and stay alert for unusual odors, unexplained vapor clouds or mist, dead animals or victims who are twitching, nauseous or exhibiting pinpoint pupils.

Editors and reporters from Newsweek, the Washington Post, the Associated Press and other news organizations wrestled with improbable but not impossible scenarios such as this at a March seminar held by the Maryland Fire and Rescue Institute at the University of Maryland. Reporters accustomed to grabbing their notebooks and dashing to the scene are trying to fathom new uncertainties when covering terrorist attacks. Should they buy gas masks, escape hoods or protective suits? How close could they come to a potential chemical or radiological attack and stay safe? Who would give them information? What would happen if they were exposed to nerve agents while covering a story or fleeing a scene?

Terrorism experts dispute the practicality of gas masks, escape hoods and protective body suits in a domestic attack, but they agree on one thing: If a chemical or radiological assault occurs, reporters should stay away from the scene. If they're already there, they should flee. But the news business is brimming with people who defy cautionary advice, necessitating at least a rudimentary awareness of possible chemical, biological and radiological signs and symptoms.

"Given the new world that we're living in, the first response of the press outfit might not be and perhaps should not be to go immediately to a scene," says Elisa Harris, a senior research scholar at the Center for International and Security Studies at the University of Maryland and a former National Security Council staffer. "The press has got to take its cues from emergency-response and police officials on the scene or those designated to speak for them."

Centurion Risk Assessment Services Ltd., a British firm that has trained many war correspondents, also has begun to instruct domestic reporters at media organizations such as the New York Times and USA Today. "Our advice is to get the hell out of there," says Centurion Director Paul Rees. "If [reporters] are adamant that they need to be there, look for a vantage point that is away and out of the immediate danger area." Rees adds that is an option only if journalists are equipped with protective gear.

But James M. Naughton, president of the Poynter Institute, says journalists feel pulled to disaster scenes, no matter how risky. "One of the things that makes journalists different from other people and of such value to their news organizations is their reckless abandon, their strong inclination to go where the action is," Naughton says. "If we always function in the most careful and cautious manner, our families will be grateful, but our readers may not."

The Maryland Fire and Rescue Institute seminar "Safety Training for Journalists Covering Terrorist Attacks" provided some practical information for adventurous reporters. "Media people are very much like firemen," says Warren Campbell, a retired U.S. Army lieutenant colonel with an extensive background in nuclear, chemical and biological casualty care. "We're like moths to the flame." Campbell and Michael Kernan, a former assistant fire chief in Baltimore, offered advice for reporters who might find themselves covering a terrorist assault. They based their information on federal standards for terrorism awareness training developed for emergency responders after the first World Trade Center bombing in 1993. A terrorist attack or an event involving weapons of mass destruction "is really a hazmat incident with a crime scene," Campbell observed.

Emergency personnel establish three zones around a contaminated area. The hot zone, closest to the incident, is considered extremely dangerous and possibly life threatening. Everyone who enters the hot zone must be decontaminated afterward. The intermediate zone, called the warm zone, contains a decontamination corridor and access points through which trained responders enter or leave the hot zone. The cold zone, furthest from the incident, should contain no chemical-related hazards. Protective equipment is not required in the cold zone, according to the "Hazardous Materials Awareness" manual produced by the Maryland Fire and Rescue Institute.

Even with protective gear, hazardous-materials teams don't enter a dangerous area immediately. Technicians and specialists methodically penetrate the hot zone and relate information to an incident commander, who waits at a command post in the cold zone. The incident commander or a designee dispenses information to the media.

Journalists arriving at a potentially dangerous scene should ask for the location of the command post. They should attempt to approach upwind and from uphill, looking for signs or symptoms of a chemical or radiological attack. Reporters also should be aware of secondary devices such as explosives or booby traps. Also called "sucker punch" devices, terrorists sometimes set these traps to injure first responders.

The federal government's "Emergency Response to Terrorism Self-Study," a 1997 document by the U.S. Department of Justice and the Federal Emergency Management Agency, offers this sobering piece of advice to first responders: "You could arrive at a potential terrorist incident and not really know what you're up against. Your first concern must be self-protection. You must recognize the various hazards that may be present at any kind of incident: biological, nuclear, incendiary, chemical or explosive. You need to remember, too, that a single incident can present a variety of hazards, and exposure can be fatal."

If journalists reach a scene before first responders, Campbell says they should back away, assess the situation and remain constantly vigilant for clues. Among the signs of a possible chemical attack: the presence of chemical or laboratory equipment not usually found at a scene; unexplained skin, eye or respiratory irritation; mysterious vapor clouds or mist; dead plants and animals, including birds and insects; and victims twitching or showing pinpoint pupils. Campbell and Kernan advise reporters to pay attention to unusual sounds, such as loud pops; to unexpected sights, such as a person furtively spraying a substance; and to peculiar smells, such as the odor of newly mown hay, bitter almonds, garlic or camphor (which smells like VICKS VapoRub).

If reporters hear gas or vapor escaping, they are probably too close to a scene. If they can smell a pungent odor, they may have been exposed and may be contaminated; they should leave immediately. Campbell also recommends that reporters refrain from eating, smoking, drinking or even chewing gum if they're near a scene that might involve radioactive materials or dangerous chemicals. The materials can be swallowed if contaminated hands come in contact with the mouth, and they could harm the gastrointestinal system and organs.

Using Geiger counters, first responders can quickly determine whether a radiological attack, such as the release of a dirty bomb, has occurred. Reporters escaping from a radiological event or other explosion should cover their mouths with a handkerchief to keep dust out and wash themselves as soon as possible. They also should attempt to put a shield--such as a vehicle, concrete or even dirt--between themselves and the source of the radiation. Radiation can't be seen, tasted or smelled, so journalists probably would only learn from first responders whether it is present.

Some first responders in major cities also have equipment to determine whether chemical agents have been released. Specialized litmus paper will show the presence of nerve and blister agents. More expensive kits can indicate the presence of other chemicals and can, in some cases, identify them. Chemical weapons include blister agents and blood, choking and nerve agents.

Commonly misidentified as "nerve gases," nerve agents, including sarin, soman and VX, are actually liquids sprayed in mists. Symptoms will appear within seconds or minutes and include shaking, twitching muscles, profuse sweating, blurred vision and a runny nose. Fresh air is the best immediate antidote, and washing with soap, water and a small amount of bleach is advisable. But anyone experiencing symptoms also should seek immediate medical attention, Campbell says.

Symptoms from blister agents such as mustard, formally known as vesicant agents, may not appear for hours. Blisters appear where chemicals contact the skin but won't spread to other body parts. However, a contaminated person can spread the blistering to other people. Washing thoroughly with soap, water and a small amount of bleach is the best immediate treatment for exposure. Reporters experiencing symptoms such as red, itchy and bumpy skin also should seek medical treatment. Health officials will "treat you like a burn patient with a second-degree burn," similar to a really bad sunburn with blisters, Campbell says.

He adds that officials are most concerned about the potential use of industrial chemicals readily available in water-treatment plants across the United States.

Blood agents, such as hydrogen cyanide, interfere with the blood's ability to transport oxygen. Choking agents, such as chlorine, stress respiratory system tissues and fill the lungs with fluid, creating a phenomenon called "dry-land drowning." Unlike nerve agents, blood and choking agents are true gases. Heavier than air, they sink into ravines and ditches. Reporters near such a scene should avoid retreating into basements, underground garages or other low-lying areas. While these gases are quite dangerous, Campbell says, "it's really difficult to kill a lot of people with this."

One resource for reporters responding to spot news involving dangerous chemicals is the "Emergency Response Guidebook," a primer for first responders. Published by the U.S. Department of Transportation, the color-coded guide lists materials by name, explains the top health and fire/explosion hazards associated with particular chemicals, offers first-aid instruction and recommends initial isolation and protective distances from the material.

Another resource is the "Symbol Seeker" manual, a pocket-size guide. The Symbol Seeker shows pictures of internationally designated symbols that indicate the presence of dangerous goods such as flammable gases and explosives.

Symptoms appear within hours if not minutes in people affected by a chemical attack, and there are easily observed signs, such as pungent odors and dead plants, insects and animals, according to the "Emergency Response Guidebook."

But if terrorists launch a biological attack, public health officials may not detect the outbreak for hours, days or even weeks. The U.S. Department of Homeland Security's www.ready.gov Web site says that the public might notice signs of a biological attack, as sometimes happened with the anthrax mailings.

But "it is perhaps more likely that local health care workers will report a pattern of unusual illness or there will be a wave of sick people seeking emergency medical attention." The Web site, which attempts to provide practical, user-friendly information for the public, adds that public health officials may not immediately be able to say what actions, if any, the public should take. Health officials will need time to determine the illness and treatment.

Ready.gov advises the public to watch television, listen to the radio or check the Internet for official news including the following: What is the area authorities consider dangerous? What are the signs and symptoms of the disease? Are officials distributing medications or vaccines? Where? Who should get them? Where is emergency medical care available?

For reporters covering a biological attack, including anthrax, smallpox and tularemia, a panel at the National Press Club convened in March by the University of Maryland recommended additional questions journalists should ask: How can people protect themselves? What are the chances of residual contamination--how long do the germs or biological substances linger? How can people prevent secondary cases?

"The first thing I would ask a public health official is what do you know, and probably even more importantly, what do you not know," says Bruce Clements, associate director of the Center for the Study of Bioterrorism at Saint Louis University. "What are you investigating that you don't have the answer to?"

Clements recommends that if reporters feel they must urge a public health official to speculate, the speculation should be general rather than specific. For example, rather than grill officials about how someone may have contracted anthrax before they know the answer, reporters might ask how someone could contract inhalational anthrax without on-the-job exposure. What is the full range of possibilities?

Experts disagree about the usefulness of safety equipment for reporters covering or fleeing a biological, chemical or radiological attack. Some major media outlets in Washington, D.C., and New York have purchased equipment ranging from gas masks and protective body suits to one-time-use escape hoods that cover the entire head and seal at the neck (see "Girding for Terror," April).

"Frankly, the idea that reporters covering these issues here in the U.S. need to be equipped with specialized equipment is not necessarily the best use of your resources," the University of Maryland's Harris says. "Unless you all have detectors, which I doubt, it's unclear to me how you would know when to use that equipment."

Clements cautions that the equipment itself involves additional risks. "Unless you know how to properly fit it, and you know the size, it can give people a false sense of security," he says. "It can make people feel like Superman and put themselves at risk, but [they] aren't really protected." Clements says respiratory equipment such as gas masks can make breathing more difficult, especially for people with respiratory problems. During the 1991 Persian Gulf War, several Israeli civilians suffocated from improper use of gas masks.

Russell Strickland, assistant director of the field programs division at the Maryland Fire and Rescue Institute, cautions that the Occupational Safety and Health Administration strictly regulates workplace distribution of gas masks and any other equipment more sophisticated than escape hoods. Companies must conduct employee respiratory physicals, offer initial training on how to use the equipment and provide regular refits and refresher courses.

Strickland, Kernan and Campbell do not keep any personal safety equipment in their homes or cars. They note that each piece of equipment only works in specific circumstances, and no one can know what they'll encounter during a terrorist attack. Escape hoods, for example, could protect a wearer from inhaling or ingesting certain biological or chemical agents but won't guard the skin. "It has uses for escape," Strickland says. "And it may work."

Ready.gov does not endorse gas masks for the general public. But it does recommend that civilians include a mouth and nose covering for each family member in an emergency supply kit. "Plan to use two to three layers of a cotton T-shirt, handkerchief or towel," the site advises. "Or, consider filter masks, readily available in hardware stores, which are rated based on how small a particle they filter." The site also notes that masks or other materials must fit the face snugly so most of the air the wearer breathes comes through the mask, not around it.

Several companies sell safety equipment. The Washington Post published an "Emergency Preparedness Guide" on March 16 that included an article on masks. The Post did not endorse any equipment but offered descriptions and photos of filter masks, half masks and escape hoods.

Centurion Director Rees recommends that media organizations with reporters in potential target areas for terrorists buy escape hoods. He says protective suits are useful only for fleeing a scene, and even then, only if reporters are on the periphery of danger and have time to don the suits. "People will not hang around in a building that's crumbling trying to put the damn suit on," he says.

If an attack occurs, Naughton encourages editors to trust the judgment of reporters on the scene. "In the end, the only rule that to me makes any sense is that the journalist on the ground has to decide how much risk is too much," he says. "And the editor has to agree that the reporter is in a better position to judge that than the editor."

While "there's no shame" in letting emergency responders weigh the risks before journalists saturate a scene, Naughton seems uneasy with the suggestion by some experts that journalists stay in their offices and out of harm's way, waiting for authorities to release information that they deem appropriate for public consumption.

"That's not journalism," Naughton says. "That's stenography."