Accessibility of emergency information

One of our most important jobs as media is to inform the public about what to do in an emergency. During a natural disaster, violent attack, global pandemic or evacuation, people turn to the news. They want to know what to do and how to be safe. But what advice do you give? And who is it for — and not for?

 
Think back to the last time you saw a natural disaster covered on the news. What were people advised to do in the event that they had to evacuate their homes? News anchors or the experts they’re interviewing usually tell you to do things to ensure you’re ready to evacuate. Board up your windows. Gather important documentation. Make sure that there’s gas in your car or that you have a month’s supply of your medications with you or that you have access to clean water as you leave.

But what about people who don’t have cars or can’t drive, who are living in poverty so can’t afford to get enough food to last a few weeks, who aren’t mobile enough to board up their windows or transport jugs of filtered water, who have prescriptions that can’t be filled more than a month in advance?

What about people who, once they get to the shelter, find that, because of their mobility disabilities, there is no place for them to sleep or use the bathroom? What about people who need attendant care? Should attendants have to choose between risking their own lives in order to assist their clients or abandoning them? What about people who live on mechanical ventilators, who may only have between three and four hours to find another source of the oxygen?

And what about people who can’t understand these directions in the first place? Does your newscaster make an effort to use plain language or provide sign-language interpretation? (On the matter of plain language: the ProPublica and Arizona Daily Star series “State of Denial,” which looked at how services in Arizona were failing disabled people, was published in plain language to ensure accessibility[1]. I would suggest investigating plain-language translations in your newsroom, too.)

You might be inclined to respond that the advice during a natural disaster is intended for the general public and journalists can’t be held responsible for everyone. But who is the general public, in your mind, and who is outside of it? Who is so much an exception that we journalists don’t have a duty to give them critical information?

 
What infuriates me even more than seeing disability excluded from disaster preparation is the interviews some news networks do with people who didn’t evacuate. There’s often a tone of smug disbelief: Why would someone do such a thing, put themselves in such danger? But when people are asked why they didn’t leave, the answer is generally that they couldn’t, often as a result of disability or poverty. Few interviews acknowledge that some people don’t have a way to leave, and that you can be the most resourceful person in the world and still not be able to evacuate on foot when warned of a hurricane.

More generally, disabled lives require more resources and have less flexibility in them than do other people’s lives. When one source of meeting their needs is disrupted, that can have a cascade effect and lead to medical emergencies, homelessness, worsening disability or even death. The stakes are high for disabled people in disasters.

Journalists are not, of course, responsible for public policy. But we do tell the public what and who are important. The lack of public policy around disaster for disabled people is reflected in our news coverage, which also rarely includes them[2].