Editorial
Germ warfare
by Denis Welch
Well, that’s just dandy. As if we didn’t have enough to worry about already, it turns out that harmful bacteria can survive on computer keyboards for six weeks or more. Every time you sit down to go tippity-tap, you’re exposing yourself to potentially lethal concentrations of methicillin-resistant staphylococcus aureus (MRSA). This is the bacterial organism that has mutated to become resistant to most antibiotics. In short, it’s the Superbug, and it’s coming soon to a computer near you, if it hasn’t already arrived.
It’s not just computers, of course. Thanks to the never-ceasing march of knowledge, we now know that the average toothbrush/dishcloth/chopping-board/handkerchief seethes with invisible life-forms that, collectively, show scant respect for the human race and would take over the world if not beaten back by volunteers with flails and threshing-hooks.
One of the great drawbacks of microtechnology is that it enables us to see perils where none apparently lurked before. As physicists have discovered so much that was hidden, such as the infinitesimal universe of subatomic particles, so we find more and more previously undreamt-of phenomena swirling about us in everyday life. Air, dust, water, bacteria, tobacco smoke, plastics, electromagnetic radiation, uranium traces infiltrating our homes in the form of radon – in all these dwell danger for the neurotically inclined. Don’t touch that doorknob! Step away from that toaster! You hardly want to get out of bed, except that, if you don’t, you’ll be eaten alive by the billion and a half dust mites living in your mattress.
Before the advance of modern science bestowed on the affluent First World a vast new range of anxietals (things to worry ourselves to death about), life was a lot simpler and cruder. You had your work cut out just to feed yourself and your children and get through the day without being invaded, slaughtered, raped or shipped into slavery. Your average medieval peasant didn’t spend the day brooding on chronic fatigue syndrome or the effects of passive smoking.
Then again, the average medieval peasant died at about 40 with rotten teeth, terrified of being consigned to the flames of Hell. We live longer, healthier, luckier, and are far less likely to fear the afterlife; but by the same token we seem determined to create mini-hells for ourselves on Earth. Dragons and devils with pitchforks have given way to prowling germs and the sabre-toothed giardia.
It’s almost as if peace and prosperity aren’t enough to satisfy the human need to have something to worry about. Lacking genuine threats to life and limb, we in the First World exaggerate minor health risks and mental tendencies into major concerns. Having no idea of God in our lives, increasing numbers of us feel as if we and we alone must carry the weight of existence on our shoulders and be sensitised to, if not personally responsible for, every little thing in Creation.
Throughout the Western world, parents are going to ever-greater lengths to shield their children from the dangers posed by dirt, germs and, indeed, daily contact with the world outside the home. Potential infection lurks in every playground; allergic reactions wait round every corner. And the better off you are, it seems, the more fearful you get and the more obsessive about hygiene. A German survey of 1300 children from different socio-economic backgrounds has found that those of “higher” status are more likely to suffer from allergies, because they’re less exposed to bacteria. That’s how children’s bodies learn to fight infection – rolling around in the mud and scraping their knees.
Some threats may be very real, of course: the bird flu story in this issue of the Listener examines one of them. If bird flu jumps to humans, then it’ll be goodnight nurse for large numbers of us. No one should ridicule this kind of risk – AIDS and SARS are just the most vicious of the many viruses that originated among animals – but even in this case we need to remind ourselves that if the world seems a scarier place, health-wise, then it’s precisely because we know so much more about it. Greater knowledge brings greater fears, which is more or less what the English poet Alexander Pope meant when he wrote, “A little learning is a dangerous thing.”
By all means wash your hands before meals and keep your children safe. But let them mix it with bugs and bacteria, too. It’s dirty work, but someone’s got to do it.
