We Were Sold the Bearded Woman but Got the Girl Next Door
Today dawned with another sunny promise of a beautiful day in northeast Indiana. Yesterday we were under the threat of dangerous storms but today looks to be a pleasant June day. As my coffee was brewing I looked across the backyard and saw all the beautiful flowers reaching towards the sun and felt it was going to be a good day. I headed to my office with a plan for today's reflection but that topic was shelved after the response to last night's social media post pulled me in a different direction.
Yesterday was a stormy day through the Midwest, starting with storms in Iowa that only strengthened as they moved into Illinois and southern Indiana. My weather app kept pushing warnings of thunderstorms and tornadoes, and the radar looked menacing. But for us we only received 35 hundredths of an inch of rain and no wind.
I made a short social media post last night about the fact that we only received 35 hundredths when only 48 hours before, forecasters were warning of upwards of four inches of rainfall and dangerous, life-threatening winds. The National Weather Service even had us under a flood warning. I posted about how those warnings had some of my neighbors in a panic. I had neighbors scrambling to find storm shelters in preparation for this massive storm — honestly fearful for their lives and belongings because of the assurances that a catastrophic storm was coming. A storm that missed us.
Now I need to be careful here, because the storm did end up being massive — dangerous tornadoes, significant winds, serious rainfall. But the models changed, the track moved south, and our area received very little.
There is a line between Walter Cronkite and P.T. Barnum. Cronkite believed in the discipline of the fact — here is what we know, here is what we don't, here is the margin for error. Barnum believed in the crowd. Give them the bearded woman. Give them something to gasp at.
Modern weather coverage — and particularly social media weather coverage — has wandered a long way from Cronkite's desk.
A friend pushed back on my post last night. Said I could simply choose not to read the forecasts if they bothered me, that they just wanted to be prepared. That's a fair point and I respect it. Preparedness is a virtue, especially in agriculture where the sky is always a variable. But preparation built on amplified fear is a shaky foundation. You can tell someone a significant storm is possible, that models show a concerning track, that they should watch conditions and have a plan — and do all of that without manufacturing panic. The facts, stated plainly, are usually sufficient.
The models changed. The track shifted south, some of it as late as six hours before the event. That's meteorology — and I understand that. The storms were real, the damage was real, and for those in the path the warnings were warranted.
My frustration isn't with the science. It's with the certainty. Days of amplified, unqualified predictions with no disclaimer, no margin of error, no acknowledgment that the track could shift. I pay a not insignificant amount each year for a professional weather service. I expected someone to tell me here's what we know, here's what we don't, here's what to watch for. Instead I got a carnival barker selling certainty with "trust the app."
What my neighbors needed was a clinician with a decent bedside manner. Just the facts. Joe Friday had it right all along.