We are now six weeks into the publicly announced H7N9 outbreak. March 31 seems like a long time ago. We've assimilated an extraordinary amount of information about a seemingly mild-mannered poultry virus that sometimes kills people. But the experience reminds me of a 1958 morning in Mr. Kennedy's Grade 12 philosophy course at Santa Monica High.
Mr. Kennedy drew a small circle on the chalkboard: "When you don't know very much," he explained, "you're not aware of much that you don't know." Then he drew a much larger circle around the first one: "When you know more, you also realize how much more you're ignorant of."
Despite this discouraging analysis of the value of learning (which presaged Donald Rumsfeld's "unknown unknowns"), I carried on with my own education. Now, at the age of 72, my ignorance has approached oceanic proportions—and especially about both H7N9 and MERS. This has been a very frustrating time.
I certainly pick up a similar note of frustration in the official statements about the two outbreaks. Three long months after the first Mr. Li fell ill in Shanghai, our ignorance about H7N9 seems to expand by the day. We've learned that H7N9 in poultry extends at least from Tianjin (where Mr. Yao, the onetime poultry dealer, picked up the chickens that infected his 7-year-old daughter and the 4-year-old boy across the street) to Dongguan, just north of Shenzhen and the Hong Kong border. That's far enough to suggest that it's probably all over the People's Republic, a recently mutated virus carried far on the tide of Chinese enterprise.
But it's so new and so rare that we almost never find it except when someone falls ill. Even then, the victim may have no recollection of any contact with poultry. The current pause in new cases may be thanks to the shutdown of the Shanghai live-poultry market, or to some seasonal quirk that will drive H7N9 underground until cooler weather in the fall. We don't know.
The answers to our questions about H7N9 lie somewhere beyond that recently expanded circle of our knowledge. But we're still most comfortable inside the inner circle of our old knowledge, where we know about other avian influenzas and their behaviour and the means of fighting them.
We're similarly inside our inner circle of knowledge about SARS, trying to figure out why its cousin MERS is taunting us from somewhere beyond our newly expanded outer circle. And here we've been dealing with it since April 2012, without even determining who the index case was in Zarqa Hospital back then, or how that case contracted the virus.
Still less do we know how it then moved well south of Jordan into the Persian Gulf states and Saudi Arabia, where it has established itself very comfortably in at least one hospital in Al-Ahsa province. Why this fondness for medical settings? We don't know. And why did the first French case show such innocuous symptoms that he was given a roommate in Valenciennes hospital? We don't know.
As frustrating as life may be on the outer frontiers of our ignorance, we should recall that we've been here before. It was months before Guan Yi got the test results proving SARS was being transmitted from wild animals, especially civet cats, fed to patrons of "wild flavour" restaurants. With that, shutting off the supply (if only temporarily) broke the chain of infection, and SARS was finally caught inside the circle of our knowledge. In hindsight, the period of our SARS ignorance seems brief; at the time, it seemed to go on forever while hundreds died.
So we're going to need patience. It may take months more to bring these new viruses into the circle where we can deal effectively with them. And once we've managed that, we'll be aware of still more we're ignorant of.
Unfortunately, we can't withdraw inside a nice safe zone of known knowns and known unknowns. As Mr. Kennedy observed over half a century ago, our ignorance will always be greater than our knowledge. But awareness of ignorance is also a kind of knowledge, and without it we can never ask the right questions—the only questions where the right answers really matter.
Recent Comments