Professor Raina MacIntyre proposes that we are entirely too complacent about the risks of pandemics. According to the author, pandemics are more likely than we think, they are more likely to have unnatural causes than we suspect, our responses are sluggish and inefficient, and we accord our social guardians far too much trust.

Pandemics can and indeed may arise from a range of too casually dismissed sources, including leaks from laboratories, criminal activities, biohacking, biowarfare, and bioterrorism. We are insufficiently prepared for the near future pandemics (and learning from COVID-19 too slowly), and our response to COVID-19 and our subsequent learnings may be corrupted by information warfare.

In her punchy and occasionally acerbic book, she cautions us that scientists and doctors are humans and therefore do human things – be clumsy, forgetful, greedy –  just like the rest of us. This is important because it suggests that such experts should not be trusted unconditionally; they may have vested interests in protecting research budgets and scientific freedoms. Consequently, investigation of hazards should involve police or intelligence, not, or not merely, health experts. And sometimes the rights of scientists to prosecute their research agenda can conflict with public interest.

This book is largely well written in an easy and uncomplicated style, liberally dosed with personal anecdotes and case studies, and rounded out by suggestions for pandemic investigations that seem appropriate for consideration by policy makers. Overall, it challenges the reader, but it does not quite satisfy.

A brief scan of the chapter titles provides insight to the coverage and indeed the challenges of the book. They are: Believe the unbelievable; Insider threat; Error, not terror; Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde of Biological Research; Jurassic Park for viruses; The self-replicating weapon; The spectre of smallpox; Information warfare; Trust me I’m a doctor; Epidemic detectives; The Fuss about facemasks; Brain eating viruses [sic], The biological sniper weapon; and A biological winter. These chapter titles demonstrate that the book covers a wide range of contemporary threats, disasters, and conspiracies. However, the structure is sprawling and there is repetition.

In considering the strength of the argued position, it is de rigueur in such texts for an author to construct a carefully curated collection of case studies that illustrate the author’s point and heighten the reader’s sense of urgency. Such a strategy provides context but does not necessarily offer usable evidence for the author’s claims. Chapter 1 is introduced with three anecdotes that demonstrate the deliberate and maleficent release of biological agents, namely the deliberate release of a biological aerosol spray in California in 1950, an outbreak of gastroenteritis in Oregon in 1984, and the release of anthrax from a lab in the Soviet Union in 1979. These anecdotes are used to artfully sketch out the major touch points of the book. However, the savvy reader asks – are these examples cherry-picked? And if so, what can they possibly tell us about the broader issues? Taken alone, they certainly provide evidence that what they describe is possible. However, the reader is forced to infer from this sample of anecdotes that given the presence of biological agents, their deliberate, maleficent release is probable, and these positions are not the same thing.

The author has a vision for how pandemics could be better prosecuted, and the vision is presented emphatically. However, the presentation is unfortunately undercut by the apparent haste with which the book has been completed. This haste is expressed in several ways. First, there are no connections between the references gathered at the end of the book and the text, other than the structure of the chapter organisation. This is a damaging omission, offering the form of scientific discourse without the function. Without footnotes to connect the references directly to the text, it is very difficult to assess the reasonableness of the author’s claims, or even to separate reports of fact from speculation. Second, the book cries out for a high-level summary chapter that structures the main arguments, conclusions, and recommendations for individuals and organisations; a “so what?” chapter. This would have helped to focus the reader’s attention on the key issues. Overall, I think that this could have been a stronger presentation of the author’s case had it had more time.

In conclusion, I suppose the key questions for a review of a book of this nature ought to be: am I happy to have read it, did I learn anything, and would I recommend it, for example, to a curious friend? Despite its modest shortcomings, I am happy to have read the book; I’ve certainly enjoyed reading about the COVID-19 pandemic and others from a different, and unarguably thoughtful source. I learned plenty about the recent history of pandemics. And, I would recommend it, although with strong caveats, to a curious friend. I do wish it had been another few months in the making.

This is a review of  Raina MacIntyre’s Dark Winter: An Insiders Guide to Pandemics and Biosecurity (UNSW Press LTD, November 2022) ISBN 9781742237671 (Paperback). 

Andrew Robinson is Director/CEO of the Centre of Excellence for Biosecurity Risk Analysis, and professor in statistics and biosecurity at the University of Melbourne.

This review is published under a Creative Commons License and may be republished with attribution.