Terry Miller, chair of MEC member group Lone Tree Council, this spring attended the Arbovirus Surveillance Workshop 2003 in Saginaw and emerged with the following report.

The series of professional PowerPoint presentations cosponsored by the Michigan Department of Agriculture (MDA) and Michigan Mosquito Control were fascinating (okay, Peak Mosquito Activity and Proper Trap Placement for Culex Species Collections nearly sent me to slumberland). Attendance entitled participants to professional credits, but I was not there for the credits-I was a spy.

I listened intently to the measured delivery of Dr. Ned Walker. The last time I saw Ned, an entomologist with MSU and president of the Michigan Mosquito Control Association, was in Lapeer County where he was being challenged by organic growers and concerned citizens. In Saginaw, the program identified him with MSU Microbiology & Molecular Genetics. I anticipated announcement of a breakthrough in genetic manipulation resulting in sterile mosquitoes and an end to pesticides. Nope.

Ned recounted the rise of West Nile, his fears for the future, and the importance of mosquito control efforts. I noted how subtle he was as he identified all the breeding sources of mosquitoes: catch basins, tires, marshes, tree holes. I waited expectantly to hear him echo the Detroit Free Press feature story that day identifying the home as the major culprit: home gutters, toys, bird baths. He never did.

The educational specialist for host Saginaw Mosquito Abatement Commission did-sort of. Margaret Breasbois actually did show a public service video identifying sources around the home. But most of her presentation was on how to sell a mosquito control program, getting into schools, fitting into the curriculum, dealing with fears of pesticides.

It was after her presentation that I could no longer pass as a health professional and spy-the speakers asked for questions.

I rose and applauded Saginaw's efforts at source reduction of chemicals but asked why Breasbois defended the safety and practice of blanket spraying in light of a state initiative that clearly called for spraying as a last resort, and then, only targeted spraying as recommended by the Centers for Disease Control. She said that Saginaw's was a "total program" with overwhelming support from voters. I indicated that with her "educational program" what could she expect? And what about Lapeer County, which voted a similar program down 80/20? It started going downhill from there.

I wasn't prepared for the cardiac-arresting presentation called Mosquito Control Pesticide Exposure and How to Respond to the Public's Concerns.

I listened with disbelief as Brian Hughes, a toxicologist with MDA, gave a clean bill of health to the key chemicals in mosquito control programs, then told the assembled public health professionals that his, and their, biggest job would be dealing with emotional outrage, the perception that these products were dangerous.

His presentation was not on MDA's regulations governing claims of safety or following label restrictions or the toxicity of improperly stored malathion or the lack of information on effects of existing chemical body burdens or the synergistic possibilities of various chemicals. No-not one word of caution or precaution.

He told a personal story. An outraged mother wanted to move her family out of a botched pesticide treated apartment, while her husband, a resident pediatrician, did a data search that showed minimal harm, and Dr. Hughes found himself in the middle of the domestic dispute. Implicit message: those crazy, irrational women.

He then shared his tips on how to control complaints: "listen, be fair, motivate people, engineer alternatives, protect self-esteem." He suggested that he is more of a psychologist, noting that you have to "pay attention to unvoiced concerns or underlying motives." Perhaps Dr. Hughes needs to roll out his couch for the editors of Consumer Reports, who recently recommended that programs not use malathion.

As he walked out into the hall I followed, as did several others, and amazingly I became privy to an unreal tableau, as one "health professional" regaled the professor with tales of stupid citizens: "I asked these walleye fisherman if they were going to eat their catch-sure why not? I ask these non-fishermen if they eat fish-they say just one meal a month. I ask why, and they just shrug, they don't know. They didn't even know. Ha, ha. We have a few cancers so these citizens start going door to door, but they don't even ask the right questions. These Greenpeacers just listen to each other, they don't look at the data. Ha, ha."

Space doesn't permit the discussion I eventually had with the toxicologist; the headache is gone now.

Any credits earned from that workshop, from my humble perspective, were not worth the tree that provided the paper.