The year is 1950. A dead body floats along the New Orleans waterfront. The coroner who examines him realizes something terrifying: this nameless man died sick. The corpse is infected with the pneumonic plague. The city authorities now have 48 hours to find and inoculate every person who came in contact with the man before his death or New Orleans will become the epicenter of a terrible epidemic. At a crisis meeting of the city council, one councilor argues that the only way to save the city is to announce to the public what has happened and seek their cooperation. But the local public health officer—the hero of this story—begs the mayor not to go public with the news. The citizens of New Orleans must be kept in the dark. The press must be kept quiet. The title of the film reveals what he fears will occur if the public discovers the truth: Panic in the Streets.

The story beats charted out in the 1950 film Panic in the Streets have been repeated in every disaster film that has followed it. Experts discover a looming catastrophe of incredible proportions. They race to solve the problem as covertly as possible; to do otherwise would invite a panic more disastrous than the disaster itself. If they fail, audiences get to see images of an unnerved public up close. Society descends into a Hobbesian scramble for resources or open riot against the powers that be. The lesson is clear: the key to disaster response is ensuring the public does not feel fear. Normal citizens who understand the danger they are in will pose a threat to everyone else in calamity’s path. Panic is the true disaster. Disaster management is thus, at its core, a problem of narrative control.