A Tale of Two Tragedies

Today, we reflect on one disaster as we strive to overcome another.

Just slightly over four years ago, we were falsely content. During the height of our Pax Americana, we strolled through everyday life, thinking that terrorists were strange beasts that afflicted poorly run countries in far away places. True, there had been isolated cases of terrorism at home, such as bombing of the Oklahoma City federal building, and occasional rashes of serial murderers; yet none of these were organized, galvanized, and so entirely dedicated to the widespread application of pain and suffering as we witnessed on September 11, 2001. In hindsight, our “might makes right” strategy of overseas diplomacy had for years fostered a sense of resentment overseas. However, how entrenched that hatred had become and how well orchestrated terrorist actions might be was far beyond the realm of everyday Americans. In a matter of hours on an otherwise nondescript morning, a few dozen murderers forced America to collectively gasp and come face-to-face with the staggering reality of external hatred.

The immediate chaos on the morning of September 11 was understandable. Who could have foreseen the exact chain of events on that day? Who could blame the president for scurrying on board Air Force One, changing locations throughout the day before finally returning to Washington to provide assurance that our government was still in place? Even questionable decisions on that day are excusable given the novelty of the situation.

As we slowly came to grips with the devastation on hand, our national emotion traced a classic trajectory. First there were days of initial shock, then weeks of defensive anger, then months of head-shaking resentment, and ever so slowly, acceptance of a newer way of living; and finally, hope that we could handle the next human-caused calamity. Like other occasions which define a generation, we stamp our lives on that day, tracing where we were, with whom we spoke, and how first we learned.

September 11 renewed our faith in heroes. Men and women willingly took their lives in order to secure safety for others, and nationwide our veneration of firefighters and emergency personnel amplified. Civic leaders like Mayor Giuliani elevated to become familiar national figures, and the gravity of their voices and certainties of their conviction gave the tormented a sense of control, that someone somewhere was taking action, and soon.

Elsewhere, our nation made futile attempts to enhance security in what little ways we could. Shoes came off at airports, the elderly became targets for pat-down searches, and otherwise open bank lobbies became Checkpoint Charlies for everyday commuters displaying identification. We spoke of “sleeper cells,” intelligence-speak for terrorists-in-waiting, and seemed okay with any Middle-Eastern man getting a hard time as he checked in for a routine flight. Later, our government would tire of the delay and potential loopholes of our justice system and its favoritism for defendants. We would casually dismiss the citizenship and rights of any person who could be classified as a terrorist suspect. What made someone a terrorist suspect was weakly defined, as were the number of people classified, and the criteria for their classification. We knew something had to be done, and something soon. The fact that an innocent dentist was detained for months on end after September 11 became an interesting footnote on the evening news, but did not attract scorn. We realized that the so-called safeguards of our liberty might actually safeguard a terrorist plotting his next move, so we swiftly sidestepped them. The notion of our law enforcers making a mistake, even as simple as having the wrong name, or acting in bad faith, as centuries of experience had taught us, was lost in our collective zeal. Our government, in need of asserting control and taking immediate action, became hypersensitive to criticism. We enacted the Patriot Act with quick and deliberate speed, and welcomed the fallacy that all who opposed it were unpatriotic. The notion that only unpatriotic citizens oppose a government’s decisions would be stretched to the limits of human reason. Years later, ordinary Americans would support a decision to invade Iraq, though there was no link to September 11, nor any weapons of mass destruction uncovered in the aftermath. Those who see the pendulum swung too far to one side pray for momentum to shift in the alternate direction.

Our new way of living has become one of vigilance. We know that something terrible could happen at any time, and pray that the right people are in the right place to prevent it from happening or minimize its impacts. Billions of dollars, hours of Sunday talk-show bravado, and the unmistakable certainty of our leadership provide us a sense of security. The question remains: does this new sense of security reflect a truly more secure state, or mere perception? Does the Department of Homeland Security actually do a better job of securing the homeland? It would take an act of nature to display this fallacy.

Awash in Despair
Any hurricane can wreak havoc, destroying homes, lives, and entire cities. As a Category 4 Storm, Hurricane Katrina was a disturbing reminder that water, our solvent of life, is also an agent of death. Borne of the shifting winds and eddies of warm water that routinely inhabit the Earth, Katrina was a beast whose birth was inevitable, but whose exact timing, reach, and location were of limited foresight. We knew Katrina would strike New Orleans, and we knew the day. Computer models had predicted the path, pessimists had already painted doomsday scenarios, and emergency services began their preparations. Under a voluntary evacuation order, thousands fled the city. This disaster in waiting, we thought, would be painful but manageable. The storm roared in the expected way, its wind shredding manmade and natural objects alike, its water filling what little containment the city offered. Handsome journalists, sleeves rolled up, stood outside to assure the public that the brunt had been spared. America took a moment for a sigh of relief on that Monday– it was far too soon.

A day after Katrina ripped through the city, all hell broke loose. First broke the levees, then, our ability to respond quickly and effectively, and finally, our common sense and civility.

By now, the saturation coverage by the media has given us more than enough information to be at once sympathetic, frustrated, and disgusted. If only our survivors could nourish themselves with media coverage, we’d have little need for meals ready-to-eat. Our fellow citizens corralled like animals, stripped of everyday convenience and human dignity, pled for help as politicians and bureaucrats stood behind podiums spouting generalities and vague assurances. While many were told help was on the way, others wasted and died just miles away from waiting trucks with bottled water. Still others, grown desperate to secure their survival, resorted to anarchic practices, shedding the veil of civility that guides our everyday social interaction. Order did emerge, though days late, amid vocal criticism of the weak response. By then, the Superdome-turned-shelter had become a cesspool of violence, disgust, and human waste.

Obscuring all of this is the fact that the tragedy has not ended. Thousands are homeless, attempting to pick up their lives as they wander amid the scattered assistance of charity. Many are now hundreds and thousands of miles from home, without transportation, a job, or a future. A large chuck of the city remains underwater, and basic services like water and electricity are still absent.

When so many bad things happen, we are prone to pick one or two factors in the mathematics of catastrophe and ignore the other variables. It’s far simpler to view the situation that way, and we can take action quickly on a few things. Perhaps a better approach is to view the catastrophe and ask: which of these tragedies had to happen? Which of these impacts happened for lack of execution?

Questionable decisions on September 11 were excusable given the novelty of the situation. Was the same true of a major hurricane? Even in the most chaotic of traumas, an experienced emergency room staff can render competent aid quickly. Did FEMA render its aid competently and quickly? Was this the best that billions of dollars could do to protect the security of America’s homeland? The loss of power, water, and the interruption of business throughput seemingly had to happen. For other matters, the inevitability is not clear.

Yes, Hurricane Katrina did give rise to heroes. We will reflect on their courage, and maintain in our memory the vision of swirling helicopters and National Guardsmen rescuing babies. However, in sad contrast to September 11, we may not have a civic leader elevate to familiar status. Our role of hero, tragic or not, is remarkably absent. Instead we are left with a collection of pointing fingers, and a collective taste of disgust. Here, we cannot embody our enemy, invade another country, or flex our military might. An entire city must be rebuilt, and homes provided to hundreds of thousands. We can only sadly say that Katrina failed to show the best America could do, that our emergency response committed malpractice. Whether this malpractice was due solely to incompetence or the very environment we framed for responding is not clear.

The water in New Orleans is awash in sewage, dead bodies, and debris. It is a festering threat to public health and will be a near-ideal breeding ground for bacteria and mosquitoes. Has the very environment offered by our complicated bureaucracy created a breeding ground for more incompetent responses?