I have decided to distance Contratimes somewhat from the Katrina disaster in the Gulf Coast. The disaster is a horrific event, requiring our attention, support and sacrifice. But this website shall only serve to occasionally remind us of the issues there. I will not engage in the sort of psychological and political warfare that it has provoked or uncovered. The bombast tossed around the storm's aftermath is hurtful and inhumane, not just to Americans but to people everywhere. It is injudicious, unkind, and thoroughly wrong. It is the sort of thing best left to commissions and graduate seminars. It is not the sort of rhetoric or analysis that moves the nation towards actually solving a dynamic problem in the present moment.
I want to point out my own failings, my own stumblings in the dark. It has been really difficult to get good information out of the Gulf as to the scale of the disaster. What we have seen are only pockets of difficulty–presented visually in video and print images–but we have not seen the difficulty as a whole. And we never will. As a result, I have been remiss for not being more circumspect about my role and my commentary on this disaster.
One boneheaded thing I stated was that the comparison between 9/11 and New Orleans showed one difference: The media in New York (indeed the capital of media in America) were more actively attentive to the disaster in New York because the media lost so many of their own, or at least their own kind. That may or may not be true. I am not saying that the media lost journalists in Ground Zero, for surprisingly few were lost that day. I am saying that for much of the media elites–the New York Times, ABC, CBS, and NBC–they lost friends and neighbors they understood, could relate to, had known at dinners in various clubhouses and fund-raisers.
But I failed to understand how many of the superstars of the media and our culture in general have lost homes, families and/or businesses in the Gulf Coast. From summer homes to shanties on stilts, and from TV stations to daily newspapers, the Gulf Coast has lost, and the country has lost, lives and jobs and memories and dreams incalculable. Nonetheless, I still struggle to understand how this event has not quite pulled the media into that sort of funereal quiet that was the salient feature of the post 9/11 TV coverage. There is something intrinsically odd about the media response to all this, and I can't put my finger on it. But I will not suggest that the media, personally, have been effected differently from this disaster than 9/11. In fact, many of the journalists who live and work in the Gulf Coast, if they are still alive, have lost everything they've ever owned.
But here has been my real failure, and it has been a failure of conception, and thus of action. I have commented that when a social group, like those who dwell in cities, becomes somewhat blind to its vulnerability because there is always some sort of safety net deployed to catch that group, to catch them as quickly as possible so that their fall will not be too great, that social group becomes less capable of helping itself when the safety net itself is compromised or destroyed. In short, as creatures, we can become helpless in the face of problems larger than the safety net can handle.
With this in mind, I have pointed to the heroics of at least one man who realized that until the safety net is repaired or until it comes anew, he had to become, along with his neighbors, a safety net unto themselves. They had to take action. They had to even build temporary governments (as at least one hospital staff did). They had to move. Whatever, they had to act. This noble response is inspiring and powerful.
But my failure is that I too have relied too heavily on the social safety net. I have called for patience, or the giving of money, each of which suggest that I have called for people to await a well-financed safety net to come rescue them. But as I have watched this thing unfold from afar, I have indeed expected something OTHER THAN MYSELF to take care of those people "down there." I have indeed expected an all out Rambo-like squad of relief workers, engineers and directors to descend on the area and bring restorative peace to the Gulf Coast.
What I am saying is that as I watch this thing unfold, there has been a faintly-heard cry by thousands of people, nay, tens of thousands of people, to "send everybody!" That the cry is heard dimly is in part due to the inability for us to communicate with the region, and for the region to communicate with itself. But it is also due to my hearing the cries through my trust in the safety net, and that trust has muffled those cries. I admit with shame that most of my being has responded with pity, but not a pity that has moved me to action. It has moved me–in practice–to expect someone else to deal with the problems in Katrina's wake. In fact, I have been made helpless by my dependence on the safety net, but not a safety net that protects me from falling, but a safety net that protects me from having to catch someone myself.
Yes, I know that had I zoomed my car toward the New Orleans coast I would have possibly added to the problem. But I never tried, I never trusted in God or stepped out in faith, to see if in fact my help would have indeed been more help than harm.
This is, in a sense, a problem with the safety net mentality: it may make us no longer love ourselves or even our neighbors. What do I mean? Well, let me put it this way. I have a loved one who believes that she MUST be a Democrat because, and I'll use her words, "I am my brother's keeper." To her, this means paying higher taxes to fund the safety net. But her funding the net actually removes her from "keeping" her "brother." Her money goes to someone else and THEY "keep" her "brother."
Hence, some curious problems arise. Suppose there exists in my world three things–myself, my neighbor and a government to which I pay to provide a safety net for my neighbor. Suppose there is a fire across the way at my neighbor's house. If I am truly my brother's keeper, I will run over and fight that housefire with all my strength. If the house burns to the ground, I will cloth and feed my neighbor, and rebuild his house. But instead of such action, I await the government to come and put out my neighbor's fire, which is not very loving. After all, or so I say to myself, there is a safety net. Curiously, my neighbor is making no attempt to extinguish the fire either, for he has for far too long believed that someone else will come and fix his problems for him. In short, he does not love himself. He's a neighbor who has been "kept."
Alas, distraught at my neighbor's helplessness, I send extra money to the government. And then I get angry at the government's slow response.
This scenario is the result of losing sight of what it REALLY means to be a neighbor. Building safety nets creates a mentality that destroys both self-love and neighborly love. I do not mean to denigrate the idea of a safety net. We do need them. I am merely pointing out the dangers of socializing the safety net to the degree we now see in our culture. Need I point out the obvious? Well, let me say it loud and clear: Millions of Americans barely know their neighbors. (There are many other factors for this as well.)
I don't know what else to say than this: I have not been moved to action, paralyzed not merely by indifference or lack of capability, but because I do not really believe I have any thing to give, or that I am needed. If I did, I'd be in my car right now, heading south, helping rebuild my brothers' houses. Yes, yes, of course, I recognize that if we ALL went south we'd have a different disaster on our hands.
Wouldn't it be great if we could be like the Amish at a neighbor's barnraising, all gathered together in peace and harmony, bringing our tools and gifts to New Orleans and the Gulf Coast in an organized weekend, rebuilding it all in a few short days? Oh, if only it could be that simple.
Contratimes
PS. I'll be off tomorrow and maybe even Wednesday. I've been writing poorly lately, I think, and I need to regroup. But I might be back if something important comes to mind.
©Bill Gnade 2005/Contratimes - All Rights Reserved.
No comments:
Post a Comment