Can We Just Get Beyond Katrina?
September 1st 2007 18:04
Kudos to Cassy Fiano of Wizbang and John Hawkins of Townhall, for eloquently stating what many of us, especially those living in other hurricane-prone states have felt all along. It is time for the citizens of New Orleans to stop whining and start taking responsibility. That includes some serious self-examination as to the real reasons why they re-elected a woefully incompetent mayor, in spite of his gross negligence in the wake of their city's worst natural disaster.
Fiano, a resident of Jacksonville, Florida, recalls the active 2004 season, during which the state was hit by four major hurricanes:
In the areas where the hurricanes were much stronger, like in Pensacola and the southwestern tip of Florida (Tampa, Clearwater, St. Petersburg, etc.), there was large scale damage and destruction that took years to rebuild. But did you see those people clamoring for the government to swoop in and solve everything for them? Did they whine and cry to the media about how the government wasn't paying enough attention to their plight? No! It was actually a pretty inspirational story, in my opinion, to watch these people see everything they owned destroyed, and pick themselves back up and keep going. Not only did they show resilience, but (to use a corny phrase), the spirit of brotherhood was alive and well. People from all over the state traveled to help with the rebuilding efforts. Neighbors pitched in to help neighbors. They worked together, usually selflessly, and over time, things got better. Then again, we also didn't have Louisiana politicians to screw it up for us, either.
There was no looting. No influx of crime. No Army Corps of Engineers needing to be called in to rebuild, only to be attacked by angry residents. Shit happened, and people took care of themselves. They picked themselves up, and went on with their lives, without requiring the rest of the United States to do it for us.
In his column, Hawkins makes an excellent point about other victims of Mother Nature's wrath:
It's not as if hurricanes are a once a millennium event in the United States. In fact, residents of Florida have so many of them that they don't even cancel a barbecue for anything under a Category 3.
Moreover, people lose their homes in this country every day of the year. If it isn't a hurricane, it's an earthquake. If it isn't an earthquake, it's a tornado. If it isn't a tornado, it's a fire. If it isn't a fire, it's a flood. Yet nobody sits and frets about John Doe, age 58, who lost his house in a flash flood two years ago or Jane Doe, age 60, who had her house blown away by a twister back in 2005.
Possibly because said John and Jane Doe's are too busy rebuilding their lives to carp about their plight on national television.
Please don't get me wrong; there is plenty of blame to go around on the local, state and federal levels. However, Mayor Ray Nagin bears the brunt of the burden for his abject lack of leadership. It's not as if hurricanes suddenly materialize in a matter of seconds to wreak devastation, as does an earthquake. As horrific as some may be, particularly if they reach Category 3 strength, they tend to take several days to reach their target (tracked by sophisticated technology and broadcast relentlessly via local and national new outlets). During this time, local authorities whose cities and towns fall within the cone of probability, have an obligation to prepare for the worst.
Apparently, Ray Nagin didn't think that was part of his job description. How else to explain the empty school buses that could have been used to transport people to safety ahead of the storm, but instead were left on a flood plain. Or, as Hakwins points out, the fact that the Superdome was used as a refuge, without the benefit of water, food or doctors?
In October of 2005, two months after Katrina, Hurricane Wilma slammed into South Florida. One of only three hurricanes to ever reach Category 5 status so late in the season, Wilma devastated part of the Yucatan peninsula before pounding into Naples in the southwest corner of the state as a Cat 3. Then it bulldozed its way across the Everglades, inflicting widespread damage and destruction up and down the east coast, from Indian River county to the north, all the way down to Miami-Dade in the south.
As a 13-year resident of Palm Beach county, I'd become quite familiar with the hurricane preparedness drill. In fact, weeks before the official June 1 start of the season throughout it's conclusion on November 30, you'd have to be living under a rock to avoid any references to potential tropical activity. From constant PSA's on television to free magazines distributed in supermarkets and other public places, local leaders and media practically stand on their heads every year to remind Floridians that "preparedness is everyone's responsibility."
Demonstrating impeccable leadership before, during and after the storm (as he had also done in the 2004 season) then-governor Jeb Bush took to the airwaves. In his press conferences he outlined local, state and yes, individual actions necessary to survive the storm and mitigate its damage. Having stocked up on my supply of batteries, flashlights, water and non-perishable food at the season's beginning, I'd hoped that my fellow statesmen had already heeded this sage advice. After all, if we choose to live in a state beleaguered by hurricanes, we damn well ought to do everything we can to help ourselves.
Wilma arrived in Boca Raton with all the unrestrained energy of a washer on spin cycle in the early morning hours. Since my relatively-new condo is equipped with impact glass, I watched in awe as the banyan trees outside my sliding-glass doors had their branches wrenched out from within, and the palm trees bent halfway over in submission to relentless, unforgiving winds. Oddly enough, I never lost my land-line and so was able to communicate with concerned family members, to whom I related a real-time play by play.
And if I thought the first-half of the storm was bad, it was nothing compared to Act 2, which barreled in shortly after the eye's passage. Once over, I decided to go outside and assess the damage, partly out of curiosity and partly due to cabin fever. And in the midst of what looked like a jungle of uprooted trees, plants and other debris, I also encountered something amazing as I carefully walked around my community, mindful of the hazard of live wires from downed power lines: Other residents out and about, washing their front doors, picking up branches and otherwise pitching in.
And while we endured at least two weeks without power, we made the best of it. For some Floridians, it took a month or more to restore electricity and yet the ubiquitous presence of FPL trucks, along with helpful volunteers from Georgia and other states assured us that our local leaders had everything under control. How bad was the damage? Bad enough to rip the roofs off of homes and other structures, obstruct major road and highways with massive trees and street lights, and knock out traffic signals. Minutes from where I live, a marina roof caved in, crushing several boats like an accordion.
In short, Wilma punished South Florida in Katrina-like style, yet nowhere in the media did anyone extol the virtues of our fearless Governor, or the self-reliance of Florida's citizens. And the Katrina vs. Wilma coverage once again belied the bias of America's "mainstream" media, a media that much prefers to blame its own country for the plight of "victims," particularly those who belong to a minority group, than it does to celebrate demonstrated competence by Americans of all ethnicities and backgrounds. (By the way, local and state officials of Mississippi, Alabama and Texas also proved their leadership abilities in the wake of Katrina and the same year's hurricane Rita, and were largely ignored by the major networks).
But if I had heretofore felt any sympathy for the denizens of New Orleans, I pretty much lost it after they awarded their race-baiting, "Chocolate City" Mayor with another term, instead of electing someone else with possibly more than half a brain and demonstrable leadership qualities. As much as I love Crescent City culture (having experienced it many years ago as a college student on fall break), if New Orleans residents refuse to learn from the past and insist on voting a mayor into office based on something as superficial as his skin color, they deserve what they get. Next time disaster strikes, they may want to look in a mirror, instead of emulating their Mayor and blaming George Bush, FEMA and racism for their problems.
Fiano, a resident of Jacksonville, Florida, recalls the active 2004 season, during which the state was hit by four major hurricanes:
In the areas where the hurricanes were much stronger, like in Pensacola and the southwestern tip of Florida (Tampa, Clearwater, St. Petersburg, etc.), there was large scale damage and destruction that took years to rebuild. But did you see those people clamoring for the government to swoop in and solve everything for them? Did they whine and cry to the media about how the government wasn't paying enough attention to their plight? No! It was actually a pretty inspirational story, in my opinion, to watch these people see everything they owned destroyed, and pick themselves back up and keep going. Not only did they show resilience, but (to use a corny phrase), the spirit of brotherhood was alive and well. People from all over the state traveled to help with the rebuilding efforts. Neighbors pitched in to help neighbors. They worked together, usually selflessly, and over time, things got better. Then again, we also didn't have Louisiana politicians to screw it up for us, either.
There was no looting. No influx of crime. No Army Corps of Engineers needing to be called in to rebuild, only to be attacked by angry residents. Shit happened, and people took care of themselves. They picked themselves up, and went on with their lives, without requiring the rest of the United States to do it for us.
In his column, Hawkins makes an excellent point about other victims of Mother Nature's wrath:
It's not as if hurricanes are a once a millennium event in the United States. In fact, residents of Florida have so many of them that they don't even cancel a barbecue for anything under a Category 3.
Moreover, people lose their homes in this country every day of the year. If it isn't a hurricane, it's an earthquake. If it isn't an earthquake, it's a tornado. If it isn't a tornado, it's a fire. If it isn't a fire, it's a flood. Yet nobody sits and frets about John Doe, age 58, who lost his house in a flash flood two years ago or Jane Doe, age 60, who had her house blown away by a twister back in 2005.
Possibly because said John and Jane Doe's are too busy rebuilding their lives to carp about their plight on national television.
Please don't get me wrong; there is plenty of blame to go around on the local, state and federal levels. However, Mayor Ray Nagin bears the brunt of the burden for his abject lack of leadership. It's not as if hurricanes suddenly materialize in a matter of seconds to wreak devastation, as does an earthquake. As horrific as some may be, particularly if they reach Category 3 strength, they tend to take several days to reach their target (tracked by sophisticated technology and broadcast relentlessly via local and national new outlets). During this time, local authorities whose cities and towns fall within the cone of probability, have an obligation to prepare for the worst.
Apparently, Ray Nagin didn't think that was part of his job description. How else to explain the empty school buses that could have been used to transport people to safety ahead of the storm, but instead were left on a flood plain. Or, as Hakwins points out, the fact that the Superdome was used as a refuge, without the benefit of water, food or doctors?
In October of 2005, two months after Katrina, Hurricane Wilma slammed into South Florida. One of only three hurricanes to ever reach Category 5 status so late in the season, Wilma devastated part of the Yucatan peninsula before pounding into Naples in the southwest corner of the state as a Cat 3. Then it bulldozed its way across the Everglades, inflicting widespread damage and destruction up and down the east coast, from Indian River county to the north, all the way down to Miami-Dade in the south.
As a 13-year resident of Palm Beach county, I'd become quite familiar with the hurricane preparedness drill. In fact, weeks before the official June 1 start of the season throughout it's conclusion on November 30, you'd have to be living under a rock to avoid any references to potential tropical activity. From constant PSA's on television to free magazines distributed in supermarkets and other public places, local leaders and media practically stand on their heads every year to remind Floridians that "preparedness is everyone's responsibility."
Demonstrating impeccable leadership before, during and after the storm (as he had also done in the 2004 season) then-governor Jeb Bush took to the airwaves. In his press conferences he outlined local, state and yes, individual actions necessary to survive the storm and mitigate its damage. Having stocked up on my supply of batteries, flashlights, water and non-perishable food at the season's beginning, I'd hoped that my fellow statesmen had already heeded this sage advice. After all, if we choose to live in a state beleaguered by hurricanes, we damn well ought to do everything we can to help ourselves.
Wilma arrived in Boca Raton with all the unrestrained energy of a washer on spin cycle in the early morning hours. Since my relatively-new condo is equipped with impact glass, I watched in awe as the banyan trees outside my sliding-glass doors had their branches wrenched out from within, and the palm trees bent halfway over in submission to relentless, unforgiving winds. Oddly enough, I never lost my land-line and so was able to communicate with concerned family members, to whom I related a real-time play by play.
And if I thought the first-half of the storm was bad, it was nothing compared to Act 2, which barreled in shortly after the eye's passage. Once over, I decided to go outside and assess the damage, partly out of curiosity and partly due to cabin fever. And in the midst of what looked like a jungle of uprooted trees, plants and other debris, I also encountered something amazing as I carefully walked around my community, mindful of the hazard of live wires from downed power lines: Other residents out and about, washing their front doors, picking up branches and otherwise pitching in.
And while we endured at least two weeks without power, we made the best of it. For some Floridians, it took a month or more to restore electricity and yet the ubiquitous presence of FPL trucks, along with helpful volunteers from Georgia and other states assured us that our local leaders had everything under control. How bad was the damage? Bad enough to rip the roofs off of homes and other structures, obstruct major road and highways with massive trees and street lights, and knock out traffic signals. Minutes from where I live, a marina roof caved in, crushing several boats like an accordion.
In short, Wilma punished South Florida in Katrina-like style, yet nowhere in the media did anyone extol the virtues of our fearless Governor, or the self-reliance of Florida's citizens. And the Katrina vs. Wilma coverage once again belied the bias of America's "mainstream" media, a media that much prefers to blame its own country for the plight of "victims," particularly those who belong to a minority group, than it does to celebrate demonstrated competence by Americans of all ethnicities and backgrounds. (By the way, local and state officials of Mississippi, Alabama and Texas also proved their leadership abilities in the wake of Katrina and the same year's hurricane Rita, and were largely ignored by the major networks).
But if I had heretofore felt any sympathy for the denizens of New Orleans, I pretty much lost it after they awarded their race-baiting, "Chocolate City" Mayor with another term, instead of electing someone else with possibly more than half a brain and demonstrable leadership qualities. As much as I love Crescent City culture (having experienced it many years ago as a college student on fall break), if New Orleans residents refuse to learn from the past and insist on voting a mayor into office based on something as superficial as his skin color, they deserve what they get. Next time disaster strikes, they may want to look in a mirror, instead of emulating their Mayor and blaming George Bush, FEMA and racism for their problems.
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