In the Biblical story of the flood, Noah never complains
even though he must have lost close friends and all his relatives except his
immediate family to the relentless downpour, perhaps even hearing their cries of
anguish in the rising waters. Our reaction to catastrophic events is quite
different. We cannot abide the sight of our neighbors and fellow citizens
suffering. As the torrent of charitable contributions flowing to the
hurricane-stricken areas shows, we want to relieve people's distress. In fact,
we wonder why we weren't better prepared to deal with nature's calamities in the
first place.
It could it be that our concern for others shows that the
human race has progressed and that we are more compassionate and humane than the
icons of the Bible. Or is there another cause for our dismay and anger in the
aftermath of hurricanes Rita and Katerina?
We, of course, do not reside in an age when God interferes
directly in human affairs. Quite the contrary, we live in a skeptical era, one
in which we believe only what can be proven. Our incredulity is not simply a
lack of faith since most Americans claim to accept the existence of a Deity. But
our burden of proof is high for we insist that something is true within the
physical world, the world we experience, only if it passes the test of
science.
The 'scientific age' has been around
for long time. It began with the Enlightenment more than 400 years ago.
Enlightenment philosophers such as Rene'
Descartes (1596-1650) hoped that the principles of science would rid the human
race of ignorance, superstition, narrow-mindedness, and prejudice. Science would
also increase the store of material goods available for human consumption. Life
would be at once more bountiful, peaceful, and tolerant.
But the religious sentiments of that time distrusted and
therefore suppressed scientific thinking. Religious leaders proclaimed that the
Enlightenment was blasphemy for it sought to replace faith in divine authority
with absolute trust in human
judgment.
Enlightenment thinkers countered this assault in a most
ingenious way. They promised people something that most everybody wants, a
longer, more comfortable life. Science could be turned into technological
instruments that would subdue nature and exploit its potential bounty into a
benefit for human life.
We live in an age when that promise seems to have been
fulfilled. Our doctors know an astonishing amount about how to keep us alive and
well, our stores are so full of goods that even the most eager consumer can
'shop until they drop,' and our communication system makes a truly global
society possible since we can instantaneously experience events and people even
in the most distant lands.
In our technological age the natural rhythms of life and
death are hidden from view. Unless we make a special effort, we do not see
babies born or elderly people die. Few people plant crops or tend flocks. Hardly
anyone sees animals slaughtered for food or harvested fields turning brown in
the autumn sun. Those who live in big cities hardly see trees and grass at
all.
We have come to believe that we can virtually control
nature. The global society is almost totally of human making; even the most
remote regions have entertainment (via television), communications (via the cell
phone), and consumerism (via innumerable stores such as Wal-Mart). Technology
has quickened the pace of life. We no longer wait for reports of events but
witness them as they happen. Technology seems to make us busy all the time
tending to the innovations that were supposed to make our lives easier. Nearly
everyone complains that everyone else is constantly talking on a cell phone.
Oddly, as our power over nature has grown our anxiety and
expectations have as well. The media constantly makes us aware, far more aware
than the people of the past, of dangers that lurk just beyond our peaceful lives.
Media outlets, all competing for our attention, rarely reports ordinary,
everyday life, but focus on the most compelling stories, such as instances of
injustice, illness, and disaster.
We have come to insist that medicine can treat our
illnesses and that science can foretell and therefore forestall natural
calamities. Our worry and fear over the inevitably heartrending trajectory of
our existence has turned us into a therapeutic culture; millions of
prescriptions of Prozac and other mood elevators are prescribed in an effort to
preclude apprehension over of aging and death.
Our power over nature makes us blame our misfortune not on
our innate vulnerability, but on a human agency. We are angry when doctors
cannot cure our illnesses. The number of medical malpractice law suits has risen
almost in direct proportion to the advances in treatment. When the AIDs epidemic
struck in the 1980s, its victims blamed President Reagan for not spending enough
on medical research, rather than holding the microbe that caused the illness
responsible. The wrath directed at President Bush for the lack of preparation in
the face of natural disaster is but the latest instance of shifting our
resentment over our inherent contingency onto a person who we can hold
responsible.
But certainly, someone could ask, shouldn't we better
prepare for natural disasters? Surely we can learn from the mistakes of
Hurricane Katerina so that the same confusion will not be repeated. This is a
prudent strategy and the readiness for Hurricane Rita was far better organized
than for Katrina. Yet, our compassion should not blind us to the cost of
vigilance. Millions of dollars were spent in an anticipation of Hurricane
Ophelia, a storm which, like most in our history, caused only minor, localized
damage.
The broader question is how much we should prepare for the
worst catastrophes. Every visitor to New Orleans knew it was likely to flood.
Taxi drivers and waiters seemed to take sardonic pleasure in telling tourists
that the city was below sea level. Yet, the local government and most residents
chose not to spend tax dollars on making the city ready for the most extreme
storms. Instead, money was expended on things needed in everyday life, such as
roads, schools, libraries, and hospitals.
The case is the same in California
where everyone is well aware that a major earthquake, "the big one," will some
day cause enormous damage along the San Andreas fault. Are the people of
California and New Orleans shortsighted and foolish for failing to prepare for
the inevitable? Perhaps, but like most Americans they worry about creating a
government that can cope with extraordinary events. An organization that can
deal with every possible contingency is large, expensive, difficult to control,
and intrusive. Liberals loath a military able to defend the nation from foreign
foes and safeguard the country from
every possible calamity. Conservatives object to a bureaucracy so powerful that
it could mobilize all the nations resources for even the most hypothetical
disaster. Most Americans, like the people of New Orleans, would prefer to spend
their taxes on immediate concerns rather possible contingencies, especially when
no crisis in imminent.
In light of our hesitation to fully prepare for natural
disasters, perhaps we ought to reconsider our penchant for placing blame for
such events on our political leaders. Although Noah's pious silence is out of
season in the modern rationalistic age, we might learn from the ancient wisdom
of the Genesis that some events are beyond our control, and that despite all our
efforts nature's final victory awaits us all.
James F. Pontuso
Department of Political Science
Hampden-Sydney College
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