A man walks through Queens in the wake of Hurricane Sandy, November 8, 2012. (Reuters/Lucas Jackson)
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In 2007, a financial firestorm ravaged Wall Street and the rest of the country. In 2012, Hurricane Sandy obliterated a substantial chunk of the Atlantic seaboard. We think of the first as a man-made calamity, the second as the malignant innocence of nature. But neither the notion of a man-made nor natural disaster quite captures how the power of a few and the vulnerability of the many determine what is really going on at ground level. Causes and consequences, who gets blamed and who leaves the scene permanently scarred, who goes down and who emerges better positioned than before: these are matters often predetermined by the structures of power and wealth, racial and ethnic hierarchies and despised and favored forms of work, as well as moral and social prejudices in place before disaster strikes.
When it comes to our recent financial implosion, this is easy enough to see, although great efforts have been expended trying to deny the self-evident. “Man” did not bring the system to its knees; the country’s dominant financial institutions and a complicit government did that. They’ve recovered, the rest of us haven’t.
Sandy seems a more ambiguous case. On the one hand, it’s obvious enough that an economy resting on fossil fuels played a catalytic role in intensifying the storm. Those corporate interests profiting from that form of energy production and doing all they can to defend it are certainly culpable, not the rest of mankind which has no other choice but to depend on the energy system we’re given.
On the other hand, rich and poor, big businesses and neighborhood shops suffered; some, however, more than others. Among them were working class communities; public-housing residents; outer borough homeowners; communities in Long Island, along the New Jersey shore and inland as well; workers denied unemployment compensation; and the old, the sick and the injured abandoned for days or weeks in dark and dangerous high-rises without medical help or access to fresh food or water. Help, when it came to these “disadvantaged” worlds, often arrived late, or last, or not at all.
Cleaning up and rebuilding New York City and other places hit by the storm will provide a further road map of who gets served and whose ox gets gored. It’s ominous, if hardly shocking, that Mayor Bloomberg has already appointed Mark Ricks of Goldman Sachs to the business-dominated team planning the city’s future. Where would this billionaire mayor turn other than to his fraternity brothers, especially in this era when, against all the odds, we still worship at the altar of the deal-makers, no matter their malfeasances and fatal ineptitudes?
Still, it is early days and the verdict is not in on the post-Sandy future. However, an incisive analysis by sociologists Kevin Fox Gotham and Miriam Greenberg of what happened after the 9/11 attacks in New York and in New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina offers some concrete forebodings. Everyone knows that, as soon as Katrina made landfall, the racial divisions of New Orleans became the scandal of the month when it came to which communities were drowned and which got helped, who got arrested (and shot) and who left town forever. To be poor in New Orleans during and after Katrina was a curse. To be poor and black amounted to excommunication.