Second Chance
by J. Daniel Janzen
Four years ago this weekend, America almost began to change. In those first awful days, when the air still smelled of smoke and concrete, the
partisan rancor of the contested election and the smug frivolity of the dot-com era were suddenly a distant memory. People on all parts of
political spectrum rallied around the flag and the firehouse,
putting aside petty differences to help each other find our way in this terrible new
world. Chastened by loss, purified by fire, sanctified by martyrdom, we could only assume the experience would somehow make us better people, and
America a better nation.
It seems quaint in retrospect, even poignant. Some thought that this would be
the end of irony, or at least of cynicism (then, as now, people had a
hard time telling the difference). David Letterman and Jon Stewart revealed new earnestness, and their audiences agreed for a while to prefer it
to funniness. Liz Smith suggested that the gossip trade would lose its appeal, its blind items and ugly rumors now seeming inappropriate. Others
speculated that martial metaphors would be banished from everyday life as disrespectful of the nobility of war — no more long bombs or blitzes in
football, no more boasts of "killing" a business rival. Our shared tragedy had shown us what really mattered, and things were going to be different
from now on.
But time passes and one thing leads to another, and before you knew it we were still living in the same old country and then some. The familiar
divides reopened and self-interest re-established its rein. Gossip came back with a vengeance and entire genres of entertainment were devoted to
the humiliation of our fellow citizens. Our common purpose gave way to a divisive war overseas and scorched-earth politics at home. From
reaffirming our own patriotism we turned to questioning it in others. The slander of war heroes became business as usual, and even the iconography
of Sept. 11 itself was exploited for partisan advantage.
Once embraced as a national wound, New York City is once again a fashionable target for gratuitous attack. In recent weeks, Ann Coulter has averred
that its citizens would be unlikely to fight back against a terrorist attack, and that they couldn't be expected to send aid to the hurricane-stricken
South. American religious leaders vilify their own countrymen in terms that echo Islamic fundamentalists. Even as polls show the approval ratings of
our government sinking to unprecedented lows, voter turnout fails to rise — as if we've given up on the very notion of representative government.
So much for a better America.
Last week, our complacency was shattered once again, this time with even more grim results. The scale of Katrina's human impact may far exceed that
of Sept. 11; the economic cost will be many times larger. Beyond the material toll, we have also been forced to confront realities as shocking
in their way as the specter of international terrorism. We've seen that our elected officials and appointed bureaucrats have proved unable to keep
us safe even from anticipated dangers. We've been forced to confront the obscene poverty and privation that has continued to endure. We've had
to acknowledge that those left behind to die were overwhelmingly poor, black and ill. For all the patriotic defensiveness we can muster, we've
been stung by criticism from around the globe that the US can't take care of its own. Once again, we've been forced to discover what kind of nation
we are.
In the short term, governmental bumbling and gamesmanship aside, the American people have risen to the occasion. Offers of housing have swollen
newly launched websites. Cash donations have been generous and plentiful. Clothes, toys and eyeglass frames are making their way south by the
bushel. School districts around the nation are vying for displaced students. For now, at least, Katrina's victims are reaping the best of America's
compassion.
But the test posed by Katrina has barely begun. With an immediate price tag in excess of $100 billion, an unknown economic impact and more than
1 million newly homeless, largely jobless citizens to accommodate, the recovery from the hurricane will make the cleanup of Ground Zero and the
Afghanistan campaign seem like child's play. Fuel prices were already rising before the storm; without active conservation, record heating-oil costs
this winter may lead to another round of suffering by those least able to bear it. Even many Republicans recognize that this is not the time to
repeal the estate tax; it may well be that tax increases are the only way back to sound fiscal footing. Will we be able to sustain our empathy
for the displaced over the long run, once that first rush of altruism has faded and their needs have become, frankly, tiresome?
More broadly, will we accept the consequences of Katrina and take its lessons to heart? It was our own lack of vigilance that allowed cronyism
at the Federal Emergency Management Agency and pork-barrel priorities in federal funding to leave New Orleans so vulnerable. Will the media redeem themselves for years of false
equivalencies and parroted propaganda by continuing to press for truth and accountability — not just regarding Katrina, but in every part of
the public sphere? Will the American people demand better from our government, and support meaningful electoral reforms to replace gerrymandering
and partisan elections with a more democratic system? Will we finally address the glaring inequities and injustices that made Katrina's toll
so much worse than it needed to be?
It's nice to think that the shock and shame of Katrina will have a salutary effect on our nation, but history isn't encouraging.
Already, demands for accountability are becoming obscured by official obfuscations and spurious charges of partisanship. Sensational images of
human suffering and courage are giving way to numbing footage of a dirty bathtub the size of a city being slowly drained, and the new TV season
is right around the corner. The check to the Red Cross has already cleared, and it's hard enough to get our own kids ready for school in the
morning. The urge to move on will be strong.
Still, however you choose to spend this Sunday — quiet contemplation, dignified gathering, NFL season opener — here's something to think about: Our opportunity is here. Let's not blow it again.
E-mail J. Daniel Janzen at dan at clownyard dot com.
