Reaching The Boundaries Of Public Compassion
by Rachel Schwartz

Unlike some others, I see no silver lining, no golden opportunity in the disaster caused by hurricane Katrina. What I do see, is a moral imperative, which, if ignored, may lead to repeated and even more deadly results than the vile mix of flood water, racism, corruption and poverty left in this recent disaster. It is too easy to focus on the heroism and sacrifice of these early days and fail to plan for the future. It is not enough to rest with the knowledge that the government’s unforgivable incompetence is being answered by the American public’s overwhelmingly generous donations of time, supplies, food and shelter. For though we congratulate ourselves on a selflessness the Feds might do well to emulate, looking closely at the media, message boards, and reactions of those touched by the storm, I have begun to see signs that the warm blanket of unqualified support thrown over hurricane victims by the American public is starting to fray.

Psychologist Linda J. Stitka from the University of Illinois at Chicago calls it “reaching the boundaries of public compassion”, the point at which the average American feels – usually wrongly – that basic humanitarian needs of food, water and shelter have been met: think Superbowl and MREs, and that we have fulfilled our responsibilities.

Disturbingly, the surveys indicate that after a disaster, there is little support for going beyond these basics to restore victims’ “dignity, status, and upward mobility”, as these are considered “extras”. Thus, we do not see a commitment to long-term relocation assistance, job training, counseling and support that would heal not just individuals, but entire communities and economies, vaccinating them against utter helplessness and giving them a part in the solution. By ignoring the need and quitting before we address these problems fully, we merely perpetuate a cycle of misery and suffering, leaving the most vulnerable even more exposed to the next disaster.

Of course there will be boundaries to what we are able or willing to do. Nobody will blame the emotionally and physically exhausted New Orleans officers who suffered terrible personal losses for needing to escape, if only for a while. But research shows that among the broader public, assistance burnout is a result of more complex factors, including our unfortunate and often subconscious tendency to distance ourselves from and to judge the most battered survivor as if he had – or should have had – some control over his predicament.

This tendency leads us to judge victims unworthy of our assistance, and it is fed, not surprisingly, by the media’s presentation of the disaster and its victims. The myopic focus on the sensational – helpless old folks drowning in a rest home, children torn from their mothers’ arms by the flood, the inevitable comparison to third world nations, and the same haunted black faces in desperate need that we have seen in Darfur, while it may initially spur compassion, can, in the long run numb and distance viewers from the victims. The reality of their humanity and suffering is obscured and they are doubly victimized, becoming “refugees”, though they are as American as we, the dry-footed people.

The barrage of pictures and stories about violence, looting, rapists and snipers further erodes emotional ties to victims, raising doubts about their worthiness to receive help, and feeding the stereotype of the poor black as uneducated, ungrateful and unregenerate. Add shots of white officials and response teams, squads of soldiers and law officers holding back the criminals and trying to reason with the unreasonable, and the chasm between we, the givers and they, the takers, yawns ever wider.

Those deemed unworthy are less likely to receive either short or long-term assistance. It is hard to miss the implicit criticism in the questions we have been asking: “Why didn’t they leave when they were told? Why weren’t they insured? Why do they have to be so uncivilized?”

Even as we pat ourselves on the back for our selflessness, we cloak ourselves in paternalism and condescension that may rankle for years. As Patricia Perry, an evacuated postal worker from New Orleans now sheltering in Baton Rouge told the NYTimes, being identified by locals as an evacuee “is like a stigma…. All they really want to do is get us out of town.”

Perry is right. Even the best-intentioned good Samaritans have begun experiencing fear and frustration as a result of the presence of evacuees. Concerned about rising crime levels, deterioration of city services, and general public safety, so many are purchasing firearms that the lines at gun shops can stretch for blocks. The internet, lauded as a vital resource for Katrina victims to get information and assistance, is also fanning the fears of the public. One posting on a Katrina site by a Baton Rouge resident reads like the city itself is under siege: “5 people robbed at Walmart, women being dragged from their cars at stop lights….And many too frightened to leave their homes”.

This slide toward the limits of our compassion will only pick up speed with the passage of time and the fading of Katrina from the front pages. We must do all we can to resist the urge to say to survivors “you’re on your own now” until they are in a position to care for themselves. We must be proactive rather than reactive, creating a comprehensive long-term plan that focuses on an already compromised populations, strengthens the social fabric by creating open communications on all levels, and closes economic gaps. We must stick with it. Otherwise, we are no better than the man who throws a life-preserver to a drowning man and leaves him to swim ashore alone.

Rachel Schwartz, Editor-in-Chief, psst! Magazine

9/20/05