Read The Encyclopedia of Trouble and Spaciousness Online
Authors: Rebecca Solnit
ROADS TO DESTRUCTION AND THE PALACE OF THE DEAD
When I think about the drug wars and the drug culture here, I think about a young man I knew long ago. He was gay, from Texas, disconnected from
his family, talented but not so good at finding a place in the world for that talent or for himself. He was also a fan of the Beat novelist and intermittent junkie William Burroughs, and he believed that line about how “the road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom.” Maybe it was fine when William Blake said it in the 1790s, since Blake wasn’t a crackhead. But my friend got from Burroughs—a man with family money and apparently an iron constitution—the idea that derangement of the senses was a great creative strategy.
This was all part of our youth in a culture that constantly reinforced how cool drugs were, though back then, another Beat writer, the poet David Meltzer, told me methamphetamine was a form of demonic possession. The young man became possessed in this way and lost his mind. He became homeless and deranged, gone to someplace he couldn’t find his way back from, and I would see him walking our boulevards barefoot and filthy, ranting to himself.
Then I heard he had jumped off the Golden Gate Bridge. He wasn’t yet thirty; he was just a sweet boy. I could tell four or five more stories like his about people I knew who died young of drugs. The meth that helped him down his road of no return was probably a domestic product then, but now vast quantities of it are made in Mexico for us—fifteen tons of it were found earlier this year in Guadalajara, enough for 13 million doses, worth about $4 billion retail.
When I think about the drug wars, I also think about my visit to Santa Muerte (Saint Death) in Mexico City in 2007. My young traveling companion insisted on going there. It was perilous for outsiders like us even to travel through Tepito, the black-marketeers’ barrio, let alone go to the shrine where imposing, somber men were praying and lighting candles to the skeleton goddess who is the
narcotraficantes
’ patron saint. They worship death; they’re intimate with her; they tattoo her on their flesh, and there she was in person—in bones without flesh, surrounded by candles, by gifts, by cigarettes and gold, an Aztec goddess gone commercial.
My companion wanted to take pictures. I wanted to live and managed to convince him that gangsters’ devotional moments were not for our cameras. When it came time to leave, the warm patroness of the shrine locked
up the stand in which she sold votive candles and medallions, took each of us by an arm—as if nothing less than bodily contact with death’s caretaker would keep us safe—and walked us to the subway. We survived that little moment of direct contact with the drug war. So many others have not.
Mexico, I am sorry. I want to see it all change, for your sake and ours. I want to call pain by name and numbness by name and fear by name. I want people to connect the dots from the junk in their brain to the bullet holes in others’ heads. I want people to find better strategies for responding to pain and sadness. I want them to rebel against those parts of their unhappiness that are political, not metaphysical, and not run in fear from the metaphysical parts either.
I want the
narcotraficantes
to repent and give their billions to the poor. I want the fear to end. A hundred years ago, your dictatorial president Porfiro Díaz supposedly remarked, “Poor Mexico, so far from God and so close to the United States,” which nowadays could be revised to “Painful Mexico, so far from peace and so close to the numbness of the United States.”
Yours sincerely,
Rebecca
2012
RECONSTRUCTING THE STORY OF THE STORM
Five years later we’re still coming to terms with what happened in New Orleans on August 29, 2005, and thereafter, struggling to get the facts straight and to figure out what it said about race, disaster, and even human nature. How we remember Hurricane Katrina is also how we’ll prepare for future disasters, so getting the story right matters for survival as well as for justice and history.
In August 2005, 90,000 square miles of the Gulf Coast were devastated; more than 1,800 people died; 182,000 homes were severely damaged in the New Orleans metropolitan area, and 80 percent of the city was flooded. Hundreds of thousands went into an exile from which some will never return. A great and justified bitterness arose in African Americans who were demonized by the media and the government and who felt that they had not been treated as citizens or even as fellow human beings. An African-American woman at an antiwar rally in the nation’s capital a month later carried a sign saying, “No Iraqis left me on a roof to die.”
The widely told initial version of Hurricane Katrina was a lie and a slander, based on rumors and racism, and it’s been falling apart steadily ever since. For the past two years an antithetical version has been overtaking it, one that tells the real story of who went crazy and who was in danger in the days after the hurricane. It has gained more ground than I ever imagined it would, and the history books may yet get this one right.
WHEN THE MEDIA WENT MAD
The story of Hurricane Katrina as originally constructed served authoritarianism, racism, and a generally grim view of human nature. It was first told hysterically, as though New Orleans had been hit by a torrent of poor
black people or had become, as Maureen Dowd of the
New York Times
put it then, “a snake pit of anarchy, death, looting, raping, marauding thugs.” An overwrought
Huffington Post
columnist even spread rumors of cannibalism, while many major media outlets repeated rumors of snipers firing on helicopters. These rumors were never substantiated, but they interfered with the rescue operations nonetheless.
The gist of these stories was that in the absence of authority, people went berserk. The implied solution was the reimposition of authority—armed, ruthless, and intense. Heavily armed Blackwater mercenaries were dispatched to New Orleans, where, as Jeremy Scahill reported in
The Nation
, they shot at citizens with little fear of repercussion. While the focus was on young men of color as the peril, police and white vigilantes went on a murder spree that was glossed over at the time.
The AP reported on September 1, 2005, “Mayor Ray Nagin ordered 1,500 police officers to leave their search-and-rescue mission Wednesday night and return to the streets of the beleaguered city to stop looting that has turned increasingly hostile.” Only two days after the catastrophe struck, while thousands were still stuck on roofs, in attics, on overpasses, on second and third stories, and in isolated buildings on high ground in flooded neighborhoods, the mayor chose protecting property over human life. There was no commerce, no electricity, no way to buy badly needed supplies. Though unnecessary things were taken, much of what got called looting was the stranded foraging for survival by the only means available.
The mainstream media fractured under the pressure of reporting such a huge and complex story. Journalists on the ground often wrote empathic and accurate stories and broke out of their “objective” roles to advocate for the desperate and rail against systemic failures. Meanwhile, further away, credulous television, online, and print reporters spread lurid rumors about baby rapists and mass murders, and they treated minor and sometimes justified thefts as the end of civilization. They used words like “marauding” and “looting” as matches, struck over and over until they got a conflagration of opinion going.
They, along with government officials at all levels, created the overheated atmosphere of fear and hostility that turned the task of rescuing
stranded people into an attempt to control a captive population. New Orleans became a prison city; the trapped citizens became prisoners without rights. Those in the Superdome, for example, were prevented from leaving the stinking, scorching zone as people dropped from heat and dehydration. The literal prisoners, adult and juvenile, in the New Orleans jails were abandoned to thirst, hunger, and rising floodwaters. Hospitals packed with the dying were not allowed to evacuate; citizens were not allowed to walk out of New Orleans on the bridge to Gretna because the sheriff on the other side was there with cronies and guns, keeping them out.
The stories of social breakdown were quietly retracted in September and October 2005, but the damage had been done. A great many found new confirmation of the old stereotypes that in times of crisis people—particularly poor and nonwhite people—revert to a Hobbesian war of each against each.
THE CRIMES THAT COUNTED
If you believe what happened after Hurricane Katrina was all about the masses running amok, then the proper response is pretty much the vigilante one: arm yourself, treat your neighbor as your enemy, shoot first, ask questions later. But the evidence suggests that the people running amok were the ones who were supposed to protect the public. They were the sheriff on that bridge to Gretna, the corrupt and overwrought policemen who shot unarmed civilians, and Louisiana governor Kathleen Blanco, who said, “I have one message for these hoodlums: these troops know how to shoot and kill, and they are more than willing to do so if necessary, and I expect they will.”
Real people got caught in the crossfire. Take Donnell Herrington, a thirty-three-year-old former Brink’s truck driver who stayed behind to help his grandparents and who later rescued many others by boat from their flooded housing project. Herrington was walking to the evacuation site in Algiers Point when a white vigilante with a shotgun attempted to murder him. Herrington was hit so hard the blast lifted him off the ground, and then shot again in the back as he tried to escape. His friend and cousin, who were walking with him, were also injured by the buckshot and then
chased down by racists who terrorized them. An African-American couple in the neighborhood drove Herrington to the nearest hospital, where a surgeon stitched him up. According to that surgeon, Herrington nearly bled to death from pellets to his jugular.
His assailants were part of an organized militia that presumed any and all black men were looters and decided that they were justified in administering the ad hoc death penalty for suspected or potential petty theft. No one reported on these vigilante crimes in the first round of coverage.
THE PAST IS EQUIPMENT FOR THE FUTURE
The July 15 federal indictment of Roland Bourgeois Jr. is stamped FELONY, and the charges at the top of the page are “conspiracy, civil rights violations, obstruction of justice, false statements and firearms violations.” What that means is that this white man allegedly tried to murder Herrington and his companions because they were black, because they were walking through his neighborhood, and because in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina there weren’t a lot of rules, and those who should’ve been enforcing them had gone mad.
“It was the plan and purpose of the conspiracy that defendant Roland J. Bourgeois Jr. and others known and unknown to the grand jury would use force and threats of force to keep African-Americans from using the public streets of Algiers Point in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina,” says the indictment. Bourgeois and other vigilantes were situated between the Coast Guard evacuation point and the rest of the city, picking off people who were just trying to get out. “Anything coming up this street darker than a paper bag is getting shot,” the indictment charges Bourgeois with saying. He is the first, but may not be the last, of the suburban vigilantes to be indicted.
These indictments are part of a package, along with two sets of indictments of police by Eric Holder’s Justice Department, that came down just in time; the five-year anniversary of Hurricane Katrina is also the statute of limitations for some of these charges.
The catastrophe’s fifth anniversary is becoming an opportunity for a major re-examination of the colossal disaster. I never thought I’d see the
day. Early in 2007, when I started looking into what happened in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, it pretty quickly became clear to me that though the city had swarmed with journalists, none of them wanted to touch the crimes Bourgeois and his cronies had committed.
The evidence these journalists overlooked was everywhere. In September 2005, Malik Rahim, the ex–Black Panther who co-founded Common Ground Relief and who lives in the Algiers neighborhood, told Amy Goodman of
Democracy Now!
on camera about vigilante murders of black men. He showed her the body of a dead black man lying under a sheet of corrugated metal, bloated and decaying in the heat. Herrington testified about his near-murder in Spike Lee’s documentary
When the Levees Broke
, broadcast in 2006 on the first anniversary of the storm. At the end of the segment, he takes off his shirt so that the buckshot welts on his torso are visible, as is the long scar on his neck.
Some of the evidence I came across wasn’t so obvious, but it wasn’t hard to find either. I heard from staff at the Common Ground Health Clinic that vigilantes and their associates who came in for care confessed or boasted of crimes. Rahim gave me a DVD of a little-seen documentary in which some of the Algiers Point militia boasted of shooting black men. A few others told me stories that corroborated that the vigilantes had kept a body count. I acquired this evidence without really trying, while pursuing other stories entirely, which made me wonder what was up with the hundreds of reporters who’d come to New Orleans.
On March 1, 2007, I wrote to the best investigative journalist I knew, my friend A. C. Thompson, “Hey, I’m sitting on a kind of wild story, and I’d love to talk to you about it.” He’d never been to New Orleans, and it wasn’t until
The Nation
and The Nation Institute’s Investigative Fund took an interest that A.C. got dispatched to the city. More than three years and dozens of trips to New Orleans later, A.C. has turned the city and the story of Katrina upside down. Without his work, a lot of people would’ve gotten away with murder and attempted murder.