Hewitt – American Disasters

February 4, 2014December 16, 2020

Natural Chicago

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As jeatikinson’s post mentioned, Cronon describes the advantages Chicago has geographically as a city—convenient transportation, natural resources, central location, nearby bodies of water. This argument reminded me of Kenneth Hewitt’s emphasis on geography. According to Hewitt, geography is one of the most important aspects of a city. I think that jeatikinson, Cronon, and Hewitt all make a valid argument about locations being important. Unlike Hewitt though, I wouldn’t say it’s the sole determinant in a successful city although it is a major concern. Cronon suggests that geography alone is not the only factor, which I think might be more reasonable than geography and geography alone. He writes, “natural avenues of transportation might play important roles in shaping a city’s future, but the preexisting structures of the human economy—second nature, not first nature—determined which routes and which cities developed most quickly.” Jeatikinson also mentions how New York City has similar qualities to Chicago. It too served as a sort of gateway like Chicago served as a gateway for the west, as elcaldwell notes in his post. New York was a funnel for many immigrants into America.

Cronon’s discussion of what “natural” actually means reminded me of my essay on the “State of the Emergency” exhibit. I saw that even in seemingly unnatural disasters like Hiroshima, nature could still be affected. As a child, Cronon inherently called the rural farms “natural” and the city “unnatural.” An older Cronon wonders whether plowed fields are any more natural “than the streets, buildings, and parks of Chicago. For Cronon, humans have drastically change nature in both situations. This idea, however, implies humans are somehow unnatural. I think the distinction Cronon attempted to make as a child might be better termed country/rural vs. urban. It seems term “nature” almost needs to be better defined. Are humans not part of “nature”? I mean we are technically living beings and a type of animal, but at the same time, a railroad is not a living being although living beings create it. Some of Cronon’s argument makes it seem as if humans try to count new technologies as natural, for instance Cronon writes of “rhetorical mysticism when they likened the railroads to a force of nature, but there can be no question that the railroads acted as a powerful force upon nature, so much so that the logic they expressed in so many intricate ways itself finally came to seem natural.

Another point I find interesting in Cronon’s argument is about the far-reaching effects of Chicago. Chicago is removed from much of the developing West. It is not obviously tied to “the great tall grass prairies would give way to cornstalks and wheatfields, The white pines and the north woods would become lumber, and the forests of the Great Lakes would turn to stumps. The vast herds of bison…would die violent deaths.” Still, Chicago, according to Cronon, is central in all these events. A small pebble can create large ripples that hit the distant shore.

January 20, 2014December 16, 2020

The Merit of Specificity

Blog Post #1 (for Thursday, 1/23)

In his article “Bringing the City Back In”, James Connolly expresses dissatisfaction with “new urban history”, an approach to studying urban environments that emphasizes social science. Connolly explains that the “new urban history” method is too general, and seeks an “all encompassing synthesis [that is both] an unlikely and undesirable prospect” (264). He advocates bringing “the city back in” by addressing specific cultural, political, social and economic identities of different physical areas (264).

Charles Calhoun would likely agree with this approach. “Moving Beyond Stereotypes of the Gilded Age” debunks a traditionally bland conception of the period by emphasizing its significance: “the United States experienced a profound transformation during these years, with lasting implications for the century that followed” (3). Furthermore, it scolds educators for neglecting the period in favor of the “seemingly more momentous” (3). Calhoun suggests that keywords like “industrialization” and “urbanization” are not a sufficient characterization of the Gilded Age.

One of the central questions of histories of the Gilded Age is this issue of method. Is the generalized overview more illuminating than the examination of a specific instance, or vice versa? The former identifies trends and transformations on the national scale, while the latter captures the “place”—the cultural, political, social and economic identity—of a single “space”. In her post for this week, Emily Taylor writes that we study history “to better understand the present vis-à-vis the past”. But for the average student of history, there is little wisdom to be gained from the study of broad, general trends. Emily’s philosophy promotes the kind of historiography that James Connolly advocates.

Referring back to last week’s reading, Kenneth Hewitt’s writing in Regions of Risk exemplifies a poorly balanced historiography that depends on generalities. For example, Hewitt explains that progress is a double-edged sword—often responsible for causing disasters and often relied on for preventing them. He also explains that there are two types of risk: routine risk, which are widespread and recognized, and extreme events, which constitute a disaster. He mentions the Titanic and the earthquake in Kobe only for their dramatic effect.

January 15, 2014December 16, 2020

The Importance of Scale in Disaster Appraisal

While discussing the varying criteria with which historians have understood ‘disaster’ Bergman points out that historians “have not advocated a common creed” but rather share a “familiar lexicon” (935). In my opinion this comment, which serves as a keystone to his article, highlights the large role that the scope of a disasters appraisal can play in creating varying historical understandings of the term while still maintaining a “familiar lexicon.” Throughout our class discussion we referenced different ways with which to evaluate disasters. Be it the “common measuring stick” that Bergman labels a calculus of property and lives, or a more nuanced method that evaluates a disaster’s psychological toll, these understandings are dependent on the group that is analyzed. An example of this can be seen in whether or not one considers the displacement and subsequent harm to Native Americans a disaster; it is dependent on whether analysis is limited to the American economy and subsequently American citizens or includes all parties involved. This is also present in both Bergman and Hewitt’s articles. Bergman references many scholars who contend that disasters are, by nature, social. This analysis is dependent on limiting a disasters evaluation to its toll on humans rather and discounting the ways in which they affect other species, so long as that doesn’t have a toll on humans (were there no disasters prior to humankind?). Hewitt draws attention to this issue of appraisal in by discussing the ways in which countries might export a dangerous technology, product or waste product despite it being illegal in their own country. This exportation of products that are outlawed so as to prevent disaster, demonstrates a disaster appraisal that, by being limited to a certain group of people, is counterproductive on a larger scale. It additionally highlights the ways in which disaster appraisal and response can create collective action problems and the dangers of inward and narrowly focused evaluations and prescriptions for disasters that Hewitt goes on to discuss in his conclusion.

January 15, 2014December 16, 2020

The Multifaceted Impact of Disasters

Hewitt describes the study of disasters and their impact as truly interdisciplinary. He takes the geographical point of view because he is a geographer, and he looks at disasters in a very scientific manner. Bergman, on the other hand, looks at disasters in a social aspect. Disasters have profound scientific and social implications, so looking at the subject from either style of study is completely valid. Bergman says the the disciplines that focus on natural disasters include “geography, anthropology, ecology, meteorology, psychology, sociology, and, more recently, history” (Bergman, Disaster: A Useful Category of Historical Analysis, 935). This claim properly explains the interdisciplinary nature of the study of disasters. The impact of disasters go beyond one or even two related fields.

Because people examine disasters from these many different fields of study, the definition of a disaster is hard to realize. I think it is easier to look at disasters at a case by case basis because not every disaster encompasses all of the aforementioned disciplines. Taking one disaster and using the disciplines it encompasses is easier than trying to define disaster in order to satisfy all of them. A meteorologist can learn more about the impacts of a hurricane as a disaster when s/he sees the ecological impact; a historian can learn more about the impacts of the same disaster when s/he sees the sociological impact. It’s practically impossible to know all of the causes and effects of disasters, but we can gain more understanding about each one by looking at it from many different points of view.

January 15, 2014December 16, 2020

Disaster as a Social Construction

Disaster: A Useful Category of Historical Analysis by Jonathan Bergman and Regions of Risk: A Geographical Introduction to Disaster’s introductory chapter by Kenneth Hewitt explore the questions of what is a disaster and what is it to study disasters. Hewitt makes an explicit argument that the disaster narrative is a social construction, while Bergman more generally explores disaster studies and provides claims that can be used to support Hewitt’s argument. Hewitt uses previous disasters such as the Johnstown Flood, the Dust Bowl, and the cholera epidemics of the 19th century as evidence for his claims, but more importantly within those disasters he focuses not on the capital and lives lost but rather the portrayal and memory of the disasters. Bergman takes a different approach and while he does talk about the societal reaction to various disasters, he analyzes the disasters by using more data driven metrics and focuses on the societal perception of risk.

Hewitt’s argument that disasters are a social construction is very strong because much of how we process and perceive disasters is through institutions such as media and government and through other social constructions like class, race and religion. Hewitt’s claim that “disasters therefore should be rightly understood as triggering mechanisms revealing flaws in environmental and social systems” is a uniquely interesting point because many things like building codes and emergency exits would not exist if a disaster had not come around to expose the flaw in the system. (Hewitt 936) I also really liked Bergman’s division of societal maladies into routine and non-routine events and that when threats “overwhelm whole communities” rather than just affect one person or a small group they are then perceived as a disaster. (Bergman 5) Overall both Hewitt and Bergman analyze disaster studies in interesting ways but Hewitt makes a more succinct and compelling argument that disasters are a social construction.

January 15, 2014December 16, 2020

Disaster and the Cost of Innovation

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Mirebalais, located 30 miles north of Port-au-Prince, Haiti, is home to the largest solar powered hospital in the world. The hospital opened in 2013 and runs 100% off of 1,800 solar panels and what’s more, is even able to sell energy back to the grid. This development is huge – especially as frequent and massive power outages continue to plague the struggling nation. Resultantly, solar panels, aside from being more energy-efficient, remove the hospital from the threat of potentially deadly power outages.

Hewitt struggles balancing the tension between the innovation and horrific consequences from disaster. Hewitt argues that there is every reason to believe that many disasters could have prevented or at least reduced. “This is what gives to hazard and disaster studies a positive orientation. To help extend and improve safety and relief of suffering is surely the only acceptable purpose of research into extreme harm.” Hewitt urges us to study disaster in order that we may prevent it.

Bergman touches on the dichotomies of disasters as well. He presents different case studies on how Hurricane Katrina exposed the failure of American social justice and how the Mississippi flood shed light on issues of race. Bergman writes, “Disaster, Rozario seems to suggest, was both destructive and constructive – its own most powerful tonic.” Disasters, Bergman continues, should be understood as triggering mechanisms that reveal imperfections in both environmental and social systems. And we are left to decide how to pick up the pieces.

Bill Clinton’s mantra in Haiti has been “build back better.” The Mirebalis hospital is a model of innovation that emerged from the deadly ashes of the horrific Haitian earthquake. We celebrate its development but morn its roots. So progress can emerge from disaster – but when it comes at the cost of spilled blood, we are caught in a balancing act, reconciling the price we have paid for innovation.

January 15, 2014December 16, 2020

Approaches to Studying the History of American Disasters

Focus Question: What are different historical approaches to studying the history of American disasters?

Disaster is, as Bergman puts it, “ubiquitous yet indescribable.” It is difficult to exactly characterize disaster, as we saw in our class list on Tuesday. Everything from hurricanes to terrorism was lumped under disaster. The definition and study of “disaster” has evolved. Early on, supernatural events were thought to bring about disasters. Disasters were not natural; they represented God’s displeasure with humans. Then the language around disasters shifted to science. Disaster descriptions were couched in purely secular terms.

Even more recently, there has been focus on “human ecology” or the link between human and non-human worlds. Several scholars, such as Matthew Mulchay, think this intersection of natural and human forces precipitates disasters. Some even call modern disasters “unnatural.” It seems a bit extreme, however, to call every disaster unnatural. For instance, humans do not cause most hurricanes. Despite more recent emphasis on humans affecting weather patterns, there still appear to be some events humans did not cause. It reminds me of the old saying, “If a tree falls in a forest and there is no one around to hear it, does it still make a sound?” If humans were entirely uninvolved, there could still be hurricanes. They might not directly cause humans trouble, but perhaps hurricanes could be considered disastrous for the nature and wildlife they impact.

Disasters seem to reveal failings in society. David McCullough writes about the Johnstown Flood as the clash of social problems and nature, which seems more reasonable than the “unnatural” category. A combination of human and natural events caused the Johnstown flood. If there had been no improperly built dam, the heavy rain would not have had such a disastrous effect. If there had been no heavy rain, the dam might not have failed. Other scholars maintain nature or man alone causes some disasters. There has been a general movement to increasingly describing disaster in cultural or social frameworks. The piece by Kenneth Hewitt continues this cultural trend. He emphasizes the geography of disasters, which often highlights the rift between the impoverished and wealthy. Disasters in poverty-stricken areas typically produce higher death rates and reveal the limited political voice of people. Disasters form a window to study race, class, gender, politics, and governmental structure.

January 14, 2014December 16, 2020

Defining disasters and their study: a topic of multidisciplinary interest

In this week’s readings, both Bergman and Hewitt ponder the characteristics of disasters: how are they defined? What are their prominent elements? What are their implications? How do they fall within the delineations of academic inquiry?

I found Hewitt’s analysis succinct and focused, and therefore more useful. Perhaps most usefully, Hewitt distinguishes between the routine–highway, smoking, lifestyle related deaths–and the more unexpected ‘extreme events’ (Hewitt 5). These fall into the major categories of natural, technological, and war-related disasters. He also suggests some important characteristics of disasters such as their concentrated death and injury; their wont to catch individuals or societies unaware, and perhaps represent a new, previously unknown, threat; and their natural tendency to overwhelm previously functional societal and governmental systems.

Bergman’s work, more so than Hewitt’s, is a historiographical analysis. Analyzing, or at least mentioning, a wide variety of historiography on disasters, Bergman asserts clearly that disasters are necessarily social and human. Furthermore, he argues that those analyses which separate the human from the exogenous cause of the disaster are incomplete. Indeed, I believe this to be true: in their history of the disasters and upheaval in reformation Europe, The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse: Religion, War, Famine and Death in Reformation Europe, Andrew Cunningham and Ole Peter Grell argue the illogic of trying to find every early modern disease’s contemporary counterpart. Convincingly, they write that the disease is no more the bacterium or virus that causes it than it is the experience of the disease itself. For example, syphilis in 2014–many years after penicillin–bears little resemblance, in terms of experience, to syphilis in 1500. Likewise with disasters: the greatest earthquake or flood is no disaster without the human experience, regardless of its other effects.

Compellingly, one might argue that this definition is more inclusive than it might seem at first. Human compassion may include many disasters which cost no human lives, directly or otherwise: the Exxon-Valdez spill comes to mind.

Eventually, it seems the definition of a disaster will lack some specificity, such that it may include the wide variety of events which the humans who experience them deem disasters. I believe that to be acceptable: historians (and geographers) can continue their study of those events that they, or others, deemed disasters in their own experience.