About ten years ago, I
made a research trip to the University of North Carolina in Chapel Hill. After
three weeks intense work, I needed a break and I went to Beaufort (pronounced
Bewferd), a small town on North Carolina’s Inner Banks. My room at the Inlet B
& B had a veranda overlooking a small harbour for yachts and motor
launches. The first sunset was spectacular. I sipped a beer as I watched the
sun go down and boats moor for the night.
Then, to my amazement, some
horses appeared on the land on the other side of the inlet. This was an island
known as Shackelford Banks. The U S Coastguard had a very small attachment at
the east end of the island. The rest was blocked to human beings. Later, I was
told the island has been occupied by a herd of wild horses for centuries. Every
night at dusk, I watched, mesmerised, as more than eighty horses came for their
evening drink. I’m from pavement. I’m not used to seeing nature up close.
Two years later, my wife
and I took a long, leisurely road trip from Washington D.C to Miami Beach. The
back roads of Virginia disclosed one Civil War battle scene after another. We
stopped at Appomattox Court House, where General Lee surrendered the Army of
Virginia to General Grant. I was unaware that the Civil War continued for
another few weeks until other southern armies were defeated and surrendered.
We headed for the coast
of the Carolinas and stopped at the Inlet Inn for a few days before heading on to
Wilmington. It’s a big town, hilly and memorable for many things, especially
the Boardwalk by the water’s edge. The Boardwalk is more than a mile long with
all kinds of restaurants, coffee houses, shops and other attractions. By this
time in the trip, we were attuned to the good side of the southern experience. I
had been worried about how blacks and whites might treat each other yet I saw
no discrimination. North Carolina seems a progressive state. The politeness,
the soft accents, the true willingness to help a stranger were manifest. And,
at least in this part of USA, I observed no obvious racism.
A few days later, we
arrived at Beaufort, South Carolina. The town is probably best known as the
location for the movie, The Prince of Tides. Famously, there are houses on stilts
in the sea. We arrived just before a bicycle race started. The riders were men,
women and children and the whole town came out to watch.
So, why am I rambling on
about research and road trips when the events in Washington command attention? For
example, Mueller has had a rich result with the Manafort prosecutions, the
Kavanaugh Supreme Court nomination might get railroaded and the world seems to
continue going to hell in a handbasket, as usual. The American federal political
scene remains same old, same old: divisive and destructive.
In the meantime, the
coast of the Carolinas has been devastated by Hurricane Florence. Tragically,
people have died. And I want to know if the Shackelford wild horses survived, whether
the Wilmington Boardwalk needs a total rebuild, if the businesses will survive,
and if South Carolina’s Beaufort’s houses on stilts are lost. These issues are
more important to me than the political devastation that is Washington, D.C.
Last week, President Trump reassured residents of the Carolinas
that “we’re giving you a lot of help” as he toured areas still dealing with
flooding, power outages and road and school closures from Hurricane Florence.
This storm is likely to be among the costliest natural disasters in U.S.
history. The storm also has been linked to nearly 40 deaths across the
Carolinas and Virginia.
The trouble is that words
and deeds don’t match. In 2017, the Trump administration was going to cut $876
million from FEMA’s budget until Hurricane Harvey devastated parts of Texas.
This year, the budget cut for FEMA was a mere £10 million but why cut anything when
natural disasters seem to be more frequent and dangerous? Could this be because
climate change denial by the administration means each disaster is a unique
aberration? Or is it that the administration puts money before ordinary people?
That’s rhetorical.
And what of FEMA’s record
and its deferral to government in these situations? In 2005, New Orleans was
flooded by Hurricane Katrina. The city was not just flooded, it was inches and
feet under water. People fled for shelter to the New Orleans Superdrome where
terrible things happened to them; stories emerged of assault, robbery, rape and
murder. Huge numbers of poor people who survived Katrina not only lost their
homes. They were shipped all over America, never to return. FEMA was almost invisible
until it was too late.
Last year, Puerto Rico
was devastated by Hurricane Maria. The devastation was not well publicised, nor
were the losses which exceeded $90 billion. The federal government chose to
ignore the Puerto Rican people, providing little relief. Could it have been
something to do with the colour of the Puerto Rican population?
History has an annoying
habit of repeating itself. Politicians have come to the Carolinas, wringing
their hands, promising all kinds of help to camera and then disappearing,
leaving the locals to clean up and pay for the mess.
These days in USA, overstuffed,
self-important, partisan federal politicians are cheerfully wrecking the lives
of the people they serve, either by inaction or purposefully, seemingly without
a second thought. The Republicans are in power but the Democrats could lend a
hand when people’s lives and livelihoods are at stake as a result of national
disasters. As difficult as it might be, they could seek to agree bi-partisan
policies with Republicans to get a better job done. I see precious little
evidence of this happening. Shakespeare expressed it best: “a pox on both their
houses.”
