Day 42 of the Apocalypse, Ground Zero, Gerton, NC pop. 231

There is a name for how many people have responded, in the wake of Helene.

It is called Catastrophe Compassion.

Catastrophe Compassion is widespread and consistent across disasters. It follows war, terrorist attacks, natural disasters such as earthquakes, hurricanes, and tsunamis, the COVID-19 pandemic, and in our case, an apocalypse.

It is how people respond in the wake of crisis.

For decades, social scientists have documented two primary narratives about human behavior during crises. The first narrative shows that following disasters, individuals either panic, ignore social order, or act selfishly.

Popular media prefers to focus on panic and cruelty, like after Hurricane Katrina, when violence ensued. In fact, The New York Times described the city as a “snake pit of anarchy, death, looting, raping, marauding thugs.” Stories like this informed New Orleans’ response to this crisis. The National Guard was called in to “take control” of the city, rather than focusing on humanitarian relief.

It is true that when there is an emergency, social order breaks down.

You can’t trust a human, trying to get basic needs met, to make spiritually advanced decisions. This is what makes us the “killer monkey.” If you are not awakened to the greater accountability of humanity, then you become reduced to the animalistic behavior of doing whatever it takes to survive.

Jeff lived through this in New Orleans during Katrina. Hurricanes were not new in New Orleans, but this was the first hurricane that did what had been promised for hundreds of years - total annihilation.

The flood waters were eight or even twelve-feet deep in some areas. People who didn’t have anything, started seeking higher ground, along with materials and supplies. There were a lot of people who had nothing, and who couldn’t get out of New Orleans to seek refuge. Meanwhile, no one could get in to help them, either.

Many people were used to going to the grocery store every day, because they didn’t have space to keep stored food, or didn’t have money to buy large quantities of food. They had minimal supplies on hand, and were desperate for food and water. Of course it made sense that these people looted homes and stores. This was necessary vandalism.

There were abandoned cars, blocking roads. Jeff and his neighbors broke many car windows and steering locks, to push cars off to the side of the roads in their neighborhood, so emergency services could get through. This was also necessary vandalism.

Jeff remembers that some people, however, were opportunists. They took advantage of the chaos, and lawlessness, and looted non-essentials - like televisions. In Jeff’s narrative, the police all left the city during the flooding. There was no one to stop the roving bands of looters walking the streets. Then the National Guard came in, and the looting ending.

But lawlessness is only a small part of the disaster response.

The second, larger narrative comes from historical records. These records don’t depict people as antisocial and savage. Rather they showcase prosocial behavior and feelings of community. They speak of disparate people coming together in extraordinary ways. Disaster survivors develop communities with widespread acts of altruism and mutual aid. They experience a heightened sense of solidarity.

This happened during Katrina. Jeff remembers that everyone needed help getting their refrigerators out of their houses. The power was out for months, and the fridges were full of maggots and rotting food. People walking down the street would be called in to help move heavy fridges out of homes. It’s just what was done to help.

Neighbors also worked together to organize storm debris for removal. One of Jeff’s neighbors, a pharmaceutical rep, had medicine samples lying all over the ground outside her house, following the flooding. He and other neighbors picked them up, and disposed of them safely.

That feeling of community happened here in Gerton as well. People who Jeff and I only knew in passing have become close friends. Others we had never interacted with are now on speed dial. We regularly end our conversations by saying “I love you.” We miss each other, when we don’t talk every day. We grieve, as our community begins to fall back into its daily grind, and people no longer show up at the Fire Station to check in.

There is a camaraderie, and a deep knowing, when we speak to people who have been through this disaster with us. It is the common language of surviving, coupled with a new capacity to exist. It is a trust, knowing that whatever happens in the future, we will have each others’ backs.

Anytime one of our neighbors reaches out asking for help, we say yes. That is our common refrain now, “Yes.” Yes, we are willing. Yes, we can help. Yes, we are here for you. Yes, we will do whatever it takes to make your life better or easier, if only for a few moments.

Many of us look back on the early days following Helene with nostalgia. This is common among “disaster survivors.” Floods, bombings, and earthquakes are horrific, but offer a level of interdependence and altruism difficult to find during normal times. We miss being in community, and in communion, with one another.

Catastrophe Compassion doesn’t only have to exist during disasters. It can be for the every day, too.