The comparisons of the Gulf of Mexico oil spill to Katrina are inevitable. It makes for an easy, perhaps even lazy, narrative. As a journalist who covered both, I have tried to avoid these conversations.
Katrina and the BP spill are analogous events affecting the same region, sure, but these were distinct events. Even where there are similarities, there are profound differences and contradictions.
Take for example the collective panning the government has received from Gulf Coast residents to its initial response to the spill. The Bush administration’s ham-handed handling of Katrina hardly needs extolling. In Obama’s case the problem is the six-month moratorium on drilling.
Ironically, the same demographic who make their living from the sea as fishermen also work offshore on the oil rigs. The moratorium is considered a death-blow by many communities that, with the loss of the seafood economy, now see their fortunes tied entirely to oil. On talk radio callers extol the import of offshore drilling even as the oil continues to wash against our shores. In this pretzel of loyalties, our “victims” are often apologists for the perpetrator of their victimhood. It would be like the entire populace of New Orleans rushing to the defense of the Army Corps of Engineers after the floodwalls they built failed and flooded the city.
My photographs, for one, underscore a striking difference between the two stories, above all the lack of human presence in documenting the spill. During Katrina, nearly every photo I made could be considered emblematic of the event, in large part because most of my photos showed people and water. The subject matter humanized and encapsulated the event.
With the Deepwater Horizon spill, I often find myself photographing things rather than people. Oil on the surface of the sea, deserted beaches, fouled marshes, oil platforms and controlled burns have been my subjects. Each is part of the story but no one scene presents the whole picture. So far the most emblematic photo from the event, apart from the live video feed of the spill itself, is that of a pelican, the Louisiana state bird, covered in oil. While pictures of oiled animals do pull at the heartstrings, I am the first to admit that so far I have failed to fully translate the human side of this disaster.
For one thing, it is not easy.
With the exception of Grand Isle, the oil is washing ashore in uninhabited marshes. Unless one encounters a boat laying boom or an island with birds, pictures are often devoid of life. Much of the work I have done has been from a plane or helicopter, which by definition does not produce a humanizing result.
Further, the people most affected by the spill are those who make their living fishing the waters of coastal Louisiana. Many of these people are now working for BP, employing their shrimp and oyster boats to skim oil and deploy boom. This relationship can put the fishermen off-limits to interviews. During Katrina we did not have to deal with confidentiality agreements.
The comparisons are going to keep coming with the fifth anniversary of Katrina approaching, even as the Deepwater Hozizon situation continues to evolve. Maybe they will help illuminate the oil spill and Katrina without mangling the narrative of either.
A very good piece. Needed to be said.
I am reminded of the Howard Hughes story when he was trying to film a harrowing dogfight in the skies for “Hell’s Angels.” Without clouds in the background for comparison and contrast, the sense of speed and white-knuckled danger of the stunts he’d created was somehow lost. People’s faces, unbridled emotional reaction, maybe it’s what we’ve come to look for in order to feel anything at all.
Your signature photo for me in the spill was the kaleidoscope of floating oil on the blue water of the gulf; deceivingly beautiful, yet sad… bittersweet, like the feeling I often get when I think of New Orleans these days.
Thanks for keeping us all involved and aware.