Pervasive culture of fear and blame sullies mourning

CNN assures me that the Columbia space shuttle explosion has little or nothing to do with… CNN assures me that the Columbia space shuttle explosion has little or nothing to do with terrorism. The field reports indicate no one connected to Osama bin Laden can be held culpable for this tragedy, that – when the shuttle fell and snuffed out seven lives – it did so accidentally, without motive or rancor.

Until NASA completes its investigations, no one will be able to tell what happened over Texas on Saturday. Even then, results are likely to be hesitant and inconclusive. For now, officials can only say what the Columbia wasn’t – another casualty of the War on Terror.

This is symptomatic of a bigger problem: the continual search for someone or something to blame.

Part of this epidemic emerged when the newscaster reported that terrorism had nothing to do with the Columbia. This was meant to be comforting, to tell us that mechanical failure was at fault.

Rather than being comforted, I became incredulous. How could newscasters, in good conscious, add such an element of sensationalism to their reports only minutes after it occurred?

This may appear to be a naive reaction, shallow in its interpretation of life, death and American society’s evolution since Sept.11, 2001. Still, if newscasters make the immediate connections between the Columbia and Sept. 11, 2001, it trivializes both.

Tragedies, instead of prompting mourning, now incite paranoia and venom. People have always been afraid of random, senseless acts. Now we subject these events to scrutiny instead of letting families grieve.

Machines cannot feel. They exist free of malice or benevolence. Machines cannot be held responsible for their mishaps. Machines cannot be taken into court and convicted, or hauled into the public square and shamed. And if we can’t blame them, then where can we cast an accusing finger?

People feel anxious, depressed, even terrified. Witnesses also bear guilt – not the guilt of culpability, but the guilt of having survived where others have perished.

Catastrophes happen. The footage shows an explosion that formed blooms and trails of light, followed by a rain of debris. Via technology, the audience becomes privy to the last moments of seven strangers. From every conceivable camera angle, we watched – fixed to the screen – as the Columbia fell from the sky. Misfortune becomes a circus act, one performed without a net and destined to fail.

Who is to blame? Can we put the onus on those who designed and built Columbia? Can we charge the under-funded space program? Can we blame scientific principles surrounding combustion or gravity’s pull?

Perhaps the hardest lesson to learn after Sept. 11, 2001, is that sometimes no blame can be assigned. Sometimes terrible things happen to the most promising of people.

In light of history, we should not shake with fear every time we click on the television. Crime is at an all-time low and safety at an all-time high. A century ago, flourmills painted sawdust white and used it to thin their product. Fifty years ago, children could open bottles of painkillers with a simple twist.

With society at its safest, we are at our most afraid. The culture of fear – a topic far larger than this column space – pervades our every decision. Everything comes with a disclaimer, including tragedy.

If no one is to blame, then where can we turn? Will we infect ourselves with an unfailing optimism in the universe? Will we place our faith in god(s), time or humanity? Will we offer all that we have – small remembrances and fleeting lives – and hope that it is enough? Or will we continue down the road we are on, until it deadens our ability to give and receive comfort?

Columnist Sydney Bergman can be reached at sbergman@pittnews.com.