A different scene of tragedy

While visiting those displaced by Hurricane Katrina at the Houston Astrodome last week, Barbara Bush commented on how the residents were pleased with Texas' hospitality. "So many of the people in the arena here, you know, were underprivileged anyway, so this -- this is working very well for them." The media pounced on the comment as an almost humorous demonstration of the former first lady's ignorance and insensitivity.

While the observation was certainly uncouth and inappropriate, there is a disturbing truth in Mrs. Bush's comment: fellow Americans reached out with humanity and kindness to the five million residents afflicted by this extraordinary catastrophe, but in our normal lives we do little to assist those afflicted by the commonplace tragedies of concentrated poverty.

These daily tragedies are certainly of great magnitude, as two statistical illustrations released this month reminded us: the Census Bureau's 2004 update on income, poverty and health insurance, and the United Nations' annual human development report.

The number in poverty (37 million) and the poverty rate (12.7 percent) rose in 2004, for the fourth year in a row. We have the dubious distinction of being one of two developed countries, alongside Mexico, where more than 20 percent of children live in households below 50 percent of the median income. Our infant mortality rate is equivalent to that of a country with one quarter of our average income (Malaysia), and that rate has been worsening since 2000. The number of people without health insurance also continued its steady climb, up to 45.8 million citizens.

Unfortunately, such observations mean too little to too many. Statistics of inequality do not haunt dreams, and our nation's numerical literacy is deficient anyway, partly thanks to a public school system that is its own national tragedy.

The images of New Orleans and other devastated areas, however, do haunt our dreams. They have illustrated the widespread human suffering wrought by Katrina, and the charity of this nation's individuals in response has been remarkable: at least $670 million had been raised by last Friday according to the Chronicle of Philanthropy, almost triple that given in the 10-day wake of Sept. 11.

These surreal images also revealed stark divisions of class and race that took many by surprise, although this reality was nothing new. As a local resident commented in Time, "I keep hearing people say on TV and in print that they don't recognize 'this New Orleans.' Perhaps they closed their eyes or didn't pay close attention when they were there."

One could wade into the difficult discussion of how entrenched prejudice and public policy are responsible for this ignorance. Many of those in media and politics have begun doing so, while beseeching our country to seize this opportunity to combat urban poverty.

But there is a more basic problem at the root of our negligence: how we communicate these commonplace tragedies. As those who study risk management are well-aware, human perception has many deficiencies, and adequate communication has to compensate. The imperfections are numerous: we inherently attach greater significance to incidents that are concentrated in time and place (think plane crashes vs. car accidents), we think in terms of the short term rather than long term and we are terrible at conceptualizing the meaning behind numbers, particularly those that are very large or small. In this light, it is easier to understand why the public may have been so unaware.

These realities have been examined for decades by those concerned with risk perception, but these insights -- providing better context for statistics, telling more individual stories -- need to be integrated into practice. The potential for more effective communication lies in many places, including media, government and academia. The New York Times' public editor set an admirable example in admitting that the national surprise at these deep social divisions indicates a failure of his organization. However, that is only a first step.

Concentrated poverty and unequal access are complex tragedies of extraordinary magnitude that deserve national attention. However, changing these realities will be much easier if we address the fundamental problems of public perception and communication.

This catastrophe has demonstrated the compassion of our community: We are not an apathetic, selfish society. With better communication and greater public awareness, perhaps our response to the ordinary tragedies of great magnitude would be more like our response to the extraordinary tragedies of great magnitude. It should be.

Shannon Jensen is a senior real estate, business and public policy and urban studies major from Annapolis, Md. Her e-mail is shannonj@wharton.upenn.edu. Above Board appears on Mondays.

Please note All comments are eligible for publication in The Daily Pennsylvanian.