Hurricane Katrina was one of the most difficult and instructive tests in the history of American disaster response and the military in recent history. When the hurricane decimated New Orleans and the Gulf Coast, it was brutally efficient. But the deeper costs went far beyond broken streets and leveled houses to expose appalling failures in disaster preparedness, interagency cooperation, and response capability of the federal support system.
For the professionals on the ground, it was an experience of coverage and live involvement. Veteran journalists and meteorologists worked as emergency responders, and command centers were de facto newsrooms. Units rolled out across the city, synchronized with the local authorities, and streamed the crisis in real-time.
Veteran meteorologist Margaret Orr recalled telling residents to go out and grab an axe and go upstairs if they were not evacuating – something that most definitely saved lives. Photographer-reporters and reporters like Heath Allen and the late Tom Fitzgerald risked their own lives in St. Bernard Parish, absorbing the entire dose of destruction as the waters crept higher and higher around them.
The dangers the reporters took on were the same as those of the rescue workers: being killed, robbed, and psychic fatigue due to exposure to widespread human misery. Assignment editor Kendal Francis took responsibility for placing reporters in danger, relying on experience and gut feeling as much as anything to read them in.
The newsroom itself was used as an impromptu shelter, staff sleeping on the floor and jury-rigging showers with tarps and PVC pipe. During the uncertain times, a feeling of responsibility drove the people to weather personal losses, fatigue, and sickness, rather than focusing on recording what was happening and assisting displaced individuals.
Heroism extended far beyond the tabloid headlines. City residents and local first-responders generally dove into life-or-death rescue missions with little equipment. NOPD Sergeant Danny Scanlan is only one of many who swam ten feet of water to escort a ninety-year-old woman to safety, a small representative sample of the thousands of acts of heroism that bore witness to the leading role of city residents and local first-responders in the midst of a tragedy.
In and since Katrina, the extent of federal disaster aid was painfully obvious. Biloxi, Mississippi, is a bitter example, red tape and slow reconstruction. Mayor Andrew “FoFo” Gilich has struggled for years to try to make his way through FEMA’s byzantine approval process, struggling to get dollars to rebuild such critical infrastructure as the pier and stormwater system.
Another $111 million is also said to be required for modernization, denial, and delays still anger local officials, symptomatic of more widespread system failures. Hundreds of Katrina projects still outstanding across Mississippi and Louisiana serve as a reminder of continuing difficulties in the country’s disaster response system.
These are accompanied by internal FEMA restructuring, including personnel shortages and politicized reform efforts. Backlogged Katrina and other disaster claims exist because uneven support and political considerations have eroded trust in federal agencies.
Katrina and emergency planners have much to learn concerning coordination, pace, and truthful leadership. The disaster reflected the need for clear communication, rapid decision-making, and empowering the local responders. It also established boundaries of centralized bureaucracies and determined the value of incorporating frontline expertise and neighborhood resilience in planning.
Katrina’s legacy is not the tale of disaster, but of a trove of hard-won lessons assumed—proof that there are more than equipment and dollars required to respond appropriately to a calamity. One also requires leadership, adaptability, and a deep faith in the people who are battling the crisis in the trenches.