Carlton Vogt's

Enterprise Ethics

Volume 3 Number 24 August 31, 2005

Justice demands it

Morality requires a just allocation of national resources -- and it requires it now

I'm walking down the street, enjoying the sunshine and contemplating heaven knows what. A voice close behind me calls "Hey, mister, I'll bet you a dollar I can tell you where you got your shoes."

I turn around to face a guy, mid-20s, broad smile, tousled hair, and a stubble of beard that, if it were intentional, could be chic in some circles. It isn't intentional.

But I'm no rube. This isn't my first day at the rodeo. So I tell him "Well, I'll give you a dollar unless you're going to tell me that I 'got' them on my feet on Chartres Street in New Orleans, Louisiana, USA."

The broad smile stays, although I can see the shadow of disappointment, while he searches for another sure-bet scam. I must look like more of a rube than I am. So, I tell him "OK -- I'll give you two dollars, but you have to tell me about New Orleans."

So, we walk together and he tells me how he came to be in The Big Easy, which is what I want to know anyway. I've heard a lot of these stories; most of them aren't pretty. While we talk, he pulls another sure-bet riddle on me. This one I haven't heard before. So, I'm less of a rube than I look, but more of a rube than I think. I give him another dollar. Then, he spots a real rube and says good-bye, and I thank him for the stories and the company.

Even the panhandlers in New Orleans have a certain panache, not just the hackneyed "spare change" request. They can make parting with your money enjoyable.

New Orleans has always held a certain fascination for me. It's a city with a complexity and with contrasts that go far beyond the one-dimensional view that most tourists get. It's not all about scarfing down the vile drinks called (ironically) Hurricanes on Bourbon Street or flashing body parts while importuning for cheap plastic beads.

It's a city full of people who are infallibly friendly and laid back, but also a city with the highest murder rate in the country. It's a city where you can get some of the best meals in places whose looks give fastidious people the heebie-jeebies. It's a city where the "aristocracy" isn't necessarily connected to wealth. It's a city where you can stop into the voodoo shop on your way to the cathedral for mass. Most people never venture past the French Quarter, and the really adventurous may make the trek to the Garden District. But that's only what tourists see -- and there's so much more.

I was thinking of New Orleans a lot last week, even before it was in the news. A young friend was to be going there for the first time next week, and I was eager to see the city through his eyes. I was debating whether I should tell him where he "got" his shoes, or whether I should let him find out for himself. After all, it would cost him only a buck or two, and why should I deprive him of the experience?

As you can tell, I have a hard time writing about New Orleans in the past tense, although given the pictures I'm seeing on TV and hearing the reports that grow grimmer by the hour, that would seem more grammatically appropriate. I just can't bring myself to believe that this wonderful, magical place has been, in the words of one official, "annihilated." Yet, the pictures don't lie.

And, of course, it's not just New Orleans. It's also smaller cities and towns in Louisiana, as well as Biloxi, Gulfport and coastal Mississippi. The devastation is so extensive that even as I write this, no one is really sure how bad it is.

I saw a poignant scene on television today, Four men, carrying their belongings in black trash bags, were walking along a bridge leading out of New Orleans. The commentator remarked that beyond that bridge -- for as far as you could imagine -- there was nothing. No food, no water, no shelter, no toilets -- nothing for miles and miles. Where were they going?

Right now, many residents have been told to get out, and those that are already out have been told to stay out. And I have tried to imagine what you do. With no money, no food, the clothes on your back, in many cases no ATM cards (assuming you can find a working ATM), no communication, where do you go? How do you survive? I have no answer -- except desperation.

In dealing with any disaster, there are three main tasks -- rescue, recovery, and reconstruction -- and in the meantime housing, feeding, and caring for the refugees. At this stage, the task seems not daunting, but nearly impossible.

What is called for is a strong measure of justice -- and by that I mean distributive justice -- which is how we allocate resources under conditions of scarcity. When resources are scarce, our primary obligation is to satisfy the needs of those to whom we have the greatest obligation.

So, when food is scarce, we must see to the basic needs of our own family before we feed the rest of the neighborhood. Then, we must see to the needs of our neighborhood before we see to the needs of the people in the next city. That is indisputable. It's not selfishness. It's simply justice. The greater the scarcity, the stronger the obligation.

For a government -- any government -- that very strong, primary obligation is to its own people.

Unfortunately, the heart-wrenching devastation that we've seen in the gulf states so far is just the beginning. As time goes on, the desperation of the immediate victims will become worse -- much worse.

But eventually, we will all suffer, and we may suffer dearly. The expected increase in gasoline and heating oil prices -- something for which we are already bracing -- will be the final straw for many people teetering on the economic brink. That increase will also have a dampening effect on an already weakened economy. Some analysts have already mentioned the words "gasoline shortage," and anyone who lived through the shortages of the '70s knows the personal economic effect of having to sit in line for two hours to get 10 gallons of gas. That will make some people's current lifestyles -- and by that I mean jobs -- unsustainable.

The gulf ports handle an incredible proportion of the goods and services that keep our economy going. A disruption -- nay, devastation -- of this nature may be the needle that bursts the housing bubble, the only thing that currently sustains us as a country. Once that happens, the downward spiral will be catastrophic.

I've been thinking about our resources, our priorities, and how we're allocating them. Currently, they are unjust, and I've come up with a plan that won't totally solve the injustice, but will at least put our efforts on the right track. As I see it, we need to do three things.

First, we need to bring back all our troops from Iraq -- immediately. Not when we've finished some mythical and ever-changing mission, not in six months, not in a month. Immediately -- if not sooner.

Second, we need to put those troops – and whatever other resources we can muster -- into the effort of recovery and rebuilding .

Third, we need to take the obscene amounts of money we're funneling into ethically challenged "defense contractors" in Iraq and put it into helping the people of the gulf states. Again, immediately -- if not sooner.

This isn't a panacea and it's not the whole answer to the disaster, but it's a start.

I know there will be objections to my proposal, but I don't think any of them withstand scrutiny.

"We can't just pull the troops out of such short notice." Sure we can. Bring the big planes over and start ferrying the troops home. Tomorrow. It's as simple as all that. The troops will thank us for it.

"Iraq will dissolve into chaos." Maybe, maybe not. But turn on your television. We've got enough chaos right here. Let's deal with that first.

"But what about completing our mission?" If you can tell me what the mission is, I might listen to you. So far, it's changed on a weekly basis, and, besides, I don't think the exact wording of the Iraqi constitution is worth one American life.

"What about all our supplies and equipment in Iraq?" Well, let the people who brought them there bring them home. Iraq is filled with mercenaries (contractors -- take your pick). They can mop up. That's what they've been getting the big bucks for.

"What about the insurgents?" Well, there weren't any insurgents when we got there, and the prime target of their insurgency seems to be us. Maybe if we leave, they'll stop "insurging." Maybe they won't, but the Iraqis are going to have to sort that out.

"The troops aren’t trained for this kind of work." Actually, this is just what many of them signed up for, helping out with natural disasters at home. They were merely hijacked to serve in the occupation of a country where we're not wanted. I am certain that most of the troops would rather devote their time and energy to helping their fellow Americans and rebuilding the gulf coast than walking around Iraq with giant targets on their backs.

"But what about the "pottery barn principle." For the uninitiated, this is the silly premise -- although I'm not sure it's really Pottery Barn's policy -- that if you break it, you buy it. Its proponents contend that we have to stay in Iraq until it's all "fixed." However, even stores who want you to buy what you break don't want you to stay around and try to "fix" it. If you're so clumsy that you're breaking their stuff, they probably just want you to get the hell out.

"But what about the contracts we have with our defense industries." Well, they got them by hook and by crook -- mostly crook, without bids or proper oversight -- and we can take them back the same way. We can just remind them that while "everything changed on 9-11," everything changed again on August 29. Get used to it.

"Aren't you bringing politics into a natural disaster? Shame." Politics isn't a dirty word. Politics is the process by which we as a country set national priorities. This is exactly the time we need politics to get our priorities straight. And right now, they're not straight at all. That's the real shame.

The bottom line is that we have many of the resources that we need. It's just that they're being used in a way that is unjust to the American people. Instead of pouring a billion dollars a week into an Iraqi quagmire, we need to be devoting that money to hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of our own citizens who are in desperate, dire straits. Justice demands it.

Instead of risking American lives in a foreign adventure that was begun in violation of every principle of a just war, we need to be using our military in a way that actually benefits our own people. Justice demands it.

Instead of destabilizing the Middle East in some brazen neo-con power grab that benefits only the military-industrial complex, we need to begin to stabilize a region of our country that has been devastated by the worst natural disaster in the country's history. Justice demands it.

Of course, we need to do much, much more. We must let go of the fantasy that pumping money into the off-shore bank accounts of the wealthy will benefit the poor. We need to realize that taxes aren't the enemy, but are the fuel that keeps an economy going. And we need to realize that the health and well-being of the people are essential to the health and well-being of the country.

Abandoning the dreams of empire and ending the occupation of Iraq, which is draining not only our economic resources, but our precious moral capital, is only a first step, but a necessary and morally required first step.

Justice demands that our resources be devoted to helping our own people. For our government to do anything else would unjust -- and immoral.

© Copyright 2005 Carlton Vogt