The Big Truck That Went By: How the World Came to Save Haiti and Left Behind a Disaster

Throughout Katz's book are stories of ordinary Haitians coping with daily hardships, large and small. The largest is, of course, the earthquake itself. Katz points out that a popular misconception about disasters is the immediate aftermath. A common assumption is that, in the wake of an earthquake or tsunami or other natural disaster, the stricken area is overrun with chaos and panic. On the contrary, after the earthquake, Katz observes that most Haitians are relatively calm and intensely focused on digging survivors out of collapsed buildings. "There was palpable shock and grief, and searching for help, but no sign of chaos" (22), he writes. Indeed, it is somewhat miraculous that, after so many decades of poverty, neglect, and condescension from the rest of the world, Haitians remain as calm and composed as they do; or perhaps it is because of those conditions. True, Constant disappointment engenders a certain degree of cynicism but also a steely resolve to simply stick to the task.

The Haitian people endure. They endure death on a massive scale, interminable delays in aid—a year after the quake, much of the rubble remains to be cleared—deplorable conditions inside refugee camps, and, lastly, thousands dead from a cholera epidemic. Katz notes that, through all of the hardship, the final straw is the epidemic, not only because of the death itself, but because it was brought on by outsiders. Haitians long for self-determination, to be the master of their own affairs, and to guide their own destiny. The fact that widespread death is caused by a foreign presence triggers a long-simmering anger, decades in the making, at outside interference and manipulation. Some Haitians protest, loot, and cause property damage, but overall, these outbursts of frustration are rare. Mostly, they rely on their communities and their culture, the displays of which are evident every day.

Immediately after the earthquake, Katz and Evens tour the broken city of Port-au-Prince. They witness scenes of death and heroism as ordinary citizens dig survivors out of the rubble by hand. In one instance, Katz makes a strategic decision to continue reporting rather than help dig. He realizes later, when looking at photos of a collapsed apartment building, that a man buried inside he had thought was dead at the time was actually still alive. He wonders if the man would have survived had he stopped to help. Katz reflects on his duty as a journalist and comes to the conclusion that reporting on the disaster was his greater responsibility "so the outside world might comprehend the scale and urgency of the crisis and send help" (27).

We imagine journalists as objective chroniclers of current events, but like first responders, they see tragedy on a scale most people cannot imagine. They can become hardened to such human suffering, or they can suffer alongside the victims. Katz's decision is very utilitarian although not emotionally easy. It is extraordinarily difficult for any empathetic human being to wander through an apocalyptic landscape like the one Katz describes, seeing crushed bodies litter the streets, hearing the wails of anguished survivors, confronting and being forced to deny pleas for help, and, in the end, to make a philosophically rational choice. In hindsight, Katz questions his decision, but disasters like this one are the ideal arena for impossible moral choices.