Every year right around now, just after Mardi Gras and festival season, someone who’s not from here writes something about the fate of New Orleans. I’m not saying these writers get a free ticket to New Orleans to cover a story during Carnival — but it does seem convenient.
Our latest urban obituary was published on Monday, this time by The Guardian, and now everyone’s sharing the story, “Point of No Return: New Orleans relocation must start now” blah blah blah — and, of course, forwarding it to all of us who live here out of concern or as validation for their choice to leave.
Adding insult on top of insult, The Guardian chose a photo from 2005 that happened to include my house. It felt personal.
So I just had to comment, now that my eyes are back to center after having rolled back into my skull. My goal is to guide next year’s “on assignment during Carnival” writers into writing something that actually helps save New Orleanians rather than shoves us just a few inches further underwater. I have three suggestions.
〝Just as Sacramento knows they have a levee problem.
As San Francisco knows they have an earthquake problem.
As New York knows they have a sea-level problem.
As London knows they have a sea-level problem.
As Miami knows they have a sea level problem.
WE KNOW THAT WE, TOO, IN NEW ORLEANS HAVE A SEA-LEVEL PROBLEM.〞
- First, we here in New Orleans are acutely aware of our impending doom. Every summer thunderstorm now turns into a flood, the invasive Formosan termites are eating our oak trees and houses, the heat is the worst it’s ever been, we’re infested with destination bachelorette parties that rent our homes through phone apps forcing us to live further outside of downtown with a long commute, and the earth beneath our feet is subsiding quickly, wrecking our roads, utilities, and the foundations of our homes.
We know the levees are sinking, the Governor doesn’t like to build land, and the US government doesn’t care about climate change. We see it every year as our home insurance jumps by several hundred dollars. WE KNOW.
Just as Sacramento knows they have a levee problem. As San Francisco knows they have an earthquake problem. As New York knows they have a sea-level problem. As London knows they have a sea-level problem. As Miami knows they have a sea level problem. WE KNOW THAT WE, TOO, IN NEW ORLEANS HAVE A SEA-LEVEL PROBLEM. Maybe try including those other cities and their struggles when talking about us. Tell the story that every town has its problems. - Second, the depopulation of New Orleans started way back in the mid-1960s. Back then, the city had about 660,000 souls, and currently we’re down to almost half of that at 361,000 — give or take a bartender or two. This isn’t organized by the government — it’s naturally occurring. People move. It’s what we do. We move to new places for better opportunities and if we’re lucky, we make new people.
After Katrina, the State of Louisiana offered us money to rebuild OR to relocate elsewhere within the state. Most of the community I grew up in took that offer and fled across the Pontchartrain Ocean to the frozen tundra of the North Shore.
But still, a few of us remain. My dad’s side of the family has been here since 1718. Both sides of my family mostly all lived in the New Orleans metro before Katrina, all within a mile or two of each other. Today, there are only a handful of us left as the rest have moved inland.
This is nothing organized. Just small efforts to move the New Orleans population. But don’t worry — we get the message every time we have to get in the car to drive to birthday parties in East Houston (Baton Rouge) or bring our heavy coats and snow gear to a Christmas party somewhere north of the lake. On those occasions, we truly feel the trends. Our own families are moving inland — WE KNOW.
But again, maybe try to show that all cities along coasts eventually migrate inland — losing the never-ending battle with the sea. It’s been happening since the Europeans arrived and their first camps were blown down in a hurricane. Galveston moved inland to Houston; Dauphin Island to Mobile; Port Arthur to Beaumont. Better yet, maybe include that Southeast London is sinking at 1.5mm per year while New Orleans’s stable ground is just a bit faster at 2mm per year. Should we start the immediate relocation of Southeast London? I guess, once again, tell the story that every city has its problems. We’re moving just like every other city.
- Third, please stop saying “relocate New Orleans.” That’s not going to happen. You can move the cathedral to Jackson, Mississippi, the Superdome to Houston, your grandma’s house in Treme to Atlanta — and it will not be New Orleans. Nowhere else will be New Orleans. We’re a sinking ship that will not be here one day just like every other city along the coast — and that’s OK. Nothing is permanent and it’s that impermanence that makes us live and love so deeply here.
If there’s one thing I learned after Katrina, it’s that there is no such thing as “rebuild.” You might build new, nice things, but it’s never the same. You can relocate to Covington and call your new street Rue Bourbon, but it’s not Bourbon Street. You can move Frenchmen Street to downtown Baton Rouge and I guarantee you it will not be the same for many, many reasons. Just stop with the “relocation” talk. If people want to move, they will. Maybe try words like “abandon” or “give up on” or maybe even “find somewhere new.” But relocate just sounds silly.
With that said, I guess once again, I’m suggesting, maybe talk about how cities can’t be relocated. Understand how that term hits when you use it for those of us who have made lives here. We can’t be relocated, just like any other city can’t be relocated.
Of course, I mean no illwill to the writer or researcher who put this story together. I imagine they, too, love New Orleans. However, I see a story like this as being more damaging than helpful — a modern day redlining of an entire city; a scarlet letter upon the breasts of our downtown to scare away new businesses; shackles around the necks of those of us that choose to remain here; and, a death sentence for those without the means to leave.
People, and the places they choose, are more complex than spreadsheets.
Back in 2003, I was finishing a Master’s Program in Urban Planning and was attending the University of Guanajuato in Mexico. My goal was to map dangerous flood areas of Guanajuato state and help show people where not to live. A woman in class laughed at me and said, “Here we go, another gringo coming to Mexico to tell us how to live. In the U.S., you have the money to live for tomorrow. In Mexico, we aren’t that privileged. In Mexico, we live for today.” I never finished that Master’s program because I came home — dreams crushed by that comment — and then Katrina happened the next year and destroyed my town. Lesson learned!
I do believe in science. I am getting my MBA focused on sustainability right now. So I know that we data-driven, science-trusting, climate change and sustainability experts are very smart, passionate people who just want to save us all.
But I can’t help but now recognize that we might be missing something about what it means to “save the planet.” We folks who live in dangerous areas like New Orleans, Beirut, Mexico City, Naples, Miami, or Rio know very well that tomorrow is not promised — so we celebrate every day. We drink a little bit more, love a little bit longer, dance a bit harder, and eat a little too many, because we know this isn’t going to last — but we want to keep going with our way of life as long as possible.
And I think maybe that’s what we should all be writing about. Not about relocation or abandoning ship, but rather, what can we do to keep New Orleans around for just a little bit longer?
In summary, to next year’s spring writers, please DO write about New Orleans, but just be sure not to single us out — as New Orleanians know well, disasters are better when you experience them with friends. So put us into the larger picture with all of our friends. With San Francisco and New York and the other cities that are threatened by natural phenomenon. If New Orleans is the canary in the coal mine for climate change, pull back the camera and show the larger coal mine. If not, you may be the gringo who wants to point a finger at somewhere you don’t know while your hometown faces its own grave dangers.
Also, think about what your story could do to the people on the ground? Are you hurting or helping us? Write about the people who are here, doing the hard work to keep us afloat for just a little bit longer. WE KNOW that our work in New Orleans may help our city’s life extend a little longer. And I promise you, that makes us take climate change seriously in a way that we rarely take anything seriously.
Looking forward to seeing everyone down here in New Orleans over the next 50 years. Laissez les bons temps rouler! Sent from my home office because my downtown office was flooded this week.
Christopher Ard is an 11th-generation New Orleanian.
