[Blackstudies-l] Sea of Storms: A History of Hurricanes in the Greater Caribbean from Columbus to Katrina, by Stuart B. Schwartz

Maria Lima lima at geneseo.edu
Thu Feb 5 03:23:09 EST 2015

   lisaparavisini posted: " Sea of Storms: A History of Hurricanes in the
Greater Caribbean from Columbus to Katrina, by Stuart B.
Schwartz, Princeton University Press. Call it a hurricane or a ‘weather
bomb’, we’re as much at its mercy as ever, writes Philip Hoare in this
"    Respond
to this post by replying above this line
      New post on *Repeating Islands*
<http://repeatingislands.com/author/lisaparavisini/>  Sea of Storms: A
History of Hurricanes in the Greater Caribbean from Columbus to Katrina, by
Stuart B. Schwartz
lisaparavisini <http://repeatingislands.com/author/lisaparavisini/>

[image: Screen Shot 2015-02-04 at 10.59.00 PM]

*Sea of Storms: A History of Hurricanes in the Greater Caribbean from
Columbus to Katrina, by Stuart B. Schwartz, Princeton University Press.*

*Call it a hurricane or a ‘weather bomb’, we’re as much at its mercy as
ever, writes Philip Hoare in this review for The Times Higher Education

I write this in the face of a Cape Cod storm that threatens to blow the
little wooden house in which I work clear of the beach and into the sea.
And, for all that I inhabit the technologically advanced 21st century,
there is nothing I could do about it. Even now, in 2015, we humans have yet
to extend our dominion to the greater forces of nature – despite our
somewhat hubristic notions of geoengineering and “planet-hacking”.

Equally, on a metaphorical level, it is almost impossible not to see storms
and other extreme climatic manifestations as symbols or omens. Great storms
augur God’s wrath – or great political change – and have done so since
humans began to create stories around the sense of their own existence.
>From creation myths to Shakespeare’s *The Tempest* to hurricanes Katrina
and Sandy, vast disturbances in the atmosphere, whirling and wreaking havoc
in their wake, alter political careers, and have been held accountable for
more metaphysical disruptions and disasters. Eschatology as well as
climatology is at work here, fed by our cultural obsession with the
weather: witness the current vogue for the term “weather bomb”, or any
number of sensational newspaper headlines threatening doom and destruction.
The fact that we survive is, *pace* Frank Kermode’s “The Sense of an
Ending” lectures of the 1960s, proof of the perennially disconfirmed nature
of apocalypses.

In his fascinating, extremely well-researched book, historian Stuart
Schwartz looks at a specific arena of tempestuous record: the hurricanes of
the Caribbean, a vast area encompassing the Gulf of Mexico, the southern
North Atlantic, the coastline of the southern states of the US and parts of
Latin and South America. His remit reaches back to the Meso-Americans, and
the Caribs, who rendered images of the storms as graphic spinning arms,
uncannily like the modern meteorological symbol for a hurricane.

Schwartz’s account really takes off with the Western colonisation of these
zones, beginning with the Spanish voyages of discovery, and expeditions of
exploitation, in the 15th and 16th centuries. Europeans had no first-hand
knowledge of hurricanes, and their fearsome power took the uninvited
visitors by surprise. One might well sympathise with their reactions when
faced with apocalyptic storms far beyond anything they had ever
experienced: winds blowing at 130 miles per hour or more, causing
catastrophic and life-endangering storm surges at sea, even as they tore up
trees and flattened houses with wilful disdain. The death and destruction
they wrought equated with the other, human problems presented by the new
colonies: isolation, subsistence, violence.

Given their Christian faith, the Spanish inevitably saw hurricanes as
supernatural judgements. Some believed the presence of the Holy Eucharist
would dispel the storm, and priests held up the Host as if it were an
anti-lightning rod. Others tossed crucifixes into the raging seas, a
throwback, seemingly, to the placating of river gods. In Cuba, the autumn
hurricane season was incorporated into the liturgical year with the prayer*Ad
repelendas tempestates* – a violent version of the harvest festivals being
celebrated in more temperate climes.

The colonists soon learned that the “primitive” peoples they had subjugated
had their own systems for predicting the advent of storms. Indigenous
islanders knew that their livestock would move to safety of their own
accord long before a hurricane hit. The Caribs could read the skies and
even timed raids on other islands for the stormy months in order to
maximise havoc for their enemies. In another notion of retribution, the
islanders claimed that the coming of the Spanish had exacerbated the
hurricanes. These tensions, on both sides, set the stormy tone for what
Schwartz describes as a “proving ground for the techniques and violence of
empire”; a crucible of conquest and discontent. With the later English,
French and Dutch incomers, the vicissitudes of natural forces became
somehow complicit with the human catastrophe for which the Caribbean became
known: slavery.

The 18th century brought the agricultural industrialisation of the
Caribbean. Paradise was planted. The change in land use made the islands
more susceptible to damage, as storms could tear through land
environmentally undermined by crops planted in bare earth. As Schwartz
notes, hurricanes are a natural phenomenon; human activity turns them into
disasters. Yet, at the same time, scientific understanding was being
applied to climate. Thermometers and barometers could measure and predict;
it seemed storms might yet come within the human compass.

Storms also became a mechanism of, or prompt for, change and reform. When
hurricanes hit slave-serviced plantations, the disproportionate suffering
of the workers in the aftermath pricked the consciences of the British, in
particular. Schwartz shows that storms became an effective component in the
move towards the abolition of slavery in the late 18th and early 19th
centuries. He evokes the notion of “disaster utopia”, a sense of community
created by storm damage, quoting the marquis de Bouillé, governor of
Martinique, who extended the hand of charity to his British enemies after
they had both suffered in a terrible hurricane in 1780: “In a common
catastrophe, all men are brothers.”

With the 19th century, there was a growing understanding of the science of
storms – with the work of men such as William Charles Redfield, who, from
1835 to 1854, mapped the tracks of Caribbean hurricanes, and established
that northern-hemisphere hurricanes rotated anticlockwise and their
southern counterparts clockwise. In the process, natural disasters moved
from the notion of sin and moral failure towards rational explanation.

Yet that same science would, in the late 20th and early 21st centuries,
also make direct and indirect links between anthropogenic climate change
and the perceived increasing frequency and ferocity of hurricanes. Thus the
political response to Hurricane Katrina in 2005, which put George W. Bush
in such a difficult position – it was the most expensive disaster in US
history, estimated at a cost of up to $125 billion – segues to Barack
Obama’s positive handling of Hurricane Sandy in 2012, which, in contrast to
his presidential predecessor’s mistakes, proved key to his re-election a
month after the storm. Today we really do see these “weather events” as a
result of our moral failings – the result of what we have done to the
planet’s climate.

It is a neat, if salutary, turn-around, from early superstition to future
dread. Schwartz places Katrina “within the long and still evolving history”
of these natural phenomena. Ironically, the correspondences with the
enslaved Caribbean of the past were all too evident in the hierarchy of
suffering. “[The government] treated us as badly as you could treat your
fellow human beings,” complained one survivor. As ever, those who suffered
most were disproportionately of African American backgrounds. Clearly, all
men are not brothers in such contemporary catastrophes.

As we look to the future, rising seas will make hurricanes – “hypercanes”,
in the modern idiom – ever harder to deal with and ever more disastrous.
Kermode did not necessarily take account of climate change when he proposed
the disconfirmation of apocalypses as a kind of renewal of the human
spirit. In the 21st century, these über-storms reflect global geopolitics,
as Schwartz concludes: “In a way, the hurricanes and how societies deal
with them have become symbolic of competing world views.” The winds are
howling around this house as I write, hurling furniture about on my
seaward-facing deck. We may be far from those Caribbean tempests, but we
will undoubtedly feel their effects, one way or another, in decades to come.

For the original report go to
  *lisaparavisini <http://repeatingislands.com/author/lisaparavisini/>* |
February 4, 2015 at 11:04 pm | Tags: Sea of Storms
<http://repeatingislands.com/?tag=sea-of-storms> | Categories: News
<http://repeatingislands.com/?cat=103> | URL: http://wp.me/psnTa-ktf

   See all comments

to no longer receive posts from Repeating Islands.
Change your email settings at Manage Subscriptions

*Trouble clicking?* Copy and paste this URL into your browser:
         Thanks for flying with WordPress.com <http://wordpress.com>
-------------- next part --------------
An HTML attachment was scrubbed...
URL: <http://mail.geneseo.edu/pipermail/blackstudies-l/attachments/20150205/86baf2db/attachment-0001.html>

More information about the Blackstudies-l mailing list