New York. The sun is shining, the snow is receding, and I am just a day or so from my fourth visit to Ground Zero, now memorialized by its haunting appearances in old movies and television shows. For all of us who either personally witnessed or found ourselves transfixed by the images of destruction, the events of that sunlit September morning remain suspended in our memories, bracketed off from the normal rhythms of time by which we mark the passage of our lives.
But while our memories can retain the poignancy of an event, the physical site of the event often is reabsorbed back into the landscape. The first time I saw Ground Zero (which was after the rubble had been removed), I was struck by how small an area it was in comparison to the size of the city blocks that surrounded it. And although there were some tourists who came to see the site, I noticed that, for many commuters on foot and in vehicles, Ground Zero was just one more place to navigate in a city that relentlessly presses you forward.
The impact of 9/11 on the nation's psyche is almost immeasurable and in retrospect, the insurance industry was not immune to its effects. It was a measure of national pride – and a need for reassurance – that drove politicians to promise New York billions to rebuild the 16-acre site. At the same time, actuaries sounded the alarms that acts of terrorism could not be predicted, modeled, or even insured. Industry experts lined up to say that the specter of terrorism had changed the rules. After decades of collecting data and studying the risk associated with hurricanes, earthquakes and tornados, insurers now faced a new, uncertain challenge.
Fear, yes fear, was an unspoken element that sparked the passage of the federal Terrorism Risk Insurance Act. For the industry could not function under the question of whether 9/11 was a singular event, like the sinking of the Titanic, or the har-binger of a new paradigm, like the decision by Ger-many in World War II to unleash German U-Boats on cargo ships.
The events of 9/11 came to mind after seeing the devastation wrought on New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina. For those who live in the southeastern region of the country, hurricanes and the damage they bring are all too familiar. That is especially the case in Florida, where we have seen eight hurricanes in the last 18 months. In fact, the structure of the industry and individual carriers is to have the ability to pay and manage the claims produced by major storms. Unlike 9/11, in the aftermath of Katrina, some actuaries looked on matter-of-factly as the water broke through the levees, noting that the risk to New Orleans had been modeled and known for decades.
It would be a fallacy, or certainly a matter of distaste, to compare 9/11 with Katrina, or Charley, or Frances, or Ivan. But as I watched on television the agony and suffering of so many people and the destruction of a city, I could not help but draw the conclusion that the damage wrought by Katrina was as much or more a greater calamity than 9/11. But not having struck the same sense of horror as 9/11, Katrina is already slowly fading from the public scene.
So I ask, how many hurricanes will it take, how many lives lost, how much property destroyed, before hurricanes are seen as a national problem? How many more tragedies will we have to witness before people start wearing American flags on their lapels, mourning another city, another community, or another life lost? How many …?
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