Haiti falls apart and America’s journalists are on the ground, bringing us the spectacle of devastation. We care, we donate, we shake our heads in horror at the human toll of poverty.
A bare foot sticks out of a pile of cinder blocks.
“They’ve been digging for five hours,” says Anderson Cooper. He sticks his mike in the rubble. Oh my God, she’s alive. We can hear her screaming! “They only have this one shovel.”
OK, freeze frame. Something is so wrong with this picture, this moment: to be watching — live! — in comfortable detachment as a group of men dig desperately, by hand and with that single shovel, to free a 15-year-old girl trapped in the wreckage of a building. Will they get her out in time? Suddenly it felt like a “Star Trek” episode: “We have many extra shovels aboard the mother ship, but it’s important that the Haitians free their survivors with their own tools. We’re obliged to observe the cultural non-interference policy, you see.”