Forensic Engineering - The Ripple Effect: The Fate of Freshwater in the Twenty-First Century - page 194

sadly, much of the blame can be pointed at the Corps. I really hate to say that, but it's the
truth. If they can't learn from experience, they are doomed to repeat the same mistakes
over and over again.”
Bea and Seed's report on Katrina became the focal point of a massive class-action
lawsuit against the Army Corps of Engineers , which was filed in 2006: sixty-five thou-
sand New Orleanians have charged that the Corps ignored its own flood-protection
guidelines and left the city vulnerable to the ravages of the hurricane. (Another three
hundred thousand plaintiffs have filed separate claims. Taken together, the litigation
over Katrina represents the biggest legal action in the nation's history.)
This suit involving Bea is the most significant challenge yet to the web of laws stem-
ming from the 1928 Flood Control Act, which grants the Corps immunity from pro-
secution when its levees fail. As the case slowly crawled through the courts, Bea was
frequently called upon as an expert witness. His overall goal, however, was to build ef-
fective flood control, and he continued to offer the Corps his expertise.
In December 2007, Bea flew into New Orleans for an unprecedented, off-the-record
meeting with Corps leaders. The weather was sultry. The sun was a bright disk in the
gray sky as it warmed the afternoon; in the evening, lightning flashed and thunder-
storms drenched the streets. Bands tooted along alleyways, as the city prepared for
Mardi Gras. Bea's man on the ground, Jimmy Delery, a community activist, radio host,
gardener, real estate entrepreneur, and gadfly, who had rescued people during Katrina,
drove us through the city's poor, mostly African American Lower Ninth Ward. More
than two years after Katrina, the neighborhood remained a muddy shambles, as if it had
been freshly destroyed. “his should not have happened,” Bea said, shaking his head.
“We knew Katrina was coming. We did this to ourselves.”
I heard many conspiracy theories about what “really” happened during the storm.
People said that the levees had “intentionally” been blown up—to save white neighbor-
hoods, some said; or just the rich, said others; or friends of politicians, said yet others.
In light of the government's woeful response to the crisis, it is easy to understand such
thinking. But as I toured the decrepit levees with Bea, a more likely scenario presented
itself. It wasn't that the Corps had intentionally blown up perfectly good levees out of
racism or spite or greed; it was just as likely that they had built the minimum amount
of flood protection required by law, did so in a hurry and without much of a budget,
maintained the levees sporadically, and did not consider the consequences should a ma-
jor storm hit. Which begs a pointed question: which is worse, intentional destruction or
lethal apathy?
he next day, Bob Bea, three senior Corps oicers, and local politicians tucked into
Cajun food in the back room of a restaurant. It was their first face-to-face meeting, and
the conversation seesawed between the jovial and the testy. Bea kept his comments fo-