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Mike Davis Takes On LaLa Land For Round Two.
By Christopher Weir
Ecology of Fear: Los Angeles and the Imagination of Disaster,
by Mike Davis (Metropolitan Books). Cloth, $27.50.
IF ANYONE COULD make the Book of Revelation sound like
an afternoon of miniature golf, it's urban prophet Mike Davis.
His previous screed, City of Quartz, essentially predicted
the Los Angeles riots through a brilliant navigation of the region's
poisonous social history. Now, in Ecology of Fear, Davis
deconstructs a socio-environmental Apocalypse that's not only
galloping across Southern California, but may also be coming to
a city near you.
Remember, it's all fun and games until your metropolis is burning
so hotly that a passing satellite records "an exceptionally
large thermal anomaly extending over more than 85 square kilometers."
Ecology of Fear begins with a provocative twist on the
natural disasters that have pounded Los Angeles over the past
decade: Things could--and in fact should--be a lot worse. Through
an exhaustive investigation of regional environmental history,
fire ecology, seismic research and heavy weather phenomena, Davis
illustrates that recent disasters have transpired during a period
that, historically speaking, has been "anomalously mild and,
therefore, atypical."
Thus, Southern California's oversold identity as the peaceful
Land of Sunshine is "part fluke, part myth." The ensuing
mindset, writes Davis, "simultaneously imposes false expectations
on the environment and then explains the inevitable disappointments
as proof of a malign and hostile nature."
According to Davis, another component of the disaster dynamic
is social injustice. By juxtaposing Malibu's inevitable firestorms
with Los Angeles' preventable tenement fires, he reveals that
wealthy hillsiders receive millions of dollars in politically
enhanced disaster relief while local officials struggle to impose
basic fire-prevention codes on the city's slumlords. In other
words, while children fry in downtown's avoidable infernos, Malibu
residents employ "disaster amnesia" as a "federally
subsidized luxury."
Ecology of Fear identifies more unsettling ironies through
an exploration of the region's decimated and dysfunctional wildlife,
from marauding mountain lions to killer bees, plague-vectoring
rats to the mythical chupacabra (the allegedly alien "goatsucker"
from Latin America). As suburbia flees the "wild" environment
of urban life, it urbanizes outlying wildlands. In the ensuing
confusion, wayward street youths are characterized as animals
while troublesome mountain lions are compared to drive-by gunmen.
Nature, Davis observes, becomes a malevolent refraction of the
inner city.
Unfortunately, a subsequent chapter on Southern California's
role in disaster fiction fails to build upon the book's considerable
momentum. Though comprehensive and intriguing, this chapter reads
more like an essay than an integral or essential aspect of the
book's overall thesis.
Here, Davis also brokers a fixation on racism that is, at best,
old news and, at worst, gratuitous. For example, he seems scandalized
by a 1943 novel that engages idiotic racial stereotypes while
depicting a Japanese invasion of Southern California. However,
Davis conveniently neglects to mention any concurrent context
for the regional ecology of fear: the bombing of Pearl Harbor
in late 1941, the mysterious Los Angeles air raid (during which
1,500 anti-aircraft rounds were fired at unidentified flying objects
in early 1942), and Japanese submarine attacks on the coast of
California, including the shelling of an oil field in Santa Barbara
and the sinking of a lumber barge near San Pedro.
One doubts that even the enemy Japanese would have been surprised
to find themselves portrayed as an invading force and fictionalized
according to contemporary stereotypes.
Davis regains his formidable footing when he returns to the present
nonfiction world and delivers blistering observations on how alienation
and racism are exacerbated by paranoid urban planning. In the
omniscient Los Angeles metroscape, skyscrapers have brains, public
space is a fantasy, and Machiavellian architecture orchestrates
passive segregation. Meanwhile, city schools are "little
more than daytime detention centers for an abandoned generation"
while California becomes the "proud owner of the third largest
penal system in the world (after China and the United States as
a whole)."
The unnerving implication is that greater Los Angeles might possibly
represent the shape of things to come across the urban nation,
a premonition of like-minded megacities trampling over community,
compassion and common sense. With vast intellect, startling prose
and a subversive sense of humor, Davis ultimately delivers a message
that few want to hear: "Despite the wishful thinking of evangelicals
impatient for the Rapture or deep ecologists who believe that
Gaia would be happiest with a thin sprinkling of hunter-gatherers,
megacities like Los Angeles will never simply collapse and disappear.
Rather, they will stagger on, with higher body counts and greater
distress, through a chain of more frequent and destructive encounters
with disasters of all sorts."
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