The Popcorn Promise
A popcorn promise: A promise made after a disaster, in the heat of the moment, under pressure, usually with good intent. These promises can be broken or difficult to honour.
It is the profound and achingly tragic moments after disaster that move the collective soul; they drive us to dig deep, to give and support each other. As events unfold, we feel intensely and respond accordingly. We start early recovery from a common and very human place.
It is from this place, that politicians feel compelled to make big promises early on. Political figures often find themselves in the “mourner-in-chief” role. It is difficult for them to find a balance between communicating hope and communicating reality. They visit communities, they hold the hand of the woman who has lost her child and they become caught up in the intense grief of the situation. They feel a responsibility to “do something”, “show strength” or “demonstrate leadership.” They too feel the collective zeitgeist and want to reassure affected people. Politicians stand in a brutal arena where they live or die by popular opinion. A disaster is a political event from day one.
It helps to know that hanging your hopes, dreams and future on these early promises can be unwise. They are often made without real knowledge of the situation and without understanding what will be required to fulfill them. Officials are sent scrambling to “make it happen” but often encounter obstacles. These obstacles might be financial, legislative, technical or a limited appetite for taking risk.
The Pike River Mine disaster demonstrates this scenario. In November 2010, an explosion in a coal mine on the West Coast of New Zealand trapped twenty-nine underground. A second and then subsequent explosion extinguished hopes for their survival. The Prime Minister at the time promised the government’s commitment to recover the bodies of the twenty-nine: “We’re committed to getting the boys out, and nothing’s going to change that.” Over time, the government found this promise hard to keep and seven years later families were protesting at the gate of the mine to prevent it being sealed without the recovery of their loved ones.
Sonya Rockhouse lost her son, Ben, in the tragedy. “They are literally putting hundreds of tons of concrete between us and our boys. I used to think that if the Prime Minister made a promise about something as important as this it would be kept. Now I don’t.”
These promises, often well intended, give short-term hope and solace but can lead to long-term bitterness, anger, grief and frustration. Precious energy then needs to be spent trying to undo expectations and rebuild trust.
©Hummingly 2021
