This is now about rebuilding the Republic.

The trust that citizens and Americans are supposed to have in one another when disaster strikes, a trust that was honored for New York after 9/11, has been mortally wounded.

With every passing day, it’s like watching a civilization die.

Many people think the flood can’t get them, but it’s not a flood of water that’s killing NOLA.

It’s a flood of deadly unconcern for one’s own countrymen, a refusal on the part of many — and far too many in positions of power — to exert themselves on behalf of other Americans in their darkest hour.

People remember this sort of thing.

New Yorkers remembered the outpouring of aid and support.

What will New Orleaners remember?

And by extension, how can we the people of the United States of America maintain our more perfect union?

Our domestic tranquility?

Our general welfare?

Our common defense?

We are walking through the phrases of the Preamble to the Constitution with a scythe.

Simply put, “we” are fast becoming an erstwhile “we”. When “we” cannot trust one another to be there for us, first in the form of our elected goverment, when resources placed in common trust are used to bankrool fundraisers for the president and leave the little people to drown, what “we” remains?

When many of our so-called friends and neighbors and fellow Americans openly debate whether life or property is more sacred in the context of shooting looters, when entire categories of Americans are written off as unworthy of assistance, when even in the 21st century being dressed in the right skin tone gets you to the front of the bus, what “we” remains?

These are powerful, incredibly dangerous images and anecdotes.

The beauty of it is that redemption and atonement and forgiveness are possible.

The horror is that nothing of the sort is being solicited, that in fact the reasons for requiring penance are multiplying.

This is no longer about rebuilding a city.

This is about rebuilding trust in the Republic.

This is now about rebuilding the Republic.