In three opinion pieces last week, writers explored the meaning behind the lost Titan submersible craft on its way to the Titanic wreckage.
Molly Roberts’s June 23 column, “What internet jokes about the submersible disaster say about society,” explored the crass jokes that surfaced on the internet as rescuers were searching for the craft. “Judging by the past days’ commentary, it’s okay to grin while people die — at least, if those people are ludicrously rich,” she wrote.
Sam Howe Verhovek, in his June 24 commentary, “Before condemning the Titan’s pilot, consider his side of the story,” defended Stockton Rush, the chief executive of OceanGate, the company behind the Titan submersible. “The Titanic and Titan disasters are now eerie bookends, and along with the tragedy of the de Havilland Comet, they will go down in history as cautionary tales of human hubris. But as someone who had a passing acquaintance with Titan’s creator, Stockton Rush, I confess that I experienced a gathering sense of dismay as the media story seemingly got baked in real time that the aptly named Rush was a villain, reckless and negligent.”
Readers had strong reactions to these pieces, published as search-and-rescue operations were underway and as the fate of the Titan and its five passengers became apparent. Here’s what readers said. (Comments have been edited for style, clarity and brevity.)
Brandon Presser’s “The Titan submersible met its end in a vast, dark world”:
Bot Gone Rogue: Excellent writing. The fear of the sea’s awesome power is pan-cultural and primal. Ships lost at sea are the only types of fatalities where we say that “souls” were lost. For a different emotional take, I am reminded of a quote by Albert Einstein about his feelings during a massive storm that engulfed his ocean liner during his first Atlantic crossing to New York. Feeling the smallness of humanity and himself against the majestic forces of this storm at sea, he said “one is comforted.”
ArtfulReader: Thanks to Presser for his reminder that rational fears are embedded in our DNA to keep us alive. Even extensive training has its limits when at odds with our lesser instincts. I respect the sea, nature, the earth. Presser’s reminders of the enormity and unconquerable primitive power of certain forces are spot on. Many thanks for such an emotional piece of writing.
gf21: This is another example where human vanity and wealth overwhelm the intellect we have been granted. I understand the lure of the Titanic wreckage, but what is gained now by risking human lives and untold millions of public funds to allow this vain thrill ride to get a fuzzy glimpse of a scene that can be filmed in high definition by remotely operated submersibles? The CEO and investors in OceanGate deserve all the criticism they are now receiving. Hopefully, the inevitable lawsuits will make similar tourist follies prohibitively expensive. Exploration of the deep should continue, but let this be the last of needless and deadly joyrides.
Sub Skipper: Presser wrote, “Even at the surface, the sea had deceived me with its immensity.” Immensity and intensity, which only increase with depth below the surface. We don’t “belong” there and can only visit. Those who do visit professionally are constantly reminded: The sea is always trying to kill you. Sadly, in this case it appears that the sea accomplished its mission.
Dr. Med Physics: Humans are always going to explore, scientists and nonscientists alike. Thank goodness. The author is not a scientist. He never claimed he was. Nevertheless, he added both physical and emotional perspective addressing ocean exploration and the Titan search. Succinctly, explorers shouldn’t abrogate safety or depend on the morality of rescuers to save misguided missions. As harsh as it sounds, there has been excessive media coverage for the Titan because more people care about it vs. tragedies such as the Greek migrant deaths. That’s the real tragedy here.
AnnieDC: We could simultaneously hope for the best and believe it to be a bad choice to go on this journey. Most things in this world are more nuanced than either/or, which is why I also don’t buy the author’s division of ocean and space into our past and future. It sounds pretty, but does it hold up to critical scrutiny?
Brandon Presser’s response: As our insatiable news cycle rains headlines down upon us like a ticker-tape parade, I’m always curious when something sticks; what’s the anatomy of a story that rivets the whole world?
The ill-fated Titan voyage certainly tapped into a lot of contemporaneous conversations about wealth, science and justice, but there was something more. There was an inimitable element that catapulted the narrative from watercooler chitchat to international obsession: our conflicted connection with the ocean. We’ve come so far beyond ourselves — we’ve built towers in the sky and launched vessels at the moon — that it’s easy to forget, or even dismiss, who we truly are. And though we may all have differing opinions about fear and the sea, it’s tales like the Titan that resonate so deeply because they reacquaint us with the more primal sensibilities of our humanity.
Molly Roberts’s “What internet jokes about the submersible disaster say about society”
DanB in McLean: Roberts doesn’t seem to have noticed that the internet has been poking fun at ignominious deaths for literally decades. Has she never heard of the Darwin Awards? Only difference is that usually it’s some poor person who, through ignorance or desperation or both, winds up the butt of the joke. This time, neither ignorance nor desperation played any part. Yet only this time does Roberts’s scolding finger wag in our faces. Why is that?
Whitney G: It’s called gallows humor and it’s been around as long as humans have walked the earth.
Veronica B: Yes, a couple of these men were billionaires. That doesn’t make them evil, selfish men. In fact, if you read about them, they were amazingly generous with their money. One of them had a dream and started a foundation with the goal of eradicating malaria on the African continent. If it weren’t for men like these, pushing the envelope and willing to risk their lives, there would be so much less we would know about our world. Income inequality is a huge problem. I’m not defending that, but it’s their money. Why shouldn’t they do with it as they please?
Boston Beans n Turnip Greens: I have enormous sympathy for the families and friends of the five people who died. But no incident, no matter how tragic, no person, no matter how grand, and no institution, no matter how important, is above ridicule. On one level, humor can be how we humans process challenging events. On another level, funny is funny.
Molly Roberts’s response: Of course, nothing is above ridicule. Society has generally shared some concept of “too soon” after a tragedy; then again, a friend tipped me off to jokes about the sinking of the Titanic told at the time of the sinking of the Titanic. They are not very funny (“It was kind of the Titanic to provide a ball room for the mermaids”), but maybe laughs were cheaper in 1912.
I’ll just emphasize again something I tried to get across in the column: Usually when we’re going for gallows humor, we recognize that part of the reason the jokes is amusing is the very fact that they ought to be verboten. The subject is just too sad. This time, however, people weren’t groaning at the joke-tellers, or themselves, even as they chuckled. They were gung-ho, arguing that chuckling was acceptable because nothing is sad about a billionaire dying.
So, sure, funny is funny. But it’s reasonable to ask why.
Sam Howe Verhovek’s “Before condemning the Titan’s pilot, consider his side of the story”
Kaye Ann: It’s true that to change the world, you need to take risks. However, I don’t believe you can compare genuine, well-designed and safety-checked technology (as far as it could be in their era) like that which went into space craft, aircraft, water-going vessels, etc., manned by knowing test pilots, with a group of joyriders who were not on a scientific experiment and where the company and CEO seem to have ignored the safety cautions of experienced engineers and designers. As well-meaning and fair as Verhovek’s essay tries to be, I just can’t buy into it or Lord Brabazon’s statements and compare the two scenarios of risk as being in any way similar.
amskeptic: There was no “rush” to vilify. We all waited and waited, even when it was known by principal parties that there was a signature of an implosion on Sunday. We waited. Families waited. We learned along the way that Rush was cavalier and contemptuous toward certification and regulations.
Roy Percy: There is a difference between manning an experimental craft willingly, in full knowledge of the risks, to extend scientific knowledge, and selling expensive tickets to ultrawealthy ecotourists. Nobody on the trip, besides the gung-ho CEO, had any control over whether the “mission” would continue or be aborted. Nobody had the tools, the skills or the technical expertise to troubleshoot anything that might have happened before the implosion. And forgive me, but comparing this to some exploding airliners in the 1950s is hardly a convincing defense.
Sam Howe Verhovek’s response: My piece was not an attempt to exonerate Rush but, rather, to explain him. The main thrust of the criticism is that he exposed not just himself to his risky venture but paying passengers as well. That’s true, but his fellow explorer/adventurers were presumably well aware of his engineering decisions — he was certainly very open about what he was doing. So they knew or should have known what they were signing up for. (Though, of course, I put the youngest passenger in a different category.)
The other common criticism I heard is that Rush was simply greedy. That’s doubtful. He had a passion for — perhaps an obsession with — marine exploration, and he cast his Titanic trips as a way to help finance his wider vision of a mind-boggling array of seafaring projects. His quest might well have been reckless, and it definitively proved fatal, but he wasn’t in it for the money.