When I saw this book's title and its ambitious agenda, I wondered if even the great Stuart Schwartz could pull off a history of hurricanes, from 1492 until 2005. Even with the profusion of micro-histories of disasters now available, he would still need to look at Europe, the great variety of Caribbean colonies, protectorates and nations, and themes ranging from climatology to architecture, in a timeframe that stretched over 500 years. My doubts proved unfounded. Schwartz has written a masterful, engaging study that contributes to environmental history, comparative colonialism and much more.
The author has all the tools of a great comparativist. He establishes lines of inquiry, paying particular attention to slavery, colonialism, shock capitalism and United States hegemony (or meddling) in the Caribbean. He happily delves into insightful anecdotes and rich stories but returns to these broader issues regarding the impact of hurricanes and how they shaped or defined the Caribbean world. Schwartz takes full advantage of scientific literature, encapsulating climatology and oceanography for the non-specialist. Geography is also central to this study. Not only does Sea of Storms ‘cover’ the Greater Caribbean (northern South America, eastern Central America and Mexico, the southern United States, and the Greater and Lesser Antilles), but it also reveals how hurricanes helped create the area as a geographic unit. Residents today of Mobile, Alabama, Veracruz and Grenada might feel that they have little in common, but all pay attention to the hurricane season. Furthermore, Schwartz relishes the opportunity to consider countries and territories such as Trinidad and Tobago and Montserrat, often overlooked by scholars. In doing so, he confirms that disasters serve as an excellent entry into areas off most historians' radar.
Sea of Storms examines and even rethinks the long arc of interpretations of hurricanes' causes. Although these overlap and can all be found today (as he shows for Hurricane Katrina), he plots out a transition from God, to nature, to humans. In the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, people began to understand the natural causes of hurricanes and other catastrophes, although many still saw divine wrath as the ultimate cause. In the twentieth century, analysts shifted the causation (or in some cases the blame) to humans, showing that ‘natural disasters are not natural’. He builds from environmental history to specify how bad planning and greed facilitated greater destruction. Yet Schwartz does not present a linear argument and instead indicates how these different interpretations mingled and overlapped in the past and present. In his superb closing chapter, he reminds the reader of providential (and racist) interpretations of Hurricane Katrina and its devastation of New Orleans.
His central chapters on hurricanes, slavery and colonialism stand out for their breadth and power of argument. He confirms what dozens of recent studies have underlined, the deep relationship between environmental history and power. Hurricanes both strengthened and destroyed the complex ties that linked the Caribbean with the North Atlantic economy. They could foster solidarity, accelerate change and push history along or, in contrast, aid reactionary forces and impede transformation. Hurricanes both fortified and weakened slavery. Schwartz intelligently shows how hurricanes had different effects according to the context, yet continually shows how they uncovered connections across the Atlantic world and hastened change. Throughout the book he also examines shifting notions of charity and how these shaped state policy, rich material for contemporary discussions about vulnerability, disaster relief and the role of the state.
In the introduction, Schwarz recognises Fernand Braudel, particularly his The Mediterranean World, as his inspiration. Schwartz shares this great master's ability to read and research very broadly and to synthesise precisely. This book prompted me to grab my dusty copy of Braudel's Mediterranean from my bookshelves. I found that my enthusiastic scribbles and highlights faded towards the end of some chapters and the end of the book. I see now that I began each chapter with enthusiasm but ended up at times skimming near the end. Sea of Storms can also overwhelm and some chapters seem a bit long. Comparative history is challenging for social historians with such breadth as Schwartz. He wants to develop an argument and show change (and stasis) over time, but also cover a wide variety of locations and societies. To his great credit, he avoids the shortcut of focusing on Jamaica, Puerto Rico, Cuba, and the Dominican Republic and Haiti. Sea of Storms is a fascinating read, but some non-specialists will find some sections a touch too detailed.
This is a minor quibble and scholars of the different regions, time periods and topics examined in Sea of Storms will no doubt disagree with this comment. They would want more on their subject. Schwartz is an indefatigable researcher and a pleasing writer. This combination applied to an original and important topic makes this a landmark book that that will gratify and even delight many readers.
