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Postcards from ‘Ground Zero’: Preface
‘Postcards
from Ground Zero’ is the first in a series of three publications. It is an
annotated autobiography of my experiences over the past twelve years, as an
international trauma psychologist, and manager of terrorist disasters. Everything
about these accounts is real. The postcards are written in first person present
tense, packed with original photographs, taking the reader on a journey of
adventure, the kind of which is usually found only in fiction - the figments of
a morbid imagination, perhaps. But there is no fiction in this book. I wrote most of the postcards whilst on those terrible
midnight to dawn flights home from the respective disaster sites, amidst the
sounds of screaming babies, old men snoring and B-grade movie marathons. Try as
I might, I’ll never be able to sleep on a plane. Several
international disasters are analyzed with reference to the design,
implementation and evaluation of interventions, with commentary on their
effectiveness. But this is not a technical book, and is aimed at a mainstream as
well as a specific audience. The interventions are described as my first
principles understandings, utilizing a story-telling approach. The tales, in the
form of postcards, provide a description of events as they unfolded, leading the
reader on a journey of personal awareness of the complexities therein.
Commentary is provided on the differences in cultural perspectives between
Eastern and Western designs, drawing conclusions about the dilemmas contained
within open community recoveries versus closed government interventions. The
influences of religion, poverty, fatalism, and emotional stability add to the
richness of the cultural diversity in disaster management interventions. Examples
are drawn from Australian (the Moura Mine Disaster 1994, the Port Arthur
Shootings 1996, the Thredbo Landslip 1997), Indonesian (the Bali Bombings 2002/
2005, the J.W. Marriott Hotel Bombing Jakarta 2003, the Australian Embassy
Bombing Jakarta 2004), and the Indian Ocean Tsunami disaster 2005. Commentaries
are also given with respect to the London Bombings 2005, and the Hurricane
Katrina disaster 2005. I
am a psychologist with thirty-two (32) years experience in the human services
industry, evenly divided between social work and psychology, and to the private
and public sectors. My early career was spent working in psychiatric hospitals,
clinics and community health centers. After managing two branches of Marriage
Guidance Queensland (now Relationships Australia), I established my own private
practice ‘Access Psychology’ (est.1991). I am qualified in Clinical
Psychology, have a Masters Degree in Organizational Psychology, and I’m
currently completing my PhD in ‘The Social Impact of Trauma’. Over
the past sixteen (16) years, I have specialized in the clinical treatment of
victims of trauma, and the strategic design and evaluation of disaster
management interventions. My volunteer on-site disaster consultancies include
those listed above, as well as the Charleville Floods and Droughts (1993-95),
and the Margaret River Landslide (1996). I
was the Queensland Coordinator and a member of the strategic planning and
evaluation team for the Port Arthur Shootings, for sixteen (16) months
subsequent to the crisis. In Bali, I provided Critical Incident Stress
Debriefing (CISD) and counseling interventions to the Bali International Medical
Clinic in the aftermath of the bombings, and I was subsequently awarded the
Medal of the Order of I
am the National President of the Following
this publication, I have two further books in the pipeline. The second is
entitled ‘Trauma 42’, and is a psychological text on the assessment and
treatment of Posttraumatic Stress Disorder. The third in the series is a case
study format entitled ‘For Crying Out Loud’, which presents detailed
accounts of the traumas sustained by high profile Australians. Some of their
names are suppressed at this time as they are undergoing treatment with me
presently. This publication has to be delayed until such treatment is completed,
and they have given their authorization for release of their details. Current
indications are that this will be acceptable to all whose cases are documented. For
now, please enjoy ‘Postcards from Ground Zero’. Paul
J. Stevenson OAM Consultant Psychologist. Chapter One
‘Bombchaser’
In
the beginning there was divorce, but getting there was a journey too. I can’t
recall why I married Maria, but I do know why we separated. For seventeen (17)
years our partnership had featured ‘entrenched sameness’ – a mix of
structure, hard work, poverty, fidelity and incompatibility.
Despite this, we achieved the house, kids and car to which most couples
aspire, but left alone in the same room, we had nothing to talk about. Why
is this important? The chapters
beyond tell of a series of adventures, spawned by a ‘break-away’ spirit. One
would wonder where I was going, if not aware of where I had been.
And unless one could appreciate who came with me (namely my kids), one
could not know why. My
greatest achievements in life are my children. They are what make this ordinary
man feel extra-ordinary. They listen to my ideas (however stupid they sound),
offer lateral suggestions where appropriate, and look after things while I am
away. When I am wondering how I will continue to follow my dreams, they simply
offer to help. They never question
my intentions or motivations. Lisa is a delight. At twenty-eight (28), at the time of
this book, she still lives with me and manages my business. She’s stuck with
me through all the hard times, as well as all the good times. The alliance we
formed at her birth was stronger than any I have witnessed by other parents with
a child, and continues as adults. She is calm, respectful, intelligent, loyal
and witty. Her giggling is infectious. She lights up the room with her presence.
Her devotion is unconditional, and she is a humanitarian in every sense of the
word. Luke
is the boy I always wanted to be. He looks like I did at his age (fourteen, at
the time of this book), and thinks the same way too. But he has the confidence
and poise of a fifty (50) year-old, and none of that guilt-ridden Catholic
neuroticism which was my birthright. To Luke, life is a game. He lives in his
own head, daydreams constantly, and enjoys a social life to which few could
aspire. Everybody loves Luke. He makes it easy to be around him. His positivity
exudes. He’ll be all the best of ‘me’ without the bad bits. What parent
could want for more? But
it wasn’t always like this. When Maria left, she took Luke with her. Lisa, at
age sixteen (16), was able to decide her own destiny, and remained with me. But
Luke, at age three, didn’t stand a chance.
Life
changed irrevocably after that. Like so many fathers, displaced from their
children, the pain of the separation from Luke cut deeper than any wound. Fathers should never be separated from their boys! It’s inhumane
to expect that the male psyche can cognitively overcome the biological instinct
to protect and educate his male offspring. The Family Court has much to learn
about masculinity, in deciding residency and access. As
a psychologist, I have seen many men in this position. Displaced from their
children, they experience heartache unable to be explained, cured or even coped
with. Some turn to aggression to re-establish
territoriality. Others turn to alcohol and drugs to numb the pain. Tragically,
some commit suicide, while others take their children with them.
To
manage the pain, many will embark on destructive strategies, like promiscuity
and work mania, living from one access visit to the next. For me, the pain of
separation, however, was such that no end of women and work could dispel it.
Clearly, I needed a stronger distracter. When I realized that dealing with
patients with severe trauma was the only part of my practice that interested me,
and that my own self-destruction was imminent, I became a ‘bombchaser’. What
followed was a morbid fascination with my own mortality – what we
traumatologists refer to as ‘second injury’ or ‘second wound’, and what
most people would translate to be a ‘death wish’. Many people have asked me
how I cope walking around at ‘ground zero’, living and working amidst armed
bodyguards, and the constant threat of terrorist attack. My replies alternate
between that slapstick response by Maxwell Smart ... “and loving it”, and
the more honest answer ... “Why should I be fearful here, all my terrorists
are back home”. My
morbidity extinguished, however, when Luke came home at age twelve. He was
eventually released from what had become a prison for him – life with a
hostile and stupid man. Maria had remarried a violent man, and eventually, after
he physically abused Luke, she succumbed to handing him back to me. That was two
years ago, and now Lisa, Luke and me live together in a warm and loving family
environment. No
longer motivated by morbidity, I can relate to my work in disaster management
and trauma psychology as a real human being – a scientist, a qualitative
action researcher and an author. I am much better at all of this now, but I
never regret the journey that had to lead to this point. I am a better man for
it. My
lifestyle comes under constant criticism by those whose envy defeats them. At
fifty (50), I am at least one million dollars behind my peers. While I have
attained this country’s top job in Psychology (National President of the I
believe I am a humanitarian, and that’s a ‘calling’.
It is a vocation shared by many, but understood by few. It’s not a
self-sacrificing thing, nor a desire to help others, as many seem to think. Ask
anyone who has joined a ministry, become a Priest or a Nun, or a nurse, or a
Salvation Army officer, etc., and they’ll tell you. To be a humanitarian, one
has to forget about the material things in life. That’s not so hard, because
they just don’t seem to matter in the greater order of things. Sometimes, we
wonder what all the fuss is about. To be a humanitarian is to be absorbed by
one’s own fascination for what one does. It is a life of self-indulgence,
really – in a way that promotes a benefit for others. I unashamedly admit to
indulging my own fascination with trauma, researching the field for my own
professional and personal stimulation, and for causing real change towards a
better world. That’s humanitarianism! In
my second book, ‘Trauma 42’ (yes, it is almost finished), I’ll talk about
personnel selection in trauma workers, and discuss the particular type who
performs well in this business. Beneath the facade of the genuine
self-sacrificing volunteer, sometimes exists a person who is somewhat
introverted and insensitive, mildly ruthless and a tad arrogant, thorough to the
point of mild obsessiveness, highly cognitively intelligent (as distinct from
emotionally intelligent), and able to be convinced to put his own ‘authority
hang-up’ on the shelf while working in a team. That’s a pretty good
description of me. Long
before I became involved in on-site disaster management, I had the typical and
necessary apprenticeship in mental and community health and research. I started
my journey into psychology at seventeen (17), when I enrolled in a Behavioral
Science course at the Queensland Institute of Technology, and went on to
complete a TAFE course in Social Welfare. Five years of studying three nights a
weeks, while working full time as a Social Work Associate, allowed for a mature
age entry to My
Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD) served me well throughout my
studies, allowing me an endless source of adrenaline, such that I could sustain
years of one hundred (100) hour working weeks. I studied part-time in
psychology, sociology and music (to break the pattern) over the following
fourteen years, arriving at a Masters Degree in Applied Psychology. I’ve been
working on a PhD now for twelve years, but I don’t think I’ll ever finish
that. The world keeps changing! Throughout all my tertiary study, I have worked
full time in the industry (thirty-two years so far). My
first involvement in a disaster effort was during the 1974 Meanwhile,
my newly established private practice took on the task of Critical Incident
Stress Debriefing (CISD), mainly for industrial accidents. All the time, I was
intensively studying disasters around the world, and fine-tuning my
understanding of what strategies worked and didn’t work. I started training
health professionals in CISD, and gained a reputation as being right at the
cutting edge of new research. By 1994, I had trained about 500 personnel in CISD
and disaster management. But
clearly, something was missing – real on-site experience!
I know it sounds silly, but I was heading down the same track as most
‘so-called’ disaster management experts. I was gaining my knowledge from
newspaper reports and psychology journals. I was writing about disasters as if I
was there. But I wasn’t there. I admired the few mentors, like Jeffrey
Mitchell and Beverly Raphael, who actually worked on-site, but so many other
authors and commentators sat on the sidelines and criticized.
I wanted to get involved on-site, but didn’t know how to go about it. I
eventually decided, I’d just go! And
then there was Moura ... Click on the cart below to purchase this book:
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