Oil spills, nuclear accidents, we’re talking about things out-of-place. We assume the derailment is in the accident when the intended “use” of the oil or the radioactive isotope is broken and they leave their “normal” pipeline or containment.
This is a horrible misreading of the truth. The action that put these elements out-of-place was their initial wresting from their geologic abode in the insistence to risk-all and unleash whatever havoc “necessary” to bend them to our will.
The artistic impulse at its basis is the urge to fit, to celebrate and focus our attention on what fits, and to warn of what is out-of-place. The disaster isn’t the spill or the incident, it is the “exploitation” of “our” “resources.”
Feeling bad about an “accident” – even if the perpetrators could manage the empathy required for such a reaction, or if any claim for lack of precedent did allow room for surprise – the true horror is when it all “goes according to plan.”
It’s like grieving over a train wrecked on its way to Auschwitz.