On Sunday, thanks in part to those clever Chinese hoaxsters and their climate pranks—in this case, massive flooding up and down the Mississippi River—something is going to happen that has happened only twice before in the history of Louisiana, which has a considerable history, especially as regards once-in-a-century events that happen several times.

On Sunday, for the third time since it was built, the Morganza Spillway is going to be opened by the Army Corps of Engineers. When that happens, the spillway will release something like 150,000 cubic feet of water per second into the Atchafalaya floodway. This report from Bloomberg about the last time they opened the Morganza (in 2011) is a vivid account of what will happen next.

When I went into the bays the day before the barricade was lifted the last time around, the Mississippi squirted through cracks and gaps at the edges of the spillway’s gates. If the river had blasted through at that moment, it would have meant instant death. The next day -- with me watching a safe distance away -- the Army Corps of Engineers used its giant cranes to open the bays for the first time in almost four decades. The ground shook and water shot out at least 40 or 50 yards. In a few minutes, the surrounding pasture below the Morganza flooded. Rabbits, snakes, toads and mice ran up the hill without any fear of humans. They ran over my feet and between my legs. Large fish trapped in the deluge flew through the air.

Farms and homes will be lost as the river is allowed to go where the river wants to go. Family graves—and the history that goes with them—will be lost. And this is after entire small communities were moved when the Morganza floodway was constructed in the first place. From placesjournal.org:

In the half century that it has taken residents of east-central Louisiana to forget what it meant for the Mississippi to flood, the members of Zion Traveler have forgotten where their old graveyard and church once stood. What the current site provides in perceived permanence and safety, it lacks in memory and history. The floodway has cut off the congregants from their past, from ancestors who lived and worshipped less than a mile away. The secretary of Zion Traveler — the person responsible for keeping the church records — does not know where the old church was located, and neither did anybody else before we started asking questions. We asked the secretary if her parents or grandparents ever talked about the old place. “They didn’t talk about it much,” she said. “I guess because it was history.”

Environmental refugees are not a new thing in this country. We've just decided to notice them, is all.

A number of homes are located right along the Spillway. Julie Dermansky Getty Images

Opening the spillway is a use-it-or-lose-it proposition. If the Morganza structure, which was finished in 1954—gets "overtopped," it becomes useless and, very likely, the then pressure would cause levees up and down the river to give way, which would be a catastrophic event. Still, the ACE has conducted several town meetings with people who live in the floodway to sell the necessity of opening the Morganza again. From The Advocate:

Rocky and Dianna Rocca moved to Butte La Rose in 2015 to be closer to their grandson. Dianna Rocca said their main concern is the safety of their animals. The two work for an engineering firm and commute to Baton Rouge each day, while often traveling for work. They came home from vacation Sunday to find the dock at their canal-adjacent home underwater. Dianna Rocca said they don’t want to leave their pets vulnerable if they leave town again and the water rises higher than the Corps is predicting. The couple said their home is raised high enough that flooding isn’t a concern, but if SLEMCO cuts power to the area due to rising water, mold will overtake their property in no time, Dianna Rocca said.

Farmers, in particular, will be hit hard, just as they were in 2011, and just as they have been all over the country since this springtime from climate hell set in. From WAFB-9 in Baton Rouge:

Back in 2011 when the Army Corps of Engineers opened the Morganza Spillway, Glaser lost his entire crop. Now, as the Corps prepares to open it again to relieve a swollen Mississippi River, he stands to lose everything again."I had someone tell me the other day, I like my margaritas, but they said you better get away from margaritas and start shots,” he said. “Take the shot, and I agree with them." Looking out over 1,000 acres of farmland he has in the floodway, Glaser sees a crop that’s doing well and would produce a nice profit. “You still see the crop growing. It’s a tremendous crop out here. Next week, the week after, I’ll come up here and see that it’s underwater then it’s, it’s going to hit.”

He has about $300,000 invested in this year’s corn and soybean crops. “All the inputs are in, especially on the corn crop: seed, herbicides, insecticides, fertilizer, the whole nine yards.” Until today, he had no assurances money could ever be recovered under federal crop insurance. "Under the laws of crop insurance, if it is a man-made disaster, then crop insurance is not eligible to pay for the losses of the crop,” said Louisiana Department of Agriculture and Forestry Commissioner Mike Strain. Tuesday afternoon, Strain said his office reached an agreement so those who have purchased insurance will be covered. Even then, Glaser said insurance will not cover all his expenses. “That’s going to pay for some of the expenses,” Glaser said. “I hope it covers our expenses, but it’s almost like going to work off the farm and work for a year with no income, and now this is just 1,000 acres out of 3,500 acres, but 1,000 acres, a third of your crop, the income is gone.”

In so many ways, Louisiana is the country's index patient for the climate crisis, just as it has been the index patient for so much of the country's slipshod environmental policies over the past four decades. Its Cancer Alley chemical plants are a perfect illustration of environmental racism and neglect. It has lost so much of its protective barrier against hurricanes from the Gulf of Mexico due to headlong over-development. Its marshlands are gone or are dying, and we lose 100 yards of Louisiana every 90 minutes.

And even before all that happened, Louisiana was a place that, at best, man could fight nature only to a bloody draw. Drop the effects of the climate crisis on top of all of that, and you can get a civilization that is vanishing before our eyes. As a country, we may be overtopping, and then what will we do?

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Charles P. Pierce Charles P Pierce is the author of four books, most recently Idiot America, and has been a working journalist since 1976.

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