28 United States The Economist October 9th 2021
O
n october8th 1871 Catherine
O’Leary’s cow kicked over a lantern
and sparked the fire that incinerated
onethird of Chicago—or so legend has it.
The story of the blaze and Chicago’s
triumphant rebuilding is often retold
with more than a dash of Whiggish inev
itability: the fire was the catalyst by
which Chicago became America’s com
modity capital. But this year, on the 150th
anniversary of the great fire, Chicagoans
are looking anew at their city’s creation
myth, and finding the truth to be much
more compelling.
The fire was a disaster. Property re
cords were destroyed when the court
house burned, but Carl Smith of North
western University estimates the damage
done in his book “Chicago’s Great Fire:
The Destruction and Resurrection of an
Iconic American City”. An area roughly
three square miles was scorched, level
ling nearly 18,000 buildings and killing
about 300 people. About one in three
Chicagoans was suddenly homeless. The
entire business district—now known as
the Loop—was torched, resulting in
about $200m in property damage (about
$4.5bn today).
It turns out the popular history of the
fire is flawed. But its two central myths
give some insight into the city then and
now. First, consider poor Mrs O’Leary
and her cow. Historians are sure the fire
originated near the O’Learys’ barn, but
have exonerated Catherine herself. Yet
her supposed culpability persists, says
Mr Smith, and reveals the prejudices that
roiled America in the late 19th century.
“Who could be a better scapegoat than an
IrishCatholic woman?”, he asks.Thesecondmythisthatthebreak
neck pace at which the city rebuilt (the
downtown was revived in two years)
changed Chicago in a way that sparked
the city’s rapid growth. In reality, the fire
accelerated shifts already underfoot.
After the civil war Chicago became an
entrepot that was integral to the national
economy, thanks in large part to its
location. About 30,000 people lived in
Chicago in 1850; that number ballooned
to 300,000 by 1870 and reached 1m by1890. “The fire is a speed bump on that
upward trajectory,” says Julius Jones of
the Chicago History Museum. “It doesn’t
fundamentally alter the city.”
As Chicago reflects on the anniversa
ry, it is tempting to compare the tragedy
to that of covid19, which has killed more
than 12,000 Chicagoans. Both crises
revealed inequality (some could not
afford to rebuild their charred homes)
and provided funds to rebuild. But draw
ing other parallels is tricky. In 1871 “the
lesson people took away from the de
struction of Chicago was that it was
indestructible,” says Mr Smith. Today
Chicago’s trajectory is less clear.
The city’s population grew by 2% in
the past decade, a welcome change from
the 7% decline seen between 2000 and
2010. But the pandemic has left Chicago’s
unemployment rate roughly twice as
high as it was in 2019 and nearly 17% of
downtown offices are vacant, according
to Colliers, a property firm. After the fire,
says Mr Jones, Chicago’s residents lik
ened their city to a phoenix, “resurrected
from its own ashes to be better than it
was before.” Some of that same spirit is
needed again.
ChicagohistoryFrom the ashes
CHICAGO
Chicago re-examines its origin story 150 years after the great firethey absorb, rather than the other way
around—is bad enough. Yet the degree of
contempt partisans have for each other is
even more troubling. In a paper Ms Mason
presented at the conference alongside Na
than Kalmoe and Julie Wronski, two of her
frequent coauthors, the researchers con
ducted a series of experiments to gauge the
extent to which Americans thought certain
groups deserved lifesaving aid if they
were infected with covid19; if the econ
omy should be reopened even if it would
hurt certain groups; and whether dispro
portionate deaths among the opposing
party were deserved or not. They found
that respondents were much likelier to say
disproportionate deaths among suppor
ters of the other party were more accept
able than deaths among their own.
Discounting suffering on the other side
destroys the empathy that liberal democra
cies require. In a 2019 paper, Mr Kalmoe
and Ms Mason studied the extent to which
voters rationalise partisan violence against
their opponents or express outright sup
port for it—what they call “moral disen
gagement” and “lethal partisanship”. They
also found that 60% of partisans said the
opposition was “a serious threat to the Un
ited States”, and 40% said opponents were
“downright evil”. People with strong at
tachments to either political party were
more likely to exhibit such views.
Between 5% and 15% of Americans in ei
ther party endorse violence depending on
the circumstances. Mr Kalmoe and Ms Ma
son are updating their work on partisan vi
olence for an upcoming book, “Radical
American Partisanship”. According to new
data, Americans of both parties have be
come more morally disengaged and more
likely to endorse violence since the au
thors’ first study in 2019. They also find
that since the 2020 elections Republican
voters have become more likely to hold
these views, and to endorse violence
against political leaders—presumably be
cause their champion lost.
Even though the strength of these feel
ings is striking, polarisation is such a fa
miliar problem that merely mentioning it
can act as a mental sedative. Suggestions as
to how to lessen polarisation sometimes
have the same quality, though the assem
bled political scientists deserve credit for
trying. Erin Rossiter, of the University of
Notre Dame, has found that even imagin
ing a conversation with an opponent can
cause at least a temporary reduction in
hostility to supporters of the other party.
Ms Mason and Mr Kalmoe find, in a final
set of experimental studies, that telling Re
publican voters that Mr Trump had asked
them to abstain from violence decreased
the share of them that thought it was ac
ceptable in pursuit of politicalgoals. What
party leaders say, and howthey conduct
themselves, really matters.n