One Where the Weak Are Killed and Eaten


It really wasn’t intended to be a prophecy. It was just a smart-alecky T-shirt worn for years by local teenagers to annoy their parents and show their perverse pride in the Motor City’s tough-town image. It said: detroit: where the weak are killed and eaten. But the menacing message seemed all too appropriate in the bleak winter of 2008–2009, when signs of weakness—indeed, desperation—erupted everywhere in Detroit.

One bankrupt car-components company economized by servicing the bathrooms in its suburban headquarters only every other day. Some of the bathrooms ran out of toilet paper, prompting employees to hoard it or bring their own from home. In the city itself employment prospects were so bleak that some prisoners begged to stay in jail to get food and shelter—“three hots and a cot,” in the local parlance.

The city’s battered economy was reflected on the football field, where the University of Michigan was enduring its first losing season in forty years, and the Detroit Lions were plummeting to pro football’s first 0–16 season. During their 47–10 drubbing on Thanksgiving Day 2008, fans unfurled a banner reading bail out the lions. It was a gallows-humor reference not only to the football team but also to the weakest teams in town—General Motors, Ford, and Chrysler.

Since the beginning of the century America’s Big Three car companies, bleeding from more than $100 billion in losses in four years, had shed more than 333,000 employees, enough to populate the city of Cincinnati. In November 2008 GM’s stock closed below $3 a share for the first time since 1946, w...