Once Again

Once again, the news is heart wrenching and the numbers are downright unfathomable.  So far, damage from last weekend's pounding of the Philippines by Typhoon Haiyan includes the loss of an estimated 56,000 homes and 10,000 lives.  Reports say entire villages were wiped off the map by winds gusting well over 200 mph and a deluge of rain.  Estimates are that Haiyan will be logged as the fourth most intense tropical cyclone ever recorded and possibly the strongest to have ever hit land. And even worse, it is the third Category 5 "super typhoon" to hit the Philippines since 2010.

I was in Japan when Super Typhoon "Tip" ran most of the length of the island country in October, 1979.  (It was) regarded as the "largest and most intense tropical cyclone ever recorded... Rainfall from Tip indirectly led to a fire that killed 13 Marines and injured 68 at a United States Marine Corps training camp in the Kanagawa Prefecture of Japan. Elsewhere in the country, the typhoon caused widespread flooding and 42 deaths; offshore shipwrecks left 44 people killed or missing." (Quoted from Wikipedia) 

Fortunately, Tip had weakened when it hit Japan and other than some power outages and flooded roads that affected transportation for a few days, the only impact on me, personally (a young man at the time), was a lasting respect for the power of Nature.

As I watched news reports over the weekend, there were two things that caught my attention.  First were the stories of survivors who said, when the warnings came, they really had nowhere to go.  There was no real safe “haven,” no inland evacuation routes and few hardened concrete structures in which to take shelter.  TV reports showed entire families huddled in their homes or other public buildings.  The fear on their faces was palpable even through the camera lens.

Second, I began thinking about what it would take to create those havens—if not individual homes, at least redeveloped housing in less impacted areas, hardened structures, public shelters, etc.  I was reminded of the towns in northeastern Japan that are constructing highly reinforced and elevated municipal buildings that can survive both moderate earthquakes and the resulting deluge of a tsunami.  Technology exists to do so, like this home in Hawaii (photo by Jon Starbuck).

These are the kinds of questions that need global solutions:

• Creative solutions exist, but the how does a family or a community or even an entire country find the means to undertake a rebuilding of resistant housing stock and public infrastructure?   
• Are there locational problems that could be resolved during that rebuilding?  
• Can “safe” building technologies be simplified and reduced in cost? 
• Can governments and corporations work together to implement these technologies where there are most needed in spite of the ability of the populace to pay for them? 
• Can the political and financial resistance to relocation of development to safer areas (where that’s possible) be overcome? 

After Katrina, the United States helped rebuild the protective infrastructure surrounding New Orleans rather than relocating the historic city to a less vulnerable location.  No one will argue the need to restore the charm of the city and its historic neighborhoods where they stood.  But New Orleans (and the United States) could afford the luxury of doing so.  Levees and barriers were strengthened, and disaster preparations and warning systems were enhanced to mitigate the loss of life and property during future events. 

But is that enough—particularly where there are relocation options?  Should we consider more bold steps to safeguard populations in places?  New Orleans has put their trust in agencies like FEMA and the Army Corps, and the ability of the government to rebuild should there be any future disaster.  Towns and villages in the Southeast Asia (or the Caribbean or Central America, for instance) aren’t as fortunate.  Knowing there are physical and geographical solutions to protect lives, it is getting increasingly difficult to watch these disasters unfold without finding a way to help.