Life on the edge

Get to play with colours
The ones who die
Pass into memory.
– Traditional fagu hymn of Mithila

With their quick, comprehensive response to the earthquake in Sichuan, the Chinese authorities have shown that they know what it takes to turn a natural calamity into an opportunity for image building. In the blink of an eye, the international press has stopped talking about the human-rights record of the Beijing regime. Ruthless suppression of dissent in Tibet has disappeared from the newspaper headlines. Instead, paeans in praise are being sung to President Hu Jintao and Premier Wen Jiabao, as appreciative reporters send pictures of colourful tents and gloved soldiers rescuing children from the debris of shoddily constructed school buildings. The Western media seems to be saying, Trust China to hold the Olympics on schedule. The Chinese authorities did suspend the journey of the Olympics torch for a few days to mourn the dead, but Beijing now seems determined to demonstrate that the greatest show on earth must go on – as indeed it must. The living must not grieve too long for the deceased. But the gung-ho tone of the Chinese leadership distracts from the gravity of the situation in earthquake-affected areas, and from the importance of disaster preparedness.

The Chinese premier cutting his arm while tripping over the rubble of a collapsed school building, refusing immediate medical assistance, and shouting to children trapped in the debris that he was their "Grandpa Wen Jiabao", dedicated to saving their lives – such scenes make for an arresting story. But they do little to hide the fact that the president and the premier had to lead the rescue efforts themselves. The system built by the Chinese leadership is probably incapable of responding without the intervention of the highest authority – certainly a poor reflection on the governance of the world's most populous country.

In stark contrast to the coverage of devastation in China, the Burmese junta has received well-deserved flak for rejecting international assistance. It was said that the head of the Burmese military, General Than Shwe, initially refused time and again to even take the call of UN Secretary-General Ban Ki-moon. UN officials and representatives of other countries were "granted the permission" to visit the Irrawaddy Delta, the area most devastated by Cyclone Nargis, only after leaders of ASEAN accepted the conditions set by the Burmese regime during an emergency meeting in Singapore. But there are limits to which a country under crisis can be condemned.

In an unwarranted gesture of censure, the World Bank declined to extend financial assistance to Burma, citing "outstanding arrears". The World Bank is a political-commercial arm of the Washington Consensus, with clear policy objectives of promoting the 'free market' at all cost. Hence, its snub to the Burmese regime was not unexpected. But a humanitarian organisation such as Doctors without Borders demanded that the United Nations use its 'right to protect' mandate, and intervene directly in Burma in order to save more than a million at-risk lives. Instead of helping survivors, such voices will probably exacerbate the intransigence of the ruthless regime in Rangoon.

There is some contradiction here in the response of the West to the catastrophes in Burma and China. The paucity of relief efforts in the Irrawaddy Delta is as much a failure of Beijing's policies in its neighbourhood as it is a failure of the junta. Militarist regimes, be they of General Pervez Musharraf at the time of the October 2005 Kashmir Earthquake or the belligerent government of Sri Lanka during the 2004 Indian Ocean Tsunami, ran relief efforts as though they were wars against nature. In the short run, while such an approach might seem spectacularly effective, it is a fact that democratic governments are more attuned to local necessities, and thus are better equipped to implement proactive and protective measures against natural calamities.

Living with nature
Despite advances in the sciences, it is still impossible to accurately predict an earthquake. As such, in addition to building well-constructed buildings, being prepared for the aftermath of a shock is the only truly effective way of reducing earthquake-related casualties. Donor agencies in developing countries can help with rescue and rehabilitation efforts, but even the poorest of countries have to institutionalise immediate responses. Folktales and street dramas to popularise earthquake drills will probably do more for preparedness than looking for signals in the changes of animal behaviour prior to a tremor. However, 'soft' measures rarely appeal to authoritarian regimes, which prefer monumental efforts over mundane responses.

Of course, part of the blame for high casualty rates needs to be shared by engineers who design houses that are not strong enough to resist earthquake-related shocks, and are so heavy that they trap and crush people with abandon. Poorly designed high-rises on the slopes of the Himalaya and adjacent plains will test the skill of future rescuers when – and this is not a question of 'if', in cities sitting on active geological fault lines – the Big One finally strikes.

Global warming and the consequent rise in sea level will probably cause heavy inundation in coastal areas. Cyclones such as Nargis will also wreak more havoc as mangroves disappear to make room for rice cultivation, fish farming and beach resorts. It is impossible to devise foolproof measures to protect human beings against the wrath of nature. However, meteorological warning systems and safe shelters do help to save lives. Investments in disaster preparedness may show a very low rate of return initially, but development banks must realise that such work needs to be made an integral part of poverty alleviation and economic-growth strategies. After all, it has been proven time and again that the poor are the ones who suffer the most during and following natural calamities. Fisherfolk, subsistence farmers, daily-wage labourers, the destitute and homeless are the first to be hit. But these are the very categories that have the least say in planning for disaster preparedness, even in democracies.

Devastation wrought by floods and droughts are less spectacular, but over a period of time the damage they cause is often more serious than the dramatic earthquake or tsunami. Droughts kill more people through malnutrition than starvation. This is the reason that administrators of famine-struck districts can routinely deny hunger-related deaths. Floods destroy homesteads and wash away seeds, crops and agricultural implements. Deluge- and drought-prone areas, which mean almost all of Southasia, require local governments of the people that work with the people rather than for them. Massive levees do little to save rice paddies from angry rivers, and a series of ponds and wells are better protection against dry spells than are expensive canal networks.

Landslides, forest fires, earthquakes and storms – natural catastrophes come in many forms. But human civilisation has also survived enough calamities to have learnt a host of lessons from every disaster. Of course, whether the experiences of the past will be of any use in a future in which nuclear accidents become as common as oil-slicks is still an open question. But sympathy for sufferers and solidarity with survivors will continue to be important in all eventualities.

~ C K Lal is a columnist for this magazine and fr the Nepali Times