NATURAL disasters have a way of bringing out the best in us. The speed with which the government, and even more the people, responded to the tsunami does much to nail the lie of India as an uncaring society. The outpouring of donations have been unprecedented. Particularly noteworthy is the concern expressed, in word and deed, for not only our own citizens but also our neighbours.
Yet, even as all of us, in particular the more directly affected, struggle to cope with and overcome the loss and devastation, questions have surfaced about our preparedness to handle such situations. It appears that despite the relatively recent experiences of the Orissa super cyclone and the earthquake which devastated large parts of Kutch and Saurashtra, we are still to internalize and put into practice the lessons to help mitigate the tragedy caused by large-scale natural disasters.
Maybe it is unfair to claim that the tsunami could have been predicted and many lives saved. For, even had we been part of an early warning system, we have few ground level mechanisms to inform the populations at risk, far less evacuate them to safety. As a society and people we are so lackadaisical about safety norms and regulations, unable to even ensure proper fire safety norms in the capital’s high rise buildings, that expecting people to respond to general warnings about a possible calamity appear far-fetched.
To now claim that our administration did not understand the significance of the alterations in fish behaviour in the seas or failed to learn from the response of elephants in the Andamans – even if true – is only giving credence to non-rational explanations that accompany every major calamity. There is, unfortunately, no short-cut to regular public education about what needs to be done so that even if we cannot accurately predict disasters, at least we can better cope with the aftermath. Maybe this is why all the brave talk of setting up a National Disaster Management Authority or the investment in a regional tsunami warning system draws limited response.
The greater absence of learning comes out in the way we have so far handled the post-disaster situation. Despite the flurry of activity by both official and private entities, there is no shortage of stories about inappropriate or inadequate relief, often reaching the wrong people. Of mismanagement and corruption. Of disaster tourism and celebrity photo ops, and so on. Disasters also imply opportunities – to make quick money, to garner ‘goodwill’, to reinforce professional reputations. This is why, as both Orissa and Gujarat so amply demonstrated, well-meaning intentions often fail to translate at the ground level.
Of particular concern is how provision of even immediate relief may fail to overcome extant barriers of caste and community. Who will relief be given to, in what form, and with what ease is often a political decision of the relief provider. True, India is not like Aceh or the North and East of Sri Lanka, where civil war and insurgency strengthens government reluctance to invest effort in rebel held areas. Nevertheless, vulnerable and socially marginalized groups, both because of prejudice and because they reside in off-main road regions, may get left out or indifferently served.
The tragedy gets compounded in the rehabilitation and reconstruction phase, in part because an expert-dominated process is insufficiently sensitive to the real needs of the affected. We are much better at doling out relief; less equipped at helping restore livelihoods which might permit the affected to resume occupations and live life with dignity. And so, while the process of helping rebuild boats and provide nets, so crucial to the fishing community has begun, there is no talk of the occupations that women are involved in. Worse, since they are rarely recorded as heads of households, they find even accessing compensation difficult.
The Gujarat earthquake showed how the process of rebuilding houses and villages not only failed to involve local communities, but deepened the existing social divides by reworking settlement patterns into caste/community specific ghettos. Can we hope that a similar social dynamic will not repeat in coastal Andhra and Tamil Nadu?
What about our coastal regulation zone guidelines to decide what can be built and where? It is easier to shift out fishing hamlets, but what of big hotels and government buildings? Will we initiate a large programme of replanting mangroves to serve as natural barriers and not fall prey to grandiose schemes like building a high wall across the entire coastline? What of reworking the documentation requirements before releasing compensation? Or our archaic adoption laws such that the many orphaned children can find new families without endless wait? The tsunami represents a challenge. Are we up to meeting it?
Harsh Sethi
