Houston after another major flood a few weeks ago; the Bahamas after Dorian; Paradise, California, after the Camp Fire; Haiti after a major 2010 earthquake; Puerto Rico after Maria; New Jersey and New York after Sandy; New Orleans after Katrina; Thailand and Indonesia after the Indian Ocean tsunami in 2004… The list goes on. As we head into another hurricane season, we should once again examine what we’ve learned and prepare to reduce the impact of disasters on communities worldwide.
Disasters affect us all. They don’t discriminate. But they adversely and disproportionately impact the most vulnerable—those who live on or near the coast, those with the least ability to flee or relocate, and those who are unable to rebuild because they aren’t able to adequately plan ahead before disaster strikes. A number of factors increase vulnerability to disasters. These include population growth, fragile dwellings, poor land use planning, and inadequate evacuation routes. Such factors disproportionately affect the poor.
Vulnerabilities to poor health outcomes from disasters are particularly troublesome given their longer term effects. Vulnerabilities to such health threats are multifaceted. They usually include duration of exposure, sensitivity and susceptibility to the threats, and the capacity to adapt and respond.
A key component of vulnerability revolves around loss and damage. In a nutshell, loss pertains to the absolute disappearance of lives, habitats, or species. Damage focuses on community assets such as infrastructure that could be rebuilt. This concept is particularly salient for indigenous peoples and for small island developing states where a disaster could destroy a sacred burial ground or submerge entire landmasses, obliterating a community’s history and culture. It’s very difficult to attach a dollar value to such losses, and to design compensation mechanisms.
Race and ethnicity are also key variables that often increase vulnerability. African Americans, Native Americans and Alaska Natives, Latinos/Hispanics/Latinx, and native islander communities often face greater risk when disaster strikes. Their vulnerabilities are compounded by a number of factors such as co-location with high-hazard areas, such as Louisiana’s “cancer alley,” Houston’s industrial corridor, or Superfund sites. When a cyclone, flood, or fire strikes, it may lead to joint natural and technological disasters in industrialized areas and neighboring communities.
The intersectionality of race and environmental justice highlights overlapping and interdependent systems of disadvantage such as race, class, and gender. A 2018 survey underlined that Latinos and African Americans are disproportionately affected by climate change and that they lead in climate awareness and concern. Some point to historical and structural environmental racism, racial segregation and concentrated poverty as key components of these vulnerabilities. Such vulnerabilities are evident in the ways that these communities perceive risk, prepare for disasters, respond, and recover.
A failure to address the needs of poor communities has led to accusations of discrimination in disaster relief efforts and aid. The conditions that make them vulnerable in the first place are often exacerbated once disaster strikes, resulting in a downward spiral, particularly when aid is not available. Relief workers sometimes refer to “the least, the last, and the lost.” Those who have the least are the last to get services and often end up lost.
In the United States, the convergence of disasters and vulnerability has given people who work on environmental justice issues an opportunity to design an action plan. A key question is how to rebuild better, without the same vulnerabilities. Some emerging responses include the following:
Others call for good civic engagement plans, participatory processes, and opportunities for locals to involve themselves in decision-making. Some analysts believe that this is also an important opportunity to engage in real conversations and make progress. From some perspectives, race relations after disasters have improved. Part of the discussion should address structural factors, move beyond the language of victimization, and highlight positive actions that communities are taking to address these threats. Maxine Burkett, for example, notes that the Caribbean Catastrophe Insurance Facility provides a multi-country risk pool to lower insurance premiums when disasters strike. Such initiatives help address loss and damage concerns.
Overall, one must acknowledge three dimensions when thinking of disasters: 1) these events will continue to happen and intensify; 2) all humans are increasingly vulnerable; and 3) we all need to plan for these disasters. Within the U.S. environmental justice movement, Katrina was seen as a watershed moment—what others may call a moment of conscience. Today, U.S. environmental justice and national environmental groups are calling for action that addresses the legacy of pollution, focusing on justice, and transitioning to a clean energy future, among other actions. In other sectors, donors and development practitioners are working with community groups, governments, and international coalitions to incorporate these concerns into environmental justice and disaster response efforts. All these initiatives provide key paths to help us all move forward and keep ahead of the next disaster.
Roger-Mark De Souza is President and CEO of Sister Cities International. He is also Global Fellow and Advisor at the Wilson Center, where from 2013–2017, he was Director of population, environmental security, and resilience.
Sources: Barbara Jordan-Mickey Leland School of Public Affairs, Center for American Progress, Center for Climate Change and Health, Democracy Now!, Earth Justice, ecoAmerica, ESRI, Facing South, FEMA, Global Green Grants Fund, Medium, NPR, Outreach, The University of Chicago Press.
Photo Credit: Buzz About Dengue game, Marché de Nuit, Saint-Denis, Réunion, 4 August 2018. Photo courtesy of the French Red Cross.