The experience of Tacloban City during Typhoon Haiyan in 2013 is one of unpreparedness. Tacloban City presents an example of a city that was caught at its most vulnerable and was subsequently devastated. Given the availability of data and infrastructure, the city should have had enough time to evacuate. Instead, Haiyan became one of the Philippine’s worst disasters in living memory. This article is therefore concerned with how Tacloban’s preparedness strategies failed. It looks at the failure to recognise warnings as they arrived and at the utilisation of language that inadvertently served to confuse the nature of the typhoon. It examines how inflexible hierarchies stifled the ability of personnel to respond to the situation appropriately, stifling autonomous and intuitive thinking. All of these factors played against a population that was “naive about the intricacies of crises” and expected “to be safeguarded by their state”[1], only to be faced with a devastating storm surge that left thousands dead.
At 4:40AM, November 8 2013, the Eastern Visayas of the Philippines was struck by the Category 5 Typhoon Haiyan. Its effect on the region would be devastating, leaving 6,500 dead, close to 30,000 injured, over a million houses damaged and a further 16 million people effected over the coming days until it exited the country on November 10[2]. Tacloban City, the capital of Leyte province, was hit especially hard, with 2,669 of its citizens losing their lives and a further 701 missing in a storm surge that came so unexpectedly that even the city’s mayor was almost killed in his home[3]. Overall, some 40,000 houses and 90% of the city’s infrastructure was damaged at an overall cost of Php 7 billion[4]. Illustrating just how overwhelmed the authorities were, the following day only 60 of the local government’s 2,250 employees came to work[5]. One employee of the national weather monitoring agency was even killed when the team’s office was inundated in the initial surge[6]. Simply put, Tacloban City was caught completely unprepared, despite having been subjected to similar storms in the past and having had infrastructure in place that should have been able to mitigate the death toll[7].
The Philippines is no stranger to disasters, both natural and manmade. Both before and after Haiyan, the World Risk Report consistently ranked the Philippines the third most exposed and at risk country globally, both due to its status as an archipelago and high levels of social vulnerability[8]. In addition to volcanic activity, earthquakes, droughts and other risks, the Philippines was subjected to highly destructive typhoons in 2009, 2011 and 2012[9]. In the preceding September and October of 2013, armed conflict and a 7.2 magnitude earthquake effected as many as half a million people in other parts of the country, stretching the Philippines’ High Availability Disaster Recovery capabilities to their limits. Tacloban itself is hit on average by 2.3 smaller typhoons annually, the effects of which are often aggravated thanks to the city lying largely beneath sea level[10]. Subsequently, disaster management is considered a national priority and the nation has highly developed disaster relief infrastructure connected to the Department of Science and Technology (DST) and the Office of Civil Defence. PAGASA, the national weather agency, is responsible for alerting the body responsible for alleviating the worst effects of disasters, the National Disaster Risk Reduction and Management Council (NDRRMC), to risks and prepare hazard maps to guide this process[11].
Haiyan was first detected and classified as a tropical storm on November 3 before being recognised as a Category 5 typhoon by the EU-affiliated Joint Research Centre on November 6. By the time it reached the Philippines on November 8, windspeeds had reached 251 km/h. Despite this, PAGASA did not issue warnings until the day before[12]. Though the warnings were given broad media coverage, including a televised address from President Benigno Aquino, on the local level the risks were not adequately communicated to the public. In their examination of communication pathways in the lead-up to Haiyan, Lejano, Tan and Wilson found that crucial information regarding the most devastating aspects of the typhoon, in particular a seven-meter wave height, were given barely any attention at all[13]. In following the communication chain, they found that this information had been mentioned only cursorily in memos filed from PAGASA to the NDRRMC, which chose to omit any mention of the storm surge in favour of flood warnings. This was then passed on from regional to local levels, which then retransmitted the information in still further abbreviated terminology[14]. “Warnings,” as Boin and t’ Hart note, “do not come with flashing lights; they are hidden.”[15] PAGASA appeared to be convinced that its role was purely in the relaying of information without interpreting “forecasts into terms that would be meaningful to local actors.”[16] The NDRRMC likewise felt that its role was merely in receiving warnings and forwarding them where appropriate. It was in this way that the storm surge’s importance was continuously downgraded throughout the communication process, though it began as a footnote in the first place. In other words, staff in neither agency felt that it was their role to “translate risk signals into meaningful and actionable knowledge”[17].
A key problem identified by researchers was confusion surrounding the term ‘storm surge’. In the aftermath of Haiyan, local authorities and members of the public interviewed expressed their unfamiliarity with the concept. One local politician argued that the “general understanding, when you say ‘a storm surge’, is that the water rises, but it does not travel like a tsunami and knock everything down in its way. We’ve had storm surges before, and the water would just rise… this time, the water receded 200 meters then got thrown back at the town…”[18] This sentiment was reiterated by another resident, who reasoned that they did not “understand ‘storm surge’. If they said tsunami or tidal wave we should have evacuated.”[19] While PAGASA was alert to the risk, Lejano, Tan and Wilson highlight key “organisational ‘rigidities’”[20] that inhibited movement. They consider the failure “to translate information into meaningful, explicit, and vivid terms”[21] a major reason why both the public and those tasked with protecting it were unable to interpret the risk in an actionable manner. Boin notes in this regard that often “people have great trouble thinking ‘out of the box,’ yet this is precisely what is needed to detect impending crises.”[22] Rather than being the fault of the staff themselves, however, the responsibility here lies at the feet of an organisational culture that discouraged personnel from acting “in an autonomous (and) responsive manner”[23].
When interviewed by researchers, members of the PAGASA team in Tacloban invariably described a deeply hierarchical command structure that prohibited dynamic response[24]. In this scenario, it becomes increasingly apparent that structural rigidity ‘froze’ teams in place. While citizens may expect state structures to protect them in times of crises, state structures can become self-insulated and unable to see beyond the scope of their own immediate area of concern. The team’s reluctance to translate information in this case proved to be partially responsible for the loss of one of its members. Not only neglecting to inquire as to the nature of the predicted storm surge but refusing to evacuate its seaside office on the basis that it was “never told by superiors that they could leave the office”[25], the PAGASA team illustrates how even when organisation may have a well-developed structure, it can still fall victim to “deficient sensemaking”[26]. Weick explains this as a failure to exercise “strategic rationality … clear questions and clear answers that attempt to remove ignorance.”[27] Throughout the PAGASA and NDRRMC command structure, it is apparent that personnel were either ignorant to the risk at hand or unwilling to appear as alarmist, essentially creating “’silences’ in the organizational communication pattern”[28]. In one particularly damning instance that has been singled out as a cause of many casualties, local personnel failed to correct a high-ranking government official who had ordered them to complete evacuations by 10AM on November 8, knowing full well that the typhoon was expected to hit much earlier that the morning. When asked why, one staff member stated that their subordinate status had discouraged them from making the important correction out of the belief that they would be ignored or dismissed[29].
Though these organisations were solidly built, the internal reluctance to interact beyond established parameters and an overreliance on hierarchy suggests “an ideology of administration”[30], under which “operational services tend to act upon the premise that they can do the job on their own and that their standard operating procedures prevent them from making mistakes.”[31] It is impossible to tell how greater flexibility on the part of state structures might have altered the preparedness of Tacloban’s population. Officials and citizens in Tacloban were also subject to perceptions to risk and amnesia, and without taking this into account ‘the blame’ could all too easily be placed on the shoulders of PAGASA. Disaster preparedness is commonly guided by “individual and environmental factors rather than just being controlled by external stimuli”[32]. For many, the only interaction with the state was Aquino’s televised warning[33]. Interviews carried out after Haiyan suggested that despite the short notice, there was ample time to evacuate the city[34]. Where evacuation was voluntary, only half of residents reportedly left, the others remaining to ward off looters or out of a sense that the risk was being exaggerated[35]. Due to the previously cited terminological confusion as to the nature of the impending disaster, many citizens felt that they would be able to sit the storm out in their homes. Casualties were highest in coastal barangays, 13 of which (out of a total of 138) were home to densely-populated informal settlements[36].
Crucially, a lack of adequate hazard mapping meant that there was little clarity as to which barangays would be effected, while some evacuation centres were situated in buildings that were insufficiently sturdy to withstand the storm. Worse still, some evacuation centres were located in the path of the surge itself, which in some areas penetrated as far inland as two kilometers. Because of these errors many evacuees were killed in the very structures that were supposed to protect them, structures that were supposed to have been assessed by the Office of Civil Defence in advance. Some local officials admitted that insufficient attention had been given to coastal areas, but felt that without adequate information as to which areas would be effected they had not been in a position to advise these communities[37]. The need for hazard mapping here is clear. Citizen confidence in state structures “tends to increase the level of perceived preparedness”[38], but in this case, the state had neither the sensemaking capacity nor the experience to justify that confidence. On the other hand, though many citizens understood the threat the storm represented, they lacked the authority and legitimacy to communicate it to others.
Over the sixty years prior to Haiyan, no event on the scale of a Category 5 typhoon had taken place[39]. The last storm surge analogous to Haiyan took place in 1897 with similarly devastating effect, but by 2013 was of course beyond Tacloban’s institutional and collective memory, meaning that state structures and citizens had to rely on their own experiences with less significant typhoons[40]. The problem that consistently arises is that “many people have trouble understanding and interpreting information about low-probability events”[41]. For PAGASA personnel, this meant paying little attention to the storm surge warning because, to quote directly, “the storm surge item appears at the bottom of every bulletin. Every bulletin will have it – regardless of whether it is a depression, storm, or typhoon … we did not focus on that and instead focused on the extraordinary strength [wind velocity] of the typhoon.”[42] This example perfectly illustrates how a hierarchical approach to risk management and routinisation risks inflexibility and a system that discourages personnel from thinking independently.
Slightly over a year later Tacloban was again hit by a major typhoon, Hagupit, but the lessons of Haiyan had not been wasted. An appropriate hazard warning system had been introduced, communication between various agencies was streamlined and authorities were able to evacuate roughly 800,000 people. PAGASA was able to track the typhoon’s movement and strength continuously while high-resolution storm surge models were distributed by the DST’s Project NOAH[43]. Public cooperation with these efforts ensured that ‘only’ 18 lives were lost this time, illustrating Boin and ‘t Hart’s assertion that “crisis planning is taken seriously only by leaders with prior crisis experience or within communities that have an emergency subculture born of previous disasters.”[44]
It can be seen how miscommunication between national and local units, the lack of a hazard plan, a bureaucratic culture that discouraged initiative, the confusion surrounding terminology, a largely unaware public and the poor deployment of physical infrastructure all interacted to create the devastation that emerged in the wake of Haiyan. Stern notes that “risk communication is not information transfer, but a type of political discourse.”[45] The inflexibility in command chains, this article has argued, is largely responsible for the devastation of Tacloban’s population. By creating a bureaucratic culture that stripped personnel of the confidence needed to express unhappy truths and fresh ideas while discouraging independent analysis, the hierarchical command structure was a risk in itself. The experience of Hagupit demonstrates, however, that this sort of rigidity can be overcome, leaving the challenge of retaining these lessons and avoiding slippage into previous patterns of behavior.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
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Boin, Arjen. The Politics of Crisis Management. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009.
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Lejano, Raul P., Tan, Joyce Melcar, Wilson, A. Meriwether W. “A Textual Processing Model of Risk Communication: Lessons from Typhoon Haiyan.” Weather, Climate, and Society 8, no. 4 (2016): 447-63.
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Ocon, Gemma and Neussner, Olaf. “Assessing Early Warning Efforts for Typhoon Haiyan in Leyte.” Humanitarian Exchange 63 (2015): 8-10.
Paragas, Gerald, Rodil, Amillah and Pelingon, Lysandre. Tacloban after Haiyan: Working Together Towards Recovery. London: International Institute for Environment and Development, 2016.
Rosenthal, Uriel, ‘t Hart, Paul and Kouzmin, Alexander. “The Bureau-Politics of Crisis Management.” Public Administration 69 (1991): 211-233.
Stern, Paul C. “Learning Through Conflict: A Realistic Strategy for Risk Communication.” Policy Sciences 24 (1991): 99-119.
‘t Hart, Paul. “Symbols, Rituals and Power: The Lost Dimensions of Crisis Management.” Journal of Contingencies and Crisis Management 1, no. 1 (1993): 36-50.
Toda, Luigi, Orduña, Justine Ravi, Santos, Carlos Tito. Geography of Social Vulnerability of Haiyan-Affected Areas to Climate-related Hazards: Case study of Tacloban City and Ormoc City, Leyte. Pasig City: Oscar M. Lopez Center for Climate Change Adaptation and Disaster Risk Management Foundation, 2015.
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[1] Arjen Boin and Paul ‘t Hart, “Public Leadership in Times of Crisis: Mission Impossible?” Public Administration Review 63, no. 5 (2003), 545.
[2] Center for Excellence in Disaster Management and Humanitarian Assistance, Advances in Civil-Military Coordination in Catastrophes: How the Philippines Turned Lessons Learned from Super Typhoon Haiyan (Yolanda) Into Best Practices for Disaster Preparedness and Response (Ford Island: Center for Excellence in Disaster Management and Humanitarian Assistance, 2016), 9.
[3] Gerald Paragas, Amillah Rodil and Lysandre Pelingon, Tacloban after Haiyan: Working Together Towards Recovery (London: International Institute for Environment and Development, 2016), 12; Paul P. Lejano, Joyce Melcar Tan, A. Meriwether W. Wilson, “A Textual Processing Model of Risk Communication: Lessons from Typhoon Haiyan,” Weather, Climate, and Society 8, no. 4 (2016), 449.
[4] Paragas, Rodil and Pelingon, Tacloban after Haiyan, 9, 12; Philip Dy and Tori Stephens, The Typhoon Haiyan Response: Strengthening Coordination among Philippine Government, Civil Society, and International Actors (Cambridge: Harvard Kennedy School, 2016), 3.
[5] Ibid, 19.
[6] Lejano, Tan and Wilson, “Textual Processing Model,” 449.
[7] Ibid.
[8] Alliance Development Works, WorldRiskReport 2012 (Berlin: Alliance Development Works, 2012), 9, 18-19. Alliance Development Works, WorldRiskReport 2016 (Berlin: Alliance Development Works, 2016), 49.
[9] Luigi Toda, Justine Ravi Orduña and Carlos Tito Santos, Geography of Social Vulnerability of Haiyan-Affected Areas to Climate-related Hazards: Case study of Tacloban City and Ormoc City, Leyte (Pasig City: Oscar M. Lopez Center for Climate Change Adaptation and Disaster Risk Management Foundation, 2015). 2.
[10] Ibid, 4.
[11] Gemma Ocon and Olaf Neussner, “Assessing Early Warning Efforts for Typhoon Haiyan in Leyte,” Humanitarian Exchange 63 (2015), 8.
[12] Olaf Neussner, Assessment of Early Warning Efforts in Leyte for Typhoon Haiyan/Yolanda (Manila: Deutsche Gesellschaft für Internationale Zusammenarbeit, 2016), 45.
[13] Lejano, Tan and Wilson, “Textual Processing Model,” 452.
[14] Ibid, 453-4.
[15] Boin and ‘t Hart, “Public Leadership,” 547.
[16] Lejano, Tan and Wilson, “Textual Processing Model,” 457.
[17] Ibid, 458.
[18] Ibid, 459.
[19] Neussner, Assessment of Early Warning Efforts, 44.
[20] Lejano, Tan and Wilson, “Textual Processing Model,” 455.
[21] Ibid, 456.
[22] Arjen Boin, The Politics of Crisis Management (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009), 20.
[23] Lejano, Tan and Wilson, “Textual Processing Model,” 458.
[24] Ibid.
[25] Ibid.
[26] Karl E. Weick, “The Collapse of Sensemaking in Organizations: The Mann Gulch Disaster,” Administrative Science Quarterly 38, No. 4 (1993), 636.
[27] Ibid.
[28] Boin and ‘t Hart, “Public Leadership,” 547.
[29] Lejano, Tan and Wilson, “Textual Processing Model,” 459.
[30] Uriel Rosenthal, Paul ‘t Hart and Alexander Kouzmin, “The Bureau-Politics of Crisis Management,” Public Administration 69 (1991), 213.
[31] Ibid, 227.
[32] Ervina Espina and Teng-Calleja Mendiola, “A Social Cognitive Approach to Disaster Preparedness,” Philippine Journal of Psychology 48, no. 2 (2015), 163.
[33] Neussner, Assessment of Early Warning Efforts, 45.
[34] Ocon and Neussner, “Assessing Early Warning Efforts,” 9.
[35] Ibid.
[36] Toda, Orduña and Santos, Geography of Social Vulnerability, 14.
[37] Lejano, Tan and Wilson, “Textual Processing Model,” 458.
[38] Espina and Mendiola, “Social Cognitive Approach,” 164.
[39] Neussner, Assessment of Early Warning Efforts, 24.
[40] Lejano, Tan and Wilson, “Textual Processing Model,” 449.
[41] Paul C. Stern, “Learning Through Conflict: A Realistic Strategy for Risk Communication,” Policy Sciences 24 (1991), 106.
[42] Lejano, Tan and Wilson, “Textual Processing Model,” 458.
[43] Julius Cesar I. Trajano, Building Resilience from Within: Enhancing Humanitarian Civil-Military Coordination in Post-Haiyan Philippines (Singapore: Centre for Non-Traditional Security Studies), 27.
[44] Boin and ‘t Hart, “Public Leadership,” 547.
[45] Paul C. Stern, “Learning Through Conflict: A Realistic Strategy for Risk Communication,” Policy Sciences 24 (1991), 100.
Non State Actor 