Into the volcano: why glamourise the danger?

Into the volcano: why glamourise the danger?

Volcanologists wearing hard hats at Yassur several years ago. Take note BBC. (Photo @volcanna) 

Volcanoes are exciting things to see. Amazing cultures exist on their slopes. They threaten ways of life around them.

Hence, they make great TV – but I was disappointed with the first episode of BBC’s Into the Volcano.

Here’s why:

1) They weren’t wearing hard hats!!

Most volcanologists wear hard hats, even on volcanoes that haven’t been recently active. It’s now common practice, much like wearing a helmet whilst cycling or on a building site. I thought that these days all volcanologists wore them (especially when close to an exploding vent!). Even the smallest of ballistics from an explosion can kill someone. I have spoken at length to some of those who helped rescue survivors following the Galeras 1993 eruption – want an opinion on hard hats…ask them!

2) I question the risk/reward of collecting the lava bomb ‘fresh sample’

Did you know that there are actually quite a few volcanologists from Vanuatu, including many disaster management professionals, many of whom I often see at international conferences. I contacted them to ask why they didn’t appear in the programme. This was part of their reply:

“what was programmed to be shown by scientists for this show is not real and is against what we have been preaching to communities here, we educate the communities to take care of themselves not to throw themselves into the volcano!!!! Therefore we [Ni-Vanuatu scientists] ended up withdrawing ourselves from this filming campaign because what is being shown is not real, we do not go into the crater to collect data!!!!”

Maybe someone can give me a wholly convincing reason of why collecting a barely warm ‘fresh' sample was worth it, compared to the other bombs that they might have collected that were much nearer?

3) Volcanoes are dangerous enough – we don’t need to glamourise the risk

Volcanoes are really dangerous. They kill people. They force communities to change their ways of life to avoid potential harm. They also kill volcanologists and tourists who visit them. I’m very unimpressed with the producers for glamourising the danger, showing scientists collecting rocks without even the most modest health and safety equipment. I’m also sad that the scientists made this choice.

Most volcanologists work to reduce volcanic risk by increasing our knowledge of them through science and learning how to work with people living near them. Much of what was in this programme was laddish behaviour that I would expect to see (and admittedly sometimes enjoy) from the chaps at Top Gear.

BBC Into the volcano went to a location with the intention of doing something that is immensely dangerous, where the local volcanologists didn’t want to be involved, for limited scientific reward; this hasn’t done much to enhance the image of volcanology as a science that primarily aims to reduce risk.

"I knew it all along..." - avoiding hindsight bias after eruptions

“I knew it all along…” – as volcanologists, we need to be careful not to fall into the many traps that come from retrospectively looking at and indeed commenting on crises or catastrophes such as the recent eruption of Ontake.

There is a fantastic book you might want to read: Thinking fast and slow by Daniel Kahneman, which synthesises a huge body of research about how and why we make the decisions we make, particularly when it comes to risk and uncertainty. Many readers of this blog will be familiar with Kahneman’s papers, notably the 1976 “Heuristics and Biases” work with Amos Taversky. Others will be familiar with some of the work by his former PhD student Baruch Fischhoff on (among other things) risk communication*. I was planning on writing a short review of Thinking fast and slow from the perspective of what volcanologists can learn from cognitive psychology, but the eruption in Japan has got me thinking about one particular cognitive trap – the ‘hindsight bias’ or the ‘I knew it all along principle’, first investigated by Baruch Fischoff.

The key message is that as a group we must be very careful that when looking back at past eruptions, particularly when eyeballing monitoring data post-hoc, that we don’t make pronouncements about “missed warning signs” because we interpret things with the benefit of hindsight.

It turns out that it is very difficult for a human mind to reconstruct what we thought about something once we adopt a new belief about it. It leads us to believe that we understand the past, overstating the accuracy of the beliefs that we held (or would have held) at the time, as these are corrupted by what we now know. Kahneman suggests that if we are surprised by an unpredicted event, we adjust our view of the world to accommodate that surprise. Thus when we look back, we forget the state of mind or understanding that we had at the time, and simply think about what we know now.

What hindsight bias can do is lead us to interpret the quality of a decision (such as the recommendation for some kind of mitigative action) on whether the outcome was positive or negative, rather than whether or not the decision making process was sound. This bias leads us to a) overstate our expertise post-hoc, b) neglect the role of luck (or lack of it) in a particular outcome and c) suppress any memory of the effect that uncertainty will have had on our or other people’s interpretations/decisions.

Our natural tendency is to criticise decision making on risk issues when an outcome is negative, and neglect to recognise or praise decision-making when the outcome was good; this ‘outcome bias’ (a facet of hindsight) affects our interpretation of past events far more than we might realise. When considering what might happen at a volcano, a simplistic explanation is that we can consider the probability of an eruption happening given some monitoring signal [P(A|B)]. But, after an event has occurred…it’s quite different! It’s no longer an event that could happen (a chance or likelihood) but a certainty. So when we re-interpret past events, hindsight bias makes it very difficult for us in our present state of certainty, to acknowledge the attendant uncertainty before the eruption occurred. We find it very difficult to reconstruct or understand what our past belief would have been.

Kahneman suggests that these biases make it “almost impossible to evaluate a decision in terms of the beliefs that were reasonable when the decision was made”.

In fact, research suggests that the worse or more shocking a catastrophe is, the more acute hindsight bias becomes (think back to reactions in the aftermath of 9/11). This – in the case of Ontake – is reflected by language such as “failed to forecast” used in many** news articles.

So what does this mean for volcanologists in the wake of a tragedy such as the eruption of Ontake? Well, the first thing we should be aware of is that our opinions post-hoc, about what monitoring data may or may not have shown, or what decisions should or shouldn’t have been made, are prone to huge biases. So, we should be very careful what we voice about these events…particularly to the media! If we are going to retrospectively look at something, let’s do it in a robust and sensible way, such as the work by TheaHinks, Willy Aspinall and others on the 1976 eruption of Soufriére Guadeloupe.

Another point is that from afar – not being a Japanese volcanologist working on Ontake – the availability of information for us to be able make an informed opinion is surely very limited (what Kahneman refers to as the ‘availability bias’ or the ‘what you see is all there is to know principle’). So, just as we should be very cautious about talking about ‘missed signs’, we should also be aware that when we say things like ‘it’s impossible/very difficult to predict such eruptions’ or ‘there were no precursors’, our opinions are perhaps based on very sparse evidence (of course we can draw on other examples from other cases – but hopefully you get my point). In essence, maybe we could do with waiting for a little more information before passing comment.

Hopefully you get the idea that if you haven’t yet read Thinking fast and slow, then please do. It’s very difficult to overcome the various heuristics and biases that affect our opinions and decisions (even Kahneman admits to relentlessly struggling with this) …but being aware of them is an excellent first step.

 * Want to know more about the science of risk communication - read this excellent paper by Nick Pidgeon and Baruch Fischhoff 

** Not all articles/commentaries fall foul of the hindsight bias -  if you want to read some measured and not overly opinionated articles by volcanologists about the Ontake eruption – you might want to look here (Becky Williams) and here (Eruptions blog).

The Inefficiency of Compassion

After a large earthquake first news comes of fatalities and numbers people affected, but soon after estimations of the cost of the disaster are reported. This figure tends to rise as time passes, however usually the economic burden is much larger with indirect losses felt in the local communities affected, such as uninsured losses, loss of income, business downtime, etc. But could all of this financial loss be, in fact, not lost and instead used to develop and strengthen resilience in communities?

I heard a story once of a factory in Asia built for use by a western company. The highly seismic area was prone to large earthquakes, so to avoid losses through downtime the factory was built to the highest standards. When a large earthquake came, the factory was in good shape and able to open the next day. However, no one turned up to work. The staff had been made homeless, lost loved ones, were injured or some even killed. From this example it becomes obvious that strengthening works, but the effects of disaster are wider spread and, in order to achieve resilience, investment and strengthening needs to consider multiple aspects.

Recently, a headline used by Care International struck me:

'Fixing the Inefficiency of Compassion'.

The article highlights the ineffective use of funds in the aftermath of disasters, when the same money could protect so many more people and therefore avoid suffering by many. A previous blog post of mine explains that 'for every $1 spent on disaster preparedness, between $2 and $7 is saved in disaster response'. There are various other values calculated by different institutions but the commonality is that it is always better value for money to invest in DRR than to spend on post-disaster recovery.

But how do we fix this inefficient spending? How to we encourage aid donations to be made when there isn't yet suffering. Is it enough to say "Your dollar will go further if you give it now, before hurricane season". Would you donate then?

The organisation Build Change is one example of a proactive organisation that aims to protect communities, instead of helping to 'pick up the pieces'. They have a wealth of technical resources, inspiring projects and opportunities to be involved.

Supporting a charity like gives you the best value for money, almost like a bargain and we all love a bargain.

Sinabung & dangerous lava domes

Sinabung in Sumatra has been erupting for the last few months, prompting regular evacuations of people living near to it.

(Incandescent lava dome, flow deposit and burning vegetation - Reuters/YT Haryono)

Currently, the style of activity is producing a lava dome: where viscous (less fluid) magma builds up on top of the vent. The lava, although seemingly solid, can have a lot of gas trapped inside at high pressures, and is also still very hot. Sometimes chunks of it fall off the dome, these blocks or slabs break apart, releasing the gas, mixing with and heating the surrounding air, forming pyroclastic flows and surges.

Depending on where the lava is being emplaced on the volcano, material may fall off in different directions, thus the areas most at risk can change quite quickly. Dome building eruptions often produce a LOT of flows - the size of which can often follow a power law relationship: many small events, with a diminishing number of larger events*. Lava domes make both managing and communicating the risk very difficult. Often people are evacuated in the anticipation of larger flows, which may not happen for a while (if at all). After a time of small flows, many people naturally want to return to their homes. Then they may be evacuated again, and subsequently return. This process can occur many times, and ultimately people can become very reluctant to leave.

Unfortunately, this kind of relationship is very different to grasp.  In Montserrat, 1997, this process (among other factors) occured - the danger perhaps obvious to the scientists, but people became used to where flows were going and how big they were. Many thought that they understood the speed of them, and unfortunately thought they could escape in time. On June 25th 1997, people on the slopes of the Soufrière Hills, in areas that they were advised not to visit, were caught off guard (despite numerous warnings from scientists) by a sudden increase in the magnitude and energy of the flows during a partial dome collapse, which lead to a tragic loss of life*. 

This has unfortunately been the case in many similar eruptions, from Soufrière Hills Volcano to Merapi. An added danger is that apart from larger flows related to small collapses...lava domes can also produce large vulcanian explosions - which create even more energetic flows, that can sweep down all sides of the volcano at once.

The key thing is to not expect a volcano to always behave in the same way, but rather to think "what could it do to surprise me?".

Despite the fact that the Indonesian scientists are very capable volcanologists and communicators, we just have to hope that the eruption calms down again.




*Loughlin, S. & Baxter, P., 2002. Eyewitness accounts of the 25 June 1997 pyroclastic flows and surges at Soufrière Hills Volcano, Montserrat, and implications for disaster mitigation. Geological Society of London. 
*Loughlin, S., Calder, E. & Clarke, A., 2002. Pyroclastic flows and surges generated by the 25 June 1997 dome collapse, Sonfière Hills Volcano, Montserrat. Geological Society of London. 

Risk perception…not the only important thing?

Why would you live here?! Nestled near the bottom of the Vazcun valley, these homes are in a very high risk area on the slopes of Tungurahua, Ecuador.  Built on top of pyroclastic flow deposits, which have regularly impacted the area in historic times. There hasn't been one to this location for almost 100 years - so despite heightened activity since 1999, people are still here. Sadly - unless the volcano becomes extinct (not likely any time soon) - history will inevitably repeat itself. I just hope not in the near future....

What if I told you that my friend lives there...and his family extended their house...only a few years ago - i.e during a time when the volcano was erupting? What would you think? Would you suppose that my friend and his family don't really know how dangerous the volcano is? What if you then found out that my friend is a very promising volcanologist...? Why on earth would they live there and invest money in their property as they surely know the volcano is very dangerous?? 

I regularly find myself telling people that I am a little dismayed that a ‘risk perception study’ is often the first social science approach taken off the shelf by volcanologists. When we are considering risk reduction, what we want to know is how people might respond to a hazard or forecasted hazard, and what steps they are likely to take to reduce the risk to themselves and their family. How people perceive risk or the ‘potential danger’ from a volcano is important, but it shouldn’t be the first thing we investigate and for me, it doesn’t explain adequately why people might take certain decisions or actions when confronted by risk.

Perhaps I trivialise the issue, but here is one interpretation of what a typical risk perception study is probably looking at:

Survey question: How dangerous do you think the volcano is? 

Answer: not very

Solution? Educate them about volcanic hazards. If they knew how dangerous it was, they wouldn’t live or work there, or they would at least make sensible decisions when we tell them something.

We could even add in a quantitative element – because that of course allows us to really understand something:

Survey question: on a scale of 1- 10 , how dangerous do you think the volcano is? 

Answer: 5

Solution: oooh – if we can educate them so that their answer is the same as our answer (about 7) then they will be safer. Risk Reduction ✓

In reality, the problem here isn’t actually about risk perceptions – it is about what we think they might tell us:

Thinking that people can have ‘bad’, ‘incorrect’ or ‘wrong’ risk perceptions isn’t helpful – it assumes that we all have the same way of calculating risk, or that there is some objective ‘true’ risk.

Assuming that we can ‘change’ or ‘improve’ people’s risk perceptions, to bring them more in line with scientists’ perceptions is a concept from straight out of the idiots guide to educating knowledge deficient publics:

The deficit model  of risk communication– suggests that the lay-public will make irrational decisions based on limited information about a problem.  This comes about because scientists often only consider objective science as the most important information. Whilst the amount of knowledge that the lay public has is a factor in their response, we have a responsibility to not disregard other factors as irrelevant. I very much doubt that we deliberately do this…but our obsessive focus on people’s risk perception doesn’t pay much attention to other things that might influence their decisions – as we know that the public’s judgments of risk aren’t necessarily based on the amount of information that they have, but more often than not on their ‘world view’, their social or political views and their circumstances*.  None of us, even scientists, simply process information with associated heuristics and biases, and then make a decision. We aren’t machines. Rather we like to attach meaning to issues. Further to this…much of how we make sense of the world is actually not individualistic, but a socially constructed reality. Particularly in volcanic areas, knowledge and meaning about risk is transferred between social groups, often passed down between generations. 

People create social representations about risk – reaching a consensual understanding of what did or could happen – we build common sense about an issue by anchoring and objectifying it. We anchor by drawing on shared experiences from the past, making an unfamiliar issue familiar amongst our group. Then we often objectify things, by representing them in a way that is easier to grasp, using more familiar terms. For example, people often objectify ash plumes, which are lit up and incandescent as “smoke and fire”. It may be different to the scientific reality, but anchoring and objectifying is the way in which social groups make sense of new or unfamiliar situations. For example, the way that a social group might have been affected in a previous evacuation and how they have made sense of it, may have a far greater effect on decisions they will make in a future risky situation. Thus, their risk perception of a volcano might suggest that they know it is incredibly dangerous, but if the community only talks about how last time there was an evacuation, they were looted or lost their animals, then how dangerous they perceive the volcano to be may have little baring on their decisions. If we simply asked them how dangerous the volcano is, we will get a false positive answer.

Where risk perceptions focus on knowledge and information, risk representations focus on meaning and understanding. What is more useful for us as volcanologists to know? How or why people might behave in a certain way, or what they know, which may or may not then affect how they behave?

I'm not suggesting that we don't try to understand risk perceptions - but let's try to not make it the first thing that we do. Instead what we could be looking for isn’t how dangerous people think a volcano is, but what do they think about it in relation to other hazards or life situations. When we frame the problem like this, we are able to attach meaning to people’s views about volcanic hazards - and then you can understand the factors determining why my friend and his family live where they live. 

  

To read more about social representations of risk, have a look at the paper below as a starter by Helene Joffe. Sorry if you can't access it...

Joffe, H., 2003. Risk: From perception to social representation. British Journal of Social Psychology, 42(1), pp.55–73.

*This is based on the work of Paul Slovic (among others)

Would you live in this house?

Granted, it is on the idilic Caribbean island of St. Vincent, with an envious climate, glorious beaches and stunning landscapes, but it is also subject to infrequent but large earthquakes. 

As a structural engineer, my job is to ensure that structures withstand the forces of nature, whether that is wind, rain, snow, people, bathtubs full of water or seismic shaking. There are design rules, codes and standards, guidelines and common structural principles which apply to different loading scenarios throughout the world - for example snow loading in Cameroon will be different to that in Canada. 

For a structure to withstand seismic shaking there are a set of principles too. Survey of damage after destructive earthquakes can clearly highlight the reasons for failure, and so as each earthquake passes we learn more. One of these general principles is that, put simply, columns should be bigger than beams. Imagine a column failing, the floor structure will fall and likely bring the whole structure down with it. However if a beam fails, a localised section of floor might fall down but the columns are still intact, hence the structure may not undergo catastrophic collapse.

Another seismic design principle is to avoid 'soft storeys'. These are storeys of a building that have significantly less structural strength and stiffness, e.g. a tall office block with an open ground floor car park with less columns and no walls. When the building shakes, the soft storey is likely to give way and collapse and the building ends up a storey shorter. See here.

So look again at this house.

What do you think?

P.s. Other things that may be a worry: landslides, volcanic hazards, tsunamis, hurricanes, etc. 

How can structural engineers contribute to disaster mitigation?

Disasters have long impacted our world – from earthquakes and flooding, to more modern troubles of cyber-attacks and oil spills, human populations are at risk to a wide range of disasters posed by the ever changing natural and man-made environments in which they live.

Da Silva (2012) clearly highlights the ever increasing risk that the world is facing. Around two-thirds of the world’s population live in urban centres and as these sprawl, a larger number of people may be affected by a single disaster. As the effects of disasters escalate, the demand for post-disaster aid will increase. The Guardian disaster network (2013) estimated that for every $100 spent on disaster relief, less than $1 is spent on disaster preparedness and prevention. Twigg (2001) reported that for every $1 spent on disaster preparedness, between $2 and $7 is saved in disaster response. This disparity has encouraged disaster risk reduction initiatives that focus on preventing a disaster rather than picking up the pieces afterwards.

This post will explore the relationships between structural engineering and disasters, before discussing some of the ways in which our profession may be able to help mitigate the effects of such events.

Structural engineering and disasters

“By our actions we either compound disasters or diminish them”

Ban Ki Moon – 2011 Global Platform for Disaster Risk Reduction

When asked what a structural engineer does, I often answer that architects draw pictures of buildings and structural engineers make them stand up. However, here amongst colleagues, I propose that we are professionals who use materials to support loads.

Disasters can be defined as extreme events that result in great and often irremediable loss and ruin; however, such events could be described using an engineering rhetoric as those that impose extreme loads – be these perhaps physical, economic, environmental or societal.

Disasters are diverse, from those occurring naturally; volcanic eruptions; earthquakes; tsunamis; extreme cold, heat, wind, rain; and landslides, to man-made disasters such as nuclear leakages, oil spills, structural collapse, fire, terrorism and war.

It is striking that in many disasters engineering is culpable – indeed, we cause disasters! If engineering were ‘perfect’ there would be no nuclear leakages or oil spills, the Twin Towers might not have fallen (see Figure 1), Fukushima Daiichi would have shut down as designed and Ronan Point might still be standing (see Figure 2). Furthermore, there are examples where an engineering solution has mitigated one type of disaster, but worsened the effects of another. This is typified by concrete roofs, now rubble, on Haitian streets; heavy enough to stay put during a hurricane, yet heavy enough to kill inhabitants during an earthquake.

Figure 1 - Collapse of the South twin tower, New York. © Associated Press/Jim Collins

Moreover, when buildings collapse and kill in a developing world earthquake, have we failed by not sharing and impressing our expertise in materials, design methods, quality assurance procedures and construction techniques with those more vulnerable? Are we therefore partially to blame? Do we thus have a moral responsibility to endeavour to ease Haitian type suffering?

Thus, on reflection, perhaps a new category of ‘engineering-made disasters’ should be coined, which occur as a result of imperfect engineering. Indeed, it might be broken down further into ‘structural engineering-made disasters’.

Achieving ‘perfect’ engineering globally would effectively remove engineering-made disasters. Despite perfection being a fanciful ideal, we must nevertheless strive to be the best engineers that we can possibly be; we must as a profession learn from experience; we must ensure that we write, conform to and enforce correct and up-to-date codes and standards and we must rigorously check each other’s work.

The responsibility on our shoulders is great; we must carry as best we can. 

Figure 2 - Ronan Point after the partial collapse © Daily Telegraph

Mitigation using technical structural engineering skills

Structural engineers, with our specific set of technical skills, are uniquely positioned to abate disasters. To illustrate how these could apply to disaster mitigation, let us imagine that a small fictitious island exists with one main settlement. A number of structural engineers live and practise amongst the population. It comes to the attention of the government that a disastrous event is approaching, somehow they know for certain what will occur and when. The islanders come together to discuss what can be done to mitigate the impact of the impending disaster. What will the structural engineers do? Clearly, the answers depend on the type of disaster and the time, money and materials available, thus let us assume there are plentiful resources at hand.

If the disaster were an earthquake, the structural engineers would set about assessing the vulnerability of structures and designing retrofitting to strengthen where necessary. Collapse-related deaths are reduced, post-earthquake schools can run, banks can trade, hospitals can operate – the disaster is mitigated. If the disaster were a tsunami, the structural engineers would set about designing and building tsunami defences high enough and strong enough to deal with the threat. Again, the disaster is mitigated. If the disaster were a hurricane, buildings could be retrofitted to deal with the associated loads.

But, what would the structural engineers do in the shadow of an impending volcanic eruption? They could ensure that buildings were capable of dealing with increased roof loads caused by ash. However, what if pyroclastic flows were destined to head straight towards the settlement, potentially destroying everything in their way, as in Figure 3? Thus far, mitigating this volcanic hazard through structural engineering has been considered implausible. But is it? If we really had to make something work with limitless resources, could we design a structure to divert such a flow? What are the dynamic loads? What are the temperatures? What size flow needs to be diverted?

Such concepts may be a little ‘blue sky’ for some, but should we not be imaginative in our thinking about these problems? I wonder, can we build cities on base isolating springs? Can we construct Richard Buckminster Fuller’s geodesic dome to protect cities from extreme weather? Can we divert pyroclastic flows and lahars away from settlements? I reason that our first question should always be, ‘can it be done?’ followed later by ‘is it practicable?’ since if we fail to stretch our engineering minds, progress may not be realised. However, it is important to retain the ability to recognise the limitations of engineering, particularly when a more workable solution should be favoured.

To summarise, structural engineers have technical skills and knowledge to help to protect structures from disasters. Through this, our involvement will help to save lives, protect assets, reduce the need for disaster relief aid and ensure resilience.

Despite structural engineers having a lot to offer, I would hasten to add that we do not have all of the answers. Our contributions to disaster mitigation must complement the work of a motivated and sufficiently resourced team, who as a whole, deliver comprehensive and therefore effective solutions.

Mitigation by applying structural engineering processes

Disasters rarely occur alone and are often compounded by subsequent misfortunes as a result of the first. If a mitigation solution does not contain adequate robustness, there remains the possibility that a single disaster event will trigger a cascade of supervening difficulties. For example: an earthquake causes a tsunami, which causes flooding resulting in a disease epidemic and a power supply failure to the hospital rendering it unable to treat the ill and injured. This potential succession of incidents must all be considered when attempting to prevent or prepare for disasters.

Figure 3 - Pyroclastic flows from the Soufriere Hills Volcano engulfing abandoned settlements, Montserrat.

© Dr Paul Cole.

Structural engineers design structural systems for disproportionate collapse to ensure that buildings do not collapse except in a proportionate event. This designed robustness ensures that in the event of failure of part of the structural system, the whole structure does not fail. The same principles could – and should – be applied to disaster scenarios; planning and designing a robust system that stands during a disaster, from beginning to end.

When designing a structural system, engineers satisfy the ultimate limit state by ensuring that each element (and therefore the whole system) can support the maximum design loading. The serviceability limit state is also satisfied by ensuring that each element (and therefore the system as a whole) remains fit for use. Again, these rules should also be applied to disaster mitigation systems. The system should be designed with adequate capacity to prevent failure, ensuring that lives are preserved; hospitals operate; and governments continue governing. Assuming that the ultimate limit state has been satisfied, the serviceability limit state should ensure that, soon after the disaster event, the population are able to complete day-to-day activities such as going to work, attending school, washing clothes, etc.

To synopsise, a complete disaster mitigation plan needs both capacity and robustness, processes that structural engineers practise each day; hence, we are able to view the disaster prevention in new and fresh ways to ensure that the correct requirements are satisfied using the right processes.

To conclude, I will reiterate my beliefs that structural engineers can help to mitigate any disasters, simply by applying and adapting both what we know technically and the processes that we use in our everyday work.

Charities, governments and aid agencies must begin to release funds for application to disaster preparedness and prevention, instead of waiting until the disasters have already occurred. This has started to happen but often without structural engineers at the table. This needs to change. We need to impress the powers that be that we are needed at that table, at every stage and every level, perhaps by reminding them of the simple fact that many disasters could be mitigated through ‘perfect’ engineering.

References

Da Silva, J (2012), Shifting Agendas: Response to Resilience – The role of the engineer in disaster risk reduction, ICE Brunel Lecture

Guardian development network, 2013. Insurance only part of disaster resilience, says climate change panel. The Guardian Online, [online] (Last updated  16.14 GMT 06^th March 2013) Available at: < http://www.guardian.co.

uk/global-development/2013/mar/06/insurance-disaster-resilience-climate-change> [Accessed 08^th April 2013].

Twigg, J., 2001. Physician, Heal Thyself?  The Politics of Disaster Mitigation.  London: Benfield Greg Hazard Research Centre, University College London.

The ‘social’ geologist

“The social geologist - thinking about people and not just rocks” 

As a young undergraduate, I used to love going out into the field - swinging my hammer at any outcrop foolish enough to show itself to me. Whilst I wasn’t as hammer happy as some of my peers (“Jackhammer” Jake in particular), there seemed to be so much rock out there, and too many samples to collect. I can distinctly remember though, standing on a desolate beach in Somerset on a windy afternoon, being told we were not allowed to hammer at rocks here, as the sight was a SSSI (Site of Special Scientific Interest). This was probably my first introduction to geologists having an obligation to preserve things, even at small scales such as this. 

 As geologists we have a responsibility to do things sustainably, to preserve and in some cases protect, whilst making the most of the world that we live in and it’s resources. This obligation, or responsibility, doesn’t stop with the natural environment and it’s feelings or preservation, but also to the people that live in it. Can the people be more important than the resources or the scientific research? Of course they can and indeed they are - a fact that can often be overlooked. 

But why, as geologists, should we be bothered about people? Isn’t that what geographers or social scientists do? I remember having some disdain for “Jackhammer” Jake, famed for his rock smashing prowess, when he switched courses from geology to Environmental Geoscience. It was almost as if the word ‘Environmental’ made us ‘pure’ geologists shudder. Jackhammer however, was just ahead of the curve and spotted a trend that we should all take note of. It is impossible to divorce the world of science from the public’s impression of it, and so we really do need to keep people in mind when we plan our next research, exploration or extraction. I’m not calling for everyone to become social scientists,  not every geologist needs to go out and interview people (please don’t just go out and do a questionnaire to tick this box), but all of us need to at the very least, engage with those that do try to listen to or understand people (social scientists) and we need to keep an open mind. 

Half way into my MSc, I worked at the Montserrat Volcano Observatory in the role of scientific communication and outreach. I had gone out there to work at a volcano observatory, hoping to do some quantitative volcanic risk assessment work if the volcano started to erupt, but ended up learning profound lessons about the intersection of people and science. Heightened activity in December 2009 meant that we were no longer able to give sufficient warning to some people in a particular community there, and so the authorities took the decision to evacuate them. Residents there were quite unhappy with the decision to evacuate and in some cases angry. The decision was based on sound scientific evidence, so why didn’t people understand? I was perplexed, but just tried to continue acting professionally. Only later, having acquired some social science research training and returning to Montserrat, did I manage to talk to some of the residents and understand from their point of view why they were so unhappy with the evacuation. What may have seemed black and white to scientists, did not seem that way to the residents. You see, we are all people with emotions, feelings and opinions, but we sometimes forget this when we are being professional scientists. We then manage to divorce emotion from our thinking and in some cases decision making, instead relying on pure logic. Clearly from a practical point of view it is sometimes necessary to act with cold logic, but we should be aware of the other dimension, so that we can at least understand, even if it sometimes does not change the decisions we make. 

People, us scientists included, have opinions and feelings, based on a vast many things. Some opinions may seem ‘wrong’ scientifically, but are they any less valid? The ‘social geologist’ doesn’t need a social science degree… they need to stop and consider the opinions of others before they smash the rock with their hammer, sink a new well or evacuate a village. They are aware of the importance that people and their voices should have in decision making, and strive to be inclusive. If you read the news or articles in scientific journals, our world is facing an uncertain future, in terms of climate, competition for resources or increasing vulnerability to natural disasters. Scientists can’t answer and fix these issues on their own, so we need to include and listen to the public. We can no longer hide inside a lab or behind a computer screen but rather we should make concerted effort to engage with and communicate to people who’s lives we affect with our decisions.