Vulnerable

We had to be reminded about something we know only too well: the Philippines ranks among the countries most vulnerable to both natural and man-made calamities. We are among the most seriously affected by severe weather brought about by climate change.

The vulnerability is a dictate of location.

We are part of the so-called Ring of Fire, the string of active volcanoes ringing the Pacific. Every year, it seems, we have to manage volcanic activity of varying intensities. The eruption of Pinatubo ranks among the worst volcanic eruptions of the 20th century. Right now, we have Mayon under close observation after early signals of a possible eruption.

The archipelago sits right smack in the Typhoon Belt. For six months of each year, we deal with typhoons and tropical depressions. Flooding has become a usual occurrence.

Active fault lines crisscross the country and we sit at the intersection of major continental plates pushing against each other. That characteristic benefits us with a tremendous amount of mineral resources. It also makes us prone to earthquakes. Recently, we have been warned that a major quake could be due — one that can cause unspeakable devastation on the metropolitan region inhabited by a major portion of the population.

Most of our major cities are at the shoreline, having evolved around ports. That exposes a major portion of our population to rising sea levels, a consequence of global warming. Over the foreseeable future, rising sea levels will permanently flood significant parts of our cities.

The predicament is compounded by the more pronounced occurrence of subsidence due to over-exploitation of our aquifers. Today, subsidence at an increasing rate is observed in the northern portions of the national capital region and the seaboard parts of Bulacan and Pampanga.

In the event of major seismic events, liquefaction could happen on a significant scale especially in areas where subsidence is already happening. Since subsidence is happening in densely populated areas, liquefaction could force massive dislocation.

All the adverse topographic features mentioned above are magnified by the unplanned nature of our human settlements.

Population pressure pushed settlements into perilous areas along shorelines, riverbanks and steep slopes. In the event of a major natural calamity, these perilously positioned settlements could magnify the human toll.

We have identified the hazard-prone communities rather well. However, there has been little headway in depopulating the most vulnerable settlements. Because of land scarcity, there is simply a shortage of habitable areas for population transfers. Then there is the humungous cost of moving large populations away from the hazardous areas.

Being an archipelago, the country has very little arable land between the mountains and the shores. Our man-to-arable land ratio simply worsened over the last few decades. This is the reason our agriculture becomes less and less capable of feeding the population and, consequently, we had to rely more and more on imported food.

We have not managed our forests well. Over the last century, we managed to lose most of our forest cover. A large portion of the deforestation has been due to conversion of forests into agricultural land.

One estimate says we need about 5 billion more trees to restore the ecological balance we once had. There is presently not enough land for that number of trees unless we return some agricultural land to forests and remove existing hillside settlements (which might include large cities like Baguio).

We are, by the way, also facing fresh water shortages. Deforestation dried up many rivers. We have not built enough dams and other impounding facilities to conserve fresh water flowing to the sea.

Consequently, our agriculture is now more prone to droughts than ever before. Unfortunately, the severe weather patterns associated with global warming includes prolonged periods of drought.

Severe drought cycles undermine the wisdom of the present policy to be self-sufficient in food production. The more far-sighted policy might be to secure food bridges with our neighboring mainland economies less vulnerable to the patterns of flooding and drought we have become heir to.

Of course, our government has gone through the motions of preparing to cope with the evident vulnerabilities. For the most part, however, government effort has been concentrated in improving rescue and relief capacities. These are activities done after calamity strikes. They are not, by themselves, disaster-mitigation and risk-reduction activities.

The factors that compound our topographic vulnerabilities — unplanned urban sprawl, exposed communities, deforestation — are outcomes of having a historically weak state. We need stronger state action to strategically reduce risks.

For many years, for instance, we tried to legislate a strategic land-use plan. Despite the best of efforts, we made little headway here. There is strong resistance to evolving such a plan because of short-term inconveniences. A comprehensive nationwide land-use plan is not among the priorities of this administration.

Too, we need a comprehensive strategy to mitigate the looming fresh water shortage. Such a strategy is not even on the drawing board.

Meanwhile, the weak state allowed high-rises to be built on fault lines, communities to persist on dangerous river banks and cities to encroach on the sea. We have allowed all our lakes to be colonized by wealthy fish pen operators.

It is as if, as a nation, we have adopted a fatalistic attitude towards our vulnerabilities. The solutions to disaster risk reduction are simple too complex, too expensive and too long-term that few politicians are inclined to invest their careers in them.

The latest warnings about our vulnerability to disasters, as a case in point, did not even merit a Palace comment.