Staying Strong in the Face of Disaster

At first, the densely packed Typhoon Morakot seemed to be a much-needed relief from the blistering summer. On the seventh of August, it brought its copious rainfall to the island, filling the reservoirs and not letting up. The southwestern air currents slowed Morakot's progress across Taiwan, with the Central Weather Bureau forecasts of 1,000 millimeters of rain being upgraded eventually to 2,900 mm. The rainfall was at its peak in Alishan, which received an historic high of 2,855 mm between early on the sixth and 5 a.m. on the 10th.

This unprecedented rainfall, combined with untimely high tides, kept the water ever rising, gradually building into a catastrophe.

And to think that such a disaster could fall on, of all days, Father's Day.

Typhoon Morakot: A summary

August 8: Southern Taiwan suffers torrential downpours, with parts of Chiayi, Tainan, Kaohsiung, and Pingtung Counties beginning to flood.

August 9: Sometime after 6 a.m., Mt. Xiandu, situated upstream along the Nanzixian River, experiences collapses at around 1600 meters above sea level. Downhill, the Kaohsiung County village of Xiaolin in Jiaxian Township is almost instantly buried; at the time of writing, over 300 residents remain entombed beneath the earth.

Two-thirds of Pingtung County is submerged beneath floodwaters of depths of up to one meter. The most severe flooding occurs in Jiadong Township, with the waters reaching two storeys in depth.

On the other side of the mountains, 10 stores in the Taitung hot-springs area of Zhiben are washed into the ocean, while at 11:38 a.m. the six-storey King Shai Hotel topples into the raging waters in front of its distraught owner and a crowd of stunned onlookers.

August 10: Areas in the mountains are cut off from outside communications. Survivors are trapped and waiting for rescue, while the death toll slowly climbs. The rain continues unabated, causing increasing panic.

August 11: A three-man team dispatched by the National Airborne Service Corps to one of the hardest-hit areas is unfortunately lost in Wutai Township.

August 12: Residents of Taiwan open their wallets to help the victims of the disaster. Businesses donate over NT$2.5 billion, while the public contributes over NT$1.2 billion.

August 13: The weather finally begins to turn in the mountains, and the ROC Army sends a 452-man special forces team, following eight routes, into the hardest-hit areas, including Jiaxian, Taoyuan, Alishan, and Xinyi townships to conduct a blanket search-and-rescue mission.

August 14: At 10 a.m., President Ma Ying-jeou convenes a National Security Council meeting, creating a nine-point response plan including an inquiry into the rescue system and the establishment of a post-disaster reconstruction committee.

Around noon, Nantou's Mingjian Marine Rescue Team is conducting a rescue along the Zhuoshui River when their hovercraft capsizes, with volunteer Zhang Ruixian losing his life in the line of duty.

August 15: The military flies rescue teams into the Alishan area, as well as stationing a team in Xinkai Village, Kaohsiung, to attempt to uncover bodies from a layer of mud and rocks three storeys deep.

August 16: International relief begins to arrive in Taiwan.

August 17: Helicopters sent in by the American military arrive in Taiwan to assist in lifting heavy machinery into the disaster zone.

August 18: In the afternoon, President Ma calls a conference for the domestic and foreign press. He offers a formal apology to the people for the slow and disorganized response to the typhoon, promising a full inquiry once the disaster has passed.

As of August 25, Typhoon Morakot was responsible for 292 deaths, 385 missing, and over 7000 left homeless, with total casualties second only to the August 7th floods 50 years ago. Seventy bridges have been washed away, 358 roads have had the ground washed out from under them, and Taiwan's agricultural industry has suffered over NT$15.8 billion in losses, a record amount.

These merciless floods have changed the face of the land and the lives of those living on it. Here rescue teams try to find bodies under the debris covering Xiaolin Village.

A turning point

In a short 36 hours, nine billion tons of rain-enough to fill the Shimen Reservoir 30 times over-fell from the sky, and it was this that was responsible for most of the carnage. Climate change, making the seas around Taiwan warmer during summer and the humidity inland higher, also contributed to this once-in-a-century downpour, and such storms will only become more common and more severe. Both the government and people can no longer rely on wishful thinking, but must instead prepare themselves for the worst.

If we, the people of Taiwan, cannot be stirred to rethinking and making changes in our current situation, then no amount of presidential apologies, ministerial resignations, or governmental expenditure will save us from another round of sorrow, death, remorse, and recrimination in the future.

Is anywhere safe? Where can we find solid ground? Looking at the 70 bridges around southern Taiwan that have collapsed, including this one in Liugui, one cannot help but wonder.

Change 1: Emphasize evacuation

Both President Ma, in an interview with the British media, and Premier Liu Chao-shiuan, in an internal meeting, have emphasized that the core reason the casualty rate has been so high is that the people did not evacuate in a timely manner.

Since the torrential rains of 2004's Typhoon Aere resulted in the deaths of 24 people in landslides, Taiwan has been building a landslide warning system, with 1,503 rivers across Taiwan under surveillance, including in the Xiaoye River. When rainfall predictions from the Central Weather Bureau go beyond a certain point, the Soil and Water Conservation Bureau (SWCB) will immediately issue a yellow alert, upgraded to red when actual rainfall reaches the trigger point. At this point, evacuations will be considered based on circumstances.

Evacuation is the only effective way to avoid deaths for villages in high-risk areas facing a powerful natural disaster.

Chen Zhenyu, head of the SWCB's Debris Flow Disaster Prevention Center, explains that due to the detection of 13 potential landslides, five villages in Jiaxian Township-including Xiaolin and Dongan-were give a yellow alert at 5 p.m. on August 7th, with two rivers upgraded to red alerts at 11 p.m. When this happened, the village mayors were contacted by phone and text message.

However the area of Xiaolin Village under alert contained only 19 households, the Disaster Prevention and Protection Act states only that evacuations must be considered, and many villagers were unwilling to leave as the area seldom sees major landslides. But early in the morning of August 9th, the land finally gave way, destroying a total of 395 households, with only two left standing.

People's desire to stay and protect their homes and belongings is completely understandable, and warning systems are not infallible-the red alert itself was often taken as the authorities crying wolf. However, landslides are as unpredictable as earthquakes, and living in such mountainous areas will almost certainly place you in peril come typhoon season.

We should not forget the pictures from before Hurricane Gustav last September, when 2 million Louisianans filled the roads out as far as the eye could see as they drove out of the area. Having organized buses to help those with no vehicles of their own, the mayor of New Orleans issued a severe warning to those still unwilling to evacuate-if they stayed, they would get no relief supplies. Three days later, the people filled the roads again on their way back to their now-ruined homes without complaint. In the wake of 2005's Hurricane Katrina, which devastated New Orleans and took the lives of some 1,836 people, such disputes were seen as petty. The US has learned its lesson; will Taiwan?

With historic torrential downpours and rising storm swells, low-lying seaside townships such as Linbian in Pingtung were flooded to a height of two storeys; trapped residents had to wait for the slow rescue response to reach them.

Change 2: In harmony with the waters

Looking at the tragedy that befell Xiaolin Village, some environmentalists are pointing the blame at the Zengwen River Channeling Project, which redirected the Laonong River. They suspect that the water diversion tunnels have weakened the mountains and destabilized the land on the hillsides, contributing to the landslides. And what about the Qishan No. 2 Spoil Depot, situated along the neighboring Qishan River and opposite Xiaolin Village? Home to over 100,000 cubic meters of earth and rock, could this have been a contributing factor to the severity of the disaster?

The factors behind the destruction of Xiaolin Village are still under investigation, but regardless of the outcome, the broadened collection for the reservoir was a necessary move to help the Jianan Plain and greater Kaohsiung area recover from the long-term drought they've been suffering. If that policy weren't in place, one can imagine that the next major drought would cause a similarly strong public outcry. And with the tragic deaths of 14 staff contracted by the Water Resources Agency and dispatched to Taoyuan Township, we can see that it isn't that Taiwan hasn't done enough in the way of water control, but rather may have done too much or gone in the wrong direction.

Pu Zhongyong, principal of Alishan's Chashan Elementary School, explains that a recently finished river control project in the neighboring tribal village of Futeye focused on both aesthetics and environmental friendliness. This included protecting the mountainside, terracing the river route, and the use of slit dams, resulting in this branch feeding the Zengwen Reservoir becoming "sumptuous and beautiful, like a riverside park."

Unfortunately, all of this hard work has now been buried beneath rocks and earth, without a trace remaining. Looking at the past three or four decades of attempts at water control, Pu says that the more they do, the more they ruin, with once-beautiful mountainsides turned to chaos, a truly heartbreaking and puzzling outcome.

Professor of civil engineering at National Taiwan University Lee Hong-yuan notes that, confronted by the floodwaters now and continuing climate change, we must completely rethink our approach and understand that water cannot be "controlled," "this kind of 'control' isn't about the flow of the rivers, but about mankind's inappropriate use of the land and water!"

"We can't have an unlimited budget to keep building these channels higher and higher so that the water will never flood over them," says Lee. Under the looming threat of climate change, we cannot go without a thorough reconsideration of our fundamental approach to flood prevention engineering; "It's time we gave the waters back to the Earth!"

Faced by the constant threat of floods, tulip farmers on the low-lying lands of the Netherlands have in recent years had to sign relief agreements stating that in the event of floods, they must surrender to the floodwaters, living with the waters rather than fighting against them. This is something we in Taiwan should consider adopting.

With historic torrential downpours and rising storm swells, low-lying seaside townships such as Linbian in Pingtung were flooded to a height of two storeys; trapped residents had to wait for the slow rescue response to reach them.

Change 3: Legislative movement on land planning

In the wake of Morakot and the accompanying floods, many scholars have noted that in protecting against flood waters, rehabilitating mountainside forests is crucial, particularly given Taiwan's well-known susceptibility to earthquakes and typhoons, and mountains accounting for over half of its area. As the island-shaking 921 earthquake showed, this makes Taiwan particularly ecologically fragile.

In fact, in 2002 the Ministry of the Interior put forward a draft bill concerning state land planning, proposing comprehensive means to address water, soil, and forestry concerns. Unfortunately, this bill has yet to pass the legislature.

In 2005, the Council for Economic Planning and Development also put forward a draft regulation on state land rehabilitation, which would have made mountain areas over 1500 m above sea level core conservation areas. This has, however, been stuck in the legislature for four years now, with the sticking points including the usage of mountain land, compensation for farmers who would have to move, and resettling Aboriginal residents.

Without the support of law, it is difficult to do anything. Taiwan's environmental monitoring systems are actually quite solid, and experts have very clear research on which areas are at high risk and which need warnings. However, research is research and urban planning is urban planning, and there is a lack in coordination between the two, resulting in, for example, petrochemical facilities located in areas where their high demand for water may exhaust supplies, while other places in desperate need of water are left resorting to overdrawing underground water sources or have much of their surrounding farmland turned into building sites. Such lack of coordination has contributed to increased occurrences of urban flooding.

More importantly, the way a nation plans out its land use is representative of how it sees its future, and achieving that future should involve consensus and clarity on how best to use the nation's resources.

For example, to achieve its transformation from a nation reliant on proxy manufacturing, Taiwan has worked to develop its leisure and tourism industry. Such moves seem to present a brighter future, with people rushing to mountainside bed-and-breakfasts and hot springs. However, did anyone think what the impact on the mountains and forests themselves would be? Could the people's love of the mountains ultimately be to the detriment of the mountains? If the mountains are pushed beyond their limits of tolerance, who should shoulder the responsibility for what happens?

Additionally, some of the heaviest-hit areas this time-including Taimali and Zhiben in Taitung and Kaohsiung's Liugui Township-are situated on alluvial fans where the rivers flow out into the plains, making them especially susceptible to such disasters. And while the world was astonished by the sight of the King Shai Hotel collapsing into the waters, it was in fact built on the bank of a river that has long been eroding that bank, having already claimed 12 houses 37 years ago when Typhoon Nora hit.

None of these, though, resulted in local government learning its lesson, instead continuing to grant building permits. Now the management of the King Shai Hotel are threatening to seek damages from the state. But can taxpayers really be expected to shoulder that burden when those behind the hotel knowingly built on at-risk land?

Additionally, some academics have noted that while the growth in mountain agriculture in recent years has produced excellent vegetables, oolong tea, pears, and peaches, it has also led to the plains lying fallow as farming moves uphill. And as the government has promoted this and consumers have taken to the products enthusiastically, who has looked at the price being paid by the community in terms of water conservation, land protection, and road repairs?

Looking to the future, is this mountain agriculture something Taiwan can continue to support? Is it something to be proud of, or is it a disaster waiting to happen? And if farmers choose to remain in the mountains, should they take responsibility for risk management? Everyone concerned should give this urgent consideration, establish a framework for the future, and give the people guidelines to follow.

Xinkai tribal village, in Kaohsiung County' Liugui Township, was buried under three storeys of rock and mud, making finding survivors or bodies an almost impossible task.

Change 4: Sustainability not growth

With the typhoon itself gone, many scholars are looking into who else bears responsibility-the government, with its constant focus on economic growth, industrial prosperity, and bustling consumption; and the people, with their demands for everything to be bigger, better, faster, newer, fancier, and more convenient, to the point of even making engineering projects a consideration when voting.

Laboring under this faith in growth and global competitiveness, everyone seems to have forgotten that Taiwan is just an island, and that the island is groaning under the pressure of its human population.

As retired NTU geography professor Chang Shih-chiao says, Taiwan currently faces growing assaults that it is increasingly weak to resist. Only by working to rehabilitate the land we live on can we recreate a safe home and future for its residents. By doing this, we can avoid a repeat of this disaster, and Taiwan will not have to sing this sad song of heartbreak again.

Footage of the King Shai Hotel falling into the Zhiben River was played and replayed in both domestic and international media, but once the initial shock is gone, will this be enough to inspire the people to reconsider the way they use the land around them?

With historic torrential downpours and rising storm swells, low-lying seaside townships such as Linbian in Pingtung were flooded to a height of two storeys; trapped residents had to wait for the slow rescue response to reach them.

Wenfeng Village, Jiadong Township

This bridge connecting the Kaohsiung County township of Linyuan to Xinyuan in Pingtung County was unable to withstand the rising waters of the Gaoping River and the mud and rocks that rushed down it, collapsing in the early morning of August 9th.

This photo is a satellite picture of the Taimali River estuary before and after Morakot. The width of the river has grown astonishingly, covering villages and farmland.

Surrounded by a nightmare scene, rescued children can't help but cry and howl, but what about the adults? They must wipe away the tears and steel themselves for the future.