Keywords

1 Introduction

In the 1950s the Republic of the Philippines was seen as a shining economic light for its Southeast and East Asian neighbors. In the decades since most of them have overtaken the Philippines, leaving many Filipinos to wonder “what happened to us”? Tony Meloto introduces one prevalent account: three hundred and fifty years of colonial diktat, first under Spain and the Catholic Church, and then under the United States, sapped a sense of self-determination from the collective Filipino psyche, even though many contemporary individuals and groups exhibit a “can do” attitude. While Meloto alludes to this imposition of culture, we submit that the Philippines’ stunted development also reflects a failure to foster institutions that promote inclusive property ownership and democratic and economic participation (e.g., Acemoglu & Robinson 2012; North et al. 2009) . In our subsequent conclusions we return to this interplay between local context and institutions in the development process of the Philippines and illustrate its importance for building disaster resilient systems .

For more than three decades disaster management in the Philippines, as in many developing countries , reflected this development malaise; what prevailed was a focus on disaster response and recovery with the military and national police as central actors (Alexander 2002; Gaillard 2011) . In the early 1990s Nongovernmental Organizations (NGOs) and progressive political leaders began to recognize how the response and recovery emphasis aligned poorly with development goals. Armed with nationalistic pride borne of the non-violent overthrow of Ferdinand Marcos’ dictatorship a few years earlier, they began to push in the 1990s for a realignment of participants and responsibilities. After several failed legislative attempts a consortium of civil society groups, business leaders, and university experts enlisted the help of legislative champions and succeeded in establishing the 2010 Disaster Risk Reduction and Management Act.

The process was noteworthy for the ways it brought civil society leaders to the table with military leaders who, 25 years earlier, had been tasked by Marcos with stamping out civil society groups. The new law introduced the language of community-based disaster risk reduction and community resiliency while injecting good governance principles and an understanding about root causes of vulnerability—poverty , landlessness and land use policies. The law also ensured the participation of civil society groups in councils charged with overseeing disaster risk reduction and management at each level of government.

We begin by laying out the social, political, cultural, and historical context in the Philippines on which past and present disaster management is premised. We offer a description of natural and human-created disaster patterns of the Philippines, a brief history of recent disasters, a characterization of the system of actors in Philippine disaster management, and reports of novel innovations in various local communities. We also provide a discussion of the ongoing challenges that practitioners and advocates still encounter in their efforts to mainstream disaster management into the country’s development goals. We conclude by illuminating through the Philippine case the interwoven dynamics of development, vulnerable populations, economic and political elite interests, and disaster management.Footnote 1

2 Context of the Study

With an estimated 2012 population of more than 92 million, the Republic of the Philippines is the 12th most populous country in the world (NSO 2012). It is a nation of 7,107 islands distinguished by three main geographical divisions: Luzon (largest island, in the North), Mindanao (second largest island, in the South), and the Visayas (central region of numerous islands).

As of December 2012 the three divisions were apportioned into 17 administrative regions, 80 provinces, 140 cities, 1,494 municipalities, and 42,026 barangaysFootnote 2 (NSCB 2012). Unlike states and local governments in the U.S. , these several levels of local government units (LGU) take primary authority from the national government. Police and numerous other public services in the Philippines are directed from the national government.

The Republic of the Philippines has a representative democracy modeled in many ways on the U.S. system. In 1987 a new constitution was adopted shortly after Corazon Aquino’s accession to the presidency following non-violent protests that ousted the Marcos dictatorship. The constitution reestablished a separation of powers with a president, bicameral national legislature, and an ostensibly independent judiciary. It is governed as a unitary state with the exception of autonomous regions in Muslim areas of Mindanao and in the Cordillera region of northern Luzon (U.S. Department of State 2013).

2.1 Disasters in the Philippines

In the recent World Risk Report 2012 (Alliance Development Works 2012) the Philippines ranked third out of 173 countries in terms of susceptibility to disasters, behind only the small South Pacific island nations of Vanatu and Tonga. The Philippines has held this position for two years in a row. Because of their proximity to the ocean these island countries are significantly exposed to natural hazards such as storms , flooding, and sea level rise. In the case of the Philippines overall risk is further exacerbated by vulnerability due to under development.

The Philippines is located on the Pacific Rim feature known as the “ring of fire”; it is subject to major seismic fault lines and has approximately 220 volcanoes, of which 22 are considered active (UNFAO n.d.). Philippine volcanoes are regarded as the most deadly and costly in the world because of the frequency and damage of eruptions. Mudflows, frequently exacerbated by seasonal heavy rains, often occur in conjunction with eruptions.

In recent years, however, weather events have caused the most serious disasters in the Philippines . Weather patterns in the Philippines are generally dictated by prevailing winds. These consist of monsoons from the southwest (habagat) from approximately May to October and the cooler, drier northeast monsoon (amihan) from November to early May. Typhoons, known as Bagyo and arriving in an easterly direction from the Philippine Sea on the Pacific side of the country, frequently hit Luzon and the Eastern Visayas from June to November. The typical habagat is a slow-moving storm that draws moisture off the South China Sea and often causes flooding on land from continuous rainfall. In August of 2012, for example, a “hanging” habagat deluged Manila for nearly two weeks, flooding up to a third of the metro area (Whaley 2012) , causing more than a 100 deaths from flooding and landslides, and driving 440,000 to evacuation centers.

Typhoons, on the other hand, are faster moving storms packing substantial winds that may do millions of dollars of damage. Since their seasons roughly coincide, typhoons’ effects are often enhanced by the habagat, producing heavy rains that linger for days over wide areas of the country. The country experiences an average of 20 typhoons per year; about half of these make landfall and inflict destruction (PAGASA 2009). In the fall of 2009 typhoons Ondoy (international name Ketsana) and Pepeng (Parma) left nearly 1,000 dead, displaced millions of others, damaged thousands of homes and other infrastructure, and destroyed crops. The cost of damage was equivalent to 2.7 % of GDP and constituted a major setback to Philippine development (AusAID 2011). Recent tropical storm patterns have been less predictable. During the past two Decembers severe tropical storms have struck the southern island of Mindanao, which is well south of the usual path of typhoons.

In December 2011 tropical storm Sendong (Washi) struck eastern Mindanao, dropped torrential rain at higher elevations, exited into the Sulu Sea, and eventually crossed the westernmost island of Palawan. The downpour raised river levels precipitously, killing hundreds of people in flooding in the northern Mindanao cities of Cagayan de Oro and Iligan, and causing boating and other fatalities in its wake. At least 1,268 were killed and property damage was estimated at approximately $ 50 million (NDRRMC 2012). Typhoon Pablo (Bopha) swept ashore on eastern Mindanao in early December 2012. It devastated high elevation mining and farming communities, then proceeded toward the west following a path slightly to the south of Sendong. The United Nations Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs has reported (UNOCHA 2013) casualties of 1,067 dead and 834 missing and damage at $ 1.04B. It was by far the most destructive storm ever to hit the Philippines and ranked as the most deadly catastrophe in the world in 2012 (Domingo 2013) .

Apart from seismic activity and typhoons, heavy rains also prove destructive when mudslides engulf rural settlements built near steeply sloped land that has been denuded by forestry or farming. An unfortunate example was a February 2006 mudslide in Southern Leyte which buried the entire population of nearly 1200 in Guinsaugon Village (Stone 2006) .

2.2 Social Vulnerability

Of the 92 million inhabitants of the Philippines more than one third reside in Metro Manila and other provinces of Central Luzon (NSCB 2012). A national population growth rate between 1995 and 2000 of 3.21 % decreased to an estimated 1.95 % for the period from 2005 to 2010, but still remains among the highest in the world. The country’s median age is 22.7 years, which reflects the high birth rate over the last several decades (NSO 2008).

Many observers regard poverty as the Philippines’ most critical social problem. More than one-quarter (26.5 %) of the population fell below the poverty line in 2009 (National Statistical Coordination Board 2011). Although poverty levels have declined over the last two decades, the gains have been disappointing by comparison to other Southeast Asian nations, such as Indonesia, Thailand, and Vietnam (NSCB 2011).

The United Nations estimates that the Philippine population is 59 % urbanized and this percentage continues to increase. Between 1960 and 1995 the Philippines’ urban population grew at an annual rate near 5 % but then slowed slightly to approximately 3 %. As in other developing countries , urban-rural migration has driven much of this increase, and at a rate faster than employment growth. This results in significant levels of urban poverty and slums (The World Bank n.d.). Poverty reduction in the Philippines has not kept up with growth in GDP and has been uneven over time (NSCB 2011). Observers blame high population growth, high unemployment and inflation, and large income disparities (ADB 2009; NEDA 2011). One obvious implication of poverty is the proliferation of informal settlers.

Informal settlements

Estimates of the numbers of informal settlers vary wildly. The Philippine National Census Office defines informal settlers as “households occupying a lot rent-free without the consent of the owner” (quoted in Cruz 2010, p. 2) and estimated that 550,771 households in the Philippines as of August 1, 2007 were living as informal settlers. Quezon City, largest of the NCR cities, had more than 90 thousand such households, and Rizal Province and Davao City each had more than 20 thousand households (Cruz 2010). A separate accounting undertaken in 2007 by the National Housing Authority used a more expansive definition to include “homeless and underprivileged citizens” ; this other study identified 544,609 informal settler households in the NCR alone (Cruz 2010). Contrast this with an accounting from the United Nations Human Settlements Programme, which estimated in 2003 that 2.5 million slum dwellers lived in 526 different communities in Manila alone. This included both informal settlers and more established households (UNHSP 2003). The World Bank has estimated that half of the area’s 12 million residents are slum dwellers (The Hindu 2010). These vastly differing numbers should raise concerns; if the methods of the UNHSP and World Bank are to be trusted, the much lower numbers from in-country agencies suggest faulty institutionalization of reliable data collection and analysis methods. By any accounting informal settlers represent a significant population of families in Metro Manila and more broadly in the Philippines .

The United Nations estimated in 2003 that the majority of those living in Manila’s urban slums had been there at least two decades (UNHSP 2003), suggesting that the rural-urban migration pattern is not new. They settle “on vacant private or public lands, usually along rivers, near garbage dumps, along railroad tracks, under bridges and beside industrial establishments” (UNHSP 2003, p. 215). These locations are otherwise vacant because they are vulnerable to flooding, landslides, traffic accidents, and toxins. Many informal settlers are characteristically unemployed, although some work as domestic helpers, tricycle and jeepney drivers, part-time construction laborers, street-side vendors, or recycling foragers. The location of settlements is thus influenced by both the availability of vacant property and nearby employment.

Governments at all levels have been largely reactive rather than proactive in solving the problems of these vulnerable populations. As one of our informants noted:

The flooding that occurs every year in various levels of calamity comes about primarily because local governments have granted building permits for developers to build homes or industries in waterways and squatters put up shanties in the slum areas nobody wants.

Land use and water management practices in many parts of the country exacerbate the potential threats to informal settlers in vulnerable locations. During typhoon Ondoy in October 2009, supervisors released excess water from dams on the Agno River in Pangasinan Province about 100 miles north of Manila out of fear the dams would breach. Unfortunately, because the decision was taken quickly and without adequate warning systems the surge of water led to scores of drownings among informal settlers in the downriver floodplain, and thousands of other residents were rescued from rooftops after 30 out of 46 towns along the river were inundated (The Guardian 2009).

Another informant offered this observation from the August 2012 flooding in Manila:

The situation is made worse because of denuding of tree cover in high elevations to the East in Rizal and Bulacan Provinces, which contributes to the rapid runoff that then deluges the Marikina and Pasig River watersheds and Laguna de Bay. In addition to low lying areas within flood plains, squatters often perch their shanties on steeply sloped land, which then gives way when the soil becomes saturated.

Informal settlers were conspicuous in media coverage of the August 2012 floods in Metro Manila. Some drowned and others died when mudslides buried homes built on vulnerable ground. But the scene also provoked government leaders to get tough with informal settlers. One public official drew special attention to those “living in creeks and along Pasig River and San Juan River as they serve as obstructions to the easy flow of water” (Villas 2012) . In this account informal settlers are no longer vulnerable casualties of the flooding: they are its culprits. Thus orders came from the Secretary of the Department of Interior and Local Government to NCR mayors to begin clearing 125,000 informal settlers and relocating them to other government designated sites (Villas 2012) . Another source reported that the President had ordered Public Works Secretary Rogelio Singson “to clear water channels of all ‘obstructions,’ to the point of ‘blowing up houses if they (residents) won’t leave within a certain period’” (Elona 2012) .

A few days later the plans were put on hold when the Vice President acknowledged that 979 informal settler families who had been relocated from Manila to a site in Rizal province before the floods had to be further evacuated to higher ground when the relocation site flooded. Another proposed relocation site, the Vice President admitted, also ended up under water (Reyes 2012) . But before these problems came to light a settler clearing effort that went forward in another NCR city, Makati, resulted in a violent confrontation between police and a group of informal settlers. At least 22 people were injured as demolition workers from the Makati City government evicted 86 families who refused to leave, and the city subsequently arrested nine of the settlers and pledged to sue them. In a statement to the media the mayor said:

We are determined to hold accountable those who have instigated the violence and lawlessness in the area and bring them to justice. From the outset, we have followed the law to the letter and fully complied with due process in handling the matter. The affected residents have been granted many concessions and ample time to leave the area voluntarily, so they had no reason to resort to violence. (quoted in Reyes 2012)

A similar incident in 2010 in Quezon City led to a rock-throwing conflict between demolition workers and informal settlers who resisted an eviction notice that gave the settlers seven days to move to a government-designated relocation site. They were being moved to accommodate a private development (The Hindu 2010).

Despite various efforts over the years by NCR and national government leaders to remove informal settlers from ostensibly vulnerable areas along rivers, railroads, and roadways, relocation efforts have rarely succeeded. Various informants from our field study related stories about government efforts to relocate NCR slum dwellers to rural areas in nearby provinces in which most of those relocated soon returned to the urban area when they discovered the resettlement sites provided neither employment opportunities nor public transportation. The underlying conflict in interests and values illuminated in these events reinforces a need for better assessment tools to identify underlying dynamics that can be leveraged to reduce disaster risk for these vulnerable populations as well as comprehensive planning that goes beyond short-term solutions aimed at merely moving the settlers out of harm’s way.

Terrorism and conflict

The Philippines also has a significant history of human-made disasters, including periodic violent strife between the government and both communist and radical Muslim elements. Recent examples include the massacre of 58 people in November 2009 in the town of Ampatuan in Mindanao, an August 2010 hostage crisis in Manila in which 8 Chinese tourists and the gunman were killed, and a January 2011 bus bomb that killed 5 and injured another 14 in the NCR City of Makati. In the Muslim areas of Mindanao the government is engaged in ongoing political negotiations with the largest separatist organization, the Moro National Liberation Front. Other militant groups remain, although with diminishing numbers, in some rural areas, including the Moro Islamic Liberation Front, the communist New People’s Army, and the Abu Sayyaf (BBC News 2007; Schiavo-Campo and Judd 2005) .

3 Disaster Management in the Philippines

Presidential Decree No. 1566 (PD 1566), issued by President Marcos in 1978, provided the foundation for disaster management in the Philippines . It created Disaster Coordinating Councils at all levels from the national government down to the barangay level, and local executives were designated as chairs at every level. At the top was the National Disaster Coordinating Council (NDCC), a policy making body headed by the Secretary of National Defense. Other members, totaling 18 in all, included the secretaries of public works, transportation and communications , social welfare and development, agriculture, education, finance, labor, justice, trade and industry, local government , health, and natural resources; the Armed Forces Chief of Staff; and the President’s Executive Secretary (Pedroso 2010) . As a policy making body, the NDCC did not engage in disaster management operations, but delegated those responsibilities to the Office of Civil Defense. Each of the Philippines 17 administrative regions also had its own Regional Disaster Coordinating Council (RDCC). Each local government unit (LGU)—province, city, municipality, and barangay—similarly had a disaster coordinating council (Agsaoay-Saño 2010) .

The Disaster Risk Reduction and Management Act was signed into law by President Gloria Macapagal Arroyo in May, 2010. This law was the culmination of several failed legislative efforts to reform PD 1566, dating back to 1997. In the sections that follow we describe the structures created by the new law and the advocacy activities that brought the spirit of community-based approaches and disaster risk reduction.

figure a

National Disaster Risk Reduction and Management Council

The 2010 law substantially reorganized the oversight structure. The NDCC was replaced by the National Disaster Risk Reduction and Management Council (NDRRMC), which spread responsibility to a number of additional actors. As before, the Secretary of the Department of National Defense chairs the NDRRMC, but four Vice Chairpersons were also established by the new law. The Vice Chairpersons’ responsibilities align with the four phases of disaster management as defined in international disaster management circles (see Table 17.1).

Table 1
Full size table

The new law expanded the governing body to more than 40 members, including all the major government agency heads and presidents of the local government leagues. The law also assigns memberships to the Philippine Red Cross, four CSOs, and one representative from the private sector. The Administrator of the Office of Civil Defense acts as executive director of the National Council and the OCD serves as its secretariat.

The Disaster Risk Reduction and Management Act was a product of nearly two decades of advocacy. As early as 1992 the National Land Use Committee had acknowledged that disaster preparedness was not generally integrated into overall development planning (cited in Agsaoay-Saño 2010) . The traditional approach regarded natural disasters as unforeseeable events, but overlooked the source of casualties and suffering originating from vulnerable populations and insufficient development capacity. Vulnerability and under development, in turn, arose from social inequalities and government policies that catered to status quo interests (Heijmans & Victoria 2001) .

A review of Presidential Decree 1566 in 1997 acknowledged the need to use the calamity fund for preparedness, to focus on pre-disaster risk management, amend public school curricula and development planning to integrate disaster management, and institutionalize civil society organizations’ participation in disaster management (Agsaoay-Saño 2010). Despite this growing awareness, at least nine separate bills were introduced in Congress between 1998 and 2004, all seeking to integrate development goals into disaster management, and all failed. Many were re-filed during the 13th Congress (2004–2007) and again failed.

As a signatory to the 2005 Hyogo Framework for Action (HFA) the Philippines was required to: (a) produce a baseline assessment of its disaster risk reduction capabilities and needs, (b) create an implementing mechanism for the HFA, (c) publish a summary of its HFA programs and update them periodically, (d) develop review procedures to analyze and assess ongoing vulnerability and risk, especially for hydrometeorological and seismic hazards, (e) report progress in existing international agreements concerning sustainable development, (f) consider, as appropriate, approving or ratifying international legal instruments relating to disaster reduction, and (g) promote integration of risk reduction for present and future climate change into disaster risk strategies (ISDR 2005, pp. 14–15). Subsequently, several bills were filed in both houses of the 14th Congress (2007–2010) with the objective of shifting from a reactive to a proactive approach to disaster risk management (Agsaoay-Saño 2010) . At this point many in the civil society community stepped forward to inspire legislators to underscore community-based disaster risk reduction and community resiliency and address the root causes of vulnerability.

Disaster Risk Reduction Network, Philippines

At the center of the advocacy was a group of civil society, local government , academic, and other actors who came together as the Disaster Risk Reduction Network of the Philippines (DRRNetPhils). Two key actors in the formation of the DRRNet were the Philippine International NGO Network (PINGON) and the international NGO , Christian Aid (Agsaoay-Saño 2010). PINGON was an association of international NGOs active in the Philippines ; among them were Oxfam, Christian Aid, Plan International, and World Vision Development Foundation. Other central actors in the DRRNet included groups from three leading Manila universities, University of the Philippines, Ateneo de Manila, and De La Salle University; business interests represented by the Corporate Network for Disaster Response, and Philippine NGOs and community based organizations from throughout the archipelago.

The civil society sector of the Philippines was well-suited to the task. Where the voluntary sector in the U.S. and other Western countries embodies the instrumental professionalization of third party government (Salamon 1987) , civil society organizations (CSO) in the Philippines are among the most politicized in the world (Clarke 1998; Hilhorst 2003) , a reflection of centuries of struggle against colonial powers and, more recently, the martial law dictatorship of Ferdinand Marcos (Cariño & Fernan 2002) .

In 2007 and 2008 Christian Aid initiated advocacy for replacing the Philippines’ traditional response and recovery disaster management approach with a disaster risk reduction emphasis . They persuaded PINGON to enlist a broader set of advocacy partners. In June 2008, PINGON arranged a meeting of 31 civil society organizations and community leaders as potential advocates for a community-based approach to disaster risk management. From this meeting sprang the DRRNet as an umbrella formation to advocate for a disaster risk reduction emphasis in pending Congressional legislation. The DRRNet eventually boasted a membership of some “300 CSOs, communities, practitioners and advocates” for the Hyogo Framework and community-based disaster risk management (Agsaoay-Saño 2010, p. 133) .

The DRRNet lobbied both houses of Congress. Their actions included drafting passages of the legislation, pushing for specific Implementing Rules and Regulations for the legislation, participating in public hearings, conducting research, providing evidence-based presentations and community education, briefing the media, and networking among member organizations and with the various local government leagues (Agsaoay-Saño 2010). Representatives Biazon and Guingona were eventually brought on board as legislative champions of the bill .

The advocates consistently pushed to replace the traditional reactive paradigm with one that emphasized disaster preparedness, recognition of the connection between disaster risk reduction and sustainable development , participation from community-based groups in governance and oversight, attention to vulnerable populations, and strengthening community capacity . DRRNet member organizations also promoted local advocacy and worked simultaneously with LGUs to establish local enabling ordinances.

The new law reflects much of the language and substance that the DRRNet had sought. The law gives legitimacy to community-based disaster risk management, and community resiliency becomes an important goal. The law addresses root causes of disaster vulnerabilities explicitly—poverty, landlessness and land use policies. Good governance principles are also addressed in the law’s wording, as were community-level action and responsibility.

The law also created disaster risk reduction and management offices at lower levels of government—region, province, city, and municipality—and designated that four seats on each DRRM council at each level be assigned to civil society organizations. Coordinating Councils in the barangays were eliminated and their responsibilities shifted to existing Barangay Development Councils. This assignment of civil society seats in all the councils enhances the likelihood that community level advocates will have a voice in shaping future local ordinances and gives community based organizations a role in communications between their communities and their local government units. Institutionalizing collaborative roles for local government and civil society groups in this way signified a major paradigm shift toward a proactive disaster risk reduction approach that the DRRNet advocates had sought.

Calamity Funds

At the national level Philippines disaster funding had been traditionally tied to the National Calamity Fund (NCF). In the previous structure the NDCC recommended and the President approved disaster funding for departments and agencies with implementation responsibilities, as well as to LGUs. LGUs were required to allocate 5 % of estimated revenues to a Local Calamity Fund (LCF). Historically the majority of calamity funds were set aside to provide immediate response and relief in the wake of disasters; Local Calamity Funds were restricted to use only for circumstances when the LGU’s legislative body officially declared a state of calamity. In 2003 a joint circular from the Department of Budget and Management (DBM) and the Department of Interior and Local Government (DILG) permitted LGUs to use their LCFs for preparedness and other pre-disaster activities as well (Agsaoay-Saño 2010) .

The 2010 Disaster Risk Reduction and Management Act substantially altered the use of local calamity funds. Of the 5 % appropriation, now called the Local Disaster Risk Reduction and Management Fund (LDRRMF), only 30 % could be allocated to a Quick Response Fund (QRF) in standby for immediate disaster response and relief. The balance of the LDRRMF accrues to a special trust fund for supporting disaster risk reduction and management activities over the next 5 years, and unexpended funds were to be returned to the general fund after 5 years.

DRRNet members expressed disappointment about two aspects of the bill: failure to commit new national budget resources to disaster risk reduction and failure to replace the Office of Civil Defense, supervised by the military as operational center for disaster management. Network members had advocated for a new central disaster management entity in the Office of the President. Some also suggested that because of new budget restrictions imposed on local governments and the absence of additional funding, local governments will perceive the new law as an unfunded mandate and thus resist implementation .

Implementing the Disaster Risk Reduction and Management Act.

Project NOAH. In July, 2012, the Philippine government unrolled the Nationwide Operational Assessment of Hazard (NOAH) project.Footnote 3 Project NOAH establishes eight technological and management components to serve disaster risk reduction. Those components include: (a) distribution of 600 automated rain gauges and 400 water level monitoring stations for 18 major river basins, to be completed by December 2013; (b) a light detecting system to produce flood inundation and hazard maps in 3D for flood-prone and major river systems, to be completed by December 2013; (c) a LIDAR and computer-assisted system to identify landslide-prone areas, to be completed by December 2014; (d) a coastal hazard system to measure wave surge, wave refraction, and coastal circulation to help solve coastal erosion problems, to be completed by December 2014; (e) a flood early warning system, to be completed by December 2013; (f) local Doppler Radar systems for sensing sea surface characteristics; (g) landslide early monitoring and warning systems in 50 or more sites by some time in 2013; and (h) a weather hazard information system that employs television, a web portal, and information and education activities to equip LGUs and communities with real-time information on potential impending hazards. In the years before and after the 2010 Disaster Risk Reduction and Management Act various informants repeatedly emphasized to us the need for adequate early warning systems, so these technological systems offer a distinctive step in the right direction. We discuss some of their ongoing challenges below.

Progress for some LGUs

Various informants from NGOs and from the local government leagues acknowledge that progress in implementation among local governments is quite uneven, but a few stand out as exemplars; San Mateo in Rizal Province is illustrative. On June 24, 2010, leaders of 15 San Mateo barangays, municipal officials, the regional director for the Office of Civil Defense of the National Capital Region, the Center for Disaster Preparedness (a Philippine CSO), and community based organizations (CBO), met to learn about new requirements from the DRRM law, barely a month old. By August 13, 2010, the Municipality of San Mateo had enacted its own DRR ordinance (Ordinance No. 2010–2015), which created coordinating councils and assigned roles as designated in the DRRM law. Despite tensions among LGU leaders and some community-based organizations, we presume that San Mateo was one of the first in the country to implement its new responsibilities (Banaba Disaster Risk Reduction Project 2010).

Other local governments that have been cited for their advances in disaster risk reduction include: Makati City, NCR; Municipality of San Francisco, Camotes Islands, Cebu Province; Albay Province; Barangay Cunsad, Municipality of Alimodian, Iloilo Province; Montalban, Rizal Province; and Hinatuan, Surigao del Sur Province (Legarda 2012) .

Community-based initiatives

A handful of CBOs, having been active in community-based disaster management (CBDM) earlier, are now role models for others trying to find their way with the new law. Victoria noted (2002) that one such organization, Buklod Tao, a people’s organization in San Mateo, had been helping other communities build CBDM capacity since 1997. Most of Buklod Tao’s members lived in vulnerable informal settlements at the junction of two flood-prone rivers, so that disaster preparedness for them was about simple survival.

After a one-day… seminar in June 1997… three disaster management teams were organized and emergency rescue and evacuation plans were detailed (including fabrication of 3 fiberglass boats using local expertise and labor and practice rescue maneuvers in the river)…. Two months (later)… a typhoon hit the community again. Although several houses were swept away by the waters, no one was killed and many people were able to save their belongings. Since then, when typhoons hit the area everybody can be brought to safety because of flood-level monitoring, early warning, evacuation, rescue operations, and relief assistance activities of the organization. (Victoria 2002, p. 5)

Word of their activities spread, and for over a decade they have been training other communities in disaster risk reduction and preparedness. They helped organize the June 2010 meeting in San Mateo described above. Two weeks later they organized a stakeholders’ consultation at a nearby resort. Sixty two participants came, representing various community-based and religious associations, Philippine-based CSOs, international NGOs, and barangay, municipal, and provincial disaster management officials. Buklod Tao’s leader, Noli Abinales described a Participatory Capacity and Vulnerability Assessment that Buklod Tao had recently completed, using both children and adults as community assessors. Invited professionals explained various aspects of the new law and disaster risk reduction more generally. Finally, participants generated lists of perceived local disaster vulnerabilities, possible remedies, and agencies that could potentially help with the remedies (BDRRP 2010).

Buklod Tao continues to push for evacuation facilities and mitigation against rising river water. They created their own early warning systems and maintain rescue teams for themselves and neighboring communities. Pineda (2012) described the “Pandora” system that she, her students, and Buklod Tao created using computer communications and text messaging to both upload and download vital information between community members and available warning systems. Their red-orange rescue boats, by then numbering half a dozen, were prominently featured in photojournalism covering the Manila floods of August 2012. Despite many of their members’ homes becoming inundated, not one soul was lost in the floods.

We also observe various indicators of systems and public servants performing disaster functions as intended by the new law. During our field work in July 2012 NGO leaders observed that a vulnerable hillside in Rizal Province near Manila had recently collapsed under heavy rain. The local DRRDM manager, they noted, promptly barred the property from future housing development, using new authority provided under the 2010 law. Similarly, as water subsided from August 2012 flooding, 441,000 people were still reportedly in crowded evacuation camps. The Chief of the Office of Civil Defense (OCD) observed that these occupants needed food and care for at least another seven days, but there was little concern of running out of food or supplies. “The government has a month’s worth of relief goods if necessary,” noted the Chief. “We have substantial emergency supplies” (Agence French-Presse 2012a). Disaster relief resources are manifestations of improved preparation and planning and may reflect the fruits of more flexible uses of calamity funds.

Gaillard (2011) argues that the Philippines , like other developing countries , suffers from a flawed view that disasters are merely unpredictable and uncontrollable events, and that people’s inaccurate perceptions and inadequate preparations for the risks compound the casualties. He illustrates this position with an account about flooding in 2011 in Pampanga Province, approximately 50 miles north of Manila. In an interview with a newspaper columnist the provincial Governor reflected that: “I sent some boats to rescue (some residents) and one councilman even died while trying to rescue them. But the residents still refused to leave, so I have decided to withhold relief goods from them.” In a later column the journalist praised the Governor for “teaching recalcitrant residents lessons in civic and personal responsibility and refusing to abet their stubbornness which, moreover, puts the lives and safety of rescuers and officials at risk” (Gaillard 2011, p. 30) . Apparently both the official and the journalist have little understanding about the ways that disasters’ consequences are directly related to development capacity , public education, and comprehensive planning that anticipates and mitigates potential hazards. It is against this mindset among government officials and many others in Philippine society that the advocates for the new law are toiling.

Resistance to the law from above and below

Advocates argue that the new law gave governors and mayors greater discretion over their local calamity funds since they now have greater flexibility to expend part of the money on mitigation and preparedness. But in many instances these elected leaders find the new provisions more restrictive than before. One informant suggested that:

Many mayors considered the calamity funds to be discretionary money and don’t like that the new 2010 Disaster Management law requires larger percentages to be directed to preparation and mitigation. Besides, the politicians know that photo ops in which they hand out money and relief supplies when folks are sensitized to a current calamity carry greater salience than ribbon cuttings for new evacuation centers or instances in which building and zoning regulators merely do their jobs.

Several informants reported that political jockeying near the top of the system has also created frustration. Some NGO leaders reported grumblings about the new Vice Chairmen flexing their newfound system muscles, often using their new roles in ways that stalled LGUs’ attempts to make mitigation and preparedness purchases. Until these undercurrents are resolved, LGU leaders are left in the dark as to the limits of their financial options and their capacity to plan comprehensively for their communities’ disaster vulnerabilities.

Limitations of new technologies and public confidence about them

Despite the advent of Project NOAH, many LGUs are well behind the curve in integrating hazard mapping with comprehensive land use plans. The Office of Civil Defense, NDRRMC (2011) reported that:

Most LGUs, particularly third and fifth class municipalities and less capable cities do not have sufficient capacities to prepare a comprehensive land use plan that integrates risk factors as bases for planning. Moreover, basic information on risk, such as hazard maps are most often not available or have not been prepared for lack of capacity, expertise, resources, or data…. Technical assistance to LGUs is of utmost importance (p.26).

In Compostela Valley Province in eastern Mindanao in December 2012 a deadly incident from typhoon Pablo graphically illustrated this reality. Nearly 80 villagers and soldiers died in the New Bataan village of Andap when a wall of water engulfed two emergency shelters and a military camp.4 The Bureau of Mines and Geosciences had identified 80 % of the area’s Mayo River valley as a hazard zone; but because local governments either ignored or were incapable of responding to this hazard information many villagers fled to a designated shelter that was itself located in a hazard zone, with deadly results (Marquez 2012) .

Moreover, local leaders have other pressing issues; practices that stave off hunger often take precedence over sustainable development and disaster riskFootnote 4 reduction. Manifesting denial of the underlying hazards, Compostela Valley’s governor insisted that mining at higher elevations had not caused the flooding. He rejected the claims of officials who felt his devastated communities should relocate. “It’s not possible to have no houses there because even the town center was hit. You mean to say the whole town will be abandoned?” he asked the media. He challenged the hazard classification and urged national leaders to review the hazard maps. He insisted that earlier floods had been less threatening and had not endangered the fateful emergency centers located in a village hall and health center (Marquez 2012).

New technologies may also sometimes breed overconfidence. A few days into typhoon Pablo, United Nations disaster officials were praising the effects of NOAH’s early warning systems. When initial reports listed 274 casualties the UNISDR, referencing the larger casualty numbers from the previous year’s typhoon Sendong, asserted that Pablo’s toll could have been much worse. “This time big improvements in the early warning systems have saved many lives,” said the head of the agency’s Asia office (Agence French-Presse 2012b). This assertion proved both premature and inaccurate. Even President Aquino drew on early reports to suggest the country was learning to improve its natural disaster performance. He pointed out the “big difference” in casualties compared to other storms , noting that the more than 500 dead or missing from Pablo was still less than the 1200 deaths from Sendong a year earlier (Alibe 2012) . And as the death toll rose he expressed annoyance that so many residents remained in harm’s way despite his orders to the military and LGUs to evacuate them before the storm (Marquez 2012) .

A few days later a Manila journalist reported:

The true extent of the devastation from typhoon “Pablo” is just starting to emerge, and it’s much worse than previously reported…. Pablo destroyed not only nipa huts and other structures made of light materials but also concrete buildings, including schools and gymnasiums used as evacuation centers. The communities look like they were hit by a tsunami. (Pamintuan 2012)

The subsequent toll of Pablo’s dead and missing gives little cause for rejoicing about early warning systems. Philippine government meteorologists had accurately predicted the severe storm. Communicating its potential threat to rural communities at high elevations in Compostela Valley, connecting its likely impact to inadequate hazard maps and plans, and getting local leaders and citizens to heed the warning, are quite different challenges.

In the case of Sendong in 2011 American meteorologists warned the Philippines that this storm carried more rain than Ondoy had delivered in 2009. A leading Philippine online weather forecast site also predicted the storm would pass Cagayan de Oro and Iligan City. But the ball got dropped somewhere between the Office of Civil Defense and local government officials. Raging river waters were at their highest during the night, and this compounded the failure of communication warning systems .

Others note that wrinkles in existing systems and costs remain as serious barriers to local groups and average Filipinos’ using the early warning systems. In the case of the Pandora project with Buklod Tao (see above), for example, the cost of cell phone service from major service providers makes the project cost prohibitive in the longer term (Pineda 2012) . One of the principals involved in the project also observed that information available from NOAH is aggregated in large numbers that are not fine-grained enough to provide information that local communities can use for their specific needs (personal communication, Mavic Pineda, January 30, 2013). These observations suggest a need for fine-tuning and community input.

4 Lessons Learned

In this section we describe theoretical and practical implications that arise from the case of Philippine disaster management. We assume that these two sets of propositions are intertwined, and we address them simultaneously rather than separately. In particular, we punctuate our depiction of practical implications from our field study with conjectural applications from institutional economic development theories (e.g., Acemoglu & Robinson 2012; North et al. 2009) .

The limits of rational information systems

We note first an inherent tension between technological solutions and on-the-ground constraints. In the Philippines and other developing countries , we often find technology being imposed from the top of the authoritative system, presumably to enhance control and serve leaders’ demands for accurate and timely information for decisions. But among soldiers charged with rounding up vulnerable citizens and transporting them to an emergency shelter in Compostela Valley, the assumption of linear rationality designed into information and warning systems may not align with unpredictable weather behavior nor with nonlinear human actions guided by urgency, panic, and fear.

In societies with mature institutional development—that is, with economic and political institutions that afford equality of access—we would expect to find frontline responders who are capable and empowered to provide timely information when local conditions change or directives do not match local circumstances. But the Compostela Valley situation suggests a social order characterized, not by rule-of-law and impersonal roles, but by diktat from elite individuals or coalitions. North et al. (2009) characterize the former situation as an open-access order and the latter as a limited-access or “natural” state. This system failure is thus institutional in origin: technology imposed from elites “who know best” onto non-elites who may have reason to trust neither the elites’ intentions nor their own capabilities to offer timely corrections to practice. For such situations, governments, businesses, and communities may be able to minimize casualties by continuously training people and keeping them mindful of disaster systems and dynamics, but a more foundational intervention is to level the institutional playing field in order to empower non-elites to provide bottom-up information and to facilitate elites’ acknowledging and using such vital input.

Regarding ostensibly rational information systems, we suggest two concerns based on our analysis. First, given evidence from events surrounding typhoon Pablo, we submit that executives in developing countries are prone to over-estimate the ability of warning and disaster systems to protect their vulnerable populations. Their over confidence is due in part to misunderstanding the disjuncture between rational information systems at their disposal and the worldviews and perceptions of vulnerable people. Here again the institutionalized distance between dominant elites and vulnerable Filipinos with little influence over political and economic systems is illuminated. This distance will not shrink until broader political and economic institutions provide relatively open access to all Filipinos.

We are also concerned that the various components of monitoring and warning ought not be tightly coupled, as they may be susceptible to the “normal accidents” phenomenon identified by Perrow (1984) . Perrow argued that complex systems typically have many nonlinear properties such that unanticipated interaction arises from multiple failures, and the effects on the system can be neither anticipated nor understood by humans managing the systems. In order to avoid these effects system designers should build modular rather than tightly coupled components into the system, since modules permit human intervention more readily among the components.

We suggest that the normal accident dynamic may be exacerbated under limited-access institutional systems in three ways: a) elite hubris, as clearly evidenced in the early stages of Pablo, renders decision makers unresponsive to warning signals, especially when they originate from non-elites; b) often non-elites are not likely to understand their potential contributions to report changing conditions nor to feel empowered to act on the insights they do possess; and c) tightly coupled designs are more likely—and modular designs less likely—because elites do not trust underlings with human judgments in the system’s coupling points .

Disaster and development, a false dichotomy

During the 1990s development scholars and practitioners advanced the idea that NGOs must transition from relief work to “real” development (see Korten 1990; Macrae & Zwi 1994) . For some observers disasters were interruptions in the longer-term work of development, and development actors were presumed to shift from relief to rehabilitation and then to development work as required by conditions. Some experts believed that such transitions are problematic, since short-term international relief undermines local institution-building. They believed, nonetheless, that efforts to link relief and development are important (Buchanan-Smith & Maxwell 1994; Eade & Williams 1995) . Others worried that humanitarian aid undermines homegrown actors in developing countries because it creates dependency on donors and international NGOs and binds local groups to managerialism and “development thinking” from the North (Wallace 2000) .

During the past decade, fortunately, various voices have promoted the mainstreaming of disaster risk reduction as a governance process for all aspects of sustainable development . As the UNDP has noted (2010):

building resilient communities in disaster-prone countries requires that: a) underlying risk factors are continuously considered in all relevant sectors; and b) risk reduction standards and measures are an integral part of the planning and delivery of core development services and processes, including education, environment, and health (p. 1).

In hindsight, since the four-phase model has existed since the early1980s, and activities of the United Nations and World Bank in the 1970s and 1980s referred distinctly to preparation and mitigation as important components of disaster management,Footnote 5 it seems surprising that the obvious link between development and disaster mitigation and preparation had not been recognized in this earlier tortured debate among development scholars. Moreover, as we noted above in the account about the Governor of Pampanga (Gaillard 2011) , the mainstreaming prescription has a long way to go before it is a conventional mindset of Philippine officials.

We suspect that two practical dynamics reinforce the false dichotomy and inhibit the adoption of mainstreaming prescriptions. First, the intense media focus on disaster crises typically creates disproportionate recognition of immediate response activities and a resultant distortion in resources directed toward crisis relief. Second, the prominent influence of and spending for military and police in developing countries is inversely related to spending for eradicating poverty and reducing risks for vulnerable populations. And since the military is good at delivering rubber rafts, helicopters, and rescue vehicles, this is where emphasis falls in the disaster activities of many developing countries.Footnote 6

Institutional theorists assert that in limited-access social orders elite coalitions need military and police leaders to enforce control over non-elites and the extraction of societal resources for elites’ rent-taking (Acemoglu & Robinson 2012; North et al. 2009) . Recall that the Philippines 2010 Disaster Risk Reduction and Management Act retained system leadership with the Defense Secretary rather than move it to the Office of the President, as local government and civil society elements had advocated. We see in this the persistence of countries’ extractive, limited-access institutional structures that protect elite interests and exclude access for the masses .

We submit that these distorted emphases partially blinded development practitioners to the inherent connection between development and disaster risk reduction. It took growing awareness of global climate change to make the connection clear. We submit that disaster management, when seen through the lens of the four- phase model, is synonymous with development, not an unfortunate interruption of it. Unfortunately, mainstreaming of disaster preparation and mitigation activities into development planning is unlikely to succeed until countries such as the Philippines transition in their broader governance structures from limited-access to open-access institutional systems .

Poverty vs. risk

In the view from 50,000 feet, disaster risk reduction and development that alleviates poverty go hand-in-hand, but in the daily life of a Compostela Valley banana farmer massive flooding is a once in a millennium event, whereas hunger is a daily struggle. Established traditions built around one’s livelihood become routines that are hard to change. In poor countries like the Philippines, those without other employment risk life and limb to feed families, and the government can do little more than warn them of danger. “It’s not only an environmental issue, it’s also a poverty issue,” noted Environment Secretary Ramon Paje. “The people would say, ‘We are better off here. At least we have food to eat or money to buy food, even if it is risky’” (Marquez 2012) .

As noted earlier, government officials had declared a danger zone for nearly 80 % of the valley due to mountain slopes, high gradient rivers, and logging that stripped hills of trees that can minimize landslides and absorb the rain. Logging had been banned after Sendong a year earlier, but local officials turn a blind eye as it continues illegally. “But somehow we would like to protect their lives and if possible give them other sources of livelihood so that we can take them out of these permanent danger zones,” said Secretary Paje (Marquez 2012) .

Even as officials in situ were contending with hundreds of cadavers, grieving survivors, and the devastated farming economy of Compostela Valley, the chairwoman of the Climate Change Committee held forth from the Senate chambers in Pasay City in Metro Manila:

Typhoon ‘Pablo’ has unveiled the vulnerability of our Mindanao communities to typhoons, landslides and flashfloods. Our local leaders, therefore need to appreciate how disasters are linked inextricably to the vicious cycle of poverty, socioeconomic inequality and environmental degradation. (Yamsuan 2012)

She suggested that geohazard maps can assist community planners, for example, in identifying areas that should be restricted from further housing development.Footnote 7 Notwithstanding the wisdom and good intentions that may prompt such advice, one might regard her remarks as somewhat detached and poorly timed. We see a similarity, moreover, in the urgent actions in the immediate aftermath of flooding in Manila in August 2012 of government officials who were intent on clearing informal settlers from near waterways where their homes were “obstructions to the easy flow of water.” Unfortunately, their plans to relocate the informal settlers, like earlier resettlement programs, would merely have shuttled them to other flood prone areas or to settings far removed from jobs and public transportation. As observers we are struck by the disjuncture between elite attitudes and strategies, on the one hand, and vulnerable people’s everyday realities, on the other. We suggest that this disconnect reflects again the significant economic and political divide between elites and the masses that is inherent in limited-access institutional systems.

In fairness to political leaders we acknowledge that it is better to do something than nothing, and drastic actions and enlightening the public are often accomplished more easily when crisis has sensitized the public’s attention. What will not work is to assume that disasters can be mitigated by simply moving poor people out of harm’s way and keeping people from building in hazardous locations. Planning needs to be more holistic; it needs to engage aspects of the cultural, social, political, economic, and environmental. If, as the Senator suggested, “disasters are linked inextricably to the vicious cycle of poverty, socio-economic inequality and environmental degradation,” then the remedies need also to address the institutional causes of poverty that continue to impede Philippine development. Secretary Paje’s desire to provide other sources of employment and move people out of hazardous areas is a step in the right direction, but the necessary structural changes go much deeper.

In addition, the failure of industrialized nations to take stronger steps to cut carbon emissions gives them substantial culpability in the disaster vulnerability of the Philippines and other countries affected by global climate change . The structural factors that exacerbate the Philippines’ disaster vulnerability do not stop at the shores of the Sulu and Philippine seas. In the shorter term, substantial risk reduction for vulnerable populations is still a distant goal for developing countries like the Philippines .

Our analysis has illuminated numerous indicators in disaster management practice that reflect extractive or limited-access systems in the Philippines’ fundamental institutional structures (Acemoglu & Robinson 2012; North et al. 2009) . More conspicuously, widespread poverty and large vulnerable populations are obvious outcomes of economic and political institutional structures characterized by unequal access. We submit that effective disaster management systems occur where quality government is exercised, that is, where impartiality of treatment thrives (Rothstein 2011) . And although it may be on the output side of political systems that impartiality is judged, we believe it is on the input side, in the political activities that lead to open-access, equality-serving institutions, that impartiality is determined.

Philippine disaster management does not lack for best practice advice from its international partners; the language of community-based disaster risk reduction, community resiliency, good governance, and root causes of vulnerability are featured prominently in the 2010 law. But even the system’s leaders acknowledge that performance by local governments and commitment to the new practices by local government leaders are uneven . Shortcomings in implementing the new law originate, in our view, in the fundamental institutions of Philippine society, and working out the wrinkles and stumbles rests ultimately in the nation’s movement toward open-access, equality-serving political and economic institutions. What is required for lasting success includes: strengthening democratic institutions to be as responsive to bottom-up problems as top-down interests; significant cooperation across public, private, and voluntary sectors; and, recognition that human development capabilities must be strengthened in parallel with economic development.