Even as sophisticated as human societies have become, and as
unsparing in their pressure on the environment, there are occasions when nature
‘strikes back’ in some way, with significant or even drastic consequences –
even in the most advanced cities.
Over the past six weeks I’ve been in a series of towns and
cities where everyday life has been forcibly stopped – or where it could be
(again) at some time in the future. I
have been in San Francisco with its stories of the effects of the 1906
earthquake. I have been in Napier in New
Zealand where the 1931 earthquake led to the city’s reconstruction producing an
almost-perfect art deco town. I have
been in Auckland which sits on a volcanic field that is by no means extinct.
But the two places I have recently visited and which are the
main subjects of this blog are Christchurch in New Zealand − which suffered
devastating earthquakes in September 2010 and February 2011 and where
aftershocks have continued ever since – and Hong Kong. The latter may seem surprising as it suffers
neither earthquakes nor volcanoes. But a
few days ago I witnessed the city coming to a standstill because of a typhoon –
a different type of potential natural disaster.
Visiting Christchurch, while staying with a knowledgeable
local friend, was sobering and thought-provoking. The two principal quakes a few months apart and
lasting together at most two minutes brought the city centre down, and much of
it remains down over 5 years later. Liquefaction
caused considerable damage in the eastern suburbs, such that large areas of
housing have been cleared and now look like parkland with trees that once stood
on the borders of house punctuating grassland.
But in many parts of the city the housing withstood the quakes and could
be repaired – but this was housing largely built in wood. It was constructions in more ‘sophisticated’
materials – brick, concrete and stone – that didn’t ‘give’ to the same extent
and which either collapsed or were so badly damaged that they have had to be
pulled down: some (such as a major wing of the main hospital) are still
awaiting demolition, whilst in other areas, such as part of the High Street,
decisions are still awaited on whether renovation and reconstruction is
possible on some buildings.
Hence there is a curious doughnut structure to Christchurch
today. Drive through the suburbs and
there is now little to see to reflect the earthquakes. But when one gets to the city centre every
vista includes vacant plots of land, or buildings which while still standing
are unusable, and everywhere there is fencing shutting off areas of danger or
building sites.
Why not abandon the site and move elsewhere? There is just too much investment in a city
of 360,000 people to uproot it and rebuild – and anyway whereabouts in New
Zealand, sitting as it does on the boundaries of two great tectonic plates, is
going to be safer? The resilience of the
people has been impressive, and they are taking pride in watching their city
re-emerge – tinged with regret at missed opportunities. I was taken to a café, named ‘C1’, which was
one of the first businesses to be re-established, and clearly that fact has
given it a firm following among local people, of all ages, who filled every
table on a wet Sunday when much of the rest of the city centre was deserted. The total cost of rebuilding Christchurch has
risen considerably and now stands at NZD 40 billion (£23.4 billion at 2016
prices) and it is going to be some time before it is completed.
But what happened in Napier, in the North Island of New
Zealand, in the 1930s will not be repeated here. Where Napier now has its uniform art deco
style, Christchurch already has a patchwork of new building in the city centre
in a variety of styles. To me one of the
most memorable buildings is actually the Transitional Cathedral, designed by the
Japanese architect Shigeru Ban, built in cardboard, wood and glass and opened
in 2013. In my view it should be
retained as a permanent feature of the city.
And it sits close to the site of the building where the greatest number
of fatalities occurred in 2011, and near a (so far unofficial) monument
consisting of one white chair for every person who died across the whole city. This I found very poignant and moving.
So in what way is Christchurch’s experience of earthquakes
comparable to a typhoon in Hong Kong? For
a start, the typhoon brought the city to a standstill. But a typhoon can be forecast when an
earthquake can’t be (at present).
Everything was ordered, with a warning the evening before and the
confirmation of a complete shut down shortly after 6 the following
morning. Hong Kongers know what to do –
to stay indoors, not to go out driving, and to keep in touch via radio and
television. I was staying in a hotel
opening into a shopping mall where every shop bar one remained closed all day
(although a Starbucks did open) and from where I could walk on enclosed
walkway-bridges across roads and into other malls which were equally
deserted.
One of the most amazing things was to see Queensway, normally thronged with buses, cars and trams at almost any time of day, completely deserted at noon.
Ultimately the typhoon – one of the latest in the year to be
experienced for over 30 years – passed some was to the east of the city. But trees were uprooted and 1 person died
when they were swept into the sea by a giant wave. There was little damage.
But the cost of lost business that single day was being
estimated the following morning by a local economist as HKD 5 billion, or over
£530 million. That is probably an
under-estimate.
Sophisticated and modern metropolises can still be at the
mercy of various forces of nature. Steps can be taken to reduce risk – such as
building codes to strengthen properties.
But in the most severe instances there is little that can be done to
protect human life or activities.
While I was writing this news came in of the earthquake in
Norcia, in Umbria in Italy, which has destroyed the basilica of San Benedetto –
the patron saint of Europe. (I hope there is nothing too symbolic in
that.) I know Norcia well, having
visited the town twice on holiday. Last time I was there, a couple of years
ago, I sat opposite that basilica eating an evening meal outside on a warm
summer’s evening while a group of children on a summer camp were taken through
a series of competitive activities by helpers, the children skidding across the
polished marble paving of the square.
One of yesterday’s television images of a narrow alleyway strewn with stone
that had fallen from the surrounding buildings was filmed from the spot where I
once sat and painted a watercolour. I
guess the fountain where I washed my brushes has not survived.
Visiting Christchurch and Hong Kong over the last few weeks
(and remembering my visits to Norcia), I am struck by the thought that human
societies are not really as powerful as they think they are. Nature can still take us by surprise and do
so very strongly.
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