Lessons from the recent past

One of the world’s most expensive natural disasters was the 2010-2011 Canterbury earthquake sequence. Of the many things learned during and following the disaster, three takeaway messages directly relevant to our response to the climate crisis stood out.

1. Forwarned

The potential for major earthquakes and liquefaction in the region was publicly documented geological science, with warnings embedded in local council reports. Yet few people knew of or believed the risks existed because scientific knowledge is often not communicated well, can be disputed by vested interests such as property developers, or clouded by history underpinned by engineering hubris: the flawed assumptions that Christchurch had been there for over 150 years and its building codes were designed to withstand predicted loads of a 500-year seismic event.

The first quake of 7.1 magnitude struck September 2010. It caused cosmetic and structural damage to multiple buildings and created an impressive 29.5Km long ground rupture. Although two people died, the general feeling was that due  to stringent building codes, we had weathered a once-in-a-lifetime very large magnitude event.

2. Displacement

The 6.1 magnitude quake that followed in February 2011 killed 183 people. Buildings were hit with ground motions that “considerably exceeded even 2500-year design motions.” Entire suburbs were lost and land irreparably damaged. It was traumatic—socially, economically, psychologically, spiritually, physically. For many, the quakes felt like a betrayal of the home where they had lived in and loved, and so they left with no intention of every returning.

Yet many didn’t want to leave. When forced to evacuate because their homes were unlivable or critical infrastructure had been destroyed, they wanted to rebuild, preferably in the same location.

This is not unique to Canterbury. It’s a global phenomenon. Here in Aotearo, regardless of whether people identified as Māori, Pākehā, Pacifica or Asian, the reasons for this desire to rebuild can best be described as tūrangawaewae—a sense of place, of familiarity, of whakapapa, whānui and community.

The initial trauma was compounded when the Government declared that some places—the Red Zones—were so damaged that inhabitants could never return. The people and communities that once lived here became refugees or were internally displaced. Those that evacuated to surrounding areas placed enormous pressure on their host communities that were themselves struggling with their own temporary damages and losses. The impact on small host communities hit by a deluge of unprepared and largely unprovisioned evacuees has never fully been recognised nor considered in terms of future disasters.

3. No end in sight

When a fire or hurricane strikes, people experience an immediate trauma, sometimes followed by post-traumatic shock. They may choose to leave or rebuild.

But the earthquakes were not a single vent. Aftershocks kept coming, and no one could say when they would end. Or even if they would end. Decisions to rebuild were delayed or abandoned. Trauma was compounded. Four years later many people were stilling battling for insurance, still living in temporary accommodation. Others had settled into new homes, many to the north of the city and towns like Kaikōura. And then the 7.8 magnitude Kaikōura earthquake stuck. 

It seemed unfair, inconceivable. But this was the reality. The science was and still is clear: another major earthquake, particularly from the Alpine Fault could hit anytime. And it could be magnitude 8 or higher. This is referred to by planners as an ‘AF8’ scenario.