Earthquake Culture:
How natural disasters shape life in Chile
By: Elayne Smith
Photos: Hanna Curlette, Elayne Smith
Enrique Marambio grew up with seismic activity as a constant in his life and makes a living in part by selling earthquakes. He has worked as a waiter for 30 years at the birthplace of the Chilean cocktail called Terremoto,meaning earthquake. Living in a high risk environment, most Chilean people have accepted earthquakes into their culture and lives just as simply as enjoying a drink named after the hazard. Marambio says he doesn't think twice unless it's an earthquake of 7 magnitude or higher.
"It's always shaking here in Chile. It's an eccentric place and we're used to it. You need to be more afraid of this," Marambio says, pointing to a glass of Terremoto.
Chile gets about 20 earthquakes a day with an average of 3 magnitude strength, and up to 100 earthquakes or more occur with an earthquake of 8 magnitude or higher, according to Chile's National Center of Seismology (CSN). Chile's long and narrow border follows the convergent tectonic plate boundary between the Nazca plate and the South American plate, creating its hazardous nature.
As the Nazca plate moves under the South American plate, this subduction zone accumulates energy that triggers volcanic eruptions and earthquakes, which in turn can trigger tsunamis. Earthquakes cannot be predicted, and the closest scientists get is understanding energy build up in the plates. If a part of an active fault known to produce earthquakes has remained unusually inactive, this seismic gap could foretell a large impending earthquake.
The problem, unlike for tornados or hurricanes, is that documenting the potential for an earthquake is as far as scientists can go. Warnings can only be given once the initial waves have started. People have minutes to react.
While many people in Chile talk about earthquakes like someone would talk about the rain, CSN devotes itself to ensuring people have as much information about the risks and seismic activity as possible and are given some kind of warning.
Twelve television screens tower above two rows of long desks, spacious enough for three people to sit with two computer monitors each. Slow clicks and clacks can be heard in the room that barely has enough space for a five-step pace down its width. Screens flicker with different seismograms, but the atmosphere in the room is calm.
The command center for CSN operates 24/7, with at least two people occupying the room on the University of Chile's campus in Santiago. CSN's mission is to inform the public on earthquake hazards in aminimum amount of time. Mario Pedro, subdirector of CSN, says that within five minutes of primary waves, the center can send out warnings to various government agencies and update their website.
Their workers take 12-hour shifts from 9 a.m. to 9 p.m. or 9 p.m. to 9 a.m. Each worker completes a dayshift for four days, then gets four days off before working the night shift for four days. During these shifts, personnel monitor the digital system, checking to see if data CSN's instruments sent are accurate.They then update the center's website with the location, time, date and magnitude of the earthquake.
CSN's history goes back to 1908 after a large earthquake incentivized the government to create a seismology service. Over the following hundred years, the center was paired with the university and further developed to become the center it is today. In 2012, it updated its technical innovations advancing it further.
"I think that we are at the best level in the world, equal to Japan and other leading countries," Pedrosays.
Pedro says this is in part because of their national response system. All of CSN's data goes to Chile's National Office of Emergencies of the Interior and Public Security Ministry (ONEMI). ONEMI has offices in each region to accumulate national and international data to then plan, coordinate and executevarious responses, alerts and prevention strategies.
ONEMI covers hazards from earthquakes to tsunamis to volcanic eruptions to fires. ONEMI helps coordinate responses from a local level to a national level.
Guillermo de la Maza is the director of ONEMI's regional office in Valparaiso, a hilly coastal city. He summed up his job by saying ONEMI works to maintain security against natural threats.
The communications room is operated by at least two people at all times. The seven professionals work either from 8 a.m. to 8 p.m. or 8 p.m. to 8 a.m. for two days, and then get two days off. They rotate schedules on a monthly basis, switching their hours.
The office overlooks the city with views of the ocean and the houses stacked high onto Valparaiso's 45 hills. The region of Valparaiso has 38 total communes with 17 of them on the coast.
When a disaster occurs or is about to occur in the Valparaiso region, officials meet in the conference room in ONEMI’s Valparaiso office to delegate response and respond accordingly to the threat.
While in the central region of Chile, Valparaiso gets fewer earthquakes than other regions, but tsunamis are a higher risk. Unlike earthquakes, tsunamis can be better predicted and often give more time forresponses. Depending on where the tsunami is coming from, whether triggered by earthquakes inNorthern Chile or across the Pacific Ocean in Japan, people have from minutes to hours to get to safety.
Tsunami evacuation signs throughout the city help guide people to at least 30 to 80 meters above thecoast, depending on the size of the tsunami. Annual evacuation simulations help prepare people foremergencies, and most people have a bag ready to go in case the sirens go off.
Maza says these annual earthquake and tsunami simulations encompass over a million people as thewhole region performs a mock evacuation. These types of efforts are done in order to increase preparation and prevention, two goals he says ONEMI is striving towards.
"Our responses are getting better every year," Maza says. "Our greatest challenge is reducing damages and creating a culture of prevention."
Maza says that ONEMI works from analyzing data to issuing alerts to responding after the disaster. Dealing with this variety of hazards creates more of a challenge for Chile, he says, but their response is at the vanguard of the international community.
"It is a reality here," Maza says. "We are behind in some ways, but we will continue to develop."
Finances are at the core of this issue, says Pilar Zamora, secretary for ONEMI's Valparaiso branch. Shaking her head, she says Chile's struggles with finances keep them behind the forefront of the international community. Yet because of the nature of Chile's land, people have had to adapt. When thesirens go off, she says, people listen.
"Chile is like this and the people, all of them know it," Zamora says. "Everyone has to know how to live with seismic activity, always."
Communication equipment in ONEMI’s regional office in Valparaiso is used to monitoremergencies and coordinate responses.
She says the greatest problem Valparaiso faces is fires because of the wind and old buildings. Chile's firefighters are all volunteers and help ONEMI issue alerts and sirens when a disaster approaches. She says everyone has their role, and they work together to live in this environment.
"It's culture, like you have tornados," Zamora says. "You know what to do for them, and for us, we have seismic activity, and we know how to prevent a disastrous incident."
This culture of natural disasters can be seen around the world, as each country has its unique catastrophes to handle. As Zamora said, dealing with tornados is something with which some Americans, including Tuscaloosa residents, are familiar.
One year after Chile dealt with an 8.8 magnitude earthquake in 2010, the college town in Alabama and the surrounding region dealt with the effects of an EF4 multiple-vortex tornado. The tornado flattened many parts of the town in its 7.5-mile path, destroying infrastructure and claiming many lives.
Five years after the 2011 tornado, Ariane Prohaska is using qualitative research to evaluate the long term mental health and monetary effects of the storm’s damage in Tuscaloosa. As a gender sociologist professor in the criminal justice department of the University of Alabama, Prohaska is venturing into disaster sociology for the first time. Her interests in this research come from her own experience through the tornado and observations about Tuscaloosa's rebuilding efforts.
"I felt there was a piece missing, specifically for marginalized people," Prohaska says. "They may not be the majority of the people, but they're worth being heard."
As new buildings were erected in the town, she says she noticed there was a discrepancy in who they were intended for. She says apartment buildings that were rebuilt had raised rent prices dramatically from 43 to over 100 percent from the previous building. She also says that many of these apartments seem to have students in mind and not local residents, especially those with lower incomes.
Many of these residents because of their financial situations have turned to trailer parks or old buildings to live in, she says, which are not going to protect them in the case of another tornado. While the city now has 17 storm shelters, Prohasaka says she's concerned about the time and transportation restrictions on them, as well as the city’s overall disaster preparedness.
"The perception of many survivors that I've interviewed is that there are things that haven't been done, "Prohaska says. "People's perception is that the city has money that it's not sharing, so it's regrowing but in an exclusive way."
Maza says there are similar shortcomings in Chile's reconstruction efforts, as rebuilding is expensive and poorer locations are often overlooked. He says there is a lack of politics to help address this issue, and he would like to see more legal proceedings to help the process.
"We need to develop better public policy," Maza says. "Reconstruction is a great opportunity to do prevention."
Tsunami evacuation sign in downtown Valparaiso, Chile, to help guide people during a threat or one of the city’s annual emergency simulations.
Natalia Jorquera, professor of architecture for the University of Chile, says people with low incomes will often bypass existing policies that are meant to increase damage prevention and erect unsafe buildings so they have somewhere to live. Also, she says while the cities may have increased prevention protocol, the municipalities are overlooked.
Walking the streets of Santiago, buildings vary in height from tall multi-story business structures to squatty apartment buildings. Few sleek and shiny skyscrapers dot its skyline in the financial district. Jorquera says 70 percent of Santiago's buildings are made out of reinforced concrete followed by the use of iron. Now, the risk of damages and injuries are minimal. Jorquera says she had data before and after the 8.8-magnitude earthquake in Chile that affected the central region in 2010, heavily damaging Santiago. She says many of the damages were predictable, and accused the government's failings for the many injuries that occurred.
"The lack of public policy and training of professionals allowed predictable damages," Jorquera says.
A large problem the country faced, Jorquera says, was constant and slow rebuilding after earthquakes. As one area would need to be rebuilt, another area would be damaged and added to the list. She says it was endless and inefficient. After the 2010 earthquake, better codes were developed.
Now she says almost every building in Santiago meets the standards. If someone wants a new building erected, they have to get legal permission to build it, and then hire professionals to make calculations. There are legal procedures if a building crumbles during an earthquake to investigate whether it was up to code. Professionals are trained for three years in order to make these calculations, compared to one year in other countries.
"Architects are really well trained and engineers are even more so," Jorquera says. "I think it's really well displayed because even though there are a lot of earthquakes, there aren't a lot of damages."
Jorquera says that in poorer areas, however, people will just erect buildings on their own without adhering to codes or hiring a professional. Then when an earthquake hits, even though it may be a new building, it will get damaged.
While the city underwent reconstruction and renovation with increased building codes, outside the city Jorquera says traditional buildings are forgotten and neglected in building renovations. She says these buildings are 200 to 300 meters in area and because of finances, are unable to be properly reinforced. If there are damages, families end up in emergency housing that are only 20 meters in area. This is supposed to be a temporary solution, but many people end up living there permanently as the process to file damage claims is long and complicated, and often these old traditional houses are demolished without replacement. She says this is a significant loss.
Natalia Jorquera, professor of architecture at the University of Chile in Santiago, studies the effects of earthquakes on traditional architecture.
"It's a very strong identity and interesting, I believe," Jorquera says. "When something happens and original architecture is torn down and replaced with emergency housing, a lot of that identity is lost."
She focuses on these forgotten buildings, saying they are a part of the country's heritage. She says she wants to see the municipalities register the traditional architecture and help educate the people on how to reinforce their homes. The problems though, she says, are that these people often don't have the resources for such endeavors, and there isn't government funding for it.
"Prevention is a lot more economic than reconstruction," Jorquera says. "It's important to do things outside the city too."
Karla Villarroel says she feels the benefit of Chile's building codes and reinforcement efforts as she works and lives in the Santiago. She says she rarely feels anything even though the news is full of announcements on recent seismic activity. Most of the earthquakes happen at night, she says, so she often sleeps through them. Although she's very aware that she is vulnerable living in an apartment on an upper floor, she says she also accepts that there's nothing she can do about it as earthquakes are a part of her life.
"We don't have a culture of panic," Villarroel says. "We are calm in order to function during an earthquake. We always think there could be something stronger."
As she talks about stories of walking along the street and pausing for a few seconds as tremors pass or calling her brother to check in on him when he had no clue anything had happened, she laughs and shrugs.
"We don't worry about it," Villarroel says. "We are a very seismic country therefore we are aware there could always be a bigger one."
This threat makes people stay closer to their families, she says. People also stand together in solitude after a disaster, she says, as they donate clothing and food or help their neighbors.
"We live day to day, honestly," Villarroel says. "You stay close to your friends and family because you don't know what will happen the next day. You don't want to be alone because if a big earthquake comes and you're scared and alone, you don't have anyone. The distance in Chile is complicated. We worry about it more than other free countries."