If Nature Bats Last, Are We On Her Team?

A commentary on natural disasters by Dr. Deborah Brosnan

Few things are more humbling than natural disasters. Tsunamis and hurricanes strip away our modern defenses, leaving us naked and at the mercy of nature. How much damage we suffer, and whether we rebound, hinges on how we see the natural world. As a scientist, I know from studying catastrophes from Asia to America that natural resources can be our strongest ally. Each time, I feel that we'll learn the lesson. Yet in our minds and actions we ignore this fact.

We can control and ameliorate our suffering through our partnership with nature. But in our planning and policies, we consistently relegate the human-environment interaction to a secondary role, associated more with the fringes of society rather than with leaders. We ask for our best architects and engineers to help rebuild, but rarely call on our best natural resource scientists and managers. This is a huge mistake for which we pay dearly in human life, social stability and economic wellbeing. If we are to stem the ever-increasing toll from natural catastrophes, then the state of our environment has to be front and center in the ways that prepare for our future.

Intact ecosystems are more resilient in confronting natural disasters such as hurricanes. They protect humans by buffering the coast— healthy marshes in southwestern Louisiana reduced storm surge by three to five feet. They also retain important food sources. Immediately after a disaster, these natural resources are often the only source of food and shelter for devastated communities. After the Southeast Asia tsunami, humans turned to reefs for food and to tropical forests and corals for shelter. They had nothing else. Compromised ecosystems, such as eastern Louisiana's coastal marshes and many coral reefs, are more vulnerable to destruction. This exacerbates and prolongs human suffering, and it impedes the recovery of communities. Tourists do not visit destroyed reefs. Damaged ecosystems cannot protect us, nor can they support the increased demands we place on them for essential services in the aftermath of a disaster.

In the wake of hurricanes and tsunamis, ecosystems themselves often require attention. They must be cleaned of debris and restored. But funds are unavailable or withdrawn at this time because we must (rightly) tend to basic human needs. For almost a year, 1200 toxin-filled tanks (the small dots on the horizon in the picture above), deposited there by Hurricane Rita, rusted and leaked onto one of our national wildlife refuges in Louisiana. Funding has only just become available to remove them. Similar alarming situations still exist in Southeast Asia almost two years after the tsunami. This is the legacy of failing to value or to plan for the environment.

Twelve months after the Gulf Coast hurricanes, and in a year when over 140 million people worldwide were devastated by natural disasters, nothing has changed. Despite all the studies that show the importance of healthy ecosystems, we can point to little progress. We still question whether it is appropriate to worry about the environment in the face of natural disasters. But we don't accept that we might have made the tragedy worse by failing to be concerned ahead of time. Scientific aftermath studies do little to help unless they influence new policies. Promises of new engineering to protect the coast, but which see the environment as only a minor player, set us up for greater tragedy in the future. Natural disasters are a part of life. But we don't have to make them worse.

The conservationist E.O. Wilson said that we face a very Faustian choice: "Whether to accept our corrosive and risky behavior as the unavoidable price of population and economic growth, or to take stock of ourselves and search for a new environmental ethic." As the human, environmental, and economic toll from natural disasters rises every year, we need to embrace the reality that our health and wellbeing is intimately tied to our relationship with natural resources. We must give nature the same voice at the table that we generously donate to engineering and to other technologies. It will save our lives and our economies.

Marsh restoration works in Delta National Wildlife Refuge, an example of 20 years of growth in recreated marshland that provides habitat.

Boats and containers swept onto the levee by Hurricane Katrina.

Many homes in the Oak Island area of New Orleans, were destroyed and many are still uninhabitable. Damaged household items await pickup.

After the hurricane, large numbers of blue crabs were found dead in damaged marshes.

James Harris of the Fish and Wildlife Service holding a three-week-old laughing gull chick. The gulls along with other important bird species nest in the refuge.

Refuges must serve multiple uses. Oil drilling occurs on Delta National Wildlife Refuge. Photo shows tug towing oil drilling platform into the refuge.

Marshes have been successfully restored in many parts of Louisiana. Here in Delta NWR, the banks are buffered by 20-year-0ld recreated habitat.

Manmade canals alter natural water movement and funnel storm surges during hurricanes, increasing wetlands loss and damage to property. This worsened the damage from Hurricanes Katrina and Rita.

Dr. Brosnan with two pelican eggs in their nest on Breton Island (left).

Debris from Hurricane Rita strewn throughout the marshes.

Shelly of the Fish and Wildlife Service with Dr. Brosnan (left) in front of the seaplane that flew them over the marshes.

Boats and containers dumped by Hurricane Katrina onto levees in New Orleans.