Johnstown, Pennsylvania, 1889. Should it be renamed Floodville? Since the time of the devastating flood that appears in history texts, the city has under gone floods in 1894, 1907, 1924, 1936, and 1977. Property destroyed. Lives lost. You can still go to, visit, or live in Johnstown.
Switzerland. I know. You’re thinking avalanches. All those high mountains. Think floods. According to the Oeschger Centre for Climate Change Research (OCCR), “Every seventh building in Switzerland is at risk of flooding, and four out of five Swiss communities have been affected by floods within the past 40 years.”
Here’s the point as written by the OCCR: “Although floods can cause serious damage to those directly affected, most people tend to forget them rather quickly. Within a few years, they fade from the population’s consciousness.”*
Texas coast, 2017. Hurricane Harvey. At least 41 deaths. Highlands, Texas, recorded 51.88 inches of rainfall. Texas coast, 2018. June. “Southeast Texas is flooding again,” is the headline. According to a report by Faith Karimi of CNN, “Larry Wolf, of Port Arthur, said his home has flooded twice. ‘I’m to the point where I’m 75 years old,’ he told KBTV. ‘I can’t do it anymore.’”**
It seems that humans have suffered losses from floods since the Deluge, but we still build along coasts and rivers. Is there something in the brain that can’t remember or pass on information about floods? Or volcanic eruptions? Or earthquakes?
When I see a disturbed ant hill, I notice that the ants, when destruction isn’t total, rebuild. Some ants in the tropics will make rafts of interconnected ant bodies to float to a new location, typically one that will require them eventually to make new rafts to float to still other locations susceptible to floods. Are we like them. Have we rebuilt beneath Vesuvius? Beneath Vulcan Fuego in Guatemala? On the San Andreas Fault?
In spite of the ostensible differences between people and ants, both organisms seem to suffer memory losses with regard to disasters.
Is there something in the brain that says “If I dwell on what happened, I’ll never get anything done”? Is it “Well, he would have wanted us to play the game. We’re dedicating this win to his memory”?
The realities of this life, including its many dangers, warrant our focus on the present and the future. But does rebuilding in flood zones, earthquake zones, and eruption zones make sense? I’ve walked the streets of Antigua Guatemala, to me one of the most beautiful of cities, and I’ve looked up at the 12,000-foot stratovolcano that towers over the city. No building can exceed two floors in the city because the residents don’t want to block the view of the volcano. The fertile soil in the area supports coffee plantations and vegetable and fruit gardens. It’s a great place to get an avocado. But it lies at the foot of a stratovolcano, the most destructive kind of volcano. It didn’t get to its great height and size without past eruptions, and there’s no evidence that highly destructive eruptions won’t occur well into the future.
Are you thinking that the people in Johnstown, along the coast of Texas, on the San Andreas Fault, and on the sides of Guatemala’s volcanoes should move? You realize, of course, that there are economic and other forces, some political, that keep people in danger zones. Maybe those who stay where disaster is relatively common stay simply because they choose to forget the mayhem of their and their ancestors’ past. Or, maybe there’s something in the brain—all brains—that is wired to forget so that the present and the future always look promising.
Let's check back with Larry Wolf of Port Arthur in a few years. It will be interesting to see whether or not he and his neighbors moved or rebuilt.
*Online at http://www.oeschger.unibe.ch/about_us/news/a_collective_reminder_for_forgetful_switzerland/index_eng.html
**Online at
https://www.local10.com/news/national/southeast-texas-is-flooding-again
Switzerland. I know. You’re thinking avalanches. All those high mountains. Think floods. According to the Oeschger Centre for Climate Change Research (OCCR), “Every seventh building in Switzerland is at risk of flooding, and four out of five Swiss communities have been affected by floods within the past 40 years.”
Here’s the point as written by the OCCR: “Although floods can cause serious damage to those directly affected, most people tend to forget them rather quickly. Within a few years, they fade from the population’s consciousness.”*
Texas coast, 2017. Hurricane Harvey. At least 41 deaths. Highlands, Texas, recorded 51.88 inches of rainfall. Texas coast, 2018. June. “Southeast Texas is flooding again,” is the headline. According to a report by Faith Karimi of CNN, “Larry Wolf, of Port Arthur, said his home has flooded twice. ‘I’m to the point where I’m 75 years old,’ he told KBTV. ‘I can’t do it anymore.’”**
It seems that humans have suffered losses from floods since the Deluge, but we still build along coasts and rivers. Is there something in the brain that can’t remember or pass on information about floods? Or volcanic eruptions? Or earthquakes?
When I see a disturbed ant hill, I notice that the ants, when destruction isn’t total, rebuild. Some ants in the tropics will make rafts of interconnected ant bodies to float to a new location, typically one that will require them eventually to make new rafts to float to still other locations susceptible to floods. Are we like them. Have we rebuilt beneath Vesuvius? Beneath Vulcan Fuego in Guatemala? On the San Andreas Fault?
In spite of the ostensible differences between people and ants, both organisms seem to suffer memory losses with regard to disasters.
Is there something in the brain that says “If I dwell on what happened, I’ll never get anything done”? Is it “Well, he would have wanted us to play the game. We’re dedicating this win to his memory”?
The realities of this life, including its many dangers, warrant our focus on the present and the future. But does rebuilding in flood zones, earthquake zones, and eruption zones make sense? I’ve walked the streets of Antigua Guatemala, to me one of the most beautiful of cities, and I’ve looked up at the 12,000-foot stratovolcano that towers over the city. No building can exceed two floors in the city because the residents don’t want to block the view of the volcano. The fertile soil in the area supports coffee plantations and vegetable and fruit gardens. It’s a great place to get an avocado. But it lies at the foot of a stratovolcano, the most destructive kind of volcano. It didn’t get to its great height and size without past eruptions, and there’s no evidence that highly destructive eruptions won’t occur well into the future.
Are you thinking that the people in Johnstown, along the coast of Texas, on the San Andreas Fault, and on the sides of Guatemala’s volcanoes should move? You realize, of course, that there are economic and other forces, some political, that keep people in danger zones. Maybe those who stay where disaster is relatively common stay simply because they choose to forget the mayhem of their and their ancestors’ past. Or, maybe there’s something in the brain—all brains—that is wired to forget so that the present and the future always look promising.
Let's check back with Larry Wolf of Port Arthur in a few years. It will be interesting to see whether or not he and his neighbors moved or rebuilt.
*Online at http://www.oeschger.unibe.ch/about_us/news/a_collective_reminder_for_forgetful_switzerland/index_eng.html
**Online at
https://www.local10.com/news/national/southeast-texas-is-flooding-again
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