In 2011, a catastrophic flood washed through greater Bangkok. Hydrologically, this was not so unusual; Bangkok occupies the Chao Phraya River Delta, and although the rainfall that year was higher than normal, the waters didn’t reach the hundred-year flood level. But the landscape was more vulnerable than in past cycles. Factory development in the flood plain, subsidence caused by groundwater extraction, and mismanagement of dams upriver led to severe flooding that killed more than 800 people and affected some 13 million lives. Protected by the King’s dike, which encircles the Bangkok Metropolitan Area, the capital city was largely spared, but displaced floodwaters made conditions worse in outlying districts. The sacrifice zones were inundated for weeks, and then months. As angry “flood mobs” descended on the protected areas, opening flood gates and tearing holes in the sandbag walls, the prime minister counseled them to think of the national good. If the city center flooded, she said, it would cause “foreigners to lose confidence in us and wonder why we cannot save our own capital.”
And here is a dark truth of planning for “climate resilience.” Decisions about which areas will be protected are not only about whose safety will be guaranteed; they also involve transnational concerns like reassuring global investors and preserving manufacturing supply chains. In Thailand, thousands of soldiers were dispatched to patrol the floodwalls. They were enforcing resilience. This is both a rational decision and a disturbing vision of our climate-changed future. We are heading toward a world in which the unequal distribution of environmental risks is administered by state violence. How did we get here?
This article looks at four large cities in Southeast Asia facing major climate risks: Jakarta, Manila, Ho Chi Minh City, and Bangkok. Each is home to at least 8 million people living in a low-lying delta threatened by rapid urbanization, sinking ground, and rising seas. As officials seek to make their cities more resilient, they bring in outside planning experts who push “climate-proofing” models developed in Japan and Europe, especially in the Netherlands, which has a long history of advanced water management strategies. Highly engineered, technocratic programs come with readymade slogans, like “making room for the river,” a concept which works well along the banks of the Rhine but can mean mass evictions in the Global South. When “slums” (often a slur for urbanized villages with deep histories) are represented as a blight, to be scraped away with little if any recompense, and their people resettled in untenable locations far from the city center, we must ask: “Whose resilience” is really being promoted? Too often, the rhetoric of climate adaptation is doublespeak for the displacement of poor, informal communities, and an alibi for unsustainable growth. (...)
And here is a dark truth of planning for “climate resilience.” Decisions about which areas will be protected are not only about whose safety will be guaranteed; they also involve transnational concerns like reassuring global investors and preserving manufacturing supply chains. In Thailand, thousands of soldiers were dispatched to patrol the floodwalls. They were enforcing resilience. This is both a rational decision and a disturbing vision of our climate-changed future. We are heading toward a world in which the unequal distribution of environmental risks is administered by state violence. How did we get here?This article looks at four large cities in Southeast Asia facing major climate risks: Jakarta, Manila, Ho Chi Minh City, and Bangkok. Each is home to at least 8 million people living in a low-lying delta threatened by rapid urbanization, sinking ground, and rising seas. As officials seek to make their cities more resilient, they bring in outside planning experts who push “climate-proofing” models developed in Japan and Europe, especially in the Netherlands, which has a long history of advanced water management strategies. Highly engineered, technocratic programs come with readymade slogans, like “making room for the river,” a concept which works well along the banks of the Rhine but can mean mass evictions in the Global South. When “slums” (often a slur for urbanized villages with deep histories) are represented as a blight, to be scraped away with little if any recompense, and their people resettled in untenable locations far from the city center, we must ask: “Whose resilience” is really being promoted? Too often, the rhetoric of climate adaptation is doublespeak for the displacement of poor, informal communities, and an alibi for unsustainable growth. (...)
Jakarta
Let’s start in Jakarta, where the “Great Garuda” is the charismatic megafauna of resilience infrastructures. About 40 percent of the city is below sea level, and regular flooding along the highly polluted rivers and colonial canals is a fact of life. In 2007, floods forced 300,000 evacuations and spurred new plans to fortify the city against rising waters. An international team led by the Dutch engineering firms Witteveen+Bos and Grontmij proposed to build the National Capital Integrated Coastal Development, which envisions artificial islands in the Jakarta Bay anchored by the world’s largest sea wall. The scheme, which resembles a garuda, the mythical bird that is a national symbol of Indonesia, is financed largely by private development on the islands, including a new Central Business District housing 1.5 million people.
Victor Coenen, the project manager for Witteveen+Bos, describes the NCICD as “one big polder,” referencing the Dutch strategy for enclosing land within dikes to artificially control its hydrology. Essentially, Jakarta Bay will be a bathtub, completely separated from the Java Sea; the city’s rivers will drain here and then be pumped out to the ocean. Critics argue that disrupting the hydrology will harm local fisheries, trap polluted waters within the city, and exacerbate flooding outside the wall. In response to these concerns, as well as allegations of corruption, the sea wall was redesigned to be a mere(!) 30 km long. Now nearing completion, it will be Jakarta’s iron lung, requiring a whole secondary life-support system of pumps and drainage systems. To prevent retention areas from becoming polluted “black lagoons,” the city will need major sanitation upgrades, which are being led by German and Japanese partners. Getting the various projects to play well together, on time and within scope, is an immense challenge.
Let’s start in Jakarta, where the “Great Garuda” is the charismatic megafauna of resilience infrastructures. About 40 percent of the city is below sea level, and regular flooding along the highly polluted rivers and colonial canals is a fact of life. In 2007, floods forced 300,000 evacuations and spurred new plans to fortify the city against rising waters. An international team led by the Dutch engineering firms Witteveen+Bos and Grontmij proposed to build the National Capital Integrated Coastal Development, which envisions artificial islands in the Jakarta Bay anchored by the world’s largest sea wall. The scheme, which resembles a garuda, the mythical bird that is a national symbol of Indonesia, is financed largely by private development on the islands, including a new Central Business District housing 1.5 million people.
Victor Coenen, the project manager for Witteveen+Bos, describes the NCICD as “one big polder,” referencing the Dutch strategy for enclosing land within dikes to artificially control its hydrology. Essentially, Jakarta Bay will be a bathtub, completely separated from the Java Sea; the city’s rivers will drain here and then be pumped out to the ocean. Critics argue that disrupting the hydrology will harm local fisheries, trap polluted waters within the city, and exacerbate flooding outside the wall. In response to these concerns, as well as allegations of corruption, the sea wall was redesigned to be a mere(!) 30 km long. Now nearing completion, it will be Jakarta’s iron lung, requiring a whole secondary life-support system of pumps and drainage systems. To prevent retention areas from becoming polluted “black lagoons,” the city will need major sanitation upgrades, which are being led by German and Japanese partners. Getting the various projects to play well together, on time and within scope, is an immense challenge.
by Lizzie Yarina, Places Journal | Read more:
Image: KuiperCompagnons
