‘The only way Nepal can pay these debts is to take out new loans’

25 Sep 2015

‘The only way Nepal can pay these debts is to take out new loans’

By Patrick Ward

In the wake of the earthquake, Nepal has been promised $4 billion in aid by the international community. Much of this money is yet to materialise, primarily because the political process in the country was paralysed by ongoing debates over the new constitution. With the constitution now enacted, it is expected that aid money will finally reach Nepal, and be put to use in the reconstruction of infrastructure.

But there is a catch.

Nepal, which is the 22nd poorest country in the world in terms of  average national income, has a debt that currently stands at $3.5 billion. And despite the disaster, this has not been written off by international creditors.

Not just that. The International Monetary Fund, one of Nepal’s lenders, expect the nation to pay back the debt in full, as the disaster was not severe enough to ‘qualify’ for debt relief. This, says Tim Jones of the Jubilee Debt Campaign, is not only counterproductive but simply “outrageous”. In this interview with Patrick Ward, the policy officer of the London-based JDC, which specialises in campaigns for cancelling unjust debts in the developing world, speaks about the debt trap that Nepal is in.

How big a burden is international debt on Nepal?

Nepal this year will be spending $210 million on debt repayments, and obviously on top of all the damage caused by the earthquake that’s money that it can’t afford. The other danger is that lots of the international assistance that comes is going to be in the form of loans from people like the World Bank and Asian Development Bank, so that further adds to the debt. It means that the cost of the crisis continues for many years to come.

Of the financial assistance to Nepal over the five years from 2009 to 2013, Nepal received $1.7 billion, 33 per cent, in loans, and $3.5 billion, 66 per cent, in grants. Of the $4.4 billion pledged since the earthquake, at the donor conference, half is apparently grants, half loans.

Who is the money owed to?

Of Nepal’s $3.5 billion external debt, $1.5 billion is owed to the World Bank and $1.4 billion to the Asian Development Bank, institutions owned by governments around the world. If the debt was cancelled they say they would have to find the money from somewhere else. But they actually make a profit on various forms of lending elsewhere, so they would be able to cover the costs through that. They have lots of pockets of free money lying around.

“It’s outrageous how the international community keep requiring these payments to be made, then are able to get lots of positive publicity for themselves as they talk about how much money they’re going to give.”

Unfortunately, there hasn’t been any let-up in repayments. Another institution, the International Monetary Fund, is owed less by Nepal, but it’s still owed something. They, after the Haiti earthquake in 2010, created a scheme to cancel debts following a catastrophe. They’ve actually said in this instance that Nepal’s earthquakes were not catastrophic enough for Nepal to qualify for debt relief. So they expect Nepal to pay back their debts in full, which we think is absolutely outrageous. It’s outrageous how the international community keep requiring these payments to be made, then are able to get lots of positive publicity for themselves as they talk about how much money they’re going to give. But it isn’t really mentioned that those are loans as well.

What sort of strings are attached to the loans given out by these bodies?

One of the historical reasons why they don’t like to cancel debt is that it gives them control over what governments do. It means external control over government budgets. The only way Nepal can pay these debts is to take out new loans, and with new loans, governments have to implement policies that the IMF and World Bank tell them to implement. Historically it’s been things like requiring publicly owned enterprises to be privatised, opening up to international trade, deregulating the economy, removing things like labour laws and reducing the power of trade unions. If then a country defaults, it becomes an international pariah. People stop giving money.

Greece is a case for this. It has seen massive public sector cuts over the past five years, the economy has shrunk by 25 per cent. Jamaica is another country in debt crisis. The IMF, which is seen as a gatekeeper, demanded a 7.5 per cent primary surplus, so lots of austerity. That’s been going on for the past 20 years. The number of children in primary schools in Jamaica has dropped from 100 per cent to 75 per cent in that time.

What can people do to change this?

We’ve supported a call by 30 organisations across Asia, and around 200 organisations internationally, calling for Nepal’s debt to be cancelled following the earthquake and for any international assistance to be given as grants, not loans. In the UK, more than 5,000 people have written to the UK’s representatives at the World Bank and Asian Development Bank, calling on them to cancel the debt.

22 Sep 2015

‘We want to continue with relief in Nepal, we want to do a lot, but the process needs to be made easier’

By Ankita Mishra

The aftershocks are dying out now in Nepal and, for most people, the initial danger is over. But there are still thousands living in temporary shelters, struggling for basic necessities. With the monsoon retreating, and in the context of a new political appetite for reconstruction, there is hope that now the country can move forward to a more durable future.

One person who has been involved in relief work in Nepal from the very beginning is Ramon Magsaysay winner Anshu Gupta. Gupta, who won the prestigious award for his exemplary social work in July 2015, is the founder of Goonj, a non-governmental organisation that seeks to provide clothing and other essentials to the poorer sections of Indian society. In April, Gupta had led Goonj’s relief efforts in Nepal in what was the group’s first foray into international aid work. In this interview with Ankita Mishra, Gupta speaks about his plans for Nepal, bureaucratic hurdles, and the extent of infrastructure reconstruction that is needed.

On raising aid for relief efforts in Nepal:

Raising aid and relief materials was not a challenge, as people in India have faith in Goonj and the work we do. And in times of disasters, there is no dearth of people willing to help. Donations, both monetary and material, came in from all parts of the country, and we certainly appreciated the exceptional quality of some of the materials that were sent in.

On coordinating aid efforts in Nepal:

Nepal has quite a few Ashoka fellows who are doing a good job. Some of them knew us, knew me personally, and the organisation, from earlier. We worked with all the possible Ashoka fellows, in Sindhupalchok, Gorkha, Barpak, Dading and many other areas, and we also worked with many other voluntary aid organisations. Instead of doing it directly, we conducted aid work only through local organisations that were registered before the disaster, as per the rules formulated by the local government. While we did go there, to supervise and deliver aid, we coordinated efforts on the ground with the local organisations.

On reaching affected areas in remote parts of Nepal:

We were able to travel extensively with the help of local communities, although it was particularly risky in some areas. Already tough terrain was made even more difficult by frequent landslides, with many villages completely cut off. Aid was transported to these places through choppers hired by other organisations, and we provided the material to be transported. We told the local organisations not to spend money on material aid since that was something we could take care of effectively, and instead asked them to spend it on hiring choppers so that things could be reached to remote places where aid was needed the most. This system worked well, and served to increase our reach. We deployed 45 fully loaded trucks of absolutely need-based material. Hardly anything has gone there which is of no use to the people or the culture there, because our work revolves around material, so we do understand those cultural and geographical sensitivities. We are a core believer of the principle that you should not give something that people don’t need.

On volunteerism in Nepal:

We worked with a lot of new sets of volunteers. I think that is really, really beautiful about Nepal. The kind of volunteerism that we saw was unprecedented, and it remained active for very long. The youth were really dedicated and passionate, reaching out to the extremely needy areas, and devoted their full time without worrying about their jobs or their personal safety. This was immensely encouraging to see. We made sure to support these volunteer groups, which are a bit more unstructured than the other more established organisations. But we knew that they were very passionate about helping fellow Nepalis and could reach out to the remote and affected parts of Nepal.

A view of Sankhu, one of the villages that suffered severe destruction in the Nepal earthquake. Photo: Pushkala Aripaka

A view of Sankhu, a village in the Kathmandu valley, that suffered severe destruction. Photo: Pushkala Aripaka

On bureaucratic hurdles:

The Nepali government needs to be more open to support… there’s lots of bureaucratic hiccups and long series of permissions required. Agencies like ours with lots of resources, we can generate more, and people are willing to provide support, but government processes proved to be major hurdles at times. Initially, our trucks that contained relief materials were stopped at the border and sent to the Nepal Transport Corporation, and accessing our own aid became a huge challenge. Trucks bound for specific areas, and aid designated for particular local organisations, had no surety of reaching the specified destinations unless we actively tracked it. We subsequently posted two of our people on the border to manage the chaos surrounding the clearance of trucks, which ideally should have been streamlined by the local systems in place.

Another challenge was getting aid to areas through the suggested system of Community Building Organisations (CBOs) in Nepal’s towns and villages. The CBOs were already inundated with various jobs and responsibilities in light of the disaster. Therefore, it was becoming increasingly impossible for them to handle everything.

The most befuddling aspect of the entire ordeal was the fact that we were asked to pay custom duties and tax for the aid we were bringing into Nepal. It is sad if people spend so much of money buying something, putting in so much effort, working day and night, and distributing aid free of cost, but end up paying such huge customs duties at the border, even for aid. How many people will end up paying 20-25% duty and VAT when with the same money you can do so much more?

We want to continue participating in relief efforts in Nepal, we want to do a lot, but the process needs to be made easier. Presently, the process is such that you have to first set up an MoU with a local Nepali aid organisation, then get the approval for aid work in certain areas from the local Public Works Committees and welfare councils in Nepal. Once this approval comes through, you have to apply to the Central Board of Direct Taxation (CBDT) in India. CBDT will subsequently send the application to the Indian Embassy in Nepal. The Indian Embassy, on approving the application, will send it to the Ministry of External Affairs (MEA) in India. The MEA will then forward the approval to the CBDT, and the CBDT will finally convey the same to you. The process is so long-drawn and complicated that even if the application comes through successfully, it would have possibly taken three months or longer. In emergency situations where immediate action needs to be taken, this hinders efforts to reach timely help to affected areas. And if any one agency, any one office in Nepal or in India has some kind of objection over a single, even miniscule point, the entire thing will fall apart.

When people and countries are willing to send aid, which is very much required right now because it is a large-scale disaster which needs a lot of support to mitigate, the processes involved should be less complicated. It is true, however, that the government officials were quite cooperative in many areas, and certainly all aid work would not be possible without official support. However, the bottlenecks within bureaucratic and government processes need to be removed in order to increase the efficiency of the aid delivery process. And this problem is not only endemic to Nepal, it happens everywhere. “You come and we’ll approve”, simple as this approach is, does not happen anywhere in the world, even during times of disasters.

On the situation in Nepal, what needs to be done:

The situation is extremely bad, with many villages having experienced complete and utter devastation. There is very little left in so many areas. Rampant migration and a whole lot of other problems still exist in Nepal. In any case, whether it is India or Nepal, we are not very rich countries; we have rich parts of the country, and then we have large parts that are poor. We need to rebuild houses, schools. Not just infrastructure, we need to rebuild an entire schooling system. Even a single pencil is needed… the disaster is of that level. It has brought everything to zero. Infrastructure rebuilding is certainly needed because until and unless those things are restored, Nepal will take much longer to come back on its feet. However, infrastructure rebuilding is a large-scale operation; the Nepali government, with the help of much bigger agencies, needs to do it.

On resilient Nepalis:

In countries like ours [India and Nepal], we have very resilient people; we learn how to survive. People like us, if we had to stand in the rain for two days, I don’t know whether we’d survive or not, but thousands of people in both countries know how to survive. If you live in a tin shed located on shaky land, you still go to school, you still go to work, you still do whatever you need to in order to survive. The positive thing about the whole operation was that the people of Nepal are very resilient, and their determination to persevere despite all odds was inspiring. It is in times of disasters that the true strength and character of a people are revealed, and Nepal was no exception.

On lessons on complacency:

India is also a very disaster prone country where disasters like the one in Nepal can, and have occurred. One thing that we need to be really mindful of as a nation is that nothing happens in this country in the name of urgency. We tend to wait for things to happen before we act. The disaster in Nepal was made much more worse than otherwise due to the faulty and inadequate structures that were built to house people. We must understand the importance of being cautious and acting fast, of being proactive rather than reactive.

Home | Stories

22 Sep 2015

‘We were friends before, but were not so close’

By Aman Jaswal

“We were friends before, but were not so close. We were busy with our own lives. We used to talk when we met each other. But one thing I am happy about is that the earthquake has shown us the importance of life. I worry about Vijay when he is not around and there is an aftershock. I think he does that, too.”

At https://www.housebuyers.app/oregon/house-buyers-near-me-roseburg-or/, you can connect with experienced home buyers who can provide a fair cash offer for your New Mexico property.

Photo: Aman Jaswal

18 Sep 2015

In Sindhupalchok, It’s Like The Earthquake Struck Yesterday

By Patrick Ward

THE ROAD THROUGH Sindhupalchok is now clear of rubble, but only just. It takes careful navigation to get past the sections ravaged by recent landslides, where, weakened by the earthquake and exposed to the near-daily onslaught of the ongoing monsoon, the mountain face along the 144-km Araniko highway from Kathmandu to the border town of Kodari continues to pose a constant danger.

Yet one cannot but admire the beauty of the Panchkal valley as it unfolds. The highway, weary with traffic when we left Kathmandu, had melted into stunning scenery—rolling hills and red-rocked mountains decorated with lush greenery spread out before me in waves, alongside tributaries of the river Indrawati. It was like something out of a picture book, an everyday natural beauty, raw and rugged, that you don’t get to see often.

Much of the international media’s post-earthquake reporting was focused on the capital and on Everest, places best known and most regularly frequented by foreign visitors. They suffered hugely, and while there was widespread devastation to both lives and property in the two places, the concentration of destruction was little compared to elsewhere in the country. Sindhupalchok is the worst-affected district. Of the estimated 8,702 earthquake deaths across Nepal, 3,440 were in Sindhupalchok, the highest number in any district. This is nearly three times more than in Kathmandu, which—with a death toll of 1,222—bore the second biggest brunt of the disaster. The number acquires more significance when you factor in that while Kathmandu has a population of around 1 million, Sindhupalchok has roughly 300,000. In other words, this rural district lost more than 1 per cent of its population in the quake. Along with this, an estimated 90 per cent of houses were damaged or destroyed.

The scale of this disaster became more visible once we travelled some 50 km from Kathmandu. Our destination was Bahrabise, one of the worst-hit places in the district, some 22 km before the Tibetan border. As our sturdy Scorpio crossed the Indrawati, I could see a spate of damaged buildings along the way. Much of the route was still stained with the orange-red dust of previously cleared landslides, with the occasional outcropping of mud and rocks jutting out ominously on to the pot-holed road.

As we approached Lamosanghu, small shops began to spring up by the roadside. All around lay huge piles of debris. Houses, some with whole sides damaged beyond repair, stood by. The road was blocked by a large digger, tipping smashed masonry into a truck and villagers worked to clear debris in the pounding midday sun. Dust from the rubble hung heavily in the air. There were people washing themselves from a hose pipe, scrubbing their clothes against rocks in the gutter. To see the storeys-high piles of bricks, cement and twisted metal, it was difficult to believe that work had gone on for a long time. It looked like the earthquake occurred yesterday, not four months ago.

Eliza Khatri, a staff nurse in Lamosanghu

Eliza Khatri, a staff nurse at the Langosanghu Health Camp, attended to many earthquake victims. Some were so traumatised that they wanted to die, rather than heal. Photo: Ashma Gautam

When we spoke to the villagers, it became clear the panic of the initial days have subsided. In its place was a stoicism borne of necessity, which had transformed into diligent hard work, to clear the rubble, to rebuild their lives. The physical and mental injuries were also beginning to heal. “It was very disheartening in the beginning,” said Eliza Khatri, the staff nurse at the Lamosanghu Health Camp, who has been here for the past two months. “People who had nobody left in their families would be the most depressed… It’s better these days. There’s been a lot of progress in most cases.”

The earthquake is only the most recent disaster for the inhabitants of this hilly area. One of my colleagues would later report that a villager she met had seen her home destroyed four times in recent years, the first three times by landslides, and now by the earthquake. Destruction and reconstruction were, for many, a painfully regular feature of life. Another woman, Sushma Shrestha, said, “I am worried about the future. I’m worried about landslides and where to go from here and how to build my house again.”

It is understood in these parts that it probably won’t be long before the next devastating act of nature occurs. And you could see the reason behind that sentiment in the landscape: as we left Lamosanghu and continued along the highway to Bahrabise, the main road suddenly became rough terrain, uneven and curving through large piles of large, white rocks. To our right ran the Sunkoski River, which flows from Tibet. In the mud banks to its left, only slightly higher than river level, stood a house. But only the top floor was visible, the lower floor—or floors—were now metres below the mud. Next to it stood a lone electricity pylon. I initially thought that this too had been a product of the earthquake, but I was wrong. It had happened last August, when the side of the mountain towering over us broke free and deposited 5.5 million cubic metres of rock and earth across the road and into the river, cutting off more than 5 km of the highway, and, for a time, the river itself. The landslide caused 156 deaths and the amassed water created a large lake, and caused floods as far away as northern India. It took more than a month for the army to clear the blocked river. Nature had not been kind to the people of Sindhupalchok, even before the earthquake.

The main road in Bahrabise, Sindhupalchowk, four months after the earthquake. Piles of rubble and building materials line the road.

There is a semblance of normalcy on the main road of Bahrabise. But look closely and you see there is barely a structure here that is undamaged. Photo: Patrick Ward

BAHRABISE was in a similar state as Lamosanghu. Shops were open. There were places you could grab a bite to eat. But this was against the backdrop of piles of rubble, which still blocked many entrances. Most buildings bore the scars of the earthquake. Several had bricks protruding from damaged fronts, while others had partially collapsed under their own weight and stayed propped up precariously by wooden supports. Villagers were clearing rubble, fitting gates to driveways, and standing on top of dangerous half-demolished buildings, knocking away brickwork into the street below by hand.

As I watched, a large bus arrived, and people disembarked carrying large bags of rice and other essentials. The vital highway—the only route through the area to Tibet, some 20 km north—was now clear, but for a long time it hadn’t been. Villagers described how, after the earthquake, the road was lost to sight entirely; how clearing it had been a priority, for the blockade had cut off the area from the rest of the country.

Many of the villagers still lived in temporary shelters. Through the gaps between the buildings and the foliage behind, I could make out a hill dotted with multicoloured tents. We walked towards it, crossing a pile of rubble, then up a steep pathway, till a field opened up. There were dozens of tents there. Dogs and goats trotted around freely by the camp. In the background stood steep, majestic green hills.

In front of the camp stood a large, white UNICEF medical tent. Next to that, a small shelter converted into a shop, selling sweets, cigarettes, and strips of paan. A few metres behind, a young woman, Rachana, used her tent as a tailoring business. “The earthquake damaged my shop, so now I run it from the shelter,” she said. “But here I don’t get as many customers as I did previously.” 

When she first moved to her tent after the quake, Rachana said she cried everyday for almost a month. “We have no proper ceiling, no proper floor, no furniture here,” she said, as she measured and chalked fabric. “It’s hard to sleep because of the cold floor and the noise of bugs.”

Among the inhabitants, there was frustration at the government for not being proactive in tackling reconstruction programmes. There was also some bitterness, particularly as some villagers felt the government had directed its attention first to saving foreigners from the disaster. Raju, a young man standing near the makeshift shop, lost his friend in the earthquake when a falling rock struck his head. “It isn’t right that foreigners were saved first,” he said. “We live here, so we deserved help.”

But there was also a sense among the inhabitants that they had to be proactive if they were to get by. Their shops and businesses had collapsed, along with their housing. The small businesses growing out of the camp were their attempt to address that.

A house still buried under rubble, four months after the Nepal earthquake in Bahrabise, Sindhupalchok. There were many similar sights en route to this village, and the task that faces these villagers is more than daunting. Photo: Unnat Sapkota

The villagers of Bahrabise need to first clear piles of rubble before they can rebuild their houses. There were similar sights along the road from Kathmandu to this village. Photo: Unnat Sapkota

Though not initially apparent, the trauma people had gone through broke out every now and again. One woman spoke of how she had been trapped in her collapsed house, with debris pinning her down by the arm. She kept holding her arm, and repeating how it hurt. Others were simply grateful that their initial fears of losing family members had proved unfounded. Rachana, the seamstress, described her feeling when she found her husband was alive, “It was like the miracle of my life.”

As the villagers worked stoically with whatever tools they had to clear rubble and rebuild, the sheer scale of the task ahead seemed more than daunting. Without houses, hospitals, schools and other vital instruments of a civil society, there was a level of despair in their bravery. And with a cold winter coming, as well as the ever-present danger of landslides, not to mention earthquakes, there is every possibility that without adequate attention, the situation in Sindhupalchok could get worse still.

The sun was still hot when we left Bahrabise. People were clearing debris, carrying away sacks filled with rubble on their backs. Our return ride to Kathmandu was long, and we sat for much of the time in silence. As the sun set against a purple sky over the green hills, I could see mounds of rubble punctuating the view around us. The mounds were once houses. Each had a story, each had inhabitants. Many of the inhabitants will now be living in shelters. Many others will never see a sunset again.

Additional reporting: Enika Rai, Unnat Sapkota, Preeti Karna, Ashma Gautam and Bidhur Dhakal.

17 Sep 2015

‘Sometimes when Emisha asks about her mother, silence kills us both’

By Mandira Dulal

“Her name was Mithu, Mithu Parajuli. You know what Mithu means? Mithu means ‘sweet’. My sister was sweet to everyone, but she was not sweet enough for God. That’s why God gave her a cruel death. She was inside the rubble for two days. It took nine years for her to build a happy family, with a son and a daughter. But it didn’t take even a second to destroy that happiness. Her husband was injured, her children lost their mother. Of the two, I brought Emisha with me. When I look into this little girl’s face, I see my sister. Sometimes when Emisha asks about her mother, silence kills us both.”

Photo: Mandira Dulal

16 Sep 2015

‘They put on a brave face to help other people, but they have private disasters of their own’

By Namita Rao

“One of the things about disasters is that people tend to forget that those who make the decisions, people in the government and local leaders, have experienced the same disaster too. Their families, their homes have all been affected. Yet they are still out there as public servants, doing their job. They put on a brave face to help other people, but they have private disasters of their own.”

Photo: Ritu Panchal

12 Sep 2015

‘All our hazards have become disasters because of mismanagement’

By Patrick Ward

Crisis situations invariably bring up questions about how they are communicated to the world, and often what is highlighted is the lack of preparedness in this area. Scholars highlight several challenges that are common to crises: among them, issues of accuracy from amidst the ‘fog’ of a calamitous event, an overemphasis on death and destruction to create more dramatic narratives, and at times even deliberate misinformation.

In the wake of the April 25 earthquake in Nepal, the way information was shared, particularly in the media, has come under criticism. For one, lack of accurate communication, in a post-earthquake situation such as that exists in the Himalayan country, could mean that relief is unevenly distributed. A challenge specific to Nepal was that community radio stations, on which a significant proportion of the population rely on for news, were hit badly, with 61 stations seeing their premises damaged.

It is not surprising then that disaster management and crisis communication have acquired a new importance in Nepal in the last four months, particularly in light of the country’s continued vulnerability to earthquake. In this interview, Patrick Ward speaks to Dr Sudhamshu Dahal, Assistant Professor of Strategic Communication at the Kathmandu University, who is working to ensure that Nepal is better prepared in terms of strategic communications. Dr Dahal now strives to stimulate governmental and academic discussions in Nepal so as to create a model for crisis communication. Edited excerpts from a conversation in which he speaks of the need for a national crisis communication strategy, the necessity of crisis journalism training for the media, and how the aftermath of the earthquake is being normalised:

What is the current state of developing a model for crisis communications in Nepal? How are the ideas being developed after the earthquake?

Largely crisis communication comes under the corporate branch of communication studies, as part of PR and the field of advertising. They will be the experts, but they look at crisis communication for companies, within the corporate. I am trying to take crisis communications out of the corporate sector and to relate it to natural and man-made crises. Those ideas of having a uniform platform for information sharing might work well in time of natural disasters like earthquakes.

Could you elaborate on your thoughts on what is needed?

I was involved in a study that assessed the status of media and journalists in eight of the worst-affected districts in Nepal, and one of the compelling recommendations that came out of it was that journalists should be given training in how to report during such crises. The media here had some training during the Maoist movement—on how to to do conflict reporting, on peace journalism, things like that. But they don’t know how to report on disasters, do crisis reporting. These journalists said that during the time of the insurgency you can have some level of expectation: Maoists are coming from this side, government forces are coming from that side, and here could be my safe line, where I can put myself safely and do my reporting. But with earthquakes you cannot predict like that. This unpredictability can put you in danger.

“These problems are exacerbated because of parachute journalists. The foreign media are coming and reporting and you feel pressure to do something on par, if not more, than the foreign journalists.”

The other point, which is quite pressing, was what to report. You see everywhere everything falling, and you see the human casualties, you see the property damage and sometimes you see mass casualties. Your relatives may have died. What is the news at that time? There is also pressure from the family and the demands from your news organisation. The news organisation asks you to report more, do more, and your family will be very concerned that you want to go out. You are also concerned for your family because your home has been destroyed and you have nowhere to stay. You might be staying in a temporary shelter. How do you move around and report with all that?

These problems are exacerbated because of parachute journalists. The foreign media are coming and reporting and you feel pressure to do something on par, if not more, than the foreign journalists. The final pressure boils down to the journalists in the field, local stringers, maybe local reporters. So how do you do journalism within all this? That’s one area where they would like to have some kind of training.

How are the ideas on crisis communication being received?

There is a larger understanding now that we need to have a coordinated effort. The only fear would be how to balance information control and the freedom of expression that you need to exercise as a journalist. Media organisations are now thinking of making a kind of backpack for the journalists, with a torch, a radio, etc. What I am telling these people is, what you are doing is a novel thing, it’s a good thing—but you also need to give some training. More than the equipment, journalists want some discussions. Most journalists are asking for indigenous experts to tell them how to do crisis journalism. They are not expecting foreign journalists to come and give training, because the foreigner may not understand the situation here. What has happened elsewhere cannot be replicated here. They already had a good exposure during the Maoist insurgency, a lot of training happened. All those trainings did not help when the earthquake struck. Maybe this is the time we developed our own training and have our own indigenous knowledge in place.

Worked continue to rebuild temples in Patan. Much of the world's media focused on the damaged and destroyed cultural heritage sites after the earthquake, giving a sense of blanket devastation across Nepal.

Reconstruction continues in Kathmandu’s Patan area. There was much focus on damaged and destroyed cultural heritage sites, giving a sense of blanket devastation across Nepal. Photo: Patrick Ward

How effective was the Nepali media’s response to the earthquake?

Nepal had just come out of a 10-year armed conflict, and journalists came out of that knowing political crisis reporting. But the need was different here, because as the popular saying goes, ‘Earthquakes don’t kill, but bad infrastructures do’. This is exactly what happened to the media. For most of the radio stations, they had to put off their transmissions because they were in very bad buildings. For many media in Kathmandu, as well as in the severely affected districts, equipment were damaged. And there had been big personal losses as well—when you have a personal loss, that will also affect your work.

Psychologically these journalists, the camera crews were prepared to deal with all sorts of emergencies, but the physical infrastructure was very weak. One good example was Radio Nepal. It’s a government-run radio service, a national broadcaster which reaches almost all the places in Nepal, and they were doing a fantastic job of reporting during the earthquake. They even reported at the time when it was still shaking, because they had very good infrastructure. Radio Nepal’s buildings and other communication infrastructures are largely supported by the government of Japan, who constructed very good, earthquake-resistant studios for them.

But the private media were kind of crippled. The big media houses, who had their own buildings, crumbled. For example, the Kantipur Group, which runs newspapers, television, radio—their building was destroyed. They shifted to a temporary place. Their offices have been demolished, and now they are constructing a new one. That was the status of the so-called most popular private media. The most popular private media would also mean the most rich media in Nepal—so you can imagine the status of the small radio stations which might have rented a few rooms in a flat. So most of them stopped. They were also unsure about the information that they were supposed to disseminate, because they didn’t have the resources on their own to report the reality from the ground.

Many people seemed to be following social media for the latest information, often rumours. Has this caused problems?

Rumours were the biggest worry. The information you get at the time of crisis could be termed as life-saving, because based on that information you decide which could be life-affecting. So rumours did play a major role in creating panic among the people, because the very day the earthquake first came on 25 April, for almost 72 hours we were feeling small and big jolts. So people who were gathered at one place dared not move out. The rumours got multiplied through the internet because access to it was pretty good. I saw the very first picture of the massive destruction when the Dharahara tower collapsed in Sundhara—I saw that first picture within the first two hours of the impact. The rumours also went that fast among the people.

The main rumour was that the next big one is coming, be prepared. There were also international rumours; we got this information from this scientist in the US or UK or elsewhere in Europe and they are saying, yes, brace yourself for the big one. Some of this information was true, but the way they were interpreted, they became rumours and people got panicked. In fact, a few people were using a hand mic and announcing that the next one is coming in two hours, so get yourself prepared, come out from the house. Later on we found out they were burglars who wanted to evacuate people, and they were finally arrested by the police. The worrisome part is we don’t have a central mechanism to counter these rumours. The government mechanism still does not put emphasis on using communication to do so.

What role has the international media played in the aftermath of the earthquake? Many have criticised the behaviour of the Indian media, especially.

There’s been a problem with the Indian media, which I’ll come to later, but there’s also been a problem with the international media because at the time of crisis, it does parachute journalism. You just parachute a journalist to a site. Many of them may have come for the first time to Nepal. They might have quickly googled Nepal and seen images on the internet. They were already reporting destruction of cultural heritage and densely populated areas, so the images they were sending back home for broadcast over international media gave the impression that everything’s been destroyed in Nepal. It was a disaster, almost 10,000 people died. But if you see the geographical area of the earthquake, the effect is not spread. It is concentrated in one area, and obviously many people have died and lots of buildings have been damaged. But it was not that severe as a polio outbreak or SARS. Each individual was affected, but not everyone was affected in the same way.

So far as the Indian media are concerned, they grew out of political reporting. So they only know about political reporting. If you look into the Indian media, you will see breaking news never stops. They used that same training here. We expected them to empathise more than the rest who came to report. Rather than that, they were digging sensational news out in this disaster. That was the biggest problem, and it shows that they are not trained at all in crisis reporting.

“We might not have expected the same if it was CNN or BBC or any other international media, but it was Indian media. So the expectation was very, very high.”

The Indian media was embedded within the Indian army rescue teams. Embedding journalists doesn’t work in disaster reporting. The Indian army was the first foreign help that arrived in Nepal. They arrived within six hours of the earthquake, and they were also embedding the Indian media. So some of the media personnel were the very first to reach affected sites. We might not have expected the same if it was CNN or BBC or any other international media, but it was Indian media. So people felt that rather than coming and asking lots of questions, they should have brought some medicine or relief supplies. When you analyse the Indian reporting on Nepal, you have to look at it from the social, cultural, and political relations between these two countries. So the expectation was very, very high. But the way they reported was very bad and they were not following any of the ethical guidelines. Very interestingly, they were condemned more by their own media critics at home than in Nepal.

Buildings are stabilised with supports following the Nepal Earthquake along this street in Kathmandu.

Weakened buildings have been temporarily stabilised and businesses now continue below. Despite concern about potential damage from aftershocks, there is also a sense of normalisation. Photo: Pushkala Aripaka

It’s a near daily occurrence to feel aftershocks from the earthquake, even four months later. Are they becoming normalised?

This is where we need to talk about culturally sensitive communication. Many times, when you have global indicators of safety and wellbeing, if you take those indicators and try to fit them into another part of the world, it may not work. We are getting so many aftershocks that either you have to run out all the time or you have to live with it. We have no other options.

The Seismological Centre of the Government of Nepal released data to commemorate three months of 25 April. During the first month following the earthquake, we had 1,300 aftershocks bigger than 2 magnitude each day. That came down to 100 by three months. They only report earthquakes of magnitude 4-plus to the people. Some of the aftershocks which were less than 4 were badly felt in Kathmandu itself. One, magnitude 3.3 which had an epicentre in Kathmandu, jolted us very bad. We thought it was big, big, big, and then when they released the data it was 3.3, not even 4. So it was against their policy to announce that result.

Even in the well-informed scientific authority of the government, they are finding it difficult to know how to report. They say we will put a 4 magnitude as a bar, below that we won’t report because it won’t give people any shock. But we felt the aftershocks that are less than that, so how do you really go about that?

“This earthquake could be a reference point for having a better disaster management policy, and communication could be a central element in all our disaster planning.”

It’s not been normalised in the sense that we have forgotten it or we are getting absentminded in preparing ourselves for the time of real danger. But maybe we are trying to learn to differentiate between the hazard and the disaster. We don’t have the terminology for hazard in Nepali. All our hazards have become disasters because of mismanagement. This is what happened in Haiti as well, it is what happened in India. But this didn’t happen in Japan when a month back there was an earthquake of nearly 8 magnitude. They were so prepared that the videos coming from YouTube showed that people were just standing still when they had been walking, and they were waiting some time for it to pass, and then they just carried on with their routine work. If that happens here, we would not do that. Life will have its own forwards and backwards and stills and leapfrogging, so maybe we are just thinking, if we worry too much, we cannot live. This possibility has been talked about for many years. But we never realised what it could do until it happened. Now that the disaster has happened, we actually realise we are in a high seismic zone, and that we have to be alert, and maybe try to find some kind of resilience.

So do you think this latest earthquake will lead to better preparation for the future?

Each individual in Nepal now want to make earthquake resistance a priority. I’ve seen some of my neighbours retrofitting their houses so that their houses stay safe. But this is a resource-constrained country. The government should have a policy where we can feel comfortable and confident and adapt our buildings for earthquake and other natural hazards. So this earthquake could be a reference point where we think of having a better disaster management policy, and communication could be a central element in all our disaster planning.

Home | Stories

More Posts