Fire and rescue workers attempt to prepare for the chaos of a real quake at this year's earthquake preparation drills, held by the Tokyo Metropolitan Government

History repeating
September 1, 1923. The day started off with hard rain and clouds. Around noon, as the skies began to clear and Tokyoites around the city sat down at home and in restaurants for lunch, the city was struck by one of the most violent quakes in its history. From its epicenter in Sagami Bay, south of Shizuoka Prefecture, the quake, measuring 8.3 on the Richter scale, left the cities of Tokyo and Yokohama in ruins. 75% of all buildings suffered severe structural collapse. Over the next two days there were over 1500 aftershocks. The quake was followed five minutes later by a huge tsunami (tidal wave) and the fires that flared from the burning stoves and broken gas pipes plagued the city for three days. 30,000 refugees were killed when their camp was engulfed by a fire storm as they sheltered on the banks of the Sumida River. 140,000 people died in the disaster, known as the Great Kanto Earthquake.

They say history never repeats itself. But lying directly along one of the most active fault lines in the world, Tokyo is again due for an earthquake on a scale similar to the 1923 disaster. It could happen next week; it could happen next year; it could not happen until 2050. Nobody knows - and that's the problem, because fear of earthquakes lies not only in the danger they pose to human life, but also in their unpredictability.

In 1965 the Japanese government declared the attainment of some means of predicting earthquakes to be a national project, and since then about JY200 billion has been invested to that end. In reality it was a cheap option, far more economical than paying for the strengthening and rebuilding of houses and infrastructure to make them quake-proof. The earthquake in Kobe, a city previously considered to be at minimal risk, all but discredited the project. Many former supporters now admit that the project is to all intents and purposes futile.

The 1994 Kobe earthquake was a warning to the authorities that Tokyo was not ready enough photo: Zita Ohe

A 1995 report on the estimated damage of a major Kanto earthquake by Oyo RMS consultancy predicts an event 10 to 16 times more damaging than the 1994 Kobe earthquake, itself responsible for 6,398 casualties and JY10 trillion of damage. It is a crisis which beggars belief. Less houses being constructed out of wood these days, the damage is predicted to be far less than in 1923. However, fires still remain a threat. Much of Tokyo's old reclaimed land remains vulnerable to liquification (where the shaking ground causes the soil to sink and the water content to rise to the top, as happens when one gently pats damp sand on the beach). Some of Tokyo's major industrial plants containing hazardous materials are constructed on just such land.

The predicted figures are mind-boggling: Up to JY330 trillion of economic damage with the loss of between 44% and 70% of Japan's GDP. The consequences that would have for the global economy are equally as worrying. On a human level, Oyo RMS estimates 80,000 to 100,000 serious injuries and 30,000 to 60,000 casualties. It is a scenario which almost makes you want to pack your bags and head home straight away. But for most Tokyoites that is not an option. The danger of an earthquake is a reality we all have to live with.

The Kobe lesson
Most of us have never experienced a major earthquake, which makes our fears somewhat ungrounded, based on a worst-case-scenario mentality. Jhelp (formerly The Japan Helpline) has assisted after every earthquake for the last ten years, and currently has four rescue teams working in Turkey. Ken Joseph Jr., the organization's founder and director, went to Kobe in 1994 as soon as news of that earthquake reached Tokyo. In his experience, people should not worry themselves about the faint possibility of dying in an earthquake; people should get ready so that they are best prepared for the chaos one would cause. "The problem is that everything falls apart; you just can't move," Joseph says. "Driving into Kobe was like being in a war movie: fallen pylons, derelict buildings - the road would just stop, blocked. So we'd have to back up and find a route around."

photo: Beezer

This chaotic breakdown applied not just to old buildings and infrastructure but also to command chains and emergency plans, no matter how thorough. One of the problems is that, after a disaster, there are generally too many professionals. Various specialists fly in expecting to be able to assist in their particular field, but are unable to think on the spot about what is really needed in that particular situation. In Kobe there were teams from around the world who came to help, yet none spoke Japanese, and they could do little more than roam the streets trying to help when and where they could. Even the Japanese emergency team, which has been going abroad to help earthquake rescue missions for the past nine years, never actually rescued anyone until last month in Turkey. "These people often end up sitting around, literally doing nothing," says Joseph. "Then at the other end of the spectrum there are the people who are too shocked to do anything. And in the middle there's just a lot of work to be done!"

Another problem is the distribution of emergency supplies. Trucks and lorries turn up day and night without warning and supplies tend to pile up randomly. Jhelp has one team which concentrates exclusively on distributing these supplies. Another group works in portable kitchens, another in the gymnasiums and evacuation centers, one works in the disaster center making lists of missing people and another on bikes riding around the city looking for those people.

All rescue efforts can be hampered by communication difficulties. Phone lines into Kobe were brought down and the only way to call in was on the portable phones Jhelp brought with them, and the forty satellite phones they were given by Motorola on the second day. "We were the only non-government organization allowed into the central disaster office," says Joseph. "We immediately called CNN and BBC and had them put our numbers on screen and we spent two weeks taking calls from all over the world. We would take a call from Auckland saying, 'My son lived at Nagata 5-3-6,' so we'd call up one of the guys on bicycles and he'd find the place and check that he was okay. A particularly good thing was that people would leave notes on their doors saying 'we're at this address' or 'everyone in this building is okay' or 'so-and-so is in hospital,' and so on."

Community counts

This sense of everyone pulling together is what is most valuable in the immediate aftermath of an earthquake. Instead of relying on the nominal authorities, those best prepared for dealing with the disruption of a quake are those who belong to a strong community. Within a community there is everything necessary for everyone to survive easily. As well as sharing resources and being able to keep track of fellow members of the group, a community, whether geographical or not, should have access to all necessary services - a post office, a convenience store, a church or shelter, a pharmacy, etc. - and the national network of those services around the city, around Japan, and further afield.

Sometimes it's hard to take the threat of an earthquake seriously, but everyone should be properly prepared photo: Beezer

According to Joseph, the people who found it easiest to get through the Kobe disaster were those who belonged to a strong community: Indians, Koreans, Chinese, Vietnamese and so on. The burakumin (outcast) Japanese were also amongst the strongest. "Really it is the Americans, the British and all the G7 nationalities who are most in danger," he adds, "because they really don't belong to any community whatsoever." Even the embassies are of little practical use, most positively refusing to open their doors to their citizens should a major earthquake hit.

One lesson from Kobe and elsewhere is that disasters like a major quake, with such unpredictable consequences, require quick thinking and fast action, something which governments are simply unable to do. In Ken Joseph's experience, the government often seems to have no concern about people having died; rather they are fearful that "the system" has collapsed. "They are fearful of what the people may do if left alone. They say, 'We've got to get the police back on the streets patrolling. Who knows what the people might do if left on their own?' In a way it's like the Emperor's New Clothes: the government is powerless so the people just get up and get on with it, and then they realize, 'Hey! We don't need you after all!'"

These misplaced priorities are well illustrated by Jhelp's experience at the earthquake in Okushiri, Hokkaido, in 1993. When the Jhelp team arrived at the city hall, the survivors and families of the victims were huddled outside on crushed cardboard boxes whilst the authorities sat inside the warm building having a sort of small lunch party. "So the first thing we did," Joseph recalls, "was go in and push the party way back, take all their food and drink and invite all the families inside. And they could do nothing to stop us, because they knew we were right!"

The government's most useful role comes before in terms of preparation, and after in terms of long-term reconstruction. Thinking that the government will sort everything out for you in the event of a quake is dangerously complacent, and is commonplace in Japan where people generally rely more on government and think less for themselves than in many other countries.

Preparing for the unpreparable
Tokyo and Yokohama authorities say they are well prepared for a large earthquake. The Kobe experience was a firm reminder to those in authority that Japan was not ready enough. There is some debate as to how accurate these assurances are. Some who have visited stockpiles and emergency centers have been shocked by the lack of adequate supplies, including basics like food and water.

Preparing for the worst - but will it be enough? photo: Beezer

Tokyo's authorities insist that each ward has ample emergency supplies, effective evacuation plans and that each will be able to cope without problem. On a metropolitan scale, Tokyo and Yokohama are equipped with a network of seismic sensors and monitoring devices which will be able to assess the scale of damage across both cities within minutes, which buildings are most likely to be damaged, which fire stations, hospitals and other emergency service centers have been affected and where rescue efforts should be focused. Every September 1, the anniversary of the Great Kanto Earthquake, drills are performed in schools, homes and offices around the country, and each ward of Tokyo carries out its own practice exercises at various times throughout the year. Since Kobe, most infrastructure has been checked and reinforced. Modern buildings are generally accepted - if built according to the 1981 building codes - to be substantially earthquake resistant. Of course there are exceptions, and no one will know until the event how earthquake-proof these structures are. Who can forget the images of the Kobe expressway shaken onto its side? Hopefully it is a scenario that will not be repeated in Tokyo. But no one can be sure - that is the real problem, and the only real lesson from the past.