The current issue and full text archive of this journal is available on Emerald Insight at:
https://www.emerald.com/insight/0965-3562.htm
Reconceptualizing disaster phases
through a Metis-based approach
Rethinking
disaster phases
Joanne Perodin
Florida International University, Miami, Florida, USA
Zelalem Adefris
Catalyst Miami, Miami, Florida, USA
Mayra Cruz
University of Miami, Coral Gables, Florida, USA
Received 26 February 2021
Revised 23 July 2021
Accepted 20 August 2021
Nahomi Matos Rondon
N/A, Orlando, Florida, USA
Leonie Hermantin
Sant La Haitian Neighborhood Center, Miami, Florida, USA
Guadalupe De la Cruz
American Friends Service Committee, Miami, Florida, USA
Nazife Emel Ganapati
Public Policy and Administration,
Steven J. Green School of International and Public Affairs,
Florida International University, Miami, Florida, USA, and
Sukumar Ganapati
Florida International University, Miami, Florida, USA
Abstract
Purpose – This paper aims to call for change in disaster research through a metis-based approach that values
practical skills and knowledge (vs technical knowledge) derived from responding to ongoing changes in the
natural and human environment.
Design/methodology/approach – This paper is based on metis from Miami-Dade County that is prone to an
array of climate-related disasters. Metis is supplemented by a review of secondary sources (e.g. newspaper
articles, government reports).
Findings – There is a need to reconceptualize disaster phases in disaster research—preparedness, response,
recovery and mitigation. For many members of marginalized communities of color, this paper depicts
preparedness and mitigation as luxuries and response as a time of worry about financial obligations and
survival after the disaster. It suggests that even communities that are not on a hurricane’s path could have postdisaster experiences. It also highlights ongoing risks to marginalized communities’ physical and mental wellbeing that are in addition to the mental health impacts of the disaster during the recovery phase.
Originality/value – This paper’s originality is twofold: (1) underlining the importance of metis, a less studied
and understood concept in disaster risk reduction, prevention and management literature and (2) questioning
disaster researchers’ technical knowledge with respect to each of the four disaster phases in light of metis.
Keywords Disaster response, Disaster mitigation, Disaster preparedness, Disaster recovery, Disaster
research, Disaster phases, Disaster management cycle, Miami
Paper type Research paper
The authors would like to thank the special issue editors and the reviewers for their contributions to the
article.
Disaster Prevention and
Management: An International
Journal
© Emerald Publishing Limited
0965-3562
DOI 10.1108/DPM-02-2021-0060
DPM
Introduction
In this article, we respond to the call for change in disaster research by building on metis in the
context of disasters and by showing how it can inform techne, specifically with respect to
disaster phases. Metis refers to “a wide array of practical skills and acquired intelligence in
responding to a constantly changing natural and human environment,” while techne is sound
scientific knowledge (Scott, 1998, p. 313). Unlike techne, metis is context-driven, gained from
lived experience (Freire, 1968). The terms techne and metis have received insufficient
attention in the literature on knowledge production with respect to disaster risk reduction,
prevention and management despite calls for linking “scientific knowledge” and “local
knowledge” (Hewitt, 1994, 1995; Wisner, 1995, 1998; Lebel, 2013; Gaillard and Gomez, 2015;
c Trogrlic et al., 2019).
Gibson and Wisner, 2016; Gaillard, 2019; Gaillard and Peek, 2019; Saki
Drawing on metis from Miami-Dade County, Florida, a hurricane-prone metropolitan area
that is also ground zero for sea-level rise, we highlight the need to reconceptualize the disaster
phases—preparedness, response, recovery and mitigation. We challenge the assumptions in
the literature about preparedness and mitigation phases as they are often luxuries for the
residents of marginalized communities of color. We expose a different characteristic of
the response phase: a time of worry about survival and fulfilling financial obligations after
the disaster is over. We suggest that even communities that are not on a hurricane’s path
could have post-disaster experiences that are often invisible to disaster researchers. We also
highlight ongoing risks to marginalized communities’ physical and mental well-being that
are in addition to the mental health impacts of the disaster during the recovery phase.
In the next section, we provide a brief review of the literature on disaster phases and their
critiques. Then, we introduce the research approach. We first explain the differences between
techne and metis in more detail in the context of disaster research. After this, we introduce the
empirical context of Miami-Dade County from which our collective metis has emanated. The
penultimate section outlines our insights about disaster phases from the County’s
marginalized communities of color. We conclude the paper with a discussion of how our
lessons from Miami-Dade County confirm or contrast with the earlier literature on disaster
phases and how metis can better inform the disaster initiatives in marginalized communities.
We also provide suggestions on how to capture metis in such communities.
Disaster phases: a review of the literature
Disaster scholars have long tried to bring clarity on how to conceptualize disaster phases.
Following earlier attempts (e.g. see Carr, 1932; Powell, 1954; Stoddard, 1968; Barton, 1970;
Dynes, 1970; Mileti et al., 1975; also see Coetzee and Van Niekerk, 2012 on the origins and
evolution of disaster phases), the National Governors’ Association (NGA) introduced a fourphased approach to disasters in 1979. These are the phases of mitigation, preparedness,
response, and recovery, which are widely accepted and used in the disaster management
literature (Neal, 1997). In this approach, preparedness refers to the time period preceding the
event and involves activities ranging from training and drills to hurricane evacuation. During
the response phase, the focus is on saving lives and attending to the injured. The recovery
phase is presumed to start after the response phase, and it involves a diverse range of
activities, including reconstruction of homes, infrastructure and businesses. Mitigation takes
place ideally prior to a disaster but is often undertaken after a disaster experience. Measures
during this phase aim to lessen the impacts of a disaster on lives and properties, as in the case
of sea wall construction or beach nourishment for hurricanes.
Perhaps the most extensive critique of the four-phased approach came from Neal (1997,
2013), who suggested that these phases are not mutually exclusive nor do they proceed in a
linear fashion; rather, they are interconnected and overlapping (also see McEntire et al., 2002;
Lindell, 2013). Neal (1997, 2013) also highlighted the differences in (1) people’s perceptions and
realities regarding the phases (e.g. different individuals might have different perceptions of
what “recovery” entails); (2) people’s social time, which is based on how individuals perceive
or experience time in their own contexts (e.g. different perceptions of when individuals move
on to the recovery process) and (3) cultural conceptualizations of disasters. Kapucu and Van
Mart (2006) added that the four phases are insufficient in explaining catastrophes, which are
extreme events “characterized by unexpected or unusual size, disruptions to the
communication and decision-making capabilities of the emergency response system itself,
and an initial breakdown in coordination and communication” (p. 280). Olson (2000)
questioned the applicability of the phased approach to disasters in the context of slow-onset
disasters. Manyena (2012) noted that such an approach fails to acknowledge the links
between disasters and development paradigms. Still, others noted that these phases refer to
functional areas (McEntire et al., 2002; Lindell, 2013) or multi-dimensional processes (GCER,
2021) rather than phases in disaster management. Tierney and Oliver-Smith (2012) also
criticized the phase-oriented, linear approaches to studying recovery (e.g. Quarantelli, 1982;
Drabek, 1986) since they fail to “recognize variability, social inequality and diversity, and
disparities in recovery processes and outcomes” (p. 123).
In light of criticisms of the phased approach, a few scholars have proposed alternative
conceptualizations to the disaster phases. Olson (2000) used the stages of pre-impact, impact,
response, recovery and reconstruction in the context of rapid-onset disasters (e.g. hurricanes,
earthquakes). While keeping the pre-impact and impact categories, Neal (2013) placed Olson’s
(2000) last three stages under the category of “post-impact.” Fothergill and her colleagues
(Fothergill, 1996; Fothergill et al., 1999; Fothergill and Peek, 2004) expanded the disaster
phase typology to include eight categories: risk perception, preparedness behavior, warning
communication and response, physical impacts, psychological impacts, emergency response,
recovery, and reconstruction. To highlight the interdependencies across the phases, Coetzee
and Van Niekerk (2012) proposed a systems approach to researching disasters.
Despite the critiques of four disaster phases and the proposed alternative typologies,
disaster management scholars and practitioners still continue to rely heavily on the four
phases of a disaster as defined by the NGA. In this article, we contribute to the literature that
calls for a re-conceptualization of the four disaster phases by drawing upon our collective
metis of disaster experiences from Miami-Dade County.
The research approach and context
Our contributions to interdisciplinary disaster research build on James Scott’s (1998) work on
techne versus metis. In his seminal book, Seeing Like a State, James Scott (1998) asked an
incisive question: why do government projects often fail? To answer this question, Scott
examined government projects worldwide, encompassing planned cities (e.g. Brasilia),
compulsory Ujamaa villages in Tanzania, collectivization in Russia, the Great Leap Forward
in China and agricultural modernization. Despite being meticulously planned and wellintentioned, these projects resulted in large-scale losses of lives and/or disruption of livelihoods.
Scott observed that the failed projects had four elements in common. First, these projects were
centrally administered, with impositions of state ideologies. Such impositions implied a
particular concept of citizenship and social welfare that was exclusive of “undesirable
minorities” (p. 4). Second, these projects were based on a high modernist ideology of scientific
and technical progress. The ideology commanded mastery over nature and implied a rational
social order that is legible from the top. Third, these projects had the weight of authoritarian
states that used their coercive power to realize the high-modernist designs. These states
justified their interventions with references to wars, revolutions, economic depressions or even
disasters. Fourth, the states implemented these projects in the context of weak civil societies
that could not effectively resist authoritarian governments’ projects.
Crucially, Scott argues that the high modernist projects failed because they relied much on
the techne (the scientific and technical knowledge) and did not pay enough attention to metis
Rethinking
disaster phases
DPM
(the local and particular knowledge). Techne is quite appealing because it is rational and can
be explained; it draws on formal, deductive, epistemic knowledge. It can be expressed as a set
of universal principles, rules and propositions. Plans can be rationally justified and carried
out using these universal principles. Metis is the practical knowledge borne out of local,
contextualized experiences. It is inductive and informal and cannot be “rationally” explained.
It is based on experiences that are sensitive to time and place. Techne can be generalized
beyond contextual settings, whereas metis is particular and requires re-learning across
different contexts. Scott does not negate techne’s value; rather, he calls for contextualizing
techne using metis (p. 318):
The generic formula does not and cannot supply the local knowledge that will allow a successful
translation of the necessarily crude general understandings to successful, nuanced, local
applications. The more general the rules, the more they require in the way of translation if they
are to be locally successful.
Scott is not unique in bringing about the tension between techne and metis in development.
Mosse (2006) also argues that development imperatives are not driven by formal policy
prescriptions of donors and aid organizations but by the exigencies of local organizations.
Local actors act autonomously from the prescribed policies in their everyday practice. Several
others critique the formal scientific practices and advocate the inclusion of metis-like
knowledge (Polanyi, 1958, 1966; Berkes, 1993, 2018; Huntington, 2000). In his critique of
detached, objective science, Polanyi (1966) posited that the tacit, subjective knowledge gained
by ordinary experience is a legitimate source of knowledge. Berkes (2018) used the term
“traditional ecological knowledge” and defined it as “a cumulative body of knowledge, practice,
and belief, evolving by adaptive processes and handed down through generations by cultural
transmission, about the relationship between living beings (including humans) with one another
and with their environment” [Italics in original] (p. 8).
There is also a growing disaster literature, especially in the context of disaster risk reduction,
that calls for bridging the divide between the “local knowledge” and the “scientific knowledge,”
which is dominated by Western epistemologies and scholars (Wisner, 1995, 1998; Lebel, 2013;
c
Gaillard and Gomez, 2015; Gibson and Wisner, 2016; Gaillard, 2019; Gaillard and Peek, 2019; Saki
Trogrlic et al., 2019). Gaillard (2019) explains how the literature is dominated by Western
epistemologies and scholars. He adds, “only those that match standardised expectations of how an
argument should unfold and is structured” are considered to be “worth publishing” (p. S13) even
though affected populations are “as good and capable as Western scientists” (p. S9). Gaillard’s
(2019) view of local knowledge is closely aligned with Hewitt’s (1995) view of “letting those in
hazard speak for and of themselves” (p. 330). In their examination of the nexus between
development and humanitarian crises (conflict and disaster-related), Hilhorst et al. (2017) also
emphasize the importance of everyday practices. They argue that recovery from a crisis is a socially
embedded process, and listening to people’s views could provide new recovery opportunities.
We extend the above-mentioned critiques of techne and build on metis in our
conceptualization of disaster phases in the literature. This article is co-authored by a team
of academics and community-based organizers from nonprofit organizations in Miami-Dade
County. The organizers represent diverse communities in the county, coming from a range of
local nonprofits that advocate for disaster resilience of historically marginalized communities
(e.g. farm workers, Haitian Americans, African Americans). These nonprofits include (1)
American Friends Service Committee, whose vision includes creating an equitable,
sustainable and peaceful world; (2) Catalyst Miami, which is dedicated to identifying and
collectively solving issues that matter to low-wealth communities; (3) Florida Rising, a peoplepowered organization, that works towards advancing economic and racial justice across
Florida; and, (4) Sant La Neighborhood Center, which is committed to the Haitian community
in Miami-Dade County. The co-authors, who are community organizers, thus, have the firsthand experience of working with the minority communities of color (spanning many years).
To put together the writing team, the academics reached out to the first author, who then
recommended the other community organizers. The team members from academia and the
nonprofit organizations have been working closely with one another since last year as part of the
Miami Climate Alliance (MCA) working groups dedicated to housing and disaster resilience. One
of the academics and the MCA’s Disaster Resilience Group led by the first author, at the time of
writing, have organized three webinars on hurricane preparedness in the midst of the COVID-19
pandemic. Besides, the nonprofit organizations of some of the organizers (e.g. Catalyst Miami,
Sant La Neighborhood Center) are part of a large ($4.63 M), three-year Mellon Foundation project
on resilience and racial and ethnic equity. The project is housed within the Extreme Events
Institute of Florida International University, which also houses one of the academics.
To understand metis regarding disaster phases, the team held three online meetings
moderated by an academic. Though not intentional, the process approximated what Marchand
(2010, p. 52) describes “making knowledge” as a “[reflective] process entailing interaction between
interlocutors and practitioners with their total environment.” Whereas disaster researchers
typically get insights from the field practitioners (like community organizers) and synthesize their
findings in common themes, our approach was to interactively reflect on the daily lifeworld of the
minority communities of color in the context of disasters. During the first meeting, the discussion
was open-ended, where community organizers described the lived experiences of the populations
they serve during disaster preparedness, response, recovery and mitigation. The team
interactively identified two major themes emerging from the group discussion: critiques of
disaster phases and how to conduct community-based participatory research to capture metis.
The second meeting built on and expanded these themes. The third meeting was conducted after
the article’s first round of review with the purpose of elaborating more on the critiques of disaster
phases. In addition to these three meetings, the team had three smaller group meetings between
academics and community organizers, depending on their availability. There were also individual
follow-ups for clarifying or expanding on some of the points raised by the organizers. The
discussions were video recorded with the permission of the organizers, and they were
automatically transcribed (using Zoom platform’s inbuilt function). The academics took detailed
notes during the meetings and expanded on these notes based on the transcriptions. They shared
the write-ups with the organizers in a shared drive. The organizers edited and expanded on these
write-ups more. The co-authors then took turns in writing and editing the article through a shared
Google document. The article thus reflects the collective metis of the representatives who have
worked with marginalized communities of color in Miami-Dade County.
While discussing some topics, community organizers highlighted relevant secondary
sources of community information. These sources included community newspapers, news
sources, journal articles and government reports. The team complemented and expanded on
the organizers’ metis on disaster phases using these secondary sources and the additional
ones they identified. The team also conducted a review of the literature on disaster phases and
metis. To give due credit to community organizers who shared their metis in this article, the
academics in the team at the time of writing are listed as the last two co-authors.
In this article, our metis is based on the local context of Miami-Dade County, Florida. The
County is part of the Miami metropolitan region, which is the fifth largest metropolitan area in
the United States. It is home to the City of Miami, a global city and an international tourist
spot, in addition to being a destination for those who flock to the region during the winter
months (commonly called the snowbirds). The County is a major gateway to Latin America
and the Caribbean, acting as a major hub for airlines and cruise ships. It is the home of Art
Basel, an annual art exhibition, which draws artists from all over the world.
Beneath the dazzle of its international fame as a tourism hotspot lies historical racial and
ethnic inequities. Greater Miami is the second most unequal metropolitan area, trailing
Rethinking
disaster phases
DPM
slightly behind New York City (Florida and Pedigo, 2019). According to the Census Bureau,
Miami-Dade County ranks low in median household income and high in the poverty rate
among counties (Bishaw and Benson, 2018). Affordable housing is a persistent issue as nearly
one-third of the residents are cost-burdened (i.e. they pay over 30% of income for rent or
mortgage). The average age of housing stock in the county is over 40 years (Murray and
Zyryanova, 2000). The differences between the ultra-rich lives of those living in the secluded
island communities or beach condominiums and the indigent living in old and modest
housing are evident as one drive from the islands of Miami Beach to the marginalized
communities of color such as Allapattah, Little Haiti, Liberty City, Overtown and Florida City.
From a disaster perspective, as a coastal county, Miami-Dade is located in a hurricaneprone area and has experienced a number of costly hurricanes, including the 1992 Hurricane
Andrew, the 2005 Hurricanes Katrina, Rita and Wilma, the 2017 Hurricane Irma, and the more
recent 2020 tropical storm Eta. It is also considered the “ground zero for sea level rise” and is
highly vulnerable to tidal nuisance floods (Wakefield, 2019). The Union of Concerned
Scientists (2016) projected the tidal flooding to reach 380 times per year in Miami Dade
County’s coastal communities by 2045, expanding to new low-lying, low-income
communities. The City of Miami already ranks first among the world’s major port cities in
terms of the value of assets exposed to flooding and fourth in terms of the population exposed.
What Metis teaches about disaster phases
The collective metis of disaster experiences (e.g. hurricanes) from Miami-Dade County’s
marginalized communities of color provides interesting insights into each of the four phases
of disasters: (1) preparedness phase: Preparedness is a luxury for many in these communities.
(2) Response phase: This phase is a time of worry for meeting the needs of the living in the
aftermath of a disaster. (3) Recovery phase: Members of marginalized communities of color
can have post-disaster recovery-like experiences even without an actual disaster event. The
risks they face and the impacts of the disaster on their communities are not on the radar
screen in the recovery phase if they are not deemed to be directly affected by a disaster.
During recovery, members of marginalized communities of color also deal with systemic
stresses that are not under their control and not directly related to the disaster. Fourth, the
mitigation phase adds extra burdens on these community residents so that mitigation is also
a luxury.
The preparedness phase
Preparedness is a luxury for those marginalized communities who have to struggle to make ends
meet for their day-to-day survival. These individuals have modest capabilities (Nussbaum,
2000; Sen, 2005) to prepare for a disaster and often have hard choices to make. They face
trade-offs when a hurricane warning is issued. Their trade-offs often involve choosing to
prepare for a hurricane that may or may not directly hit their communities versus catching up
with daily financial obligations. They need to consider how much time they can take off from
work. Many of these individuals work in jobs that do not allow them to take time off, and they
do not get paid for the days they cannot work due to a disaster. Their meager earnings do not
allow for extra expenditures (e.g. putting plywood shutters or having trees trimmed) required
for preparation. They often have no disposable income. Living from hand to mouth creates
many risks for them to be prepared. Preparedness is the last thing they can afford to do. By
the time it is exigent for them to prepare and they are able to take time off, the shelves are
typically empty since the stores are out of essential items (e.g. bottled water, bread, can
goods). They often do not have vehicles to transport the preparatory supplies to their homes.
They live in relatively small or shared homes with others, therefore, do not have enough
storage for such supplies recommended by public authorities. Moreover, some simply
couchsurf since they cannot afford rentals, such as Haitian immigrants (Hanks, 2021). They
rent a “place to sleep” in a house and do not even have access to a kitchen for cooking unless
they visit family and friends. Preparedness is not a priority for them.
In part due to these trade-offs and challenges and in part due to the uncertainties involving
hurricane tracks, these community residents often wait until the last minute to see what path
the hurricane takes. They prepare, if at all, not because they are able to afford preparation but
because they face a real threat of being on the hurricane’s projected path. In some cases, they
can afford supplies (e.g. water, canned food) that last one or two days instead of the
recommended three days. Preparedness becomes even more of a luxury when these
individuals face concurrent disasters, such as hurricanes in the middle of the COVID-19
pandemic. As a result of financial problems associated with the pandemic (e.g. job loss),
eviction from homes and service shut-offs have increased during this period.
Some face additional barriers to getting prepared for a disaster. Seeking formal help is
risky for those who lack a clear immigration status. Those without proper legal documents
face deportation if exposed. Hence, they avoid going to evacuation shelters due to fears of
being caught by immigration authorities. They hunker down where they can in the case of a
hurricane. They imagine that they are fine as long as they have a roof over their head. They
will just have to deal with whatever happens underneath that roof. Limited English literacy is
another barrier. Immigrants with little exposure to English do not understand hurricane
preparedness guidelines printed or issued online by authorities. Many ethnic communities
also have a unique set of items that are essential for preparedness. Residents belonging to the
Mayan tribe in the Homestead area in Miami, for instance, consider a little bag of beads and
seeds (which they refer to as “medicine”) to be spiritually essential. While this medicine helps
tribal members deal with stressful situations like hurricanes, focusing on these types of items
alone (as opposed to three days’ worth of food and water) for preparedness purposes makes
them vulnerable to food insecurity in the face of a hurricane.
Mental health can be a barrier to preparation in marginalized communities of color, too.
Studies indicate a link between poverty and mental health risks (Saraceno and Barbui, 1997;
Bergmans and Wegryn-Jones, 2020; Chang et al., 2020). Ridley et al. (2020) note that the poor
are 1.5–3 times more likely to have anxiety or depression than the rich. Iemmi et al. (2016)
report a consistent link across studies between poverty, especially in the form of
unemployment and diminished wealth or economic status, and suicidal ideations or
behaviors. Furthermore, inner-city residents in areas such as Overtown and Liberty City have
been displaced multiple times by disasters or civil wars or gang violence. They already suffer
from the mental health effects of these life-changing events. Undocumented immigrants live
with the constant fear of deportation and uncertainty. Recent refugees are at the mercy of the
host families and have uncertain housing arrangements they could get kicked out if the host
gets tired of them. Non-confirming groups, such as the queer and transgender youth, could
also be rejected by their families and may have to move constantly from one place to another,
just trying to find any type of place to sleep.
Climate change has an impact on mental preparedness in marginalized communities of
color as well. Climate change puts additional stress on individuals who face these existential
impacts (WHO, 2013). Mental health outcomes associated with climate change include
depression, post-traumatic stress disorder and suicidal thoughts (WHO, 2013; Ursano et al.,
2017). Such outcomes could be both before and after extreme events (APA, 2017). Even
reading or hearing about climate change or climatic events could add to mental problems
(Harrington, 2020). In a place like Miami that is threatened by sea-level rise, there are fears of
siege by the sea (Chan et al., 2019) and persistent worry about relocation (Asugeni et al., 2015)
among the residents. Climate change worries disproportionately impact those who are placebound and unable to move, including the poor, ethnic and racial minorities, refugees,
migrants and indigenous peoples (Nath and Behera, 2011; Hayes et al., 2018; Schwerdtle et al.,
Rethinking
disaster phases
DPM
2018). Many of the minorities who live in low-lying areas of Miami face periodic flooding, both
due to sea-level rise and King tides (also called sunny day flooding, as the water table rises).
A hurricane event adds another dimension to the already existing threats they face. In sum, it
is time to rethink our assumptions about the mental readiness of marginalized communities
that are vulnerable in different ways than the rest of the population.
The response phase
The response phase is not just about saving lives; it is also a time of worry for those living in the
aftermath. The mainstream disaster research teaches us that the focus during the response
phase is on saving lives and caring for the injured, which is as it should be. Yet, the response
phase is also a time of worry about their families’ survival for many members of the
marginalized communities. While a hurricane is taking place, daily wage earners do not get
paid since they are home. Hence, they need to make up for the lost wages, whether a hurricane
passes through or not. In addition, some workers need to report back to work even before
normalcy is restored. After having lost several days of work and having spent the absolutely
necessary amount for subsistence, these residents do not have disposable income. They have
no choice but to report to work, sometimes even before the roads are cleared of floodwaters
and the debris or public transportation service is restarted (many do not own cars). Hence,
they put themselves in danger and pass through flooded and debris-filled streets so that they
do not risk getting fired and are able to feed their families. Families with kids face an
additional burden as daycare centers are closed. Parents face difficult choices between
leaving the kids unattended at home, taking them to the workplace or finding a sitter at home.
Worrying about what could happen to themselves or to their loved ones takes priority. Unlike
others, they do not have the luxury of thinking about recovery. The mental impacts of the
disaster continue to snowball for these individuals.
The recovery phase
Four aspects of the recovery phase have received very little attention in the present literature
on disaster phases. The first is that one could have post-disaster experiences even without an
actual disaster event. As mentioned earlier, low-wealth communities may have little
preparations before a hurricane event occurs. If a hurricane does hit the community, the
preparations (however meager) hold them in good stead, even if it is for a short while. The loss
of wages could still be worthwhile to ward off the hardships due to the hurricane. However, if
there is no direct hit, there are opportunity costs—the expenses incurred for preparation
could take away from the resources needed to pay for their daily needs. If they are unable to
pay their bills, they face imminent disruptions to their food intake, household utilities (e.g.
power, phone and water) or medical services. The mainstream normative disaster research
assumes that such disruptions take place when a disaster like a hurricane does happen
(although some researchers try to challenge this status quo). Response and recovery phases
ensue after the event. However, even when a disaster does not happen, it still affects
vulnerable communities due to such opportunity costs of preparation. Disaster literature has
not yet paid attention to the daily-life disruptions for communities that expected a hurricane
to hit but did not actually experience the disaster because of the change in the hurricane’s
path. Thus, irrespective of the hurricane’s path, residents of marginalized communities face
post-disaster like-problems. Formal policies also ignore these areas: assistance is provided in
areas that are hit badly, but the losses due to preparation in the other communities are not
provided attention.
Second, there are the invisible impacts in “unaffected” marginalized communities of color.
While there is much evidence of the disproportionate impact of disasters on marginalized
communities of color (Pastor et al., 2006; Bullard and Wright, 2012; Fortuna et al., 2020;
Mendez et al., 2020), the impact of disasters in marginalized communities of color presumed to
be “unaffected” are rarely acknowledged in the literature. In neighborhoods such as Little
Haiti in Miami, for example, illegal dumping occurs regularly on neighborhood streets, in part
due to contractors trying to avoid the fees associated with formal dumping sites and in part
due to relatively limited surveillance in these neighborhoods (e.g. in comparison to White
neighborhoods). Residents are often burdened by illegal dumping that escalates in the wake
of hurricanes, even without a direct hit. Some residents also suffer from legal dumping after
disasters. After Hurricane Irma in 2017, there were several reports of dumping of hurricane
debris by the County government in Liberty City, a predominantly African American
neighborhood of the City of Miami (CBS 2017; Hanks, 2017; Shumow, 2019). According to
Hanks (2017), the community had debris hills that were “the size of three-story buildings,” and
the residents had to bear the noise, smell and dust pollution, in addition to “unwelcome
creatures” like rats, snakes and vermin (para. 13). The debris included “everything from palm
fronds, tree limbs and stumps to mattresses, bed springs, auto parts, furniture” (CBS, 2017).
Such impacts in marginalized communities that avoid a direct hit are invisible to disaster
researchers prior to and after disaster events. Although debris management is acknowledged
as an important disaster response and recovery activity (Ekici et al., 2009; Kim et al., 2018), it is
typically studied in the context of areas directly hit by a disaster rather than in nearby
communities, which also bear the indirect consequences of the disaster.
Third, even after the disaster passes, those from marginalized communities of color
continue to be at risk. During the recovery phase, there is much emphasis in the literature on
the recovery of those directly impacted by the disaster; we do not pay enough attention to
those vulnerable workers who are there to help in cleaning up and rebuilding. In disasteraffected communities, undocumented workers are hired constantly in construction in part
due to severe labor shortages. They actually go from spot to spot around the country to pick
up the pieces after disasters. They are part of the informal economy. The informal workers
helped in New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina, in Houston after Hurricane Harvey, and in the
Florida Keys after Hurricane Irma (Jordan, 2019). These individuals lack job security and are
exploited by employers. Undocumented workers are often threatened by employers to turn
them over to immigration authorities if they complain. These workers’ health and safety may
be at risk as well. Post-disaster construction sites where they work often include disaster
debris, which are hazardous conditions to work in (e.g. exposed construction materials like
nails that could hurt them or toxic materials or mold that make the area contaminated). While
some of these risks could be avoided through proper training and safety gear, undocumented
workers could lack these resources. There is also a lack of accountability from government
branches that oversee labor laws to make sure businesses/contractors are providing needed
training, safety and pay for workers. Hence, working in post-disaster reconstruction sites
places an additional risk on these workers, which may result in injuries or deaths.
Fourth, the recovery phase includes not only psychological recovery but also day-to-day
coping with imposed systemic stresses that are not under the control of the marginalized
communities. As mentioned earlier, people live with a number of mental stresses associated
with poverty and past experiences (e.g. civil wars, gang violence) prior to a disaster. In
addition to these, these residents face added systemic stresses that are imposed on them
opportunistically by external actors. For example, homeowners or management companies
have used the excuse of the disaster to displace these residents. After Hurricane Irma in 2017,
residents of Civic Towers, a federally subsidized apartment complex in the majority Hispanic
Allapattah neighborhood in Miami, for instance, were evicted by the owners. The building
was under renovations prior to Hurricane Irma, and the residents had evacuated their units
prior to the hurricane. Before undertaking the renovations, the management company
promised the Civic Towers residents that they had “an absolute right to remain a resident
upon completion of the renovation” (Parra, 2017, para. 14). They were told after Hurricane
Rethinking
disaster phases
DPM
Irma, however, that they could not no longer live in their units, as these units were deemed
“unsafe” (Parra, 2017, para. 7). The affected residents could not even enter their units to
retrieve their belongings (NBC6 South Florida, 2017). Many had no other choice but to sleep in
their cars in the parking lot. While some residents were eventually moved by the County
government to hotel rooms, others were left on their own.
The mitigation phase
Just like preparedness, mitigation is a luxury for many communities. Those people living in
homes that have not been retrofitted to resist hurricane-strength winds in states like Florida
face very significant financial burdens when repairing their homes following a major
disaster. Although hurricane insurance is an option, many homeowners cannot afford the
prohibitively high insurance costs. Those who manage to pay off their mortgages very often
opt to forgo the insurance coverage. Others opt for cheaper insurance plans with high
deductibles, making it impossible for these homeowners to make any claims when property
damage is sustained. Residents in old housing stock that are not up to the code may face
difficulty finding a willing insurer or would have to pay high premiums. Uncertain legal
status and language barriers also hinder mitigation efforts. Simple tasks like filling out and
submitting the application are onerous for such residents. They may not be familiar with the
language used in the application (even a concept like an email address is difficult to
understand for some in Little Haiti!). Some residents do not have access to a computer or to
Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA) paperwork or do not have the luxury of
taking time off from work to meet with FEMA representatives or dealing with other
administrative burdens involved in the application and approval process. Some people live in
alternative housing structures that cannot even be insured, such as storage shacks, converted
garages, add-on structures that are not built up to the code or trailers that are not affixed to a
permanent foundation. People whose ancestors have lived in their homes for generations
could inherit property without a formal deed and title; hence, they cannot access assistance
after a disaster. Mitigation-related experiences of marginalized indigent communities are
thus vastly different from those who are in a better financial position and are able to tap into
resources, either through insurance or FEMA.
Even if they successfully apply to FEMA, marginalized communities face many knotty
issues. First, the insurance payments take a long while to settle. Since these residents have
limited resources, they cannot wait long for insurance payments (Harges, 2011, 2013). If
required repairs are not undertaken, they could live in hazardous conditions. Second, the
properties are often undervalued by FEMA or by insurance companies (the residents also
may assume that what they own has less value). FEMA’s own analyses of 4.8 million aid
applications from 2014 to 2018 reveal that the poor were twice more likely to be denied
housing assistance as the agency may find the damages to be “insufficient” (Hersher, 2021,
para. 11). Homeowners in the lowest income group received approximately half the amount of
assistance given to homeowners with higher incomes, not all of which could be attributed to
relative repair costs. Renters with low income were 23% less likely to receive housing
assistance than renters with higher incomes. As Hersher (2021, para. 19) noted,
When a Hurricane damages your home, a clock starts ticking. Every day without stable shelter
makes it more likely that the blow dealt by the storm will unleash a cascade of problems. Children
miss school, adults are unable to work, older adults stop taking lifesaving medication. Mold and heat
exposure threaten to make everyone sick.
Craig Fugate, the past Director of FEMA, adds that families whose homes are damaged and
are not able to repair them due to denied or limited assistance may have to abandon their
homes. He continues, “Because no matter what you say you’re doing, the end result is that the
poor are being displaced. I’ve watched it happen after hurricanes. It’s not fair, and I think
that’s why we have to rethink [FEMA] programs” (Hersher, 2021, para. 30). Billings et al.
(2019) partly attribute the injustices surrounding FEMA’s housing assistance program to
biases in the inspection process. FEMA inspectors, for instance, may attribute the damages to
the lack of the building’s maintenance, especially in less desirable neighborhoods. Their
implicit racism could also contribute to discrepancies in housing assistance outcomes.
Formal policy measures for mitigation could also systematically be biased toward the
high-income groups and leave out the low-income groups, especially in marginalized
communities of color, without voice. The most glaring example in Miami Dade is the US Army
Corps of Engineers (USACE) (2020) $4.6 billion, large-scale plan to mitigate coastal storm
flooding (i.e. storm surge) in the County. This plan includes building high sea walls (including
floodwalls and pump stations) to act as storm surge barriers and to undertake nonstructural
flooding measures (including raising home elevations or floodproofing). The plan is justified
based on benefit-cost calculations, which project an almost 9:1 benefit-cost ratio.
Nonprofit community groups have much criticized the USACE’s plan. The main criticism
is that the benefits are captured by those with more valuable real estate, to begin with. As
noted by the National Resources Defense Council (NRDC) (2020), the “rational” cost-benefitcost analysis approach masks the investments that will be driven to touristic areas with
higher property values. The plan includes elevating homes in high-income areas, which the
residents can themselves afford to pay. Marginalized communities with lower property
values, on the other hand, are left behind from the plan, and they have to deal with the impacts
of hurricanes and sea-level rise on their own. As of this writing, the public debate on USACE’s
proposal has continued to rage with nonprofit groups and cities advancing eco-friendly
approaches (such as natural mangroves, barrier islands and oyster reefs). Large-scale
institutional measures (such as those undertaken by USACE) do not only exacerbate
historical inequities but also fail to account for different dimensions of vulnerability such as
wealth and financial stability.
Discussion and conclusion
In this paper, we challenged techne in the interdisciplinary disaster literature on disaster
phases based on our metis in Miami-Dade County. Our article shares Neal’s (1997, 2013)
sentiments that people have different perceptions, realities and social time regarding the four
phases. Our article, however, goes beyond arguing that the four disaster phases are not
mutually exclusive or that they do not progress in a linear fashion or that individuals may
have different perceptions of when they moved on to a particular phase (Neal, 1997, 2013;
McEntire et al., 2002; Tierney and Oliver-Smith, 2012; Lindell, 2013). It associates disaster
phases with privilege (or lack thereof) and suggests that some of these phases may not even
exist in the minds of members of marginalized communities. It presents preparedness or
mitigation phases as luxuries for those in marginalized communities of color. It shows the
disconnect between the disaster phases and the lived experiences—similar to the disconnect
between disaster phases and development highlighted by Manyena (2012).
Our article also pushes us to rethink what each phase entails for members of marginalized
communities of color with limited to no disposable income: the response phase involving the
fear for the living in the aftermath of a disaster rather than the fear of surviving the disaster
alone; the non-recovery phase (without an actual disaster event) with recovery phase
experiences at the household level (e.g. service disruptions); the recovery phase involving the
rather invisible impacts (e.g. legal or illegal dumping) in areas “unaffected” by a disaster, and
the ongoing physical and mental health risks to the lives of members of marginalized
communities of color (e.g. those associated with life-changing events like civil wars and gang
violence, poverty and climate change impacts) on top of the mental health impacts of the
disaster during the recovery phase.
Rethinking
disaster phases
DPM
There is still much more to explore when it comes to challenging our techne on disaster
phases. In line with Community-Based Participatory Action Research (CBPAR) that views
communities as full and equal partners in research from start to finish (Israel et al., 1998; Holkup
et al., 2004), we propose four strategies for researchers for this purpose. First, the researchers
need to get to know “the self” first and constantly appraise who they are as researchers and as
human beings in their interactions with the populations they study. This involves thinking
about their biases about the marginalized communities of color, how these biases might impact
the marginalized communities of color, and what strategies they could use to overcome these
biases. Second, researchers need to show language sensibilities to comprehend the context in a
wholesome way. They need to step back from their usual research jargon (e.g. climate refugees,
vulnerable populations) and really listen to the community voices to understand their metis.
Critiques of imposed development policies also suggest that listening to the community’s voices
provides new pathways for alternatives (Mosse, 2005; Hilhorst et al., 2017). Third, researchers
need to be committed to the communities they study in the long term. There is a history of
researchers coming into communities to conduct their work and leaving as soon as data are
collected without acknowledging the communities’ priorities, which is referred to as “grab and
run” research (Stevens, 2001, p. 72). This practice has left communities of color especially
distrustful of outsiders who come with set agendas (McAvoy et al., 2000). Being committed to
the populations in the long term not only can help capture metis but also can enhance the
credibility of research, as noted by Cuba and Lincoln (1989). Fourth, researchers need to reconsider the balances of power, giving more leadership opportunities to community members
participating in research (e.g. by making them co-authors in publications). As Marchand (2010)
argued, making knowledge is an interactive process
community actors have much to
contribute, and disaster researchers can learn much from them as equal partners.
We argue that emergency management practitioners can also build on metis, as they help
at-risk communities prepare for, respond to and recover from disaster events using the
strategies outlined in this paper. Only then will they be able to prevent failures of government
projects that are meant to help these communities, as depicted in Scott’s (1998) book Seeing
Like a State. Techne alone is not enough to deal with the complexities surrounding disaster
events; it needs to be complemented by lived experience-driven metis. Capturing metis will
obviously require patience and is required for solving at-risk communities’ disaster
challenges in effective, creative, context-specific and just ways.
References
American Psychological Association (APA) (2017), “Mental health and our changing climate: impacts,
implications, and guidance”, available at: https://www.apa.org/news/press/releases/2017/03/
mental-health-climate.pdf (accessed 15 July 2021).
Asugeni, J., MacLaren, D., Massey, P.D. and Speare, R. (2015), “Mental health issues from rising sea
level in a remote coastal region of the Solomon Islands: current and future”, Australasian
Psychiatry, Vol. 23 No. 6, pp. 22-25, doi: 10.1177/1039856215609767.
Barton, A.H. (1970), Communities in Disaster: A Sociological Analysis of Collective Stress Situations,
Doubleday Anchor, Garden City, New York, NY.
Bergmans, R.S. and Wegryn-Jones, R. (2020), “Examining associations of food insecurity with major
depression among older adults in the wake of the Great Recession”, Social Science and Medicine,
Vol. 258, p. 113033, doi: 10.1016/j.socscimed.2020.113033.
Berkes, F. (1993), “Traditional ecological knowledge in perspective”, in Inglis, J.T. (Ed.), Traditional
Ecological Knowledge: Concepts and Cases, Canadian Museum of Nature, Ottawa, ON, pp. 1-9.
Berkes, F. (2018), Sacred Ecology, 3rd ed., Routledge Press, New York, NY.
Billings, S.B., Gallagher, E. and Ricketts, L. (2019), “Let the rich be flooded: the distribution of financial
aid and distress after hurricane Harvey”, doi: 10.2139/ssrn.3396611.
Bishaw, A. and Benson, C. (2018), “Poverty: 2016 and 2017”, available at: https://www.census.gov/
content/dam/Census/library/publications/2018/acs/acsbr17-02.pdf (accessed 20 February 2021).
Bullard, R.D. and Wright, B. (2012), The Wrong Complexion for Protection: How the Government
Response to Disaster Endangers African American Communities, NYU Press, New York, NY.
Carr, L.J. (1932), “Disaster and the sequence-pattern concept of social change”, The American Journal
of Sociology, Vol. 38 No. 3, pp. 207-218.
CBS (2017), “Florida residents wary of fithy Hurricane Irma debris piling up”, available at: https://
www.cbsnews.com/news/hurricane-irma-liberty-city-florida-trash-debris-health-concern/
(accessed 15 July 2021).
Chan, E.Y.Y., Ho, J.Y., Hung, H.H.Y., Liu, S. and Lam, H.C.Y. (2019), “Health impact of climate change
in cities of middle-income countries: the case of China”, British Medical Bulletin, Vol. 130 No. 1,
pp. 5-24, doi: 10.1093/bmb/ldz011.
Chang, Q., Peng, C., Guo, Y., Cai, Z. and Yip, P.S. (2020), “Mechanisms connecting objective and
subjective poverty to mental health: serial mediation roles of negative life events and social
support”, Social Science and Medicine, Vol. 265, p. 113308, doi: 10.1016/j.socscimed.2020.113308.
Coetzee, C. and Van Niekerk, D. (2012), “Tracking the evolution of the disaster management cycle: a
general system theory approach”, Jamb
a: Journal of Disaster Risk Studies, Vol. 4 No. 1, pp. 1-9,
doi: 10.4102/jamba.v4i1.54.
Cuba, E.G. and Lincoln, Y.S. (1989), Fourth Generation Evaluation, Sage, Newbury Park, CA.
Drabek, T.E. (1986), Human System Responses to Disaster, Springer, New York.
Dynes, R.R. (1970), Organized Behavior in Disasters, Heath Books, Lexington, MA.
Ekici, S., McEntire, D.A. and Afedzie, R. (2009), “Transforming debris management: considering new
essentials”, Disaster Prevention and Management: An International Journal, Vol. 18 No. 5,
pp. 511-522.
Florida, R. and Pedigo, S. (2019), “Toward A more inclusive region: inequality and poverty in Greater
Miami”, available at: http://www.creativeclass.com/_wp/wp-content/uploads/2019/04/FIU_
Toward_a_More_Inclusive_Region.pdf (accessed 20 February 2021).
Fortuna, L.R., Tolou-Shams, M., Robles-Ramamurthy, B. and Porche, M.V. (2020), “Inequity and the
disproportionate impact of COVID-19 on communities of color in the United States: the need for
a trauma-informed social justice response”, Psychological Trauma: Theory, Research, Practice,
and Policy, Vol. 12 No. 5, pp. 443-445.
Fothergill, A. (1996), “Gender, risk, and disaster”, International Journal of Mass Emergencies and
Disasters, Vol. 14 No. 1, pp. 33-56.
Fothergill, A. and Peek, L.A. (2004), “Poverty and disasters in the United States: a review of recent
sociological findings”, Natural Hazards, Vol. 32 No. 1, pp. 89-110.
Fothergill, A., Maestas, E.G. and Darlington, J.D. (1999), “Race, ethnicity and disasters in the United
States: a review of the literature”, Disasters, Vol. 23 No. 2, pp. 156-173.
Freire, P. (1968), Pedagogy of the Oppressed, Bloomsbury, New York, NY.
Gaillard, J.C. (2019), “Disaster studies inside out”, Disasters, Vol. 43, pp. S7-S17.
Gaillard, J.C. and Gomez, C. (2015), “Post-disaster research: is there gold worth the rush?”, Jamb
a:
Journal of Disaster Risk Studies, Vol. 7 No. 1, pp. 1-6.
Gaillard, J.C. and Peek, L. (2019), “Disaster-zone research needs a code of conduct”, Nature, Vol. 575,
pp. 440-442.
Global Cluster for Early Recovery (GCER) (2021), “Early recovery”, available at: https://www.
humanitarianresponse.info/en/clusters/early-recovery (accessed 15 July 2021).
Gibson, T. and Wisner, B. (2016), “‘Lets talk about you . . .’: opening space for local experience, action
and learning in disaster risk reduction”, Disaster Prevention and Management, Vol. 25 No. 5,
pp. 664-684, doi: 10.1108/DPM-06-2016-0119.
Rethinking
disaster phases
DPM
Hanks, D. (2017), “‘Vermin. Rats. Snakes. Possums. Racoons.’ Life next to a Hurricane Irma debris
dump”, Miami Herald, available at: https://www.miamiherald.com/news/local/community/
miami-dade/article182663686.html (accessed 15 July 2021).
Hanks, D. (2021), “In a day, more than 35,000 people sign up for Miami-Dade’s new section 8 waiting
list”, Miami Herald, available at: https://www.miamiherald.com/news/local/community/miamidade/article251391883.html (accessed 15 July 2021).
Harges, B.M. (2011), “Promoting equity for minorities in hurricane mediation programs”, Dispute
Resolution Magazine, Vol. 18, pp. 22-25.
Harges, B.M. (2013), “Equity for minorities in hurricane mediation programs”, GPSolo, Vol. 30, pp. 66-67.
Harrington, S. (2020), “How climate change affects mental health”, Yale Climate Connections, available
at: https://yaleclimateconnections.org/about-us/ (accessed 15 July 2021).
Hayes, K., Blashki, G., Wiseman, J., Burke, S. and Reifels, L. (2018), “Climate change and mental health:
risks, impacts and priority actions”, International Journal of Mental Health Systems, Vol. 12
No. 1, pp. 1-12.
Hersher, R. (2021), “Why FEMA aid is unavailable to many who need it the most”, National Public
Radio (NPR), available at: https://www.npr.org/2021/06/29/1004347023/why-fema-aid-isunavailable-to-many-who-need-it-the-most (accessed 15 July 2021).
Hewitt, K. (1994), “Civil and inner city disasters: the urban, social space of bomb destruction”,
Erdkunde, Vol. 48 No. 4, pp. 259-274, doi: 10.3112/erdkunde.1994.04.02.
Hewitt, K. (1995), “Excluded perspectives in the social construction of disaster”, International Journal
of Mass Emergencies and Disasters, Vol. 13 No. 3, pp. 317-339.
Hilhorst, D., Weijs, B. and van der Haar, G. (Eds) (2017), People, Aid and Institutions in Socio-Economic
Recovery: Facing Fragilities, Routledge, New York, doi: 10.4324/9781315690759.
Holkup, P.A., Tripp-Reimer, T., Salois, E.M. and Weinert, C. (2004), “Community-based participatory
research: an approach to intervention research with a Native American community”, ANS.
Advances in Nursing Science, Vol. 27 No. 3, pp. 162-175.
Huntington, H.P. (2000), “Using traditional ecological knowledge in science: methods and
applications”, Ecological Applications, Vol. 10 No. 5, pp. 1270-1274.
Iemmi, V., Bantjes, J., Coast, E., Channer, K., Leone, T., McDaid, D., Palfreyman, A., Stephens, B. and
Lund, C. (2016), “Suicide and poverty in low-income and middle-income countries: a systematic
review”, Lancet Psychiatry, Vol. 3 No. 8, pp. 774-783.
Israel, B.A., Schulz, A.J., Parker, E.A. and Becker, A.B. (1998), “Review of community-based research:
assessing partnership approaches to improve public health”, Annual Review of Public Health,
Vol. 19, pp. 173-202.
Jordan, M. (2019), “Hurricane chasers: an immigrant work force on the trail of extreme weather”, New
York Times, available at: https://www.nytimes.com/2019/10/05/us/hurricane-undocumentedimmigrants-workers.html (accessed 15 July 2021).
Kapucu, N. and Van Wart, M. (2006), “The evolving role of the public sector in managing catastrophic
disasters: lessons learned”, Administration and Society, Vol. 38 No. 3, pp. 279-308.
Kim, J., Deshmukh, A. and Hastak, M. (2018), “A framework for assessing the resilience of a disaster
debris management system”, International Journal of Disaster Risk Reduction, Vol. 28,
pp. 674-687.
Lebel, L. (2013), “Local knowledge and adaptation to climate change in natural resource-based
societies of the Asia-Pacific”, Mitigation and Adaptation Strategies for Global Change, Vol. 18
No. 7, pp. 1057-1076.
Lindell, M.K. (2013), “Disaster studies”, Current Sociology, Vol. 61 Nos 5-6, pp. 797-825.
Manyena, S.B. (2012), “Disaster and development paradigms: too close for comfort?”, Development
Policy Review, Vol. 30 No. 3, pp. 327-345.
Marchand, T. (2010), “Making knowledge: explorations of the indissoluble relation between minds,
bodies, and environment”, The Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute, Vol. 16, pp. S1-S21.
McAvoy, L., Winter, P.L., Outley, C.W., McDonald, D. and Chavez, D.J. (2000), “Conducting research
with communities of color”, Society and Natural Resources, Vol. 13 No. 5, pp. 479-488.
McEntire, D.A., Fuller, C., Johnston, C.W. and Weber, R. (2002), “A comparison of disaster paradigms:
the search for a holistic policy guide”, Public Administration Review, Vol. 62 No. 3, pp. 267-281.
Mendez, M., Flores-Haro, G. and Zucker, L. (2020), “The (in) visible victims of disaster: understanding
the vulnerability of undocumented Latino/a and indigenous immigrants”, Geoforum, Vol. 116,
pp. 50-62.
Mileti, D.S., Drabek, T.E. and Haas, J.E. (1975), Human Systems in Extreme Environments: A Sociological
Perspective (No. 21), Institute of Behavioral Science, University of Colorado, Boulder, CO.
Mosse, D. (2005), Cultivating Development: an Ethnography of Aid Policy and Practice, Pluto Press,
London; Ann Arbor, MI, doi: 10.2307/j.ctt18fs4st.
Mosse, D. (2006), “Anti-social anthropology? Objectivity, objection, and the ethnography of public
policy and professional communities”, Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute, Vol. 12
No. 4, pp. 935-956, doi: 10.1111/j.1467-9655.2006.00371.x.
Murray, N. and Zyryanova, N. (2000), Policy Brief: what about Safe and Decent Housing that Is
Affordable?, FIU Jorge M. Perez Metropolitan Center, Miami, FL, available at: https://metropolitan.
fiu.edu/research/periodic-publications/policy-briefings/policybrief_safedecenthousing-1-1.pdf
(accessed 20 February 2021).
Nath, P.K. and Behera, B. (2011), “A critical review of impact of and adaptation to climate change in
developed and developing economies”, Environment, Development and Sustainability, Vol. 13,
pp. 141-162, doi: 10.1007/s10668-010-9253-9.
National Governors’ Association (1979), Comprehensive Emergency Management: A Governor’s Guide,
National Governors’ Association, Center for Policy Research, Washington, DC.
NBC6 South Florida (2017), “Residents of Allapattah’s condemned civic towers demand answers”,
available at: https://www.nbcmiami.com/news/local/residents-of-allapattahs-condemned-civictowers-demand-answers/25637/ (accessed 15 July 2021).
Neal, D.M. (1997), “Reconsidering the phases of disasters”, International Journal of Mass Emergencies
and Disasters, Vol. 15 No. 2, pp. 239-264.
Neal, D.M. (2013), “Social time and disaster”, International Journal of Mass Emergencies and Disasters,
Vol. 31 No. 2, pp. 247-270.
National Resources Defense Council (NRDC) (2020), Letter to the Justine Woodward, US Army Corps of
Engineers, Norfolk District, available at: https://www.nrdc.org/sites/default/files/miami-dadeback-bay-csrm-feasibility-study-comments-20200819.pdf (accessed 15 July 2021).
Nussbaum, M.C. (2000), Women and Human Development: The Capabilities Approach, Cambridge
University Press, New York, NY.
Olson, R.S. (2000), “Toward a politics of disaster: losses, values, agendas, and blame”, Crisis
Management, Vol. 18 No. 2, pp. 265-287.
Parra, C.R. (2017), “Allapattah tenants who had been sleeping in parking lot will be moved to hotel
rooms”, Miami Herald, available at: https://www.miamiherald.com/news/weather/hurricane/
article174406686.html (accessed 15 July 2021).
Pastor, M., Bullard, R., Boyce, J.K., Fothergill, A., Morello-Frosch, R. and Wright, B. (2006),
“Environment, disaster, and race after Katrina”, Race, Poverty and the Environment, Vol. 13
No. 1, pp. 21-26.
Polanyi, M. (1958), Personal Knowledge: Towards a Post-critical Philosophy, University of Chicago
Press, Chicago, IL.
Polanyi, M. (1966), The Tacit Dimension. The Terry Lectures, Yale University 1962, University of
Chicago Press, Chicago, IL.
Rethinking
disaster phases
DPM
Powell, J.W. (1954), An Introduction to the Natural History of Disaster, University of Maryland, College
Park, MD.
Quarantelli, E.L. (1982), Shelter and Housing after Major Community Disasters: Case Studies and
General Conclusions, Disaster Research Center, University of Delaware, Newark, DE.
Ridley, M., Rao, G., Schilbach, F. and Patel, V. (2020), “Poverty, depression, and anxiety: causal
evidence and mechanisms”, Science, Vol. 370 No. 6522, doi: 10.1126/science.aay0214.
c Trogrlic, R., Wright, G.B., Duncan, M.J., van den Homberg, M.J., Adeloye, A.J., Mwale, F.D. and
Saki
Mwafulirwa, J. (2019), “Characterising local knowledge across the flood risk management cycle: a
case study of Southern Malawi”, Sustainability, Vol. 11 No. 6, p. 1681, doi: 10.3390/su11061681.
Saraceno, B. and Barbui, C. (1997), “Poverty and mental illness”, The Canadian Journal of Psychiatry,
Vol. 42 No. 3, pp. 285-290.
Schwerdtle, P., Bowen, K. and McMichael, C. (2018), “The health impacts of climate-related Migration”,
BMC Medicine, Vol. 16 No. 1, doi: 10.1186/s12916-017-0981-7.
Scott, J.C. (1998), Seeing like a State: How Certain Schemes to Improve the Human Condition Have
Failed, Yale University Press, New Haven, CT.
Sen, A. (2005), “Human rights and capabilities”, Journal of Human Development, Vol. 6 No. 2,
pp. 151-166.
Shumow, M. (2019), “‘Why is it here, of all places?’: debris cleanup, black space, and narratives of
marginalized geographies in post- Irma Miami-dade”, in Pinto, J., Gutsche, R.E. and Prado, P.
(Eds), Climate Change, Media and Culture: Critical Issues in Global Environmental Communication,
Emerald Publishing, Bingley, pp. 13-32, doi: 10.1108/978-1-78769-967-020191004.
Stevens, S. (2001), “Fieldwork as commitment”, Geographical Review, Vol. 91 Nos 1/2, pp. 66-73.
Stoddard, E.R. (1968), Conceptual Models of Human Behaviour in Disasters, Texas Western Press,
El Paso, TX.
Tierney, K. and Oliver-Smith, A. (2012), “Social dimensions of disaster recovery”, International Journal
of Mass Emergencies and Disasters, Vol. 30 No. 2, pp. 123-146.
Union of Concerned Scientists (2016), “Encroaching tides in Miami-Dade county, Florida”, available at:
https://www.ucsusa.org/sites/default/files/attach/2016/04/miami-dade-sea-level-rise-tidalflooding-fact-sheet.pdf (accessed 20 February 2021).
Ursano, R., Morganstein, J. and Cooper, R. (2017), “American psychiatric association position
statement: mental health and climate change”, doi: 10.13140/RG.2.2.26846.64325.
US Army Corps of Engineers (USACE) (2020), Miami-dade Back Bay Coastal Storm Risk Management
Feasibility Study, Government Printing Office, Washington, DC, available at: https://www.saj.
usace.army.mil/MiamiDadeBackBayCSRMFeasibilityStudy/ (accessed 20 February 2021).
Wakefield, S. (2019), “Miami Beach forever? Urbanism in the back loop”, Geoforum, Vol. 107, pp. 34-44.
World Health Organization (WHO) (2013), Mental Health Action Plan 2013-2020, WHO Document
Production Services, Geneva, available at: https://www.who.int/publications/i/item/
9789241506021 (accessed 15 July 2021).
Wisner, B. (1995), “Bridging ‘expert’ and ‘local’ knowledge for counter-disaster planning in urban
South Africa”, GeoJournal, Vol. 37 No. 3, pp. 335-348.
Wisner, B. (1998), “Marginality and vulnerability: why the homeless of Tokyo don’t ‘count’ in disaster
preparations”, Applied Geography, Vol. 18 No. 1, pp. 25-33.
Corresponding author
Nazife Emel Ganapati can be contacted at: ganapat@fiu.edu
For instructions on how to order reprints of this article, please visit our website:
www.emeraldgrouppublishing.com/licensing/reprints.htm
Or contact us for further details: permissions@emeraldinsight.com