Disasters shake both bodies and minds. Most of them blur the distinction between the “man-made” and the “natural.” In recent weeks, several events jolted us into recognizing how fragile our built environments — and institutions — really are.
The November 21 earthquake in Bangladesh so close to Dhaka caught nearly everyone off guard. Only a few days later, the Korail fire on November 25, in the shadow of one of Dhaka’s most affluent residential districts, burned down some 1,500 dwellings.
It exposed the systemic neglect of the city’s underprivileged residents and highlighted the hazards embedded in a rapidly growing city that suffers from weak governance. Bangladesh scores low on global governance indicators, and the consequences of that are felt most acutely by the urban poor.
The devastating fire in a Hong Kong apartment block on November 26 showed that even a city lauded for excellent governance and low corruption is not immune. The loss of many elderly residents revealed structural vulnerabilities that had persisted despite high regulatory standards. The use of bamboo scaffolding and flammable foam — traditions largely abandoned in mainland China — underscored how outdated practices can endure in the shadows of modern systems.
Even as the blaze was still raging, Hong Kong police arrested two company directors and a consultant responsible for the building’s maintenance, charging them with manslaughter. This demonstrates that a well-governed system does not tolerate negligence and takes swift, impartial action.
History offers powerful lessons
One of the most consequential earthquakes in modern times struck Lisbon, Portugal, on November 1, 1755 — Saints’ Day — killing an estimated 70,000 people. The quake, estimated at magnitude 8.5–9.0, struck just offshore. Violent shaking destroyed most of the city. A tsunami swept through the harbor and lower districts, and fires — sparked by toppled candles in churches and homes — burned for days.
The catastrophe triggered one of the earliest state-led urban reconstruction and disaster-mitigation projects. The medieval maze of narrow streets was replaced with a rational grid of straight, wide avenues designed to improve navigation, sanitation, crowd movement, and fire protection. Standardized building components were introduced, and one of the world’s first anti-seismic design principles was implemented through a strict building code.
The earthquake also shook the European intellectual world. Many Church leaders interpreted the disaster as divine punishment for Lisbon’s sins. Voltaire, horrified by such explanations, used the event to critique religious fatalism. In his response, he rejected the idea that a benevolent God would inflict indiscriminate suffering. For Voltaire, natural disasters followed physical rather than moral laws, and humans should seek practical solutions instead of theological rationalizations. Governance, he argued implicitly, must rely on reason, not superstition.
Another historically significant disaster was the Great Kantō Earthquake of September 1, 1923, which devastated Tokyo and Yokohama. The magnitude 7.9 quake caused more than 105,000 deaths. Intense shaking was followed by massive firestorms, fueled by typhoon winds. Traditional heavy tile roofs, flammable wooden structures, extreme urban density, and inadequate firebreaks compounded the destruction.
Japan’s response became a turning point in modern disaster governance. Under Home Minister Gotō Shinpei, the government launched an ambitious reconstruction program. Tokyo’s redesign included wider roads to serve as firebreaks, new parks and open spaces as evacuation sites, stricter building alignment, modern sewage and water systems, and zoning laws to reduce fire risk. The country introduced rigorous earthquake-resistant building codes, restricting heavy-tile roofs and establishing strengthened masonry standards. Early seismic design principles began to take shape.
In 1925, Japan founded the Earthquake Research Institute at the University of Tokyo, which became the country’s leading centre for seismology and earthquake engineering. It expanded seismic instrumentation, installed standardized seismographs nationwide, and developed early models of plate tectonics and fault mechanics — well before these theories gained global acceptance. The institute also formalized seismic intensity recording, the precursor to the modern JMA Shindo scale.
The Kantō disaster spurred the creation of Japan’s national disaster-preparedness system. September 1 was declared “Disaster Prevention Day,” now a major annual drill. Local governments adopted disaster plans, and public education campaigns taught citizens evacuation procedures, fire control methods, and the importance of emergency supplies.
Urban planning integrated fire-resistant districts, dedicated evacuation parks, water-reservoir towers, hydrants, and cisterns. Infrastructure — bridges, railways, gas lines — was redesigned to withstand seismic forces. Automatic shutoff systems for gas and trains emerged from these reforms. Tokyo’s later subway system was built under strict seismic standards born from the 1923 lessons.
The disaster also revealed troubling unintended consequences. Rumours and mass panic led to the killing of thousands of Koreans and other minorities. The military exploited the emergency to expand its political power, shaping future debates on emergency laws and the dangers of misinformation-driven violence.
Over time, Japan became a global leader in earthquake engineering, early warning systems, disaster education, urban fire management, and multi-hazard mitigation. These achievements were built on painful lessons — reminders that disasters, while tragic, often force societies to confront weaknesses and rethink how they prepare, prevent, and respond.
Is Bangladesh prepared to take decisive action — both in strengthening disaster readiness and in holding those responsible for negligence accountable — while also developing the preventive measures needed to avoid future Korail-type tragedies?
Habibul Haque Khondker is a sociologist and columnist.
