International Federation, Viet Nam 2000

Chapter 5 - summary
Post-flood recovery in Viet Nam

Tropical storms dumped over two years of rain on Viet Nam's central provinces during November-December 1999. All rivers burst their banks, some rising a metre an hour. The worst floods for a century wiped out ten years of development.

Nearly 800 people died and 55,000 were left homeless – in all, 1.7 million people were directly affected. Agriculture, the main employer, was hit hard – 60,000 hectares of paddies were ruined, countless animals drowned, and hundreds of fishing boats shattered. Damage, including lost infrastructure, was estimated at US$ 290 million. In August 2000, another tropical storm submerged the Mekong delta beneath the worst floods there for four decades – inundating 800,000 homes in Viet Nam alone.

Recent research suggests that the frequency and scale of flooding is increasing. El Niño/La Niña is partly to blame. But Viet Nam's population of 78 million has doubled since 1975. More people are crowding into exposed coastal areas, where rice grows, and felling trees for domestic fuel and construction. Deforestation will, if unchecked, eradicate all Viet Nam's forests within 50 years – stripping away natural barriers to flash floods.

Recurrent natural disasters are sweeping away development gains. Thousands of Vietnamese cannot recover from one disaster before the next hits. How can relief dollars make a more lasting impact? How can development become more disaster-resistant? How can humanitarian organizations respond both swiftly, to save lives, and sustainably, so that interventions have a lasting effect?

Family housing illuminates the dilemma: after each flood, the same families are left homeless – often the poorest, whose exposed, fragile homes are destroyed along with their contents. Without homes or livelihoods, families are sucked into a downward spiral of increasing vulnerability.

Viet Nam's traditional hardwood buildings resisted typhoons and flooding. Modern houses, built with more lightweight materials such as corrugated iron and bricks, are less disaster-proof. So the Vietnamese Red Cross and the International Federation commissioned a new 'stronger house' design, featuring: concrete foundations; strong roof bracing; fixed steel frame; and good connections between frame and roof.

The house's core will resist floods. Valuable belongings and food can be stored on a gallery floor above flood levels. The new design can save lives (roofs as refuge); save the family's greatest material possession (the house); and save livelihoods (first-floor storage for seeds and tools).

Out of 2,450 stronger houses built after the 1998 floods, only one collapsed due to the 1999 floods. Villagers called them 'little mountains'. By August 2000, 7,400 stronger houses had been built at US$ 500 per unit. Beneficiaries are the most vulnerable people: handicapped, elderly, single female-headed households. They are delighted by the programme. As are donors: one ambassador said it proved emergency aid could be durable and "not money which pours down the drain at the next flood".

But the little mountains have generated a big debate: are they too expensive, too reliant on materials not locally available, too 'top-down' in their approach to design? Who should decide on the right design, materials and price? Who should build them? Who should pay?

An independent review of the Red Cross programme concluded that individual villagers could not replicate the stronger house model for themselves. But can a destitute villager – whose assets, livelihood and loved ones may have been swept away – be expected to rebuild their house stronger than before? It may be more realistic and compassionate to identify the most vulnerable people and provide them with a new home, thereby breaking the downward spiral of disaster. A US$ 500 house could be home to seven people – US$ 70 per potential life saved.

Thousands of at-risk families across Viet Nam need stronger houses. This investment is beyond the means of humanitarian organizations, but it should not be too much for the Vietnamese government and their lenders. The burden of replicating stronger houses should fall not on individual householders, but on their local, state and national authorities. Meanwhile, humanitarian organizations can lead by example and provide for the most vulnerable.

The World Bank argues that reconstruction should use traditional materials. Yet in Viet Nam traditional materials are hardwoods – no longer appropriate given the rate of deforestation. So are concrete foundations, steel frames and corrugated iron roofs culturally inappropriate? Vietnamese, not foreigners, are the best judges. In 2000, the Red Cross sponsored a housing competition to give indigenous organizations the chance to express their preferences.

The competition attracted 15 major local companies. The jury, comprising experts from government, engineers and aid workers, decided that for mass production, quality, speed and simplicity, the combination of steel frames and concrete foundations could not be beaten when it comes to emergency housing. For development programmes with on-site supervision, a method using locally produced, high-quality concrete blocks was the winner. No company used bamboo or wood as these are perceived by Vietnamese as too weak, too expensive, not durable enough, or in too short supply.

By mid-2001, the Red Cross and the government between them will have built over 20,000 flood-resistant houses in 16 provinces. The success of the 'little mountains' could be seen just in terms of saving lives and breaking the cycle of disaster. But the programme also seized the opportunity that disaster presents – media coverage, international money, attention of the government and local people – and sparked a debate on how best to respond to future disasters in a way both lifesaving and sustainable. The stronger houses not only made relief dollars last longer, they arrived in time for the next flood and proved they could save lives and livelihoods.

As a communications tool, the houses sent a powerful message that families and belongings need not be swept away every year. The challenge now is to hang on to that message, but adapt its practical realization to local conditions. That means working with government and communities to replicate the structural principles in a sustainable way (see box).

One locally-based non-governmental organization (NGO), Development Workshop (DW), is teaching communities to construct houses with disasters in mind. Their two-tier approach encompasses village animation activities (e.g., plays, concerts, posters) in parallel with practical demonstrations. "Having the population talk about the whole issue of prevention is central," says DW. During 2000, DW helped villagers strengthen several dozen houses. But cost remains a problem. And no single NGO is large enough to train an entire nation. The government must take responsibility, says the United Nations Development Programme.

In Viet Nam, as in many nations constantly recovering from disasters, emergency aid is intrinsically linked to development, and both approaches are needed. For those made destitute by disaster – unable to build a new home or raise a loan before next year's flood – a new, stronger house may be the quickest, most cost-effective and durable form of relief. A lecture on how to build a flood-proof house is not enough. While humanitarian organizations can initiate this process, the responsibility for protecting people rests with the government.

For the less destitute, however, providing off-the-shelf kits doesn't teach them new ways of building, which may be the most viable long-term solution in the absence of government intervention. So both approaches – quickly providing lifesaving homes and slowly teaching improved construction skills – are indispensable.

This chapter was written by Iolanda Jaquemet, an independent journalist based in Geneva.