When PAGASA can’t even count 1, 2, 3
I know typhoons pretty well, and my only credential is that I live in
Ilocos Norte, a province most frequently hit by disaster. That and some gut
feeling matched with common sense.
I
have learned survival skills: keeping necessary supplies in the house (food,
water, batteries), monitoring news on the radio, being alert all the time and
not panic. Over the years, I have also learned one important survival
mechanism: not to trust PAGASA, the Philippines’ official weather agency.
On
Sept. 15, for example, PAGASA raised public storm warning signal No. 3,
automatically cancelling classes in schools in all levels, and work in
government offices as well. It turned out to be a fair and sunny day. Even malunggay leaves were still.
Last
Friday [Sept. 19], on the other hand, PAGASA raised only Signal No. 2 as Mario
set its sights on Ilocos Norte. On Saturday morning, the people—at least
those who were able to sleep—woke up to a great disaster. Trees have fallen,
debris were scattered in the streets, many areas were flooded, and the province
was enveloped in darkness. It was, by far, the strongest natural disaster to
hit the province this year.
At
mid-day, hundreds of families in in high-risk areas have been evacuated, some
towns have become isolated, a number of roads and highways were rendered
impassable (leaving thousands of travelers stranded), and agriculture has
sustained hundreds of millions in losses, even as Mario, by then infamously
referred to as “Super Mario”, continued to intensify. PAGASA released at 11:00
a.m. another weather bulletin: it was still signal no. 2.
Why,
everyone asks, is there a big disconnect between official pronouncements from
PAGASA and the people’s experience on the ground? Why do they have
more misses than hits? If only our weather bureau is as good in
forecasting as they are in giving excuses, we would be fine.
The
first excuse is that their staff are only making forecasts based on data
they scientifically gather. It’s the “this is what we as experts saw, what can
we do?” attitude. By this, they insult the people by implying that
meteorologists know things that are highly technical, and which the common mind
cannot fully understand. But isn’t it the agency’s job to provide information
that really matter to the people whose taxes they spend? What for is
data that only supposedly experts (assuming they really are) understand?
The farmer whose entire crop has been damaged or the mother who fears their
whole house will collapse by the pounding wind needs no anemometer, not
even the most basic type, to know that it was more than Signal No. 2.
Secondly,
PAGASA always pins the blame on lack of equipment and manpower. This could be
partly true, but when independent blogs and websites—most of which are run by
only a person or two—churn out far more accurate forecasts than PAGASA,
it means something is terribly wrong with the how state agency, and it’s
not just lack of funding.
Thirdly,
they blame Mother Nature herself, no thanks to the phenomenon called climate
change. Weather has really become unpredictable, they say. But this is a lame
excuse. Long before the term “climate change” has come to fore, PAGASA was
already a superstar in its perennial comedy of errors. Granting that weather
patterns and typhoon behavior have indeed changed, isn’t it PAGASA’s role to
keep up with the times?
The
easy solution that PAGASA officials always propose is that more money should be
poured into the agency so it can meet its technical and manpower
requirements, but given its long history of folly and hopelessness, I think it is
high time to give up, ironically as it may sound, on PAGASA. Over the years,
there have been proposals to deregulate or privatize weather forecasting in the
Philippines as it has been done in other countries like the United States. We
should seriously consider this. Such shift will surely bring forth efficiency
and accountability in weather forecasting, and we could even save on the
people’s taxes.
In
the case of PAGASA, thousands of lives are lost while billions of pesos of
private property are damaged whenever the agency fails to see the trajectory of
a storm or underestimates its intensity, as was the case in super-typhoons
“Ondoy”, “Pepeng”, “Basyang”, and “Sendong” which hit various parts of the
country in recent years. Of course, there are cases when PAGASA does
predict weather with some accuracy, but even when it does, they fail to
effectively communicate crucial information to the people. In the case of
Yolanda, the most destructive typhoon in the world’s modern history, Ma.
Cecilia Monteverde, assistant weather services chief of PAGASA, admitted that
more could have been done in explaining to the public the magnitude and gravity
of a storm surge.
“We
weren’t able to tackle that. It’s more on the signals and in delivering the
forecasts and warning distributed to the public. But the storm surge wasn’t
explained there,” she reportedly said.
Have
PAGASA officials been sanctioned for the massive loss in lives and property?
No. In fact, notes Nonoy Oplas of the think tank Minimal Government Thinkers, Inc.,
any failed or wrong analysis or over-reaction (declaring an LPA immediately
even if there is none) is a reason for PAGASA to say, “we need more money”. In
effect, inefficiency is rewarded with more money.
PAGASA’s
budget has risen through the years, notes Oplas. It got P1.20 billion in 2011,
followed by P1.28 B in 2012, and P1.46 B in 2013. The bulk of its budget is
capital outlay, which means the purchase of more modern equipment and offices,
followed by maintenance and other operating expenses then personnel services.
The salaries and allowances of its employees have also
increased while the accuracy of their forecasts constantly stagnates, if
not declines. Meanwhile, PAGASA officials stress in the public consciousness
that we must feel indebted to meteorologists because they, in fact, are
modern-day heroes who exhibit strong nationalism by staying in the country
while refusing tempting offers abroad. Pardon my ignorance, but I thought
heroes saves lives, and sometimes lose their own in the process. When has the
definition of heroism changed to include causing harm to people through
misinformation? While PAGASA’s armchair scientists are in their
air-conditioned offices sipping coffee, thinking of what excuses they’d use for
yet another epic fail, families elsewhere are suffering, crying for help, and
asking themselves what they have done to deserve an agency like PAGASA.
Super
Mario, Signal No. 2, has almost left, and soon we expect some sunshine as we
begin to pick up the pieces from the rubble and mayhem he caused. Even as we
feel sad about the damage, we feel proud that we survived as we celebrate once
more the Filipino’s strong resilience and resolve. We are glad that a growing
number of LGUs have become more dynamic in their disaster response, with zero
casualty in Albay’s Glenda and now, Ilocos Norte’s Super Mario. We laud
volunteer groups who risk life and limb to extend a hand to those in peril. We
commend courageous and responsible people in the media and online networks for
keeping us abreast with information we seriously need. We, dear karikna, are proud of all these.
While
PAGASA—in its decrepit, despicable, dangerously unreliable state—remains (heavy
sigh) shamelessly the same.
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