Each April in Japan, people participate in a tradition called “hanami,” or cherry-blossom viewing, where they picnic under the blooming trees. The tradition has a second purpose: The presence of people at these gatherings, often by water, helps solidify riverbanks and protect them from spring floods. The celebration has a dual purpose, by addressing, however incrementally, the threat of natural disaster.
The practice of creating things that also protect against disasters can be seen all over Japan, where many new or renovated school buildings have design features unfamiliar to students elsewhere. In Tokyo, one elementary school has a roof swimming pool that stores water and is used to help the building’s toilets flush, plus an additional rainwater catchment tank and exterior stairs leading to a large balcony that wraps around one side of the building.
Why? Well, Japan is prone to natural disasters, such as tsunamis, earthquakes, and flooding. The country’s schools often double as evacuation sites for local residents, and design practices increasingly reflect this. In normal times, the roof pool is where students learn to swim and helps keep the school cool, and the large balcony is used by spectators watching the adjacent school athletics field. In emergencies, water storage is crucial and exterior stairs help people ascend quickly to the gymnasium, built on the second floor — to keep evacuees safer during flooding.
Meanwhile, in one Tokyo district, rooftop solar power is now common. Some schools feature skylights and courtyards to bring in natural light. Again, these architectural features serve dual purposes. Solar power, for one, lowers annual operating costs, and it provides electricity even in case of grid troubles.
These are examples of what MIT scholar Miho Mazereeuw has termed “anticipatory design,” in which structures and spaces are built with dual uses, for daily living and for when crisis strikes.
“The idea is to have these proactive measures in place rather than being reactionary and jumping into action only after something has happened,” says Mazereeuw, an associate professor in MIT’s Department of Architecture and a leading expert on resilient design.
Now Mazereeuw has a new book on the subject, “Design Before Disaster: Japan’s Culture of Preparedness,” published by the University of Virginia Press. Based on many years of research, with extensive illustrations, Mazereeuw examines scores of successful design examples from Japan, both in terms of architectural features and the civic process that created them.
“I’m hoping there can be a culture shift,” Mazereeuw says. “Wherever you can invent design outcomes to help society be more resilient beforehand, it is not at exorbitant cost. You can design for exceptional everyday spaces but embed other infrastructure and flexibility in there, so when there is a flood event or earthquake, those buildings have more capability.”
Bosai and barbecue
Mazereeuw, who is also the head of MIT’s Urban Risk Lab, has been studying disaster preparedness for over 30 years. As part of the Climate Project at MIT, she is also one of the mission directors and has worked with communities around the world on resiliency planning.
Japan has a particularly well-established culture of preparedness, often referred to through the Japanese word “bosai.” Mazereeuw has been studying the country’s practices carefully since the 1990s. In researching the book, she has visited hundreds of sites in the country and talked to many officials, designers, and citizens along the way.
Indeed, Mazereeuw emphasizes, “A major theme in the book is connecting the top-down and bottom-up.” Some good design ideas come from planners and architects. Other have come from community groups and local residents. All these sources are important.
“The Japanese government does invest a lot in disaster research and recovery,” Mazereeuw says. “But I would hate for people in other countries to think this isn’t possible elsewhere. It’s the opposite. There are a lot of examples in here that don’t cost extra, because of careful design through community participation.”
As one example, Mazereeuw devotes a chapter of the book to public parks, which are often primary evacuation spaces for residents in case of emergency. Some have outdoor cooking facilities, which in normal times are used for, say, a weekend barbecue or local community events but are also there in case of emergency. Some parks also have water storage, or restroom facilities designed to expand if needed, and many serve as flood reservoirs, protecting the surrounding neighborhood.
“The barbecue facilities are a great example of dual use, connecting the everyday with disaster preparedness,” Mazereeuw says. “You can bring food into this beautiful park, so you’re used to using this space for cooking already. The idea is that your cognitive map of where you should go is connected to fun things you have done in the past.”
Some of the parks Mazereeuw surveys in the book are tiny pocket parks, which are also filled with useful resilience tools.
“Anticipatory design does not have to be monumental,” Mazereeuw writes in the book.
Negotiating through design
To be sure, some disaster mitigation measures are difficult to enact. In the Naiwan district of Kesennuma, as Mazereeuw outlines in the book, much of the local port area was destroyed in the 2011 tsunami, and the government wanted to build a seawall as part of the reconstruction plan. Some local residents and fishermen were unenthusiastic; a seawall could limit ocean access. Finally, after extended negotiations, designers created a seawall integrated into a new commercial district with cafes and stores, as well as new areas of public water access.
“This project used the power of design to negotiate between prefectural and local regulations, structural integrity and aesthetics, ocean access and safety,” Mazereeuw says.
Ultimately, working to build a coalition in support of resilience measures can help create more interesting and useful designs.
Other scholars have praised “Design Before Disaster.” Daniel P. Aldrich, a professor at Northeastern University, has called the book a “well-researched, clearly written investigation” into Japanese disaster-management practices, adding that any officials or citizens around the world “who seek to keep residents and communities safe from shocks of all kinds will learn something important from this book. It sets a high bar for future scholarship in the field.”
For her part, Mazereeuw emphasizes, “We can learn from the Japanese example, but it’s not a copy-paste thing. The book is so people can understand the essence of it and then create their own disaster preparedness culture and approach. This should be an all-hands process. Emergency management is not about relying on managers. It’s figuring out how we all play a part.”