# Risk Communication for the Future

Mathilde Bourrier, Corinne Bieder

► To cite this version:

Mathilde Bourrier, Corinne Bieder (Dir.). Risk Communication for the Future: Towards Smart Risk Governance and Safety Management. Springer, 2018, Springer Briefs in Applied Sciences and Technology 978-3-319-74098-0. 10.1007/978-3-319-74098-0 hal-01826833

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Mathilde Bourrier

Corinne Bieder *Editors*

Risk Communication
for the Future

Towards Smart Risk
Governance and
Safety Management

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FONCSI
Fondation pour une culture
de sécurité industrielle

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Springer Open
SpringerBriefs in Applied Sciences
and Technology

Safety Management

Series editors

Eric Marsden, FonCSI, Toulouse, France

Caroline Kamaté, FonCSI, Toulouse, France

François Daniellou, FonCSI, Toulouse, France
The SpringerBriefs in Safety Management present cutting-edge research results on the management of technological risks and decision-making in high-stakes settings.

Decision-making in high-hazard environments is often affected by uncertainty and ambiguity; it is characterized by trade-offs between multiple, competing objectives. Managers and regulators need conceptual tools to help them develop risk management strategies, establish appropriate compromises and justify their decisions in such ambiguous settings. This series weaves together insights from multiple scientific disciplines that shed light on these problems, including organization studies, psychology, sociology, economics, law and engineering. It explores novel topics related to safety management, anticipating operational challenges in high-hazard industries and the societal concerns associated with these activities.

These publications are by and for academics and practitioners (industry, regulators) in safety management and risk research. Relevant industry sectors include nuclear, offshore oil and gas, chemicals processing, aviation, railways, construction and healthcare. Some emphasis is placed on explaining concepts to a non-specialized audience, and the shorter format ensures a concentrated approach to the topics treated.

The SpringerBriefs in Safety Management series is coordinated by the Foundation for an Industrial Safety Culture (FonCSI), a public-interest research foundation based in Toulouse, France. The FonCSI funds research on industrial safety and the management of technological risks, identifies and highlights new ideas and innovative practices, and disseminates research results to all interested parties.

For more information: https://www.foncsi.org/

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More information about this series at http://www.springer.com/series/15119
Mathilde Bourrier · Corinne Bieder
Editors

Risk Communication
for the Future

Towards Smart Risk Governance and Safety
Management

<figure><img src="image_5.png" /></figure>

Springer Open
Editors

Mathilde Bourrier
Geneva School of Social Sciences
University of Geneva
Geneva
Switzerland

Corinne Bieder
Ecole Nationale de l'Aviation Civile
Toulouse
France

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ISSN 2191-530X

ISSN 2191-5318 (electronic)

SpringerBriefs in Applied Sciences and Technology

ISSN 2520-8004

ISSN 2520-8012 (electronic)

SpringerBriefs in Safety Management

ISBN 978-3-319-74097-3

ISBN 978-3-319-74098-0 (eBook)

https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-319-74098-0

Library of Congress Control Number: 2018931922

© The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s) 2018. This book is an open access publication.

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# Preface

Risk communication is considered an essential pillar in safety and risk science. However, it has too often been reduced to a set of practices and how-to guidelines (Do's and Don'ts) that have prevented this essential part of any safety and risk mitigation strategy from getting the attention that it requires.

Offering a richer perspective on the topic, through a reflection on the underlying assumptions and intentions that are behind any attempt at “communicating” about risks and safety matters, was the ambition of a 3-day workshop held in April 2016 in the spectacular Abbaye of Sorèze, near Toulouse, France. The contributors, international researchers, and professionals in many disciplines and domains were brought together by the NeTWork<fnref n="1" /> think tank. It is a tradition of NeTWork to foster relationships and understanding between academics and practitioners. This book is yet another example of the benefit that such dialogue can bring to the public arena. The conversation is just started and we wish to continue to wrestle with risk communication challenges and safety management requirements in the future.

The co-editors, Mathilde Bourrier and Corinne Bieder, are deeply grateful to the FonCSI (Foundation for an Industrial Safety Culture)<fnref n="2" /> for the support and funding of this research initiative.

Geneva, Switzerland
Toulouse, France
November 2017

Mathilde Bourrier
Corinne Bieder

<footnote n="1">¹NeTWork: http://www.network-network.org/.</footnote>

<footnote n="2">²FonCSI: https://www.foncsi.org/.</footnote>
# Contents

**Risk Communication 101: A Few Benchmarks** 1
Mathilde Bourrier

## Part I Persuading in Peace Time: A Long Lasting Story

**Public Participation in the Debate on Industrial Risk in France: A Success Story?** 17
Caroline Kamaté

**Organizing Risk Communication for Effective Preparedness: Using Plans as a Catalyst for Risk Communication** 31
Amandine Berger-Sabbatel and Benoit Journé

**Nuclear Crisis Preparedness Lessons Learned from Fukushima Daiichi** 45
Geneviève Baumont

**Risk Communication Between Companies and Local Stakeholders for Improving Accident Prevention and Emergency Response** 61
Michael Baram and Preben Hempel Lindøe

## Part II When Reality Strikes Back: Tough Lessons to Be Learned from Crises

**How Risk Communication Can Contribute to Sharing Accurate Health Information for Individual Decision-Making** 81
Mariko Nishizawa

**Crisis Communication During the Ebola Outbreak in West Africa: The Paradoxes of Decontextualized Contextualization** 95
Loïs Bastide
Part III The Collapse of Absolute Trust in Absolute Truth

Transparency in Health Care: Disclosing Adverse

Events to the Public .................................................. 111

Siri Wiig, Karina Aase, Mathilde Bourrier and Olav Røise

How Safety Communication Can Support Safety Management:

The Case of Commercial Aviation .................................... 127

Michel Guérard

Risk Communication from an Audit Team to Its Client .................... 139

Petra Haferkorn

Societal Risk Communication—Towards Smart Risk Governance
and Safety Management .................................................. 155

Corinne Bieder
<figure><img src="image_7.png" /></figure>

Mathilde Bourrier

**Abstract** Risk and crisis communication constitutes a rich field of expertise and practices. For a long time, it has been mainly viewed and still is, as a practical rather than a theory-based approach. Numerous manuals and “how-to” books have been published over the last decades. It is often believed that they provide more recipes, refined over the years, than solid scientific literature upon which an evidence-based risk and crisis communication strategy can be developed and fostered. This review is based partially on a surprise: contrary to what was expected, there is an abundant stock of theories and approaches, albeit very diverse. The intention of this chapter is to guide the reader through some of them, considered, maybe over hastily, as the most prominent. The objective is not to produce an exhaustive review, but rather to provide an orientation in a field, whose popularity is growing throughout industries, companies, public health institutions, and public services.

**Keywords** Risk communication • Crisis communication • Emerging crises
Risk and safety management

Introduction

Risk and crisis communication constitutes a rich field of expertise and practices. It
has long been (and still is) mainly viewed as a practical rather than a theory-based
approach. Numerous manuals and “how-to” books have been published over the
last decades (Lundgren and McMakin 2009; Heath and O’Hair 2010; Sellnow et al.
2009 to name only a few). It is often believed that they provide more recipes,
refined over the years, than solid scientific literature upon which an
evidenced-based risk and crisis communication strategy can be developed and
fostered (McComas 2006). This review is based partially on a surprise: contrary to

<footnote>M. Bourrier (✉)</footnote>

<footnote>Department of Sociology, Institut de recherches sociologiques, University of Geneva,
Geneva, Switzerland</footnote>

<footnote>e-mail: Mathilde.bourrier@unige.ch</footnote>
what was expected, there is an abundant stock of theories and approaches, albeit very diverse. The intention of this chapter is to guide the reader through some of them, considered, maybe too hastily, as the most prominent. The objective is not to produce an exhaustive review, but rather to provide an orientation in a field, whose popularity is growing throughout industries, companies, public health institutions, and public services.

The profile of risk and crisis communication was elevated to a major topic in the aftermath of 9/11 as scenarios of massive terrorist attacks, large-scale natural disaster and the threat of reemerging diseases attracted resources, scholarships, funding, and new concepts (Bastide 2017). Indeed, nowadays it is deemed to be integral to any public policy intervention. However, repeated examples of fiascos and less than adequate campaigns and responses have naturally shed light on complex and often controversial issues that risk and crisis communication involves. The risk communication fiasco concerning anthrax in the United States in the aftermath of the 9/11 attacks is one famous example (Glik 2007). During Hurricane Katrina (2004), it is believed that people died in greater numbers than predicted as a result of internal communication and coordination failures at the State and Federal levels (Gheytanchi et al. 2007; Perrow 2007). The terrible mistakes made in West Africa during the Ebola crisis aggravated relationships with populations already in despair, leading them into hiding (Faye 2015; Calain and Poncin 2015; Le Marcis 2015).

Nevertheless, attempts at promoting breakthroughs in risk and crisis communication in order to promote evidence-based campaigns are on the agenda of numerous powerful organizations. For example, it should be recalled that the topic of risk communication has already been identified as one of the eight core capacities of International Health Regulations (2005) (Malley et al. 2009). Lately, in 2015, World Health Organization, in the aftermath of Ebola Virus Disease Crisis, has set up a working group in charge of drafting “guidelines on building national capacity for communicating health risks during public health emergencies”.

Research in the field of risk and crisis communication is at a crossroads: it can both enhance and sophisticate its current tools, or it can look for alternatives to its current work practices and develop new thinking. Indeed, the emergent crises of our times are putting pressure on various types of authorities to develop communication tools and preparedness as well as capacities to deal with unpredictable outcomes and lasting uncertainties. The general philosophy for risk and crisis communication is rather straightforward: planning in advance, announcing early, being transparent, respecting public concerns, and building trust (Abraham 2009): “Be first, be right, be credible” is the slogan of the famous Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (US CDC). But, is it enough?

Risk and crisis communication now has a history of over three decades. It is often associated with technological disasters, natural disasters, floods, bio-terrorism, and sanitary crises (including infectious disease epidemics). But this sort of communication is also associated with a wide range of public health priorities and
concerns, such as the hazards of smoking, obesity, air quality, VIH detection, to name only a few. Its profile has been raised, when powerful organizations such as the CDC in the United States issued, in 2002, their Crisis and Risk Emergency Communication (CERC) manual, followed in 2005 by World Health Organization's own guidelines for outbreak communication.

There is a historic distinction between “care communication”, “consensus communication”, and “crisis communication” (Lundgren and McMakin 2009). Risk and crisis communication differs in definition and scope, however they are also interconnected. As Bennington explains (2014, p. 32): “Risk communication addresses probabilities and potential situations of harm and danger, while crisis communication focuses on a specific event or action that has already occurred or will almost certainly occur in the near future (...). Risk communication messages almost always address likely (future) consequences, are based on some form of persuasive and compelling evidence and are intended to prevent or modify specific behaviors and practices” (...) “crisis communication is an on-going process that occurs during the actual crisis” (...). “It addresses both what is known and not known about a situation”.

Interestingly, in today's practice of risk communication at CDC, the two concepts have been merged and are combined in a same model called “Crisis and Emergency Risk Communication” (CERC model).

Disciplines and fields such as psychology, social-psychology, economic psychology, behavioral sciences, sociology, media studies, information technology and political science have greatly contributed to the clarification of what is risk and crisis communication (Glik 2007). One can only stress in this brief overview that “good” risk or crisis communication can do little in the face of massive governance problems, where controversies and conflicts naturally arising inside first-line institutions dealing with complex crises will inevitably also be visible on the outside. Suppressing controversies over uncertainties is not possible. Therefore, crisis management is increasingly becoming a question of (risk) governance (Renn 2008; Haferkorn, this volume) rather than being confined only to a question of communication technics.

Risk and crisis communication is a part of risk management, which can be understood as a technical field applying probabilities to articulate and recommend prevention and mitigation strategies—at the technical, organizational, and individual level. Yet, it has long been demonstrated that recommendations based on the balance of risks and benefits, made by experts, are not sufficient. Anthropologist Mary Douglas with political scientist Aaron Wildavsky (1983) pioneered studies, aiming at emphasizing the gap existing between different segments of society on what an acceptable future might look like. Slovic's (2000) numerous studies confirmed that social actors hold different risk perceptions, depending on their position in society. In this book, several chapters touch upon these various issues, and examples of risk communication strategies belonging to different perspectives, and even mixing some of them are presented, reflecting on the tensions that the field is currently experiencing.
In the remainder of the chapter, a brief overview of the main theories in use and their respective merits will introduce the reader to a more complex field. We choose a somewhat chronological presentation for practical reasons. However, the reader should not be lured by an apparent evolutionary trend. In fact, these successive attempts at enriching the field continue to coexist largely in the academic literature and within organizations. Fischhoff cautioned us with this false evolutionary pro-
mise already and gave this humorous synthesis reproduced below (1995, p. 138).

* All we have to do is get the numbers right

* All we have to do is tell them the numbers

* All we have to do is explain what we mean by the numbers

* All we have to do is show them that they've accepted similar risks in the past

* All we have to do is show them it's a good deal for them

* All we have to do is treat them nice

* All we have to do is make them partners

* All of the above.

# The Crisis, the Experts and the Public

## Baseline

Historically, risk and crisis communication has been considered as a subset of technical communication (Ogrizek and Guillery 2000). Mainly, it has been viewed as the communication of some risk to affected parties by experts. The emblematic model of such conception is the classical crisis communication approach, which is mainly instrumental and rests only within risk communication professionals. The idea is to only give the audience the information they need to protect themselves, usually radically (like accepting an evacuation). This crisis communication can be referred to as the firefighters type, where threats are tangible and protection vital. During time of crisis, as Bennington (2014) explains, decision-makers need to “construct a crisis response narrative that (1) meets the organization’s goals of informing, reassuring, and protecting the public and (2) instills sufficient confidence in the organization to insure the public will be influenced to take the actions deemed necessary to manage the threat.” (p. 8).

The dominant paradigm is to persuade the general public of the sound basis of expert's judgments. Irrationality, misperception, misconception, misinformation, inaccurate reporting, and rumors (Bennington 2014, p. 10) are the main obstacles to be suppressed by “effective” risk and crisis communication strategies.

This rather one-sided view has not disappeared and when it comes to crisis communication, public officials or industry representatives often refer to irrational public fears, or unfounded doubts, that they have to fight. Rumors, myths, urban legends, inaccurate information, fake stories, or conspiracy theories are often
targeted as the main limitations of successful campaigns. They have always existed, especially during epidemics (Berce 1993). Nowadays, they have the potential to reach millions of people in an instant through the internet and via social media. Some studies show that rumors and conspiracy theories are now part of mainstream political opinion (Hargrove and Stempel III 2007). As academic research has highlighted since the 1930s, rumors develop and amplify where uncertainties and lack of leadership are apparent (Prasad 1935; Allport and Postman 1947). Rumors help to make sense of what is happening and reduce the level of anxiety. They provide narratives and attribute clear responsibilities. Other scholars also explained that groups with less access to “legitimate” sources of information are more subject to rumors and more prone to disseminate them in their communities (Mirowsky and Ross 1983; Knight 2003).

In this perspective, “educating” and “persuading” the public are the main drivers of any risk communication strategy. Using psychological and behavioral research to establish adequate and efficient messages, and identify proper vehicles (community and/or religious leaders; trustworthy institutions; and now social media) are the main focus of risk communicators, wanting to modify behaviors and reducing what they call “knowledge gaps”. Bringing more knowledge in better formats are key to these activities.

## First Cracks in the Conventional Wisdom

The “Mental Models approach” grounded in cognitive psychology and artificial intelligence, developed at Carnegie-Mellon by researchers like Baruch Fischhoff and Granger Morgan (Morgan 2002) looks like a first attempt to enrich the perspective. Based on the Radon information program, located at the U.S. EPA (Environmental Protection Agency), researchers established that it is of crucial importance to understand what the audience already knows about the risk, and for crisis communication purposes what is the culture of the audience, to be able to discuss ways to mitigate a crisis. In their publications, they strongly advocate for in-depth qualitative interviews prior to developing risk communication programs of any kind: “Communications can be crafted to fill gaps, reinforce correct beliefs, and correct misconceptions—with some assurance that the messages are to the point and be comprehended by recipients” (Fischhoff 1995, p. 140).

With the “hazard + outrage” approach, later popularized by Sandman (2003), it is argued that the audience’s view of risk (as opposed to that of the expert assessing the risk) reflects not only the danger of the action (hazard) but also how people feel about the action, and even more important, what emotions they feel about the action (their outrage).

Later Covello (2010) developed the “Mental Noise approach” which stipulates that when people perceive themselves as being at risk, their ability to hear and process information decreases dramatically. They are preoccupied with a great deal of “internal mental noise” and are less able to attend to externally generated
information. His various studies show that the ability to pay attention and to retain information is estimated to be 80% less than normal. This is especially true in sudden and unexpected crises. Unfortunately, this line of research distilled for a long time the idea that emotions are only on the public's side.

Contemporary to these lines of research, Everett Rogers and colleagues (Rogers and Lincaid 1981) developed an approach called the “Convergence Communication approach”. For these researchers, communication is an “iterative long-term process” in which the values (culture, experiences, and background) of the risk communication organization and the audience affect the process of communication. In their view, this iterative process will naturally push the two groups (the organization and the audience) to converge on common ground, while exchanging information back and forth. In their theory, exchanging information modifies the outcome, bringing the two sides closer.

Unsurprisingly, these studies contributed to build a long-lasting consensus on the intrinsic qualities of a professional risk and crisis communication campaign (Covello et al. 1988): (i) Audiences tend to simplify messages and reduce their complexity; therefore, it is important to communicate with this principle in mind; (ii) Credibility and believability go hand in hand; therefore, experts really need to be independent; (iii) Risk messages should include some efficacious action that individuals can take to alleviate risk; (iv) Messages should be matched to audience needs and values, and their particular economic, political, and sociological backgrounds; (v) Candor, openness, and transparency are the cornerstones of risk and crisis communication.

From these principles, Covello and Allen (1988) derived seven cardinal rules of risk communication: (i) Accept and involve the public as a partner; (ii) Plan carefully and evaluate your effort; (iii) Listen to the public's specific concerns; (iv) Be honest, frank and open; (v) Work with other credible sources; (vi) Meet the needs of the media; (vii) Speak clearly and with compassion.

For years, these cornerstones of best practices have been the alpha and omega of any serious risk and crisis communicator. Major companies and institutions have largely integrated these principles, at least officially. Yet, they sometimes failed to completely embrace them in practice.

## Disputing Experts' Central Position: The Dialogic Turn

Since these pioneered studies, the risk communication field has known different tipping points. One of the main issues of the 1990s has been to revise and recast the central position of experts in the communication process. From all-too-powerful, and central in the production of knowledge and guidance, the tendency is now to encourage experts to engage in genuine listening exercises. These are not only “nice-to-do” but crucial in terms of knowledge production and ultimately key for designing the risk mitigation strategies.
The origin of this new line of research is often described as an early compre-
hensive effort led by the US. National Research Council (NRC) in 1989 to improve
risk communication. Its definition of risk communication is the following: “Risk
communication is an interactive process of exchange of information and opinions
among individuals, groups, and institutions concerning a risk or potential risk to
human health or the environment (...) social context of the risk should start from
the very beginning” and must incorporate “exchange of information and opinions”
(NRC 1989).

In this vein, Waddell (1995) opposed the view that during a risk communication
campaign and assessment, the scientific community provides technical knowledge
while the audience or stakeholders manifest values, beliefs, and emotions through
feedback on the risk communication effort. His approach holds that in fact inputs
come from both sides. There are no “hard facts” on one side and “soft facts” on the
other, expertise on one side and emotions on the other. Experts get emotional on
risk matters as well.

Finally, risk communication based on an understanding of the public as an active
participant in the process of apprehending and controlling risk, based on its own
rational understanding of risk, implies a different dialogic communication between
so-called “experts” and so-called “lay publics” (Abrahams 2009).

Entering the Twenty-First Century: Facing Social Networks
and Governance Issues

At the turn of the twenty-first century, observers and experts of the field tend to all agree that risk and crisis communication had to move away from the now classical and state-of-the-art public relations campaigns toward strong anticipatory and elaborate strategies (Berger and Journé, *this volume*; Baram and Lindoe, *this volume*). It appears to many that the “seven cardinal rules of risk communication”, recalled above, are insufficient when confronted with massive crises, capable of challenging preestablished plans and preconceptions.

Recent examples might include: The management of A (H1N1) pandemic in
2009–2010 (mostly in Europe); The *Deepwater Horizon* drilling rig explosion in
2010 and its environmental consequences in the Gulf of Mexico; The Great East
Japan Earthquake, Tsunami, and *Fukushima Daiichi* Nuclear Power Plant Accident
in March 2011 and its lasting impact on the population (Nishizawa, *this volume*; see
also Baumont, *this volume*); The 2014 Ebola Virus Disease epidemic in West
Africa and its burden in Guinea, Liberia, Sierra Leone (Bastide, *this volume*). These
book chapters are precisely looking back at the complex challenges that risk
communicators have had to face during these dramatic crises. They highlight the
daunting tasks that communicators had to fulfill, when disorganization was so
complete and fears so overwhelming.
Some experts believe that current crises are very different from older ones: “The accidental, compartmentalized crises of the twenty-first century have mutated into systemic dislocations calling for new intelligence” (Granatt et al. 2009, p. 1). Furthermore, scholars call for more elaborate strategic thinking that deliberately moves away from the “planning” culture. Plans give false comfort to managers and leaders. Plans may be counterproductive in the face of rapidly evolving crises (Clarke 1999; Lagadec 2009). To move away from a “planning culture” means allowing actors in charge to develop ad hoc strategies, according to local situations and needs. This cautious note should not be understood as a plea against predetermined scenario, nor against the scenario planning philosophy (Bieder and Bourrier 2013). They remain important tools to develop and rehearse. However, they should be enriched and augmented with the development of resilient, agile, self-designing risk communication strategies, aiming at facing the unexpected (Weick and Sutcliffe 2011). These strategies cannot be developed in a vacuum. They need to be supported by organizational practices that encourage this mindfulness, reliability, and high performance.

Recent examples of massive crises, like *Fukushima Daiichi* disaster or Ebola Virus Disease, still give steam to the “social amplification of risk” approach, developed in the late 1980s by Roger Kasperson and colleagues (among them were Jeanne Kasperson, Paul Slovic, Ortwin Renn) at Clark University (Kasperson et al. 1988; Kasperson and Kasperson 1996). The most fundamental argument of Kasperson and his colleagues is that social activities will magnify the consequences of a risk event, often in unexpected ways. Potential “social amplification stations” (Wiig et al. *this volume*) might include mass media and journalists, groups of scientists, governmental agencies, and politicians. Stigmatization is a primary concern. Later, Leiss and Powell (1997) theorized that a risk information “vacuum” is most likely to blame for the social amplification of risks. When experts refuse to provide information, or when they are seen as untrustworthy, a hungry public will fill the void, often with rumors, suppositions, easy to blame targets and fakes.

Following the social trust argument, Earle and Cvetkovich argue that “social trust, understood in everyday terms, is the process by which individuals assign to other persons, groups, agencies, or institutions, the responsibility to work on certain tasks” (1995, p. 4). They further explain that “within the realm of risk management, most tasks are too big and complex for individuals, regardless of technical training, to successfully complete alone” (p. 4). This situation leads to a necessary measure of trust allocated to institutions, or agencies in charge of communicating mitigation strategies. They further argue that if people do not trust an organization, negative information associated with that organization reinforces their distrust, whereas positive information is discounted. In essence, no matter how well thought through and well packaged an information might be, it will not communicate risk effectively if trust and credibility are not established first.

Other scholars have also contributed to the renewal of the research agenda, by importing concepts from other subfields. Taking seriously the network paradigm and the “network society” we live in (Castells 2011) could rejuvenate a risk communication’s perspective and imply revision of the principles under which risk
communication campaigns and activities are devised. Organization studies (Bovasso 1996; Burt 1987), for example, have demonstrated that social networks influence behavior and attitudes in the workplace, as well as within the family and among friends: “A majority of these network studies, particularly those exploring the idea of social contagion through cohesive network ties, have been conducted in organizational settings. In addition, thousands of studies have examined community networks from a diffusion of innovation perspective (Rogers 1995). These studies suggest that interpersonal networks influence the adoption of ideas, innovations, and behaviors” (Scherer and Cho 2003, p. 262). This strongly suggests that who we spend time with affects our worldview and our risk perception. Looking beyond individuals to their communities, networks, neighborhoods, including social ties built on social media might be promising venues to learn more on publics’ and audiences’ knowledge, adaptations, and prejudices toward risks.

The development of new social media and electronic networks (blogs, Facebook, Twitter, chats, forums, etc.) poses new challenges to risk communicators (Veil et al. 2011; Liu et al. 2016). Risk communication campaigns must now be tailored to a variety of audiences that do not read the same news media outlets, nor inform themselves in the same ways. Campaigns must be devised in many more subcategories and must reach out to many more different communities and stakeholders. This is true both for routine risk communication and ad hoc crisis communication.

Following this perspective, another venue has gained momentum (Renn 2008). More recently, some scholars (Lofstedt et al. 2011) have suggested that risk communication should be envisaged as two-way communication, and that each segment brings knowledge and expertise to the problem. When confronted with risks and threats, recurrent or sudden, affected communities and multiple stakeholders have generally developed mitigation strategies worth investigating. Prior knowledge exists and should not be ignored or too easily labeled as false preconceptions.

Issues of transparency, participation, and democracy are central to this agenda. Building trust, understanding and establishing symmetrical relationships are essential to these developments. In this view, risk communication is a long-term strategy that cannot only be deployed in case of emergencies. Nowadays, for many experts in this field, and beyond, a mature risk communication strategy shall include and articulate different perspectives, held by affected professionals, communities, segments of the population, from experts to lay persons, in order to adequately engage with the risks considered. The coproduction of risk communication strategies is considered as an optimal goal, not yet achieved in many arenas (Guérard in this volume). This is especially the case when concerned members of the public or nonofficial experts are tweeting and using the blogosphere to post their own analysis of the situation.

This new philosophy also implies moving away from dogma such as “educating the public”, or “educating the media”. Major public health emergencies and alerts will instantly engage the media, who should be seen as major stakeholders in all the processes of communication. The media are not an adjunct to public emergency response. They have their own obligations to the public (see Wiig et al. this
*volume*). Public health emergency planners now acknowledge the media’s role in a crisis and plan to meet reasonable media requirements during an outbreak. The idea is to use public perceptions, resources (cognitive, social, symbolic, etc.), opinions, knowledge, rationales, beliefs, assumptions, as well as the opinions and perceptions of experts, stakeholders, and political appointees to build a reasonable communication strategy capable of dealing with uncertainties.

## After 2010: The Narrative Turn

An interesting development has recently taken place and concerns more directly the format of information transmission. Central to this discussion is the following question: How to design an effective message in risk communication, capable of bringing about changes and altering behaviors? This is not a novel theme in risk communication research, nor is it new when looking back at numerous handbooks. Constructing guidelines, using adequate language, materials, graphs, and iconography is the subject of entire sections in handbooks (see for example, Lundgren and McMakin 2009, pp. 145–157).

Didactic, expository, nonnarrative forms are often opposed to narrative forms. “The (narrative style) consists of presenting the risk information in the form of a personal story instead of, or in addition to, presenting exposure calculations or other data. The story structure helps the audience understand the risk by simplifying it and focusing on cause and effect” (Lundgren and McMakin 2009, p. 150). For a long time, medical, public policy and scientific organizations have regarded narrative forms as being less rigorous: “Non-narrative forms were viewed as objective, and therefore more credible than narratives, which were seen as anecdotal and subjective, and consequently unscientific” (Barbour et al. 2016, p. 813). Yet, evidence gathered so far is in favor of narrative forms, when dissemination of information is key. It is reported that narrative formats fare better on social media and will be shared more often and disseminate more easily than nonnarratives (Green and Sestir 2008; Hinyard and Kreuter 2007; Kreuter et al. 2007).

Nowadays, storytelling is considered to be integral to any business strategy and a key feature of organizational management (Brown et al. 2004). Organizations and institutions are increasingly using stories to reach out to their audiences (donors, patients, advocates, employees, communities, etc.) to communicate on their programs, products, and services, and on their worldviews (Krause 2014). For example, during the Ebola Virus Disease, *Médecins sans frontières*, along with *World Health Organization*, and *Centers for Disease Control and Prevention*, displayed numerous stories on their websites to explain the situation, document their activities, and promote certain types of messages, and avoid others. These organizations also promoted “their” own narratives about the crisis and used their deployees’ stories to present facts in line with their baseline (Casaer 2015).

As Barbour et al. (2016) noted, having recourse to narratives does not please every group inside these complex organizations, often afraid to lose their scientific
reputation. The narrative turn is not always embraced by all constituencies inside an organization. This exposes yet another feature of the narrative turn. It affects the power dynamics and asymmetries inside the organization, and should not be treated only as a communication tool toward the public. The same can be said on the outside: narratives can also be understood as defensive and active propaganda. They could look like poor transparency exercises, lacking candor in the end.

It remains to be seen whether the narrative turn we are witnessing will be more beneficial than detrimental to risk and crisis communication: Beneficial because of its power to disseminate key messages to wider audiences and tailored to their needs; or detrimental because of the potential dangerous slippery road to detestable institutional propaganda?

## Conclusion

Big data and citizen science, combined, might well open a new era to embrace two crucial elements for risk and crisis communication success: (1) Getting precise, accurate, reliable feedback from the field; (2) Allowing affected populations to develop some efficacious action to alleviate risk. However, it remains to be seen whether this can lead to the promise of empowerment that many hope for with this new stage in risk and crisis communication development.

In conclusion, we might be willing to add a few stages to Fischhoff's scale in line with the developments one sees coming, as some of the chapters in this book exemplify. First, we could start by adding "All we have to do is show them they are part of it" to break through the "insider view" that still threaten risk and crisis communication strategies and alienate many publics, who feel estranged by what they frequently perceived as opaque organizational logics. Second, we might add this twist: "All we have to do is show them they are the experts" which signals that knowledge and cognition are distributed. Inhabitants of contaminated areas near Fukushima-Daïchi are indeed the experts of their land's contamination and its monitoring. But the true leap forward will probably happen when it will be possible to abandon "we" and propose "All that has to be done is to make them part of "we"".

* All we have to do is get the numbers right

* All we have to do is tell them the numbers

* All we have to do is explain what we mean by the numbers

* All we have to do is show them that they've accepted similar risks in the past

* All we have to do is show them it's a good deal for them

* All we have to do is treat them nice

* All we have to do is make them partners

* All we have to do is show them they are part of it

* All we have to do is show them they are the experts

* All that has to be done is to make them part of "we".

*Adapted from Fischhoff, supplements by Bourrier.*
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<figure><img src="image_8.png" /></figure>
Part I

Persuading in Peace Time:
A Long Lasting Story
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# Public Participation in the Debate on Industrial Risk in France: A Success Story?

Caroline Kamaté

**Abstract** This chapter addresses the participation of civil society in the debate on industrial risk in France. The body of research regarding citizen participation, notably in environmental issues, is substantial, as is the literature on industrial risk perception. However, given the multitude of participatory systems and experiments, the dialogue between hazardous companies and their local host communities merits further analysis. The findings summarized here are mainly based on French case studies in the major industrial zones of the Rhône Valley, Dunkirk, Le Havre and Marseille. [In addition, FonCSI supported international works, notably a study in Norway and the US by M. Baram and P. Lindøe (Cf. Chapter “Risk Communication Between Companies and Local Stakeholders for Improving Accident Prevention and Emergency Response”, this volume).] These studies focused on the topic of ‘living together with hazardous industry’, examined the Technological Risk Prevention Plan (PPRT), the functioning of institutional communication/consultation bodies and local initiatives to encourage participation in industrial risk. The results showed that the opportunity not only to be informed on industrial risk but also to participate in the debate was sometimes underused by the public. These studies help us understand the factors that can undermine communication and participation processes with respect to industrial risk in France.

**Keywords** Public participation • Industrial risk • Decision-making Territory

This research was supported by the Foundation and the Institute for an Industrial Safety Culture (FonCSI and ICSI), created as a result of the significant societal and legislative shift that followed the disaster at the AZF factory in Toulouse in 2001.

C. Kamaté (✉)

FonCSI, Toulouse, France

e-mail: caroline.kamate@foncsi.org
# Introduction: The Growth of Public Participation

In many domains, and particularly in the field of environment and sustainable development, decision-making practices are moving towards greater public participation (Brodie et al. 2009). This change finds its origins in the civic action and urban struggles observed around the world notably since the last third of the twentieth century (Bernfeld 1983; Bresson 2014). As early as the 1950s, citizen participation programmes were launched, based on the assumption that an engaged citizenry was better than a passive citizenry, and that the involvement of citizens would lead to more democratic and effective governance (Irvin and Stansbury 2004). Another driver was increasing mistrust and questioning of the links between political powers and scientific experts, who played a central role in several controversies (Nelkin 2016). While citizens demanded greater involvement in decision-making processes, participation also became an object for researchers working in many of the social sciences (Blondiaux and Sintomer 2009). The theoretical foundations of participatory democracy were established (Pateman 1970). The literature on participation integrates the significant contribution of studies on deliberation, particularly rich in the Anglophone world (Sintomer 2011). While public deliberation theorists have diverse backgrounds, they all consider it as a cornerstone of participatory democracy (Dewey 1954; Fishkin 1991; Habermas 1996). Despite their criticism of existing representative institutions, they acknowledge that deliberative democracy is an expansion of, rather than an alternative to, representative democracy, and highlight the benefits of the public discourse on citizen engagement (Delli Carpini et al. 2004). Scholars not only study the concepts and theories of participation, they also are very active in designing operational participatory devices and working to define criteria for their evaluation (Blondiaux and Fourniau 2011; Piriou and Lénel 2010a).

Although the term ‘participation’ has multiple interpretations, it is typically used in the scientific and legal literature to refer to a kind of democratic ideal based on the ‘empowerment’ of ‘ordinary people’ (Glucker et al. 2013; Bresson 2014). Arnstein (1969) proposed a typology of participation ranging from ‘manipulation’ to ‘citizen control’ as a function of the extent of citizen power. Based on this framework, we assume that between ‘informing’ the public (where citizens simply receive data), and ‘co-decision’ (where decision-making is shared), there are multiple modes of citizen involvement, notably ‘consultation’, which consists in obtaining the public’s feedback on different alternatives (Brodie et al. 2009; Kamaté 2016).

The ‘participatory market’ has given rise to many deliberative models, methods and tools: the twenty-first-century town meeting, the consensus conference, the citizen advisory board, the citizen panel, deliberative polling, the Charrette procedure, participatory budgeting, the Delphi method, etc. (FRB 2006). And while the participatory movement is global, citizen participation is perceived, understood and therefore ‘practiced’ differently depending on the historical, institutional, social and political context (IDLC 2016). The public debate *à la française* can be contrasted
with Switzerland’s tradition of semi-direct democracy (Bevort 2011; ALNabhani et al. 2016), or a post-Apartheid democracy such as South Africa (Leonard 2014), reflecting the diversity of the participatory landscape (although a comparative study is beyond the scope of this chapter). Clearly, the level of deliberative and participatory democracy is closely linked to the so-called culture of participation of a country or even an area, and the modalities of participation will vary with its goals. By ‘participation’, we mean all of the ways of contributing to the preparation of a project, by offering opinions and viewpoints that will be taken into account at different levels in a decision-making process.

By highlighting the difficulties in the dialogue between hazardous companies and residents, whether they be related to participation in general, or more specifically to the topic of industrial risk or the French context, we aim to identify some of the levers that can improve public participation and the organization of the debate on industrial risks.

**Public Participation on Industrial Risk:
The French Context**

French participatory democracy originates in decentralization and regionalization policies that were initiated in the mid-twentieth century. Growing interest is also linked to a ‘crisis’ in the representative democracy model that has manifested, beginning in the 1960s, in falling voter turnout (Rosanvallon 2006; Piriou and Lénel 2012b). Traditionally, the French have a high degree of trust in their governmental institutions and the scientific elite (ALNabhani et al. 2016). This partly explains why the large, centrally managed nuclear programme that started in the 70s after the oil shock and aimed to achieve energy independence, was largely accepted. However, this great confidence in technocratic elites has been shaken by major industrial accidents and a series of health scandals. As early as the 1970s, new mechanisms that involved a plurality of actors began to emerge.

Citizen participation is regulated by law. The Bouchardeau law of 12 July 1983 relates to the democratization of the public inquiry, while the Barnier law of 2 February 1995 created the National Public Debate Commission (CNDP<fnref n="1" />). At the international level, the Earth Summit in Rio in 1992 reinforced the concept of sustainable development and put citizen participation in its core. At the European level, the Aarhus Convention, signed by the European Community and its Member States in 1998, made public participation a fundamental principle of environmental law. It ensures the integration of civil society in decision-making related to environmental policy. Similarly, in France, the Environmental Pact<fnref n="2" /> (2007–2012) provides for environmental governance measures that involve all stakeholders in a

<footnote n="1">¹*Commission nationale du débat public* in French.</footnote>

<footnote n="2">²The *Grenelle de l'environnement* in French.</footnote>
consultation process in order to arrive at decisions that are more democratic and better understood (Décider Ensemble 2011; FNE 2009).

On the specific topic of industrial risks, the 1982 Seveso I Directive and the European Council Directive of 7 June 1990 introduced European regulations related to the public's right to information. In France, the 2003 Bachelot-Narquin law was promulgated following the accident at the AZF factory in 2001 (Bonnaud and Martinais 2007). It implemented Technological Risk Prevention Plans (PPRT)<fnref n="3" /> and created mandatory consultation bodies known as Site Monitoring Committees (CSS<fnref n="4" />) at high-threshold Seveso sites. The CSS explicitly solicited citizen participation and marked a turning point in the communication of industrial risk to the public (Suraud et al. 2009). Furthermore, operators and project leaders started to become willing to go beyond their legal obligations, and voluntary participation systems and experiments emerged.

## Clear Progress and Significant Benefits

In practice, whatever form it takes, public participation is seen as leading to better decisions and greater benefits for all stakeholders (Beierle 1999).

The public has a growing need for better knowledge and control of their environment (Orée 2004), and is increasingly willing to become involved in the development of their local area. The CSS that was implemented in 2003 has the great merit of bringing all stakeholders to the table and, to some extent, opening industrial facilities to the public, which represents considerable democratic progress (Suraud 2012; Grembo et al. 2013). While pollution and chronic risks have been long-standing subjects and remain on the agenda in many consultation bodies like the SPPPI<fnref n="5" />, the CSS is a body dedicated to the topic of the hazard posed by a major accident. If these official structures do not meet all of the public's expectations, notably in terms of the weight given to their views, developments linked to the emergence of new external actors have disrupted the technocratic model of industrial risk management that has historically prevailed. It is interesting, therefore, to examine their scope, in terms of their positive or negative effects on negotiations between decision-makers (Bonnaud and Martinais 2010; Suraud 2012).

Moreover, participatory processes help to increase the confidence of the public in the political-industrial sphere and thus reinforce the legitimacy of the latter (FRB 2006). On the one hand, it is in a company's interests to supplement mandatory

<footnote n="3">³Plan de prévention des risques technologiques in French, that regulates urban planning around Seveso high-threshold industrial sites.</footnote>

<footnote n="4">⁴Commission de suivi de site in French, formerly named the Comité local d'information et de concertation (CLIC, the Local Committee for Information and Consultation).</footnote>

<footnote n="5">⁵Permanent Secretariat for Industrial Pollution Prevention (Secrétariat permanent pour la prévention des pollutions industrielles in French). The first SPPPI was created in the 1970s in the area of Marseille.</footnote>
consultation processes with voluntary actions that aim to take better account of the expectations of residents. It can become a lever to improve relations between industrial facilities and local residents. On the other hand, a lack of trust and suspicion make local communities less inclined to accept, or—even more so—to support, an industrial project. In the case of an unwanted event, such as a near miss or an accident, an upstream participatory approach can mean the continuation of a dialogue that has already begun, rather than a knee-jerk response in the form of litigation.

Finally, ‘alternative’ local consultative bodies appear to be better suited to handling local problems related to the presence of the hazardous industry and could serve as a counterpoint to the extension of centralized, mandatory standards and regulations. For local governments, citizen participation at the municipal level offers a way to reappropriate the issue of industrial risk. It places the region at the heart of the tensions that exist between hazardous industry, residents and the French administration (Suraud 2012, 2013).

## Why Is the Public Unenthusiastic?

Despite the benefits, the lack of citizen participation in public inquiries or other consultation initiatives is regularly deplored. Residents continue to suffer from a lack of information; notably, they are sometimes poorly informed about PPRT and mandatory consultation bodies (Zwarterook 2010; Martinais 2015). Why, despite the efforts of industrial operators and authorities, are communication campaigns, official bodies and outreach initiatives failing to reach their intended public?

## *Just the Latest Hot Topic?*

The cohabitation of local communities and hazardous industry is a very sensitive topic as it impacts society at different levels. Industrial risk, whether or not it is linked to a major accident, is characterized by its complexity. Therefore, the debate must take into account the many dimensions of a region, including urban planning, human health, economy and biodiversity (FNE 2009). In addition, despite the constant extension of regulations (e.g. the ‘duty to inform’ that applies to industrial facilities falling under the Seveso Directive) issues of industrial confidentiality have regularly clashed with the requirement for transparency and the involvement of civil society (Suraud et al. 2009). The public’s legal right of inspection distinguishes industrial risk from other types of risks, rendering the issue even more sensitive, as questioning an industry’s choices can impact its internal operations (Suraud 2012).
## Industrial Risk: A Motivating Theme?

There is no way around it: despite the high stakes, major accident risk is just not that ‘interesting’. This can be partly explained by actors’ perceptions. Until there is an accident, the danger remains abstract (Zwarterook 2010). Furthermore, the naturalization and euphemization of risk, which are both likely to be linked to psychological protection mechanisms, have important consequences for the public’s relationship to risk (Zonabend 1989; Coanus et al. 2007; Peretti-Watel 2010). The naturalization of risk is consistent with the naturalization of the plant (i.e. its integration into the landscape): risk becomes a familiar element, just another part of daily life (Leborgne 2014). Euphemization can be defined as the tendency to mitigate risk the closer you are to it; residents who are ‘objectively’ more exposed to industrial hazards feel less exposed than those who are in the second line (Zwarterook 2010). Moreover, industrial risk is usually assessed in relation to other issues, including economics, and consequently may not carry much weight. The Dunkirk case study clearly showed that despite differences of opinion, local actors agreed on one point: the need to defend socio-economic interests, which may compete with industrial safety issues (Grembo et al. 2013).

The studies also highlight that a useful entry point for involving the public in the debate is to link it to daily activities and quality of life: chronic risks, nuisance, etc. Unlike the risk of a major accident—an explosion, for example—these risks are much more palpable as they take the form of smoke, noise, smells, etc. Residents are also quick to become involved when they are aware of a potential impact on their property as observed with implementation of the PPRT.

> “I remember my parents saying: the property will be condemned, what are we going to bequeath to our children? (...). Then I said: we’ll create an association. The Conference,<fnref n="6" /> for me, is a result of this association” *a resident*. (Piriou and Lénel 2012a)

Thus, getting people interested in industrial risk necessarily requires broadening the discussion. Notably, it implies a move away from the conventional definition of risk as something that is determined by industrial experts, towards an examination of how risk is understood by residents (Castel et al. 2010) and the local media (Auboussier et al. 2015).

## A Potentially Brutal Introduction

The risk of an industrial accident does not inspire the public to take action unless and until it affects their daily life. Regarding the tensions related to the PPRT in France, even in the absence of an accident, the public’s first encounter with the

<footnote n="6">⁶The *Conférence riveraine*, which can be translated as the Residents’ Conference, is a dialogue structure set up in Feyzin (close to Lyon, France) on the initiative of its refinery and its Mayor.</footnote>
topic can be very sudden and painful. For example, some residents learned from one day to the next that their home was located in a hazardous area, only then to quickly mobilize themselves around a confrontation (Martinais 2015). Notwithstanding the lack of public participation, this latter example again highlights that basic information does not always reach its intended audience. How can the public become involved when they may not even be aware that they live in a hazardous area?

## *An Expensive Process*

Participation is not free. Residents and non-governmental organizations (NGOs) in particular must voluntarily invest their time and energy, and can incur the financial expense. As the number of consultation structures multiplies, resources become increasingly limited (GEc CSN 2011). Two factors that work against participation are the fear of redundancy and the weariness effect (Gibout 2006), although it should be noted that both of these factors affect public participation in general and are not specific to industrial risks (Grembo et al. 2013). For their part, industrial and political decision-makers are legally bound to involve the public in industrial risk consultation processes. Beyond their legal obligations, the decision to voluntarily adopt a participative approach represents an additional investment that varies as a function of the project's characteristics and, notably, its timescale.

## *Organizing the Debate: What Is at Stake*

### *Trust and Transparency*

While there may be a certain level of trust between some industrial risk stakeholders, the picture is more mixed for others. The survey in Dunkirk shows that the public has a high level of trust in firefighters, the police and mayors (Zwarterook 2010). The latter are seen as particularly close to the local community. These key players form the interface between national authorities, industry and citizens, and they have seen a dramatic improvement in their risk management skills following the changes introduced by the Bachelot-Narquin law (Martinais 2014). They have the difficult task of reconciling the protection of populations with, on the one hand, urban development and, on the other hand, economic activities.

Zwarterook's (2010) study reveals a lack of confidence in industrial actors' ability to prevent industrial risks: 68% of residents said they did not trust them, while 54% considered that preventive measures were insufficient. Paradoxically, in another study, respondents expressed confidence in industrial operators, who were
seen as professionals that knew their process and its risks, and had a direct interest
in protecting their employees and production facilities (Piriou and Lénel 2010b).

Trust, understood as ‘to rely on someone’, is not a prerequisite for a successful participatory process. It could even appear contradictory, as participative democracy is born, in part, from a lack of confidence in policymakers to defend the public interest (ALNabhani et al. 2016), and from the will of the public to reappropriate decisions that affect their lives. But the more convinced they are of decision-makers’ commitment to make the process as transparent as possible, the more they may be willing to participate.

We now turn to the issue of whether the way the debate on public risk is organized strengthens or weakens its credibility. The public has been known to denounce official bodies as simply offering a ‘mock’ debate. In France, decisions can appear to be made upstream—suggesting collusion between hazardous industries and a state administration that has a long tradition of co-management (Suraud et al. 2009; Bonnaud and Martinais 2010; Le Blanc and Zwarterook 2012). This lack of transparency, together with poor communication, does not help to build confidence (Grembo et al. 2013). Credibility can be dramatically weakened, or even destroyed, if decision-makers abandon the process, while the public expects their opinions to be taken into account. They can feel that they have been misled and become reluctant to participate in future debates, creating a serious deadlock.

Moreover, mistrust extends to both sides. Politico-industrial actors can be sus-
picious of the newcomers: residents and employees' representatives. It appears that
it remains difficult for industrial risk managers to open the door to civil society,
given their long history of relative isolation and co-management. The difficulty of
implementing a (mandatory or voluntary) public participation process should
therefore not be underestimated. Institutional mistrust often translates into strategies
that attempt to maintain control over risk management (Grembo et al. 2013).

On the other hand, voluntary initiatives are both appreciated and seen as a token
of mutual understanding. For example, the experimental participatory device
implemented in Feyzin known as the *Conférence riveraine* (see footnote 6) is the
result of a clear political and industrial will, and is a practical demonstration of how
the process can be made to work (Piriou and Lénel 2012a).

Asymmetry Between Participants

Members of the residents' panel frequently criticize official bodies for limiting
themselves to their primary role of informing the public:

If, as time goes on, the culture of a 'debate for the public' develops, the development of a
genuine 'debate with the public' is less obvious. (Grembo et al. 2013)

In some sense, this reflects the influence of the public education model on the
public debate model (Callon 1998).
Differences between actors in participatory bodies may also hinder under-
standing. The complexity of scientific and technical data makes it difficult for
non-expert actors to accurately assess the situation (Frère et al. 2012). Moreover,
differences in education and experience mean that some actors are better at the
game than others; it is easier for them to be heard and listened to. These verbal
skills generally go hand in hand with technical and scientific skills. This creates an
asymmetry between those that are in some sense doubly skilled and others who lack
the necessary technical and verbal competences. In order to overcome the gap,
some actors undertake training or on-the-job learning; others prefer to use their lack
of knowledge as a lever to exert pressure on the opposing party (Grembo et al.
2013).

Furthermore, value systems, potentially due to cultural differences, vary from
one group of actors to another. This reality is reflected in the widespread finding
that the actors involved do not speak the same language, and that there is a jux-
taposition of viewpoints, rather than a genuine democratic debate (Zwarterook
2010).

Legitimacy of Participants

Participatory bodies often include the same ‘regulars’, such as retirees, and lack
young people and representatives of the working population. The legal composition
of the residents’ panel of the CSS is vague; consequently, it varies from one region
to another. ‘Residents’ can be extended to include NGOs, the so-called ‘lambda
individuals’ or even, in certain cases, local officials (Nonjon et al. 2007). In prac-
tice, the panel is often composed of environmental protection associations with
extensive experience of both industrial risks and participation, and whose interests
do not necessarily coincide with those of residents.

“Between environmental associations and local residents, let’s say that the issues are not the same. (...) Residents associations think of their walls and property, and they stop there”, a local official. (Suraud 2013)

Formal and Informal Discussion Spaces

The CSS has been particularly criticized for its rigidity (Suraud 2012). Meetings are usually chaired by the government's representative,<fnref n="7" /> formal communications are presented in sequence and not all participants are given the same opportunity to contribute. Nevertheless, this rigid format can be overcome, and the procedure

<footnote n="7">⁷The prefect (*préfet* in French) or their representative.</footnote>
adapted to better suit the local context (Grembo et al. 2013). The importance of informal discussions and negotiations that take place outside the formal structure, often in smaller committees, is also highlighted, reflecting a culture of negotiation that remains very present between traditional risk managers. Although these practices can lead to criticism from other participants, if these parallel discussions end in consensus, they can eventually be accepted (Grembo et al. 2013). Finally, the concept of participation integrates many dynamics and interactions that are implemented in the debate and confrontation spaces, and negotiations also need to be taken into account.

The binding framework of legal devices is often contrasted with more flexible, open structures such as the SPPPI. The CLIé<fnref n="8" /> or the *Conférence riveraine* are popular precisely because of their informality (Espina 2012). The processes of dialogue and mediation that they can provide in the event of a crisis greatly improve the relationship between hazardous industry, local residents and environmental NGOs. It is nevertheless important to highlight that they are not a substitute for official bodies, as they have different roles and powers—notably administrative authority is absent from informal bodies—and must rather be seen as complementary.

## Who Makes the Decisions?

As Ballard (2008) asks, where do the scales of participation and decision-making intersect? The first point to note is that the decisions of politico-industrial actors predominate in mandatory participation devices. It is clear that participation and decision-making are two different things. Participation relates to making a contribution to the development of a project, by putting forward a viewpoint that is taken into account at different levels, during a more or less collective decision process. The weight of public opinion is closely related to the selected approach and, crucially, when citizens are invited to intervene. This varies and, in any case, must be clarified and formalized upstream.

## Conclusion: A Passing Trend? Be Aware of Limitations and Avoid Pitfalls

There is increasing interest in placing citizens at the heart of the debate in many domains. This leads to the following injunction:

> Nothing is decided without citizens being consulted. (Castel et al. 2010)

<footnote n="8">⁸An informal body created at the initiative of industrial operators.</footnote>
However, public participation follows trends: it is therefore of overriding importance to pay attention to the pitfalls. On the one hand, participation must not be an end in itself, an empty shell or an illusory debate to rubber-stamp a project that has already been decided. The risk of the instrumentalization of citizen participation, or the ‘domestication’ of civil society groups for political purposes, is real (Ballard 2008). On the other hand, too much credit should not be given to opposing arguments, which claim that participation is useless as citizens do not, ultimately, take decisions. Involving more stakeholders, sharing multiple viewpoints—whether mandated by law or stemming from a voluntary initiative—lead to collective decisions that are more inclusive, fairer and better reflect the common good (Lukensmeyer 2014). Such efforts contribute to achieving the same aim: to make decision-making more democratic. Logically, these issues raise the complex question of the evaluation of participatory approaches. How do we measure, beyond the ‘democratic demonstration’, the impact of the introduction of citizens’ expertise on the quality of public action (Lacroix 2008)? Nevertheless, in addition to this inherent goal, each project has specific objectives that must be formalized upstream and whose achievement might be assessed. Furthermore, the participation process is at least as important as its result and may generate numerous by-products: it can counterbalance stereotypes and preconceived ideas about others; rather than denying them, it can help to make conflicts explicit; it can be educational for all stakeholders making them less prone to amplifying and distorting risk evaluations; and it can foster mutual understanding, social learning and cooperation (Kasperson and Kasperson 1996; Di Mauro et al. 2012; Kamaté 2016). Such benefits can be assessed using indicators, which can help to (at least partially) solve the problem of evaluation. The issue of participation is challenging, but also rewarding, as much for civil society as for policymakers and project leaders (Brodie et al. 2009).

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<figure><img src="image_10.png" /></figure>
# Organizing Risk Communication for Effective Preparedness: Using Plans as a Catalyst for Risk Communication

<figure><img src="image_11.png" /></figure>

Check for
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Amandine Berger-Sabbatel and Benoit Journé

**Abstract** Crisis response preparedness is a problematic issue for local governments. It is a responsibility with high stakes, but at the same time it is very distant from the daily management of the community. In France, local governments engage to a limited extent with preparedness by designing crisis response plans, which very often lack operationality. This paper examines the contribution of risk communication to effective crisis response preparedness. Indeed, technical and organizational issues are at the core of preparedness concerns, but we argue that political and cognitive dimensions are equally important, although often overlooked. The use of risk communication thus plays a critical role in the construction of reliable organizational response capabilities in order to face the unexpected, across all these dimensions. To understand this process, we examined the activity of a French risk manager whose objective is to support a group of municipalities in the organization of their respective organizational crisis responses. We found that to help the municipalities go beyond the limits of strictly organizational responses and engage in resilience, this manager uses the formal and technical character of the plan to generate rich cross-sectional communication that produces the conditions for resilience.

**Keywords** Crisis response plans • Preparedness • Resilience • Organizational reliability

## Introduction: The Xynthia Disaster, a Failure of Risk Communication?

In 2014 in France, heavy prison sentences were handed down to the mayor and deputy mayor of La Faute-sur-Mer, a small coastal town, following the deaths of 29 inhabitants in the 2010 storm named Xynthia. Among other charges, they were

A. Berger-Sabbatel (✉) • B. Journé
Université de Nantes, Nantes, France
e-mail: abergersabbatel@gmail.com
accused of failing to inform the population and of failing to prepare a crisis response plan. They were also accused of having deliberately ignored the risks at the expense of the population's safety to favour economic interests. In his defence arguments, the mayor described himself as a ‘*small-town mayor*’ with a poor understanding of crisis situations and little communal resources.

> How can you expect a small-town mayor, who does not always have the prior information needed, to plan [for the level of water reached during Storm Xynthia].

> I do not personally have the culture or the knowledge required to assess and anticipate such a disaster.

> I will not stop apologising, but at the time, I did not appreciate the situation, I could never have imagined such a catastrophe.<fnref n="1" />

However, government officials had alerted the mayor on several occasions about flooding risks. Detailed information on crisis response plans is also available specifically to mayors in order to help them prepare their own. The sentences were reduced on appeal after a long and painful trial that would go down in history as the first trial to convict elected municipal officials for ‘*involuntary manslaughter*’.

In this highly complex case, failures in risk communication were specifically highlighted by the court for their contribution to the drama. These failures are mainly attributed to the elected municipal officials. Externally, the lack of information for the population is to blame. Internally, there was no organizational risk communication within the municipality, so an organizational response to the crisis could not be put in place. But it seems fair to us to also mention a failure in risk communication at inter-organizational level. Although State officials (which represent expertise) had alerted the mayor many times over the years about the flooding risks, they clearly failed to raise sufficient risk awareness with the elected representatives of La Faute-sur-Mer to induce actual cognitive commitment into preparedness. They were aware of the attitude of denial of the mayor, but limited themselves to written warnings or oral warnings during meetings. ‘*What more could the government have done to make you aware of this major risk of a natural disaster?*’ the President of the Court asked the mayor.

This is a central question for us. Administrative directives, information leaflets and oral warnings seem to have failed to reach their target, but this did not lead State officials to reconsider their risk communication methods. Indeed, we consider that effective risk communication should include much more than technical or organizational information transfers. This case shows us that cognitive and political dimensions must be taken into account in any risk communication strategy.

<footnote n="1">¹2016, October 6. Court session. Mayor of La Faute-sur-Mer. Retrieved from http://www.charentelibre.fr/2014/10/06/proces-xynthia-l-ancien-maire-assure-avoir-tout-fait-pour-securiser-la-population,1918240.amp.html.</footnote>
Communication as a Critical Element in Crisis Response Preparedness

Local governments are key players in risk management. The territories under their administration face numerous and various hazards, and they are responsible for the protection of the population. Regardless of the extent of the prevention measures they take, these organizations must be prepared to cope with a potential crisis. As the first level of crisis response, they are morally and legally responsible for organizing the safety of the population and leading civil defence operations. For example, they evacuate people, organize the water supply or rehouse stricken populations. This is a critical step to manage. Because of the seriousness of the threats, they cannot fail. Yet, unlike firefighters or emergency services, local governments are not ‘crisis professionals’, and managing the unexpected is not part of their daily work. Consequently, crisis response preparedness is all the more crucial to these actors.

Yet, despite their accountability, crisis management is not a core competency of local governments and preparedness is hardly ever a priority as it always competes with more pressing and more predictable issues (Boin and 't Hart 2003; Perry and Lindell 2003). Dramatic events like Hurricane Katrina in the United States (2005) or the Xynthia storm in France (2010) attest to the poor level of preparedness of public organizations. In both examples, the authorities were unprepared to face the events and proved themselves unable to make decisions that could have saved lives. Despite the seriousness of the issue, barely one-third of French municipalities have set up a formal crisis organization. Even where one exists, the preparedness process is often reduced to a written document with limited outreach and poor efficiency. Why do public administrations find it so difficult to organize the crisis response? In the United States, the House of Representatives raised a similar question after the Katrina dis-aster in 2005: ‘*Why do we continually seem one disaster behind?*’ (Lagadec 2009b).

The traditional explanations of ‘lack of resources or skills’ are no longer enough. We argue that the level of resilience of a community is not directly linked to its size or the amount of resources invested in risk management (Berger-Sabbatel 2016). However, we analyse risk communication as a critical process in preparedness issues. Poor use of risk communication can seriously impact the effectiveness of crisis response, but this process remains underexplored and suffers from a general lack of understanding. In most cases, risk communication is reduced to formal information transfer to a limited audience, between those who design crisis response plans (very often, non-specialist civil servants) and those who implement them (the responders, particularly elected representatives). It excludes large parts of the organization and the external environment and does not require effective commitment from the responders in the preparedness process.

This restrictive approach to risk communication seems to have failed in its task of developing risk awareness and making crisis response preparedness a priority within local administrations. This approach focuses on the technical/organizational dimension of risk communication at the expense of political or cognitive consid-erations, which are also critical, as shown at La Faute-sur-Mer. Moreover, we argue
that this approach to risk communication limits the capacity of municipalities to manage unexpected events. A purely technical approach to risk communication might lead actors to consider crisis response plans only as ‘written documents’, as a set of formal procedures and directives. It locks the organization into a crisis response strategy strictly based on anticipation, with no room for resilience (Wildavsky 1988).

Thus, our key research question is: how can we rethink the use of risk communication in order to improve the level of preparedness within organizations? Effective community preparedness requires a global risk communication strategy, including both the internal (the local public administration) and external audiences (citizens and other stakeholders). In this paper, we will focus more particularly on the internal aspect of risk communication that takes place within the organization regarding preparedness. We present a different perspective on risk communication that is often overlooked by field actors and little developed in preparedness theories. We propose to analyse risk communication as a key element in the construction of organizational response capabilities in order to face the unexpected. Communication can be a powerful linchpin between the two opposite organizational logics of anticipation and resilience (Weick 1987). From this perspective, risk communication significantly contributes to producing the political, organizational and cognitive conditions required for organizational reliability.

In this chapter, we will address this question through the use of crisis response plans, which are the principal tools available to municipalities in order to organize and manage their crisis response. Our results are based on a field study exploring the managerial work of a French risk manager. The main findings show that plans can be creatively used to develop intensive communication activity. Thus, the communication initiated during the planning process goes far beyond fostering the technical organization of crisis response. As it produces substantial social interactions and actual/effective cognitive commitment (Keller et al. 2012), it enables sensemaking and self-reflection, which are necessary requirements for better resilience and reliability in crisis response.

## The Stakes of Anticipation and Resilience for Preparedness

In post-2001 United States, the priority in terms of risk management was given to homeland security at the expense of prevention of natural disasters, which partly explains the poor management of Hurricane Katrina. Nevertheless, management of the next major hurricane, hurricane Gustav, that occured in 2008 was also unsatisfactory, despite the efforts initiated in this area since the Katrina disaster. *‘Five days before the expected arrival of Hurricane Gustav, Governor Jindal declared a state of emergency and the population of New Orleans was evacuated before the storm reached the coast’* (Steiger 2007). However, the various shelters that had been prepared proved to be inadequate to house the displaced populations. Baton Rouge was considered to be a shelter town for those fleeing New Orleans and the
authorities even located the crisis management operations centre there. In fact, the consequences of Gustav were quite different from those of Katrina. The authorities had prepared a response to a Katrina-like situation: they focused on a massive flooding scenario and on the New Orleans area. Instead, they faced a wind event that seriously damaged the Baton Rouge area: Hurricane Gustav caused a massive power outage (Boin 2009) that totally paralysed Baton Rouge, with severe consequences on shelters, hospitals, transports, water and food supply networks.

Like Xynthia, these examples from Hurricanes Katrina and Gustav both illustrate that preparedness is simultaneously a political, an organizational and a cognitive issue. Indeed, the initiation of preparedness actions results from political decisions and initially requires effective awareness and involvement from senior management (Boin and t'Hart 2003). But the process of preparedness itself is equally important in order to ensure the effectiveness of preparedness actions. Indeed, this example proves the inherent limits of strictly planned crisis responses. In this way, effective preparedness cannot solely depend on the anticipative logic conveyed by plans. We argue that effective preparedness requires more flexibility and the ability to analyse and to make sense of the crisis situation before making decisions. It is a call for more resilience, according to Wildavsky's definition (1988). Thus, the need for both anticipation and resilience presents us with an organizational dilemma, because these two organizational models have opposing features (Journé 2009).

## Crisis Response Plans in the French Preparedness Framework

We selected the French preparedness framework to support our argument. Indeed, France is also confronted with the twofold problem described above: the general lack of preparedness coupled with a lack of efficiency in existing preparedness actions. Of the 36,000 French municipalities, barely one-third of them have set up a formal crisis organization, 10 years after the enactment of a binding law.<fnref n="2" /> This often takes the form of a written plan, the PCS (for Plan Communal de Sauvegarde, or Crisis Response Plan). There are no mandatory rules for designing the PCS—each municipality is free to design a model that fulfils its needs—but a template is proposed by the French Ministry of the Interior to guide municipalities.<fnref n="3" /> As the

<footnote n="2">²Loi n° 2004-811 du 13 août 2004 de modernisation de la sécurité civile.</footnote>

<footnote n="3">³A PCS template (guidelines provided by an institutional actor, Le Mémento du maire, IRMa) includes sections on the definition of major hazards; A territorial risk analysis; Information to the population; Alert: Strategy and resources for dissemination; Safety instructions; Hazard mapping; Potential shelter areas; Recommended routes; Housing capacity; Available technical, material and human resources; Specific requirements for the involvement of a pool of volunteers from civil society (if any); On-call duty procedures; Crisis management centre: location, actors; Phonebook; Summary documents with the basic procedures; Pre-prepared administrative documents; Instructions for training, crisis simulations and PCS tests; Recovery process.</footnote>
PCS is the only compulsory element of crisis response organization at local level, the preparedness process is often reduced to a written document with limited outreach. Very few municipalities have a dedicated risk department or officer. Generally, plans are designed internally, by a non-specialist employee, a trainee, or by an external consultant. Many times, the responders are not included in the planning process, and they are informed of their role in crisis response at the end of the process. As a result, people do not buy into the plan, and it lacks operationality (Blanc 2015).

## Using Crisis Response Plans as Living Documents: The Limits of Anticipation

Although preparedness cannot be limited to the written plan, the latter centralizes all the elements of the process; it is the visible part of crisis response organization. Because of its formal character, for many organizations, the plan is mainly seen as an administrative document, as a legal obligation to fulfil, instead of as a living document.

However, there is an intangible part of planning that is essential but that cannot be documented directly on paper, such as ‘the development of managers’ knowledge of the resources of governmental and private organizations, the sharpening of their conceptual skills in anticipating emergency demands and balancing these against available resources, and the establishment of linkages across organizational boundaries between emergency planners and operations personnel’ (Perry and Lindell 2003, pp. 346–347). This intangible part of planning can be developed through frequent crisis simulations and the provision of feedback that helps to transform the written plan into a living document, as preparedness handbooks rightly recommend. In this way, we should distinguish the ‘Plan’ (as a document) from ‘planning’ (as a process). But we also argue that preparedness is even more than an organizational planning process and must involve cognitive and political considerations. To this end, we believe that preparedness strategies must go beyond the pure organizational logic of anticipation conveyed by the plans and simultaneously commit to a logic of resilience.

## The Organizational Logic of Resilience as Opposed to the Anticipatory Logic Conveyed by Plans

The written, documented and formal part of the Plan is important as a first set of guidelines in the unstable environment of the crisis (Lagadec 2009a). However, there is a danger of blindly following the written procedures. According to Weick (1987), crisis management requires both anticipation and adaptation in order to
cope with the unexpected. For decision-makers, this is a delicate situation in which communication processes are strategic. Social and time pressures often hasten decision-making. Instead, Weick argues that in unstable environments, decisions do not need to be made first but that it is important to understand the situation before making decisions, *'in order to see what, if anything, there is to decide'* (Weick 1987, p. 123). This ability to stand back and assess the situation, to see the big picture, is a core competency for organizations that seek to manage the unexpected. Sensemaking requires the association of reflection and action, through an intensive communication process that allows constant adjustments of procedures according to the specific features of the situation, whereas a crisis response strategy strictly based on anticipation does not allow for management of the unexpected. Anticipation intends to eliminate ambiguity and uncertainty by dissociating reflection from action, in order to reduce action to the mere implementation of endorsed procedures and plans (Journé 2009). This clear division between those who design plans and those who implement them raises the question of buy-in (Wildavsky 1973). Thus, it is not just a communication matter, but also a political one, a question of power and legitimacy for those who design the plan. We note the antagonism that appears between the logic of anticipation, which mainly relies on plans, rigid decision-making process and top-down communication, and the logic of resilience (as defined by Wildavsky 1988), which relies on adaptation, decentralization of decision-making and ongoing communication.

The articulation of these two opposing logics results in a rare organizational ability that we place at the core of effective preparedness. The development of this ability challenges the management of preparedness processes, as it is theoretically impossible for all but a very limited category of organizations<fnref n="4" /> (LaPorte and Consolini 1991). Our study points out some particular forms of communication that, if wisely managed, can support the articulation of anticipation and resilience within organizations engaged in preparedness processes.

## Communication Processes as a Way to Combine Anticipation and Resilience

The use of ‘storytelling’ as described by Weick (1987) is a good example of communication used as a tool for the combination of anticipation and resilience. According to the author, *'stories are important, not just because they coordinate, but also because they register, summarize, and allow reconstruction of scenarios that are too complex for logical linear summaries to preserve (...) Models are'*

<footnote n="4">⁴These organizations are qualified as ‘High Reliable Organizations’ by organizational literature. These are a group of very specific organizations capable of maintaining very high levels of safety in high-risk environments on a daily basis, such as nuclear power plants or aircraft carriers. This literature inspired our research.</footnote>
unable to connect as many facts as stories, they preserve fewer interactions, and they are unable to put these interactions in motion so that outcomes can be anticipated' (Weick 1987, p. 125). In this way, the use of stories during the anticipation phase effectively fills the breaches of the plans. It enables sensemaking during the resolution of crises.

Godé-Sanchez (2011) highlights another particular form of communication: the practice of feedback is a collective method for sensemaking, which is a critical process during the management of unexpected events (Weick 1993), especially for coordination. Godé describes the particular form of feedback used by an aerobatic crew of pilots for the French air force. This particular form of feedback—tending to be rather direct and informal—significantly differs from more classic forms of feedback, because it focuses on the ‘experiential nature of the knowledge’ transferred. During these feedback sessions, ‘we don’t talk about theoretic knowledge. We talk about perceptions’ says a pilot. ‘Knowledge is mainly transferred through discussions and informal dialogues’ (Godé-Sanchez 2011, p. 424). The direct and informal character of the feedback encourages frequent self and group reflection. Besides, doubt is singled out as an essential cognitive process for the management of the unexpected (Weick 2009). Godé insists on the verbal tradition of this feedback and highlights the importance of the existence of areas that encourage it (we will compare this area with the ‘discussion spaces’ described by Detchessahar 2003). In this case, the restroom is a place where pilots, mechanics and office staff can discuss recent but also older experiences over a coffee. These informal practices of socialization favour the cohesion of a collective of various profiles (pilots, mechanics and office staff); they allow better knowledge and trust between the actors. They contribute to the development of a ‘collective mind’ that is essential for the development of sensemaking capacities (Weick and Roberts 1993). Indeed, the authors insist on the importance of the collective for the development of personal and organizational capabilities to manage the unexpected.

## Empirical Settings

The case we present in this chapter comes from a longitudinal case study,<fnref n="5" /> designed on the principles of action and intervention research (Allard-Poesi and Perret 2003, 2004; David 2012). We studied the case of a group of French municipalities<fnref n="6" /> confronted with the double difficulty of a general lack of preparedness throughout

<footnote n="5">⁵The case study comes from our doctoral research: Berger-Sabbatel (2016). ‘Organiser la montée en fiabilité d’un collectif d’organisations. Acteurs, outils et modes de management. Le cas des collectivités territoriales face à la crise’. Ph.D. thesis, Université de Nantes.</footnote>

<footnote n="6">⁶In France, the municipalities are the level of local administration. They are given the opportunity to work together (an assembly of several municipalities constitutes an intercommunality) in order to pool some resources. Regarding risk issues, the management of any crisis remains a municipal attribution; the intercommunality cannot supersede the municipality in this area.</footnote>
the intercommunal area and the limited efficiency of the few existing emergency preparedness plans. In that sense, this case is significant regarding the overall French preparedness situation. What is specific and interesting in this case was the existence of a risk manager, from the intercommunal organization, whose mission was to provide support to the various municipalities regarding preparedness, in the absence of relevant expertise within most of the municipalities in this area.

Indeed, according to French law, each municipality is responsible for implementing its own PCS, but very few of them have the organizational skills to do so. For example, in the group we studied, only 3 out of 24 municipalities have a dedicated risk department (or at least a dedicated risk manager). Most of the time, the PCS is designed by a municipal officer,<fnref n="7" /> whose main job is not related to risk, in addition to their daily tasks. The municipalities explain that their limited resources mean they cannot dedicate more organizational capacity to risk management. Nevertheless, as we mentioned earlier, the level of preparedness of an organization is also the result of political arbitrations.

The very existence of an intercommunal expert position regarding risk and crisis management makes this case specific, as it is the first French intercommunal organization to offer such a resource to its members. Through a close follow-up of the managerial activity of this intercommunal expert, we observed the evolution of preparedness over the intercommunal area in the different municipalities, using shadowing and observation techniques (Czarniawska 2007, 2008). We balanced this intercommunal perspective by conducting interviews in different municipalities. Our result highlights the original way the intercommunal risk manager uses the PCS, as the linchpin of a combination of three organizational resources that support risk communication towards municipalities: an actor (the risk manager), a management tool (the PCS) and a discussion space (the GT PCS).

## The Organizational Resources that Support Risk Communication

As expertise (intercommunal level) and decision-making (municipal level) depend on distinct organizational entities, communication between these entities is a decisive process. The intercommunal risk manager mainly channels his expertise to the municipalities through the intermediary of municipal officers in charge of the PCS who try, in turn, to pass on their new knowledge throughout their respective organizations. At different levels, the intercommunal risk manager and the PCS officers both act as communication intermediaries. The communication process between the experts from the intercommunal risk manager and the PCS officers is

<footnote n="7">⁷For example, in the group of municipalities we studied, we identified an elected councilor, a technical employee, an employee from the civil defence or legal department and even a municipal policeman as PCS officers.</footnote>
intense, regular and structured. It takes the form of regular meetings (the GT PCS, discussed in the next section), data collection and information sharing (e.g. hazard mappings, crisis management feedback, etc.), training sessions (e.g. crisis simulations), individual support when necessary and one-off events (e.g. meetings with risk experts).

What is particularly interesting is that the communication initiated by the inter-communal risk manager is not limited to top-down knowledge transfer. Above all, they act as an intermediary between the different PCS officers so that they can meet and exchange about risk issues in their respective areas (particularly during the GT PCS meetings), and as an intermediary between the municipalities and other organizations involved in risk management (police, firefighters, state administrations, industries, etc.). In this way, this stakeholder has a very central position in the preparedness strategy of the intercommunal area. While officially providing technical assistance for planning, they simultaneously build a collective of other stakeholders and develop the organizational capacities to articulate anticipation and resilience within that collective. We discovered that the intercommunal risk manager uses the PCS as a real gateway to legitimize preparedness and implement an extensive preparedness strategy that goes far beyond mere planning. Legal, technical dimensions of the plan and the overall planning process are a pretext for in-depth (inter)organizational and cognitive work: the anticipation logic supports the development of a resilience logic. This is the purpose of the GT PCS working group, which we identified as the central communication space built around the PCS. The aim of the intercommunal manager is not to replace the municipalities in designing the plan, but to create the conditions for sensemaking, to enable social interactions and cognitive commitment.

## GT PCS: The PCS Working Group as a 'Discussion Space'

Every 6 weeks or so, the intercommunal risk manager (or project manager) leads a working group named 'GT PCS' to help the municipalities produce a living document. The group members are mainly the PCS officers from each municipality, but the group also includes some senior managers and elected officials. During the GT PCS sessions, the intercommunal risk manager leads the meeting with the following themes:

- Basic and specific knowledge on crisis management (legal developments, benchmark on crisis management, etc.),

- Methodological help for planning the crisis response (PCS and other specific procedures),

- Articulation of the municipal plans with the intercommunal crisis procedures,

- Feedback on crisis resolutions and on crisis simulations,

- External network and general risk knowledge: introduction of partners for crisis resolution (e.g. firefighter or prefectural services), visits to industrial sites, etc.
These GT PCS meetings constitute a specific and exceptionally rich communication channel that structures the action of the intercommunal risk manager towards municipalities and the relationships between the different entities. The project manager's objective is for the working party to fulfil the needs of the municipalities. Although the meeting is led by the project manager, the goal is for the municipal representatives to become proactive in these meetings: to propose which themes they want to discuss, to share feedback on crises, to take the lead and drive the organization of the next GT PCS session, etc. In this way, the PCS as a document is a communication medium for all risk- and crisis-related issues; it is a support for discussing operational matters and describing what crisis management really means in the field, with the added strength of details and anecdotes which do not always appear in written feedback. Crisis management is not always what you imagine, nor does it always require sticking to the plan.

When there is something to say, I say it. Sometimes it's even a bit...not gory but I do go into the details. It never happens as we think it would, because we can't identify the victim, can't find the family, there isn't a doctor available because it's Sunday night, and because it's a Sunday night the main police force isn't available, only the weekend auxiliaries (Mayor of a small town).

We had the case of someone who killed themselves by jumping under a train. As it was very early in the morning, around 7:30 am, (...) the elected official went directly to the site before going to work. He saw the firemen, the close family (...) and then at 9 am, journalists appeared in the Town Hall saying 'so, tell us more about this suicide' and everyone just stared, no one knew what they were talking about. The communication department was not happy at all, and the Mayor discovered there had been a suicide in his town... (PCS officer of a medium-sized town)

I was an hour away from [my town] when [my manager] called one Sunday afternoon to tell me there was a huge fire in the city centre and he couldn't get in touch with anyone. Ok, so he couldn't get in touch with anyone. He'd called all the work mobiles and no one had answered except me. (...) So, I went back to the city. And, to make matters worse, it was carnival, so it took me ages to reach [the site of the fire]. And then I asked him to get me the file with the list of people on call in it...Because it hadn't occurred to him to look at this file and ring those on call at home for example. (Senior manager of a big city).

When there was this [major fire in the city centre] we put in place a communal meeting place, a hub of assistance for the population. (...) But, this hub did not get structured the way it had been planned (in our emergency plan) because what we had written did not actually correspond to the reality. (Risk manager of a big city).

Mutual trust is important for sharing this informal feedback, that is why forming and managing this group is a critical ability.

As the intercommunal risk manager (which represents the intercommunal organization) has expertise but no authority in crisis management, it uses the anticipative culture of municipalities combined with the mandatory character of the PCS to establish its legitimacy, to take action within a municipal area of decision and responsibility. Hence, the PCS is first used by the intercommunal risk manager as a gateway to initiating communication between the actor with the expertise and the actor with the authority concerning crisis management. Nevertheless, the action of the intercommunal risk manager goes far beyond providing technical assistance
to produce a formal document. Our study shows that the more the time passes, the more the agenda of the GT PCS sessions moves away from organizational and technical topics towards more political and cognitive issues: social networking, argumentative PCS reviews and collective lectures of crisis management feedback by the PCS officers. We even noticed a tendency for the municipal PCS officer to use these meetings to discuss unrelated risk issues in the absence of any other collective areas to openly discuss inter-organizational matters (like problems of coordination between the municipal and intermunicipal services for daily management, about equipment or bills, for example).

As the ‘GT PCS’ is a regular meeting, it creates a solid network based on deep relationships (participants know and trust each other) and enriched by a variety of profiles and competencies (see the concept of ‘requisite variety’, Weick 1987). Thanks to these regular meetings, the PCS officers from different municipalities exchange information about their problems and methods to achieve and implement the PCS. For example, there is frequent feedback on crisis management. Every time a crisis occurs in a municipality, the PCS officer explains what happened and how the crisis was managed, emphasizing the strengths but also the weaknesses of the crisis management experience. This narrative exercise, with the force of real examples and anecdotes, has a strong impact on the group, close to the storytelling effect (Weick 1987). Using the plan as a starting point, the action of the inter-communal risk manager enhances both the anticipative abilities of the municipalities and their resilience capacities: experience sharing raises general risk awareness that initiates preventive actions but also confronts the actors with their own practices and induces doubt and self-reflection, which are essentials characters for a better combination of anticipation and resilience. Sharing experiences also contributes to progressively developing a ‘collective mind’ (Weick and Roberts 1993) that helps to face the complexity of crisis situations. Communication during the GT PCS favours open discussions rather than a top-down transfer of the best practices. These discussions are based on experience sharing and the expression of doubts. However, we stress the important managerial work necessary to maintain group cohesion and to create the positive and confident atmosphere that facilitates those discussions.

## Conclusion

We have analysed the GT PCS sessions as ‘discussion spaces’ that enable the organization of crisis management to be questioned (Detchessahar 2003). Without the existence of such a dedicated area (with an official role), it would be extremely difficult for the PCS officers to engage in deep self-reflection about their practices and to go beyond the anticipative logic of planning. The plan, which is initially a document, transforms into a reflexive tool through the intermediation of a discussion area, the GT PCS, which organizes intensive communication activity around
the plan, and through the managerial work of an actor, the intercommunal risk manager. Thus, our work calls for a more communicational approach of preparedness.

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<figure><img src="image_12.png" /></figure>
# Nuclear Crisis Preparedness Lessons Learned from Fukushima Daiichi

<figure><img src="image_13.png" /></figure>

Check for
updates

Geneviève Baumont

**Abstract** Before the Fukushima Daiichi accident in 2011, the French Institute of Radiological Protection and Nuclear Safety, IRSN, was little-known to the French public. On the whole, French nuclear safety procedures are complex and the public is largely unaware of them. Moreover, communication was difficult because IRSN had to gain public trust as a result of the negative memory associated with the communication approach taken by the government in 1986 when managing the Chernobyl fallout. This communication approach led to a loss of public trust in official bodies in general. During the Fukushima Daiichi crisis, the importance of communication in such a period was largely emphasized, although France was absolutely not at risk. IRSN operations were adapted in order to explain the risks linked to this disaster to the media, companies, and French citizens. Two hundred IRSN staff members answered queries non-stop for 6 weeks, exploring the new ways of communication and interaction offered by social networks. In the years after the disaster, experts from institutions such as IRSN examined all the post-accident situations where Japanese citizens and expatriates turned to buying Geiger counters, developing new sensors to make measurements and becoming addicted to the internet to find information of all kinds, in an attempt to forge their own opinion about the importance of nuclear risks. This is the reason why IRSN developed a strategy not only to inform people with the basic useful knowledge in such situations but also to try to “empower people” by helping them to measure and share their data. The goal is to multiply the number of people aware of what radioactivity is and its associated risks, capable of measuring the level of radioactivity and interpreting it. This strategy requires communication tools and partners. IRSN is associated with IFFO RME, the French Institute of trainers on Major risks and the environment, a body with close links to the national education ministry.

G. Baumont (✉)

Institut de Radioprotection et de Sûreté Nucléaire (IRSN), Fontenay-Aux-Roses, France

e-mail: baumont.g@orange.fr
**Keywords** Fukushima · Crisis · Communication · Ionizing radiation
Contamination · Citizen science · Public information · Media · “Safecast”

Communication Challenges Before the Fukushima Accident

Created in 2002, IRSN is a public body with industrial and commercial activities, operating under the joint supervision of the Ministers in charge of Energy, Environment, Health, Defence, and Research. The main missions of the Institute are Research, Assessment, and Public service missions including Public Information. The fields of activity are broad, covering nuclear safety, radioprotection of workers, radioprotection of the population and the environment, radiation protection of workers and the public in nuclear medicine, emergency preparedness and post-accident operational support, security and control of nuclear sensitive materials, and security of nuclear facilities.

<figure><img src="image_14.png" /></figure>

For IRSN, before the Fukushima crisis, communication was a challenge, because in April 1986, government communication when managing the Chernobyl fallout led to a loss of public trust in official bodies (even today more than 63% of French people still do not trust the Nuclear Safety Authority (IRSN 2011a, 2012a)). The general public believe that “the government lied,” with the most symbolic sentence used in France to resume the communication at this period being “The fallout cloud stopped at the border.”

The strategy of IRSN's communication department before the accident was to develop an independence of judgment inside the Institute and at the same time to
increase IRSN's visibility and confidence in it from the media and the general public. All IRSN experts and researchers were involved to reach this objective through, for example, media training to better understand the ins and outs and the constraints of the media.

For the above reasons, in 2010, IRSN also developed specific actions to inform the public with the basic useful knowledge for crisis situations. The main thrust of this strategy is to reinforce background knowledge in high schools and among the general public encountered during science fairs. IRSN and its experts regularly provide interactive lectures for high schools based on a presentation freely distributed to teachers who integrate nuclear science into their program.

## How Did IRSN Experience the Fukushima Daiichi Crisis?

During the Fukushima Daiichi crisis, the Institute provided accurate real-time information to local authorities, the media, the public and civil society, mobilizing experts and the communication unit (IRSN 2012a). Institutions such as IRSN were facing an unprecedented situation. With requests coming from all sides, the institute prepared daily electronic bulletins, summarizing our analysis of the state of Japanese nuclear plants and the consequences for the population and the environment. Nearly, all of the ministerial offices subscribed to these bulletins. IRSN also participated, each morning, in meetings of the French inter-ministerial emergency response group, led by the Secretary of the Defence and National Security, reporting to the Prime Minister. The Institute was called upon by the Parliamentary office of scientific and technological evaluation, which provides information to Parliament and guides its decisions. The simulation of the radioactive plume from Fukushima made available online shortly after the accident was followed all over the world, as were the reports on the contamination and environmental effects on land and in the sea (Video IRSN 2012). Consequently, for 6 weeks, 200 IRSN staff members answered questions non-stop from companies and French citizens to explain the risks linked to this disaster.

The health impact and environmental impact units quickly proved to be essential. The health impact unit set up base in an IRSN conference room. Eight full-time experts, assisted by 16 experts working in rotation, responded to 1300 requests received in just 4 weeks from physicians and Occupational Health Physicians, the press, and the general public. They were especially busy when the contaminated air masses reached France. The unit also scanned 250 people returning from Japan (journalists, expatriates, airline pilots, etc.) with a whole-body counter to check them for contamination and provided 300 passive dosimeters to people headed for Japan. The importance of communication in such a period was largely highlighted, even if France was absolutely not at risk.
## Social Media and Media Pressure During the Crisis

From March 11 to March 31, 2011, social media demonstrated its incredible power. On Twitter, for example, the hashtag #Fukushima was used over 500 million times between March 11 and April 11, 2011. Already on March 11, the day of the accident, an increase of 33 million tweets per day was recorded, and the creation of 572,000 new accounts was seen from March 12, 2011 on. 1840 people subscribed to the IRSN Twitter account @suretenucleaire (on April 15, 2011). In France, the Fukushima nuclear accident entirely occupied the attention of all key players in the nuclear industry, politicians, and the media for more than 5 weeks.

The communication team organized press conferences and interviews with experts in response to some 1365 media requests. This meant responding to more than 100 interview requests per day, with mandatory deadlines, and using language that was easily understandable. For example, the French newspaper *Le Monde* wraps up at 10:30 am: they needed an expert by 9 am at the latest. Radio stations needed regular information bulletins, and television stations needed content for the 1 pm and 8 pm news programs. So, three representatives were quickly named for different fields: facility safety, environment, and health. Their greatest difficulty was to provide information in real time. The following data published by the agency Kantar Media, a French media analyst, proves the extreme media hype even in France due to the Fukushima accident: this event was mentioned more than 14,000 times in French press, radio, and television. IRSN was mentioned more than 5000 times.

### Main Facts of the Crisis Management Strategy

11 March: 7:00 am Earthquake in Japan. At 11 h, the IRSN Technical Emergency and Response Center is activated, and at 5 pm a paper on the earthquake is published on the IRSN website.

12 March: 8:50 am reactor 1 exploded. At 8 pm, a paper on the situation is published on the IRSN website.

14 March: 3:30 am reactor 3 exploded. At 4 pm, the Japanese measurement results from the environment are available on the IRSN website.

15 March: 0:05 am reactor 3 exploded, reactor 4 is burning, first media conference in IRSN, first FAQ publication.

16 March: the Prime Minister, F. Fillon, announced in the National Assembly that data on the level of contamination in the environment are available on the IRSN website.

17 March: the first modeling of the fallout cloud in Japan is published on the IRSN website.

19 March: the modeling of the fallout cloud across the world is published on the IRSN website.

22 March: the cloud with very few radioactive particles reached France; consequently, the number of visits to the IRSN website reached a significant peak.
The IRSN documents in French and English used during this period are published on the IRSN web pages, FAQ and Earthquake and nuclear crisis in Japan in 2011 (IRSN 2011a).

## The Website Success

The chart below shows the increase in the number of website visits during Fukushima crisis. From March 13–17, more than 50 technical suggestions proposed by the public to solve the situation were posted to the IRSN contact box. IRSN's website infrastructure was modified several times, from 2 to 20 servers, to address the increasing number of visits. The webmaster was on duty day and night and slept only a few hours a day, because there was no one to take over from him. Today, two webmasters will be able to replace each other in case of an emergency situation.

The IRSN (2011b) contact box received 1054 requests, not only from French public but also worldwide. More than 1000 questions were asked by the public. The following graph shows which topics were of most concern for the public, over time.

<figure><img src="image_15.png" /></figure>
## Why Was Communication “Successful”?

With a disaster such as the Fukushima nuclear accident, it is of course awkward to speak of “successful” communication by IRSN, but it was recognized that, for the first time, IRSN had increasing media attention, confidence, and website engagement. Naturally, the priority of Japanese experts was emergency response management to recover the situation and to deal with the safety of the population and workers of the plant affected.

As the IRSN experts were not directly involved in emergency response management, the experts were able to concentrate only on the scientific and technical assessments by closely following the daily situation of the NPP. The assessments, based on 30 years of research and experience feedback in the nuclear field, served to advise the French public authorities and to inform the public.

The technical and scientific competencies of IRSN staff (200 people during more than 5 weeks) were therefore available simply for communication purposes in the form of a 24 h information service. Five spokespersons were continuously available for the media. And from the beginning of the nuclear crisis, the IRSN experts never minimized the Fukushima accident. This was also the result of a long-term strategy of communication implemented by IRSN over more than 10 years, based on a strong relationship and understanding between scientific experts and the communication team.

Despite the clear and trustworthy information given by IRSN and despite the fact that there were no direct casualties in Japan due to the nuclear accident, public surveys showed that this did not stop French citizens losing confidence in nuclear power.<fnref n="1" />

## How the Fukushima Accident Influenced the Communication Approach Worldwide

The shock of the earthquake, followed by a tsunami and the subsequent nuclear disaster, made the communication situation extremely difficult. Further difficulty was caused by the local population's lack of preparation and education concerning

<footnote n="1">¹The proportion of respondents to IRSN's annual risk perception survey answering “no” to the question “Do you trust the French authorities concerning the risk mitigation actions for citizens” rose from 39 to 42% concerning nuclear power plants, and from 63 to 64% for radioactive fallout from the Chernobyl accident between 2011 and 2015 (IRSN 2011a, 2012a).</footnote>
nuclear risks. A lot of the extra stress and trauma experienced by this population, as well as their dramatic stigmatization by certain parts of Japanese society but also by the rest of the world, could have been avoided by better public education.

In their article, Yamashita and Takamura (2015) draw attention to “*a lack of or inadequate knowledge and education on radiation protection and radiation health risk management has evoked a serious confusion and adverse reaction on information from the different communication tools such as social media that low-dose radiation effects still contain uncertainty, thus complicating risk perception of the general public.*”

The great difference between the communication during the Chernobyl nuclear accident and that of the Fukushima accident demonstrates how important it is to query and review the information and communication approaches not only at European level but also worldwide, in particular at IAEA OECD.

The experience feedback of the communication behavior during/in the aftermath of such an accident from the nuclear regulatory bodies and the different agencies were discussed in workshops with the aim of drafting guidelines in order to try and harmonize practices, taking into account the New Information Technologies (NIT) used by the public, in particular social media and new smartphone applications.

These reviews underline the influence of social media in the context of a nuclear accident. One IAEA document mentions the following:

> More casually, social media is described as a landscape of internet platforms where users can interact easily and share ideas, opinions and information. With social media, information dissemination – be it personal, commercial, or official government information – has become easier, faster, cheaper, and accessible to more people. One can target the audience in ways that weren’t possible before. (Sköld and Feldman 2014)

> Notably, the same document notes that: “*Statistics suggest that about 100 h of video are uploaded to YouTube every minute, 500 million tweets are sent daily, 1.6 million public photos are uploaded to Flickr per day and 30 billion pieces of content are shared on Facebook every month.*”

Most reports state that the main challenge in using social media is assuring not only data quality but also evaluating the credibility of sources, dealing with the transitory and voluminous nature of social media information, data management, and ethics.

In 2014, the IAEA published in their proceedings papers this analysis: the Efficacy of Social Media as a Research Tool and Information Source for Safeguards Verification (Sköld and Feldman 2014). It gives guidelines on communication with the public in a nuclear or radiological emergency (IAEA 2012). Later, in 2015, they published reference document which provides a method for developing a communication strategy dedicated to a nuclear or radiological emergency (IAEA 2015).
From Communication to Public Empowerment

Lessons learned from the Fukushima Daiichi NPP crisis and its aftermath have confirmed that lack of knowledge and understanding during emergencies is extraordinarily stressful and will have negative psychological consequences, not only for people directly affected but also for those witnessing it from a distance. For an individual, improved understanding changes their perspective, transforming them from feeling like a helpless victim into an actor who has some degree of power over the situation. One of the challenges of a nuclear accident is to prepare for the post-accident phase, and to be adequately aware of the wider consequences that can be produced by the accident. The population most affected by nuclear fallout may be obliged to evacuate or to live in contaminated areas with many constraints. Because citizens in this situation will likely need to carefully follow the recommendations of authorities in order to limit their individual exposure, it is very important that they trust decision-makers. Taking their own readings [of radiation] helps citizens become knowledgeable active participants in the safety dialogue. Other local citizens as well as consumers worldwide who might be considered less directly affected by radioactive contamination nevertheless have a valid stake in accurate information. Lack of knowledge, mistrust of authorities, and receptivity to misinformation can lead many to erroneously consider a country which in fact has suffered hazardous contamination in only a limited zone to be contaminated in its entirety. As has been seen after the Fukushima disaster, this can lead to product boycotts and lengthy embargos, particularly for foodstuffs, but also against travel and tourism (IRSN 2012b). The nuclear accident in Japan showed that these boycotts and embargos can have a significant economic impact and can lead to an entire country facing unexpected reputational challenges, leading to a deterioration of the living conditions for the whole country. This economic impact has been developed by IRSN in “Methodology of IRSN accident cost estimates” and in Pascucci-Cahen and Momal (2012).

In the wake of the Fukushima Daiichi NPP disaster, citizen-science-based radiation data collection efforts have proven very important in filling information gaps for the public. The technical abilities and organization of citizen groups have been increasingly recognized by governmental institutions, first responders, and international bodies, many of whom have expressed interest in integrating citizen efforts into disaster response plans (Brown et al. 2016a, b).

The best description of this challenge from a communication perspective was given by the Canadian health ministry's document called “The Health Canada Policy Toolkit for Public Involvement in Decision Making” (Health Canada 2000). The document is an excellent guideline on how to reach a satisfactory degree of public involvement in decision-making.
Health Canada's
Public Involvement Continuum

<figure><img src="image_16.png" /></figure>

Adapted from Patterson Kirk Wallace

The different kinds of public participation and the different positions which could be adopted by a government communication team with the general public are clearly summarized in the above diagram. During the Fukushima crisis, IRSN mostly informed (level 1, communication) and listened to people (level 2, contact box, dialogue with journalists, expatriates, airline pilots, and health experts).

The review of new communication practices that appeared after the Fukushima accident shows not only the influence of NITs but also the active participation of Japanese citizens in data collection and sharing. Slowly but surely, this trend is becoming global and citizens may also be considered as partners of institutions when they begin to measure radiation by themselves (level 5).

This is well expressed in the paper by Macfarlane "The nuclear reactor accident ... led to a loss of trust in nuclear power around the globe and acutely in Japan. The reactions of the public in Japan and other countries, such as the United States, and the governmental reactions to the accident offer an opportunity to learn ways to improve safety and communication during and after a nuclear accident" (Macfarlane 2016).

Since the Fukushima crisis, many ordinary citizens, organized in different groups or associations have engaged in radiation measuring with new devices they designed themselves, and have shared their data over the Internet. "Radiation watch" sensor or "Radioactivity counter" applications can be bought by citizens to measure radioactivity in their environment.

The project "Safecast" is a prime example of citizen mobilization (Brown et al. 2016a, b). Safecast is an international, volunteer-based organization devoted to monitoring and openly sharing information on environmental radiation and other pollutants. It was formed on March 12, 2011, one day after the start of the Fukushima Daiichi NPP accident, in response to what several official reports on the
disaster have criticized as the chaotic nature of TEPCO, inter-agency, and inter-governmental communication. Since 2011, Safecast has implemented participatory, open-source, citizen-science-centered radiation mapping solutions developed through a process of collaborative open innovation. Safecast develops sensors and a variety of other innovative hardware and software for visualizing environmental measurement data. The group seeks to provide people who are concerned about environmental and nuclear issues with tools they can use to build alternative open means of measurement and communication, which can be easily shared and built upon by others. Five years after the start of the Fukushima disaster, Safecast volunteers have built and deployed hundreds of radiation sensors worldwide and have amassed the largest open data set of radiation measurements to date.

As it is clearly explained on their website, they are neither pro- nor anti-nuclear: “Safecast is pro-data”. “Radiation and its environmental and health effects are issues which are fraught with deep-seated controversy. Unfortunately, it has been difficult until now to find radiation data which truly has been free of bias, or of the perception of bias in favor of one ideological position or another. From the outset, Safecast has not sided with either the pro or anti-nuclear camps, and has striven to demonstrate the advantages to science and to the public of having an independent organization devoted solely to providing the most accurate and credible data possible. Safecast is “pro-data.” Independence, transparency, and openness are essential for us and the key to our credibility. Safecast was quickly recognized in Japan and abroad as a reliable and unbiased source of environmental information which citizens can use when making decisions” (SAFECAST 2017).

Their tool and their mapping (more than 35 million pieces of data, mostly in Japan) are the result of the engagement of the Safecast members as simple but engaged citizens.

<figure><img src="image_17.png" /></figure>
In Japan, these new competences were recognized by Abe Yasuhito: “Since the Fukushima nuclear accident, many ordinary citizens have engaged in DIY (do-it-yourself) radiation measuring, and have circulated the data over the Internet. Considerable effort has been invested in studying citizen science movements in previous manmade environmental disasters. But as has been often emphasized in the case of 3.11 2011, a great variety of groups of people have generated all sorts of information on nuclear risks, using the Internet and social media. This is the first “known” major nuclear disaster since the advent of the Internet and social media. Whereas citizens engaged in generating information about nuclear risks after nuclear disasters such as Chernobyl, 3.11 opened the door for an alternative kind of collective production and circulation of nuclear risk information via the Internet and social media” (Yasuhito 2014).

This is described by the sociologist Daniel Aldrich as a “citizen reaction and the evolution of communication in a bottom up process: “Beyond economic concerns from the business community, several new initiatives show how Japan’s civil society has been energized by this tremendous tragedy. The Safecast project ... embodies a new focus on “citizen science”—that is the participation of everyday residents as volunteers in data collection, technical measurement, and analysis in fields as ecology, biodiversity and astronomy. Participants in such collaborative projects work together often using web based platforms and affordable instrumentation, to achieve results that lone researchers in highly funded laboratories would not be able to accomplish”” (Aldrich 2012).

It is interesting to note that the people behind Safecast worked in technical and scientific fields not even closely related to the radiation protection field before March 2011, but they were recently able to write a scientific publication in the peer-reviewed Journal of Radioprotection to present their approach and experience (Brown et al. 2016a, b).

In the Czech Republic, this new opportunity for participation based on these new tools and on citizen engagement was well-received by the Ministry of the Interior. Within the framework of security research, a program has been established which aims to improve public safety by introducing radiation monitoring systems at several levels, including institutions, schools, and citizens, in accordance with current international trends. The program is entitled “Radiation Monitoring Network for Institutions and Schools to Assure Early Awareness and Enhancing Safety of Citizens (RAMESIS)”.

Through this program, tools for measurements plus the applications for receipt, storage, administration, and publication of radiation monitoring results are analyzed, projected, developed, and procured. The system is implemented at selected institutions and schools, with the provision of training and informational materials for improving overall understanding of radiation issues.

The project is running from 2015 to 2019, under the guidance of the National Radiation Protection Institute (SURO). The Safecast bGeigie Nano was chosen for mobile monitoring. SURO purchased approximately 30 units and distributed them to selected schools and institutions. SURO also prepared manuals and user guides for performing mobile monitoring and for sending the data to the central workplace.
It developed user-oriented, open-source based software modules to enable users to display their bGeigie nano-measurement results directly on online and offline maps. SURO collects the results of field measurements from all the users participating in this project and supervises their submission to the safecast.org database for visualization.

## A New Perspective for the IRSN Communication Department

As already mentioned, these new challenges for increasing citizen participation and education could easily be incorporated into IRSN's existing practices as this was already partially implemented in the regulatory context.

Indeed, the following laws and European conventions promote the development of a transparent communication strategy for the general public and the active participation of citizens:

In the French law N 2004-811 of August 13, 2004, the Civil Protection Modernization Act aims to make the citizen a major player in civil security by spreading the risk culture among younger generations, in crisis situations, and recognizing the role and missions of associations.

This act, largely inspired by the European Aarhus Convention on Public Information (June, 25 1998) based on the following three pillars: right to know, right to participate, and right to justice, has been further adapted to French law.

This has been even better formulated in the Act on Transparency and Security in the Nuclear Field (2006) stipulating that transparency in the nuclear field consists of the set of provisions adopted to ensure the public's right to reliable and accessible information on nuclear safety and security.

For an individual, understanding the situation and seeing the perspectives makes this person an actor of the situation. Communication needs to give meaning during the nuclear crisis phenomenon because every person is entitled to be informed of the risks related to nuclear activities and their impact on personal health and security as well as on the environment, and to be aware of discharges from nuclear installations and their consequences. That is why, it is important that communication during a nuclear crisis situation seeks to increase the individual and collective understanding of the development of the accident, to maintain the trust of the population throughout the incident.

For France, the other challenge is to prepare the post-accident phase, to be aware of the stakes related to the accident and to try to minimize the cost of the direct and indirect consequences. This cost depends greatly on the societal response and the resilience factors strengthened inside the society before the accident: providing long-term information, partnering, and empowerment of citizens is essential for that objective. One way to reduce this kind of consequence would be to give citizens the tools to measure by themselves the level of radiation in their own environment
although, of course, IRSN's experts and communication team could play a useful role in promoting understanding of these measurements.

Transparent communication also avoids fear and panic reactions from outsiders and reduces erratic mass behavior like boycotts of local products, boycotts of traveling to the country concerned, etc., and will consequently help to mitigate the economic and social costs of the accident on the food supply, the loss of image, etc.

After the Fukushima crisis, the French authorities and their technical support organization, IRSN, were well aware of the necessity to work toward citizen participation and were a nuclear crisis to happen in France, and they decided that the way to build public confidence was to improve the communication strategy by regular and transparent communication, educational programs for elementary schools, high schools, and universities, public events such as open days and exhibitions, public consultations at the local and national level via well-structured systems. An exhibition was specially designed by IRSN and ASN to inform the general public about radioactivity and covers several nuclear topics such as Radiation Basics, Nuclear Power Plants, Nuclear Accidents, Health Effects of Ionizing Radiation, Nuclear Medicine, Fuel Cycle, and Waste Management. The target audience is the population living in the vicinity of nuclear installations, the population living in areas where radon is likely to be found, professionals likely to be exposed to radioactivity, secondary school, and university students. For example, high schools can choose from 80 available stand-up posters to illustrate every possible question about radiation, and different tools for measuring radon and natural radioactivity are put at the disposal of the schools. In 2016, 17 high schools presented an exhibition, using these freely provided support materials.

But as a complementary action, they also seek to “empower the French public” by measuring and by sharing their data on a common map. The goal is to multiply the number of people aware about what radioactivity is and the associated risks, capable to measure the level of radioactivity and interpret this correctly.

In addition, IRSN suggests using different tools for measuring radon (Canary) or natural radioactivity (Safcast tools) on their territories in order to become more aware about the level of natural background of radioactivity, and on the radioactivity units (the previously unknown units Becquerel (bq), “Sievert” and “Gray” unfortunately became very familiar to Japanese people). IRSN experts monitor the studies carried out by students. For example, the blog shows the kind of results achieved by three high school students in Vichy (Sauvage et al. 2015).

In addition, to reinforce citizen empowerment, IRSN is adding a new element to its strategy. IRSN decided to partner with universities, with IFFO RME, the French Institute of trainers on Major risks and environment working adequately and in close collaboration with the national education ministry and with the association Planet Sciences. This partnership is called “Open Radiation”. The idea is to have all citizen measurements, regardless of the sensor used, shared on a map and commented on a specially designed website. This website is currently under development.
Conclusion

The Fukushima accident gave fresh impetus to the thinking related to crisis man-
agement and particularly to the issues of communication and relations with citizens
in such a period. Today more than ever, we live in a knowledge-based society and
we are no longer able to ignore the growing desire from the public to have access to
information.

The existence of social media means that information is available anywhere and
everywhere and news travels fast. Social media have therefore taken on a growing
importance for the nuclear agencies and imposed on them their speed, their multiple
sources, and modes of treatments. Other competences, such as community man-
agers, have appeared. The widened range of information channels imposes new
modes of information besides the traditional reports on websites: Facebook page,
Twitter accounts, a dedicated web page, videos on YouTube, etc.

In order to maintain trust, communication should be clear, timely, regular, and
efficient. However, communication alone is not sufficient anymore. The new
communication strategy on risk-related matters involves nurturing the ability of
citizens to measure radioactivity themselves and become experts. So, a stronger
partnership with this kind of citizens can help to increase confidence and trust.

A citizen data and information-sharing network offers a great opportunity to
foster confidence today and to be a valuable aid for crisis management tomorrow.
The project “Safecast” is proof of this and promotes the concept of a new form of
citizen involvement by measuring and, together with the nuclear agencies con-
cerned, building up a statistical base, thanks to the large number of measurements.
In an emergency, governments or power companies will not have the manpower to
provide the kind of radiation measurement information the public wants, not only
around the accident site but from anywhere else, including abroad. In this case, a
worldwide citizen network can be a great support.

At IRSN, faced with this new situation concerning the project “Safecast” or
other similar citizens’ networks, some experts immediately had a very positive
reaction right away; others questioned the reliability and quality of measurements
by non-professionals and expressed a certain criticism with the “radiation mea-
surement priesthood” as one of the “Safecast” members described them. However,
after discussions about the pros and cons, most crisis managers become increasingly
interested, as these measurements could provide a huge set of data at very early
stages after a nuclear accident. Of course, it will still take time to convince the entire
nuclear scientific community!

Nevertheless, helping citizens and in particular the younger generation gather
baseline data to show what is “normal”, and engaging them in an ongoing edu-
cational process has become a very important part of the IRSN communication
strategy. IRSN may be considered one of the trendsetters by combining hard sci-
ences and soft sciences for communication and citizen empowerment purposes, and
this trend is starting to spread worldwide, helping to build a better relationship
between citizen groups and emergency responders in nuclear agencies.
**Acknowledgements** The author would like to thank Marie Pierre Bigot, director of the Communication Department of IRSN, who managed the crisis communication when Fukushima Daiichi accident occurred. This paper describes the challenges she faced.

## References

Aldrich, D. (2012). Post-crisis Japanese nuclear policy: From top down directives to bottom-up activism...Analysis from the East West center. N°103, Jan 2012. Retrieved from www.eastwestcenter.org/sites/default/files/.../api103.p.

Brown, A., Franken, P., Bonner, S., Dolezal, N., & Moross, J. (2016a). Safecast: Successful citizen-science for radiation measurement and communication after Fukushima. *Journal of Radiological Protection*, 36(2), S82.

Brown, A., Baumont, G., Kuča, P., & Helebrant, J. (2016b). Citizen-based radiation measurement in Europe: Supporting informed decisions regarding radiation exposure for emergencies as well as in daily life. In *RICOMET Conference Poster*. Retrieved from http://ricomet2016.sckcen.be/~midia/Files/Ricomet2016/Day1/PP110%20Brown.pdf?la=en.

Health Canada. (2000). *Health Canada policy toolkit for public involvement in decision making*. Retrieved from http://www.hc-sc.gc.ca/ahc-asc/alt_format/s/pacrb-dgapcr/pdf/public-consult/2000decision-eng.pdf.

IRSN. (2011a). *Baromètre Irsn 2011*. Retrieved from http://www.irsn.fr/FR/IRSN/Publications/barometre/Documents/IRSN_barometre_2011.pdf.

IRSN. (2011b). FAQ during Fukushima accident. Retrieved from http://www.irsn.fr/FR/connaissances/Installations_nucleaires/Les-accidents-nucleaires/accident-fukushima-2011/crise-2011/faq/Pages/sommaire-faq.aspx.

IRSN. (2012a). *Baromètre Irsn 2012*. Retrieved from http://www.irsn.fr/FR/IRSN/Publications/barometre/Documents/IRSN_barometre_2012.pdf.

IRSN. (2012b). *Repères 12 special report Fukushima, first lessons learnt*. Retrieved from http://www.irsn.fr/EN/publications/thematic/fukushima/Documents/IRSN_Reperes12_Fukushima_EN.pdf.

IAEA. (2012). *Communication with the public in a nuclear or radiological emergency*. Retrieved from http://www-pub.iaea.org/MTCD/Publications/PDF/EPR-Communication_web.pdf.

IAEA. (2015). *Method for developing a communication strategy and plan for a nuclear or radiological emergency*. Retrieved from http://www-pub.iaea.org/MTCD/Publications/PDF/EPR-CommPlan2015_web.pdf.

Macfarlane, A. (2016). Radiation and regulation in a post-Fukushima World. *Health Physics*, 110(2), 118–122.

Pascucci-Cahen, L., & Momal, P. (2012). Methodology of IRSN accident cost estimates. In *Eurosafe*, 2012. USA: Mimeo.

SAFECAST. (2017). http://blog.safecast.org/.

Sauvage, A., Alkan, G., & Vaupres, G. (2015). *Quand les citoyens s'emparent de la mesure*. Retrieved from http://radioactivite-auvergne.blogspot.fr/.

Sköld T, & Feldman Y. (2014). *The efficacy of social media as a research tool and information source for safeguards verification*. Retrieved from https://www.iaea.org/safeguards/symposium/2014/home/eproceedings/sg2014-papers/000082.pdf.

Yasuhito, A. (2014). Safecast or the production of collective intelligence on radiation risks after 3.11. *The Asia-Pacific Journal*, 12(7), 5, Japan focus, Feb 2014. Retrieved from http://apjjf.org/2014/12/7/YasuhitoAbe/4077/article.html.

Yamashita, S., & Takamura, N. (2015). Post-crisis efforts towards recovery and resilience after the Fukushima Daiichi Nuclear Power Plant accident. *Japanese Journal of Clinical Oncology*, 45(8), 700–707.
## Videos

IRSN. (2012). *Contamination of environment*. Retrieved from http://www.irsn.fr/EN/publications/thematic-safety/fukushima/Pages/2-fukushima-understanding-environment.aspx.

**Open Access** This chapter is licensed under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/), which permits use, sharing, adaptation, distribution and reproduction in any medium or format, as long as you give appropriate credit to the original author(s) and the source, provide a link to the Creative Commons license and indicate if changes were made.

The images or other third party material in this chapter are included in the chapter's Creative Commons license, unless indicated otherwise in a credit line to the material. If material is not included in the chapter's Creative Commons license and your intended use is not permitted by statutory regulation or exceeds the permitted use, you will need to obtain permission directly from the copyright holder.

<figure><img src="image_18.png" /></figure>
<figure><img src="image_19.png" /></figure>

# Risk Communication Between Companies and Local Stakeholders for Improving Accident Prevention and Emergency Response

Michael Baram and Preben Hempel Lindøe

**Abstract** Hazardous industrial areas pose major accident risks. In recent years, two innovative approaches have been used for improving accident prevention and emergency response beyond conventional regulatory requirements: the Seveso and RMP models of local involvement in state regulation. Both promote information sharing and enable direct engagement between companies and local stakeholders, and therefore involve extensive risk-related communications. The authors examine the two approaches in detail by using case studies of their application to hazardous industrial sites in Norway and the US and identify obstacles to their implementation. Nevertheless, they conclude that the approaches advance corporate social responsibility and make risk governance more democratic, respectful, and responsive to the population sectors that are most vulnerable to major industrial accidents.

**Keywords** Hazardous industry · Risk governance · Risk regulation
Risk communication · Major industrial accidents · Emergency response
Safety regulation · Local stakeholders · Seveso Directive
Risk management plan rule

## Introduction

Hazardous industrial activities pose risks of major accidents, as shown by occurrences at AZF-Toulouse (2001), BP-Texas City (2005), and Chevron-Richmond (2012). Those most likely to be injured or killed are workers, emergency responders, and neighboring residents. In addition, there is usually substantial damage to the environment and property.

<footnote>M. Baram (✉)
Boston University Law School, Boston, USA
e-mail: mbaram@bu.edu</footnote>

<footnote>P. H. Lindøe
University of Stavanger, Stavanger, Norway
e-mail: preben.h.lindoe@uis.no</footnote>
The regulatory toolbox for preventing such accidents includes prescriptive- and performance-based regulations on workplace safety and safety management (Hood et al. 2001; Aven and Renn 2010; Baldwin et al. 2012). It also includes rules that require risk information sharing between a hazardous enterprise and its host community in order to foster their constructive engagement in emergency preparedness, with the EU Seveso Directive (2016) and the US Risk Management Plan Rule (2016) as the leading examples. These approaches stimulate extensive risk communications and, in some cases in the US, have led to the negotiation of a “Good Neighbor Agreement” (Kenney 2004) between local stakeholders and companies that stipulates specific accident risk-reducing initiatives for company implementation.

In a FonCSI research project, the authors examined the Seveso Directive (SD) and the Risk Management Plan and Good Neighbor Agreement (RMP/GNA) approaches and developed several case studies. Our findings indicate that these approaches for informing and engaging communities and local stakeholders are at the forefront of progressive policies that promote corporate social responsibility for public safety. In theory, they promote transparency, information sharing, dialogue, and respect for community concerns and local knowledge. But their implementation encounters several obstacles due to institutional structure and regulatory practices of risk governance, and disputes about risk assessments, differing goals of local participants, and cultural contexts. We also gained insights about risk communication and the trust-building issues that need to be addressed for such communications to lead to acceptable outcomes. These are among the main features of this chapter.

## Analytical Framework

Governance of major accident risks involves many types of social controls, including regulation, self-regulation, liability law, values and behavioral norms, and private decision-making by investors, insurers, and consumers (Baram and Lindøe 2014). Each type of social control is a dynamic subsystem that coexists with, but does not necessarily complement the other controls. Some are international in scope, such as the collective wisdom of experts in a particular knowledge domain who contribute to the development of standards and safety management systems.

The SD is a key part of such governance in the EU, as is the RMP in the US. Each requires a hazardous enterprise to disclose and share accident risk information with host communities and local stakeholders, and thereby creates a direct linkage for further communications between the enterprise and the local public. This fosters subsequent risk communications, dialogue, and can lead to voluntary initiatives for improving accident prevention and emergency response. Neither approach prevents regulators from enforcing safety rules and addressing residual risks.

Figure 1 depicts the main actors, their relationships, and pathways of risk communication.
<figure><img src="image_20.png" /><figcaption>**Fig. 1** Analytical framework</figcaption></figure>

The state as regulator oversees and enforces the SD/RMP approach and can intervene with additional information when necessary (1, 3). The hazardous enterprise must share specific types of accident risk information with the state, the community, and local stakeholders (1, 2). The community and stakeholders have the right to provide local knowledge and other risk information to the enterprise and the state, and have dialogue with both (2, 3). What is special about the SD/RMP model is that it clearly establishes the important linkage (2) between enterprise and community or local stakeholders for risk communication, engagement, and dialogue that can lead to voluntary risk-reducing arrangements (OECD 2016). Thus, safety may be improved beyond the requirements of conventional regulations.

Finally, the analytical framework encompasses other social controls. Those that may be particularly influential in shaping the roles and communications of the actors under the SD and RMP regimes are listed in Fig. 2.

# Mandates for Information Sharing and Dialogue

## *The Seveso Directive*

Major industrial accidents have occurred worldwide. In Europe, the Seveso accident in 1976 prompted EU adoption of a Directive aimed at the prevention and control of
<table><caption>**Fig. 2** Influences on SD and RMP implementation</caption><thead><tr><td>Characteristics</td><td>Examples</td></tr></thead><tbody><tr><td>Enforceable Laws</td><td>Administrative Law<br>Land Use Law & Permit Requirements for Siting and<br>Operating Hazardous Facilities and Activities.<br>Regulation of Workplace Risks & Safety Management<br>Rules on Public and Worker Right to Know</td></tr><tr><td>Voluntary Policies</td><td>European Eco-Management and Audit Scheme<br>Company Safety Management and Internal Controls<br>ISO 14001 -a generic management system standard<br>Global Reporting Initiative</td></tr><tr><td>Generally Accepted Guidances</td><td>International Risk Governance Council model<br>ISO 26000 Guidance on Social Responsibility</td></tr></tbody></table>

such accidents. The latest version of the Seveso Directive (SD) now applies to around 10,000 industrial establishments where dangerous substances are used or stored in large quantities, mainly in the chemicals, petrochemicals, storage, and metal refining sectors.

The SD obliges member states and affiliated countries like Norway to ensure that facility operators have a policy in place to prevent major accidents. Operators handling dangerous substances above certain thresholds must regularly inform the public likely to be affected by an accident, provide safety reports, and have a safety management system and an internal emergency plan. EU members and affiliates must ensure that emergency plans are in place for the surrounding areas and that mitigation actions are planned. Account must also be taken of these objectives in land-use planning.

There is a tiered approach to the level of controls: the larger the quantities of dangerous substances present within an establishment, the stricter the rules. Therefore, “upper-tier” establishments with larger quantities than “lower-tier” establishments are subject to tighter control.

The SD has been amended over the years, most recently as Seveso III in July 2012. The Directive has technical updates to take account of changes in EU chemicals classification, affirms that member states and affiliates must ensure that operators have a policy in place to prevent major accidents, and sets stricter standards for inspections of establishments to ensure more effective enforcement of safety rules. The SD also affirms the legitimacy of public stakeholder involvement in its expansive approach to risk governance, and is thereby complementary with laws such as Norway's “working environment” law which establishes roles for the workforce in various aspects of workplace risk governance. Local stakeholders are
further empowered by amendments in the SD III that provide (1) better access for citizens to information about risks resulting from nearby companies, (2) requirements about behavior in the event of an accident, (3) more effective rules on participation by the public concerned, in land-use planning projects, and (4) access to justice for citizens who have not been granted appropriate access to information or participation. There will also be legitimate roles for public access to risk governance proceedings. Industrial parks and the risk of domino effects of incidents and accidents have been one of the areas addressed in the enforcement and implementation of Seveso inspection. A number of innovative strategies for proactive risk management have been employed by inspection authorities to encourage cooperation among the actors (Larsen et al. 2012).

## The Risk Management Plan Rule and Negotiated Agreements

Several US laws and regulations require industrial disclosure of risk information to persons exposed to hazardous industrial activities (Baram 1990). The Worker Right to Know rule ensures that workers have access to information about the hazardous substances in their work settings. The Community Right to Know law provides that states and communities have access to company reports on the types, volumes, storage, and emissions of the hazardous substances at their facilities. And the Risk Management Plan rule (RMP) was subsequently enacted and requires some 15,000 companies using specified types and quantities of chemicals, and who thereby pose risks of major accidents, to provide the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA), states, and host communities with a report containing an accident history, worst-case and alternative release scenarios and their estimated consequences, a program for preventing accident risks, an emergency response program, and a plan for implementing the programs.

At the time the RMP was enacted, Congress and EPA envisioned that the reported information would enable dialogue between communities and companies that would lead to improved emergency response capabilities and voluntary risk-reducing initiatives by the companies. However, fear of terrorist incidents and their manifestation on September 11, 2001 caused high-level officials and EPA to restrict open public access to some of the RMP information, especially with regard to analyses of the offsite consequences of the accidental release scenarios (Beierle 2003). Nevertheless, RMPs, some with scenario consequence information, are usually provided to a host community's Local Emergency Planning Committee (LEPC) and made available to the public at some 50 federal reading rooms across the country (Risk Management Plan Rule 2016). In addition, the RMP rule has encouraged LEPCs in major industrial area to work closely with companies on improving and coordinating emergency response plans, take an active role in reviewing RMPs and securing further gap-filling information, and help community officials and local stakeholders engage in dialogues with companies about risk-reducing measures (Walter 1998).
These informational developments have also activated groups of local stakeholders and community leaders to press companies to make operational changes that reduce accident risks and improve emergency response capabilities. In a number of communities, dialogues with industry have occurred and led to negotiation of “Good Neighbor Agreements” (GNAs) with companies (Kenney 2004; Baram 2016). The negotiation process typically involves addressing a cluster of concerns over proven and perceived risks and impacts, unlike traditional risk regulation that requires a separate agency-managed proceeding for each risk or impact. It often involves demands for company internal information that exceed what is required in regulatory proceedings, and draws the attention of the media and public support. Agreements with risk-reducing and emergency response commitments have been negotiated with many types of companies, including global majors with US facilities such as Shell, Rhone-Poulenc, and Chevron.

Overall, studies of GNAs show that many company commitments were implemented, especially commitments which focused on preventing the recurrence of a prior injurious event and improving emergency response services. Perhaps, the most notable achievements of many GNAs are informational and involve company commitments to allow and pay for independent health and safety audits of the company's operations, to act upon audit recommendations for improvements, and to accept public involvement in the audit process and public review of relevant documentation.

## Case Studies

Three case studies are briefly summarized here by characterizing the industries and local communities (cf. Relation 2 in Fig. 1). All the cases involve production, storage and transport of gas, and oil and chemical products where leakage, loss of control, and other foreseeable circumstances could lead to explosion, fire, and harmful discharges resulting in loss of lives, injuries and severe health consequences among workers, emergency responders, and local residents. These hazardous activities are in or close to urban areas with housing, public areas, and vital public infrastructure such as transport. Figure 3 gives some characteristics of the cases.

### Risavika, Sola Municipality

### The Hazardous Industry

As a regional, national, and international logistics hub Risavika covers 400,000 m², with 120 enterprises and about 7000 workplaces (DSB 2015b), the harbor has been developed since the 1950s, and it includes seven quays with three different owners
<table><caption>Fig. 3 Characteristics of the cases</caption><thead><tr><th rowspan="2">Case:</th><th colspan="2">Norway: Seveso Directive</th><th>US: RMP-rule</th></tr><tr><th>Risavika, Sola municipality</th><th>South Port, Oslo</th><th>Chevron, Richmond</th></tr></thead><tbody><tr><th>Activity</th><td>LNG-production, storage of goods, harbor and passenger terminal.</td><td>Storage and transport of chemicals, gas and oil products</td><td>Production and storage of oil products</td></tr><tr><th>Industrial structure</th><td>One LNG producer and a diversity of 120 companies.</td><td>35 major and minor companies</td><td>Chevron as the only major actor</td></tr><tr><th>Governmental actors</th><td>LNG-producer and harbor with public ownership. State level regulators.</td><td>Ports and industrial areas with public ownership. State level regulators.</td><td>City of Richmond, Contra Costa County, California, &amp; national regulators.</td></tr></tbody></table>

operating 25 ships day and night. The production in the area is divided between three main activities: industrial production (30%), storage and transport (25%), and service providers (20%). Some major companies within the petroleum sectors are located in the area: ConocoPhillips, Baker Hughes, Schlumberger, Halliburton, and Norwegian Shell. In 2005, the Lyse Group, owned by 16 municipalities in Rogaland County, planned to establish an LNG plant in Risavika with a production of 300,000 ton of LNG per year. The gas is temporarily stored in a 30,000-m³ tank before being transported by road or sea. For a more environmentally friendly fuel source, Norway and EU policies require a shift from diesel oil to LNG for maritime transport. In line with the new policy, new passenger ferries powered by LNG have been developed. Due to their travel scheme, they have to be loaded with liquid gas while passengers are embarking.

## Surrounding Community and Risk Communication

North of the industrial area, there is a dense housing area, kindergarten, schools, churches, and public playing areas. Further away, a local center with shops and service facilities are located. In 2006, protests and complaints were raised against the plan of locating the LNG plant in the area. In the public consultation, process citizens requested more specific analyses of possible impacts and risks. Formal complaints were addressed to the County Governor and state agencies, notably the Directorate for Civil Protection (DSB 2015b), which is responsible for the fire and explosion legislation and for coordinating the enforcement of the Seveso Directive, as the plant would clearly be subject to these regulations. The public debate in the
press between these key actors opened a public space for risk communication and mobilized more stakeholders in the local community (Vinnem 2010). Lyse engaged experts and organized public consultations in which focus group meetings were held, including residents living close to Risavika, enterprises located in the area, emergency services, and other experts on risk appraisal and evaluation (Drottz-Sjöberg 2008). Criticisms spanned the whole spectrum of conditions, decision-making processes, and perceived risks. In particular, the quality of the initial risk assessments was questioned in terms of assumptions and scope, and the availability of information and the involvement of stakeholders in the process were severely criticized. Further, they reviewed the existing risk assessments and how the planned and implemented measures would reduce the risks to a presumably tolerable level (Vatn 2010). Series of meetings, consultations, complaints, and decisions took place involving a number of actors, from local citizen groups to responsible ministries and even the EFTA Surveillance Authority (ESA).

When ferries were planned to be loaded with LNG at the terminal building, a new round of public controversy took place. Regulation for fueling LNG to passenger ferries falls between onshore and maritime rules. LNG is transported by trucks 1600 km through Southern Norway and Sweden to the ferry's destination port in Denmark. A new regulation developed especially for Risavika came into force in December 2013.

## The South Port, Oslo

The activities in the South Port, just 3 km from central Oslo, began at the end of the 1930s (DSB 2015a). Since then, the scope of activities has gradually increased. The port is arguably Norway's most important logistics and transport hub, with well-established residential areas to the south, and a large residential area is in progress to the north. In the late 1990s, it was decided to develop the waterfront to increase public access to the harbor areas. The so-called Fjord City Project is the largest urban development project in Oslo and includes residential areas, enterprises and workplaces, hotels, restaurants, cafeterias, parks, and promenades.

## The Hazardous Industry

Today, the South Port comprises all or most of the industrial activities in the Oslo harbor area. The port is the largest container port in Norway and the largest terminal for the storage and distribution of petroleum products, including all jet fuel for Oslo Airport. About 40% of the national consumption of road traffic fuel goes through the port. The area comprises some 35 firms with port-related activities. Encompassing a large number of enterprises with varying degrees of interdependence and requirements for coordination, South Port became an area with increased risk. Many risk-prone activities are concentrated in a small area, in particular, the transport and
storage of petroleum products. There is a possibility of domino effects. In sum, this can result in lack of oversight and consistent management, and insufficient clarification of interfaces and responsibilities. During the last 15 year, a variety of incidents and accidents have taken place in the area: explosion in the underground storage of oil, collision between train and tank truck, overfilling of diesel oil when unloading from ship, three workers killed, and major damage when a set of railway wagons rolled uncontrolled into the harbor (DSB 2015a, pp. 84–85).

## Surrounding Community and Risk Communication

The South Port is located close to districts in Oslo with a population of approximately 100,000.

Due to the development in downtown, the population expects to increase with 4–5000 residential units and approximately 20,000 workplaces. The Port of Oslo administers the harbor area on contract relations based on a “shopping mall model” and their own role as “landlord”. In terms of safety, this implies that tenants are kept at arm’s length, with each enterprise responsible for its own safety and risk management. As a consequence, a systematic dialogue among stakeholders on risk issues regarding neighboring populations or the development of “Fjord City” and the South Port has taken place before DSB raised the issue in their report. The worst-case scenarios, described in the report, include an ignited leak of gasoline and an oil fire with gas driving toward downtown Oslo. The case was reported in headlines in one Oslo-based newspaper, but no further media coverage or public debate followed. As a follow-up to the report, and as an element in increasing emergency preparedness related to incidents at the South Port, a full-scale exercise among responsible actors and emergency agencies was initiated in 2015 (DSB 2016).

## Chevron, Richmond

Richmond, nearby San Francisco, is home to one of the biggest oil refineries in the United States. Now owned by Chevron Corporation, the refinery was built in 1902 in a “tiny railroad settlement”. As the refinery and port facilities grew, so did the town, which now has over 100,000 residents. Chevron has long been the largest employer as well as one of the biggest polluters. Its troubled history includes fires, explosions, spills, and other accidental releases of toxic chemicals, significant leaking (“fugitive emissions”) of air pollutants, unsightly premises, unwillingness to engage with local stakeholders, and attempts to finance and influence political developments (Chevron Wikipedia 2016; Mattera 2016).

Richmond is a diverse community with different factions competing for political primacy. After the refinery was identified as the San Francisco Bay Area’s largest polluter in 1982, Richmond residents began “Environmental Justice” activism. In