<figure><img src="image_160.png" /><figcaption>**Fig. 1** Mount Rainier dominates the landscape over the Puyallup River valley and the city of Orting (foreground). Around A.D. 1500 a landslide-driven lahar flowed down</figcaption></figure>

the west flank of Mount Rainier and inundated the valley floor. *Photograph by* E. Ruttledge, USGS, January 2014

through multiple presentations. The scientists' aim was to advise local people about the risks of living in lahar-hazard zones so that they could visualize undesirable outcomes and assume responsibility for CBDRR. They recognized that participatory methods might sustain "a long-term conversation" (Mileti 1999), and that people at risk might progress from initial hazard awareness to understanding of the risk, and belief in their ability to take effective mitigative action. Such progression comes from personalizing and then, confirming the risk with others, developing intentions for action, and making mitigative actions, as categorized variously in social models (e.g., Sorensen 1982; Sorensen and Mileti 1987; Paton 2003). At Mount Rainier, the resulting effort is driven by three groups, each contributing to the larger effort according to their organizational mission, resources, and needs.

(1) The first group of local actors consists of local emergency managers, at county, city, and fire district level, with professional responsibilities for the safety of the local community. During the mid-1990s, this group, in conjunction with state officials, called into being the Mount Rainier Volcano Work Group, which led first to development of an emergency response plan (Pierce County 1998, updated in 2008). They worked with the US Geological Survey (USGS) to install a lahar-detection system, followed by county and state efforts to build a public notification system

consisting of emergency broadcasts, personal electronics notifications, and sirens (Pierce County 2014). This effort is augmented by a series of volcano-evacuation route signs, which point to high ground and safety during a lahar. Community-based emergency educators added volcano hazards to neighbourhood multi-hazard emergency preparedness training, including interactions with marginalized populations. In conjunction with local actors, the county developed lahar-evacuation routes that are displayed on a new inter-agency website (Pierce County 2014). In the words of one local safety official within the lahar-hazard zone, "We will not be victims of the next lahar. Our agency will aid the community in the best way possible because we have taken the time now to plan and prepare".

(2) A second important group of local actors consists of enthusiastic community members and school safety officers who have developed a series of resident-driven efforts to mitigate problems associated with potential lahars. After scientists in the mid-1990s informed them of the lahar risks, local residents initiated a long-term sequence of lahar evacuation drills for thousands of students (Fig. 2) in the towns of Puyallup and Sumner (Caffazo 2014), and in Orting (Orting School District 2015). In the community of Orting, local residents raised funds for initial design of a system of efficient but costly walkways and pedestrian bridges across a highway
<figure><img src="image_161.png" /><figcaption>**Fig. 2** Students practice evacuation during a 2002 lahar drill in downtown Orting. During an actual lahar, the lahar detection and notification system would provide residents</figcaption></figure>

of the city with approximately 30 min of warning, which is marginally sufficient for evacuation from some lahars. *Photograph by* C. Driedger, USGS, October 2002

<figure><img src="image_162.png" /><figcaption>**Fig. 3** Public meetings concerning the threat of lahars prompted local teachers to outline the scope, messaging, and content of Mount Rainier volcano teaching materials such as this poster with an activity guide on the back side. *Photograph by* C. Driedger, USGS, 2003</figcaption></figure>

and river that, if built, would shorten evacuation routes by enabling rapid egress to high ground (Bridge4kids 2014; Plog 2014). Local teachers

proposed and participated in development of teaching materials (Driedger et al. 1998, 2005, 2014) (Fig. 3). School students developed a
lighting system to improve night time visibility of some volcano evacuation route signs which are installed in the Puyallup, Carbon and Nisqually River valleys (Fig. 4).

(3) As outside actors, state and federal emergency managers, scientists, and park staff provide as-needed technical, organizational, and occasional financial assistance as needed (Pierson et al. 2014). Since the mid-1990s, this has required almost half-time involvement by one outreach specialist at USGS, who attends local meetings, answer inquiries, and aids in product development. Staff at USGS and Mount Rainier National Park (MRNP) sponsor an annual teacher training. USGS scientists train park staff, and aid with development of geohazard-oriented displays (Driedger et al. 2002). Federal funds supported development of a “web portal” that indicates hazards of individual property parcels (Washington Department of Natural Resources 2014). USGS produced an assessment of risk (Wood and Soulard 2009), and provides volcano trainings for officials and the public. Washington

Emergency Management Division and USGS assembled a media guidebook (Driedger and Scott 2010). Local and outside actors developed an outdoor interpretive sign about Mount Rainier hazards (Schelling et al. 2014). Product development methodology is based upon the premise that no single agency can know the needs of residents unless representative users are involved in determination of need, design, development, review, and implementation (Perry et al. 2016). Several important observations emerged. Multi-level participation in CBDRR allows each entity to make contributions that strengthen the entire effort, and promote long-term continuity. Enthusiasm and creative ideas from local actors whose lives and livelihoods are at stake provide long-term motivation for continual mitigation plan upgrades. CBDRR efforts are stronger because of the long-term commitment of scientific, organizational, and occasional financial support from outside actors. A motivated hazards-aware citizenry can initiate mitigation efforts that meet community needs, yet are

<figure><img src="image_163.png" /><figcaption>**Fig. 4** In the Puyallup, Carbon and Nisqually River valleys, volcano evacuation route signs direct drivers towards high ground, and they serve the additional educational purpose of reminding local residents of the hazards and/or of the need for protective action. Students in the Orting School District developed the idea of enhancing some of the signs with placing flashing orange lights powered by solar panel to improve use during darkness. They developed a proposal and submitted it to authorities who funded the project. *Photograph by* C. Driedger, USGS, October 7, 2014</figcaption></figure>
beyond the financial means of local govern-
ments. Community officials are considering a
variety of funding sources and multiple options
for rapid lahar evacuation. In the words of one
resident activist, "*The people have led and
many leaders have truly heard, taken to heart,
and acted upon the concerns and solutions pro-
posed by its citizenry.*"

4 Locally-Led Crisis and Evacuation Management at Bulusan Volcano, Philippines

Bulusan Volcano is a 1559 m high stratovolcano
formed inside a caldera. It is one of the most active
volcanoes in the Philippines having erupted at
least 16 times since late 1800s. Recent eruptions,
such as in November 2010 to November 2011,
were characterized mainly by ash ejection and
volcanic earthquake swarms and resulted in
recurrent mass evacuations of nearby towns
(PHIVOLCS 2014). At least six municipalities
and hundreds of barangays (villages) under
political jurisdiction of the province of Sorsogon

are situated at the foot of the volcano. Barangay Cogon—the nearest village to the summit of the volcano—has a total population of 1020 people in 211 households and is within the probable danger zone of the volcano, defined as 4–10 km from the summit (Municipality of Irosin 2012). However, agricultural areas especially coconut plantations, the backbone of the village economy, are within the 4 km permanent danger zone.

Between 18 and 20 February 2011, a CBDRR
was implemented in Cogon involving officials
and representatives from multiple sectors of the
community. The activity was initiated by Inte-
grated Rural Development Foundation of the
Philippines (IRDF), a local NGO advocating for
the participation of local actors in DRR. The
objectives of the activity were twofold: risk
assessment through Participatory 3-Dimensional
Mapping (P3DM) and development of a volcanic
activity contingency plan for the village. The 3D
map provides local actors with a bird's eye view
of their territory, giving them a clear picture of
important community information in order to
determine their vulnerabilities, capacities and
exposure to volcanic hazards (Fig. 5) (Cadag and

<figure><img src="image_164.png" /><figcaption>**Fig. 5** Large-scale participatory 3-dimensional map (1:1250) of Cogon, Irosin, Philippines showing hazard-prone areas (shaded with *grey paint*), vulnerable</figcaption></figure>

assets and people and local resources (both depicted with
push pins), February 2011 (adapted from Cadag et al.
2012: 84)
Gaillard 2012). Local participants traced information on the 3D map that are useful for risk assessment. The information was then subsequently confirmed and further improved by outside actors (e.g., municipal DRR officer, NGO personnel, and local scientists) to ensure precision (in terms of location) and compatibility with their plans. Likewise, the contingency plan developed during the CBDRR details the roles of local actors (e.g., village chief and councillors, health workers, village police and representatives from different sectors of the community) in the entire evacuation process, particularly in the management of the evacuation area. The approach and tool (i.e. P3DM) was highly appreciated by the participants because of its effectiveness in engaging actors from the different sectors and in combining their plans for DRR. According to the representative of the Disaster Risk Reduction and Management Office of the municipality, “CBDRR is not new to us… But it is the first time that we assess risk and plan actions (for DRR) using a single tool (3D map) that we all understand.”

On 21 February, 2011 at 9:12 a.m., only a day after the CBDRR activity, the volcano suddenly

erupted and ejected volcanic ash for several minutes (Fig. 6). There were no warnings from the Philippine Institute of Volcanology and Seismology (PHIVOLCS) nor municipal officials. It took only about 15 min for ash fall to reach the village of Cogon, reducing visibility to zero and rendering lamps and flashlights useless. Evacuation vehicles from the municipal center were unable to reach the village. Community members, particularly the local leaders, were thus the first to facilitate the evacuation. Three hours later, with the help of municipal rescue units and other volunteers, most of the residents of the village were evacuated to a school at the municipal center, situated 10 km away from Cogon.

At the onset of the crisis, the evacuation center was managed by the municipal officials and school coordinators. Yet, despite their best efforts, observations of participants and informal interviews revealed that the evacuation center was chaotic and under-prepared but only for the first half day. For example, only a few rooms and toilets were available; food distribution was delayed; and trashcans were full. This made evacuees uneasy; they did not have any idea of the government’s efforts, nor of what was going

<figure><img src="image_165.png" /><figcaption>**Fig. 6** Eruption of Mt. Bulusan, Philippines on February 21, 2011 at 9:12 a.m. Photograph by J. Cadag, 21 Feb 2011</figcaption></figure>
to happen to them. Lack of coordination and communication among the affected populations and the authorities was quite evident (Cadag et al. 2012). In the late afternoon of the same day, village officials of Cogon decided to implement their newly conceived contingency plan which was a part of the recent CBDRR activity in the village (Fig. 7). Firstly, local officials coordinated with the school coordinators and municipal officials and helped to arrange and organise the rooms for the evacuees. They reassigned the rooms so that families from the same hamlets were reunited, making it easier for the village police and health workers (assigned to particular hamlets) to monitor the evacuees, for curfews and cleanliness, respectively. Mothers helped the government authorities in food preparations, which then became easier, faster and more efficient. Pregnant and nursing women, and older and sick people were allocated rooms. The village chief and councillors gave regular updates to the evacuees on the situation in the evacuated village, particularly on the damages incurred.

The successful management by local actors of the evacuation center was attributed to the recent CBDRR program in the village. Aware of the new village contingency plan, school coordinators and municipal officials decided to entrust the management of the evacuation center to the evacuees. The contingency plan thus underpinned the local officials' and evacuees' actions during the evacuation. According to an elected official from the village, "When we made the (contingency) plan, we thought it was for

compliance purposes only ... But now we know we can use it to make our situation better in the evacuation center and to justify our actions."

Moreover, the 3-dimensional map assisted the initial assessment of volcanic impacts immediately after the eruption. It aided local officials in locating the areas most affected by ash fall, and in assessing the damage to shelters and farms. Damage and needs assessment by the local people and authorities and delivery of reports to concerned higher government authorities then became faster and more efficient. Altogether, the CBDRR program contributed to the success of the management of the evacuation center and post-disaster damage assessment through the leadership of the local actors and with the support of the outside actors.

## 5 Participation, Inclusion, and Empowerment of Local Actors in Volcanic DRR

This chapter has emphasized that participation of local actors offers numerous potential means to improve many aspects of DRR. Dialogue during participatory activities plays a vital role in the integration of knowledge across the different actors of DRR. Eventually, this integration leads to combination of top-down and bottom-up actions and is likely to be more efficient, context-appropriate, and sustainable (Wisner et al. 2012). If properly facilitated, it may result in local empowerment that allows local actors to

<figure><img src="image_166.png" /><figcaption>**Fig. 7** Local leaders from the village of Cogon, Irosin, Philippines discussing with a municipal health officer the implementation of the village's evacuation plan (**left**).</figcaption></figure>

A village health worker conducting the registration of evacuees for easy health monitoring and distribution of relief goods (**right**). Photograph by J. Cadag, 22 Feb 2011
assess disaster risk, enhance their capacities and reduce underlying vulnerabilities (Pelling 2007; Maskrey 2011; Cadag and Gaillard 2012).

The case study of Mount Rainier reaffirms four important aspects of participatory approaches that are relevant in volcanic DRR. Firstly, collaboration among local and outside actors of DRR is possible when participation is sought. Local actors have been successfully integrated in DRR through long-term engagement and dialogue using a variety of participatory approaches. While enthusiasm and resources for various projects within the CBDRR have waxed and waned over the years, it is the long-term commitment by local and outside actors that has sustained the CBDRR effort. Secondly, participatory approaches should not be evaluated solely on the basis of immediate results but also on long-term positive outcomes. It is therefore important to reemphasize that process is equally or, in the long term, even more important than the original desired short-term outcomes. Thirdly, participatory approaches can empower local actors and encourage them to become key actors of DRR. The Rainier case study involved local actors who are self-motivated and resourceful, who are aware of the hazard, and who can develop plans and take actions. This example illustrates that participatory approaches, accomplished with sufficient intention, vigor, resources, and commitment by local and outside actors can produce positive outcomes.

Fourthly, sometimes CBDRR requires outside actors to make shifts in power relation in unconventional ways. As an example, at Mount Rainier, local officials and media requested successfully that scientists modify their usage of traditional scientific terminology to reduce miscommunication in education and during crises. At their request, the term ‘debris flow’ is applied only to small seasonal events that can not directly impact communities, while the term ‘lahar’, similar in structure but vastly larger in scale, refers to events that could create serious impacts, principally during eruptions and debris avalanches. Similarly, the term ‘active’ is applied consistently to Mount Rainier to reflect the internal volcanic processes present, even during

quiescence. More recently, these specific and process-oriented applications of terminology are applied broadly by officials in other volcano-hazard work groups within the Cascade Range. In this manner, the expeditious nature of top-down decision-making is traded for authenticity and intentional efficiency within the larger mitigation effort. In the case of Bulusan Volcano, local leaders and residents were involved in risk assessment and contingency planning prior to the eruption, and then took on the role as managers during the crisis. The successful management of the evacuation center by the local actors (in cooperation with outside stakeholders) so early in the crisis is commendable. This positive outcome highlights the importance of participation by local actors including the marginalized sectors (i.e. homeless, people with disabilities, the economically disadvantaged, women, children, people of a variety of sexual orientations, etc.) in all aspects and stages of volcanic DRR. Moreover, volcanic crisis and evacuation management plans were localized yet consistent with the plans of outside actors, putting emphasis on the role of local actors as first responders in times of crisis, whilst reinforcing the importance of outside actors in fulfilling the lack of resources at the local level, particularly in dealing with large scale crises (Delica-Willison and Willison 2004; Cadag and Gaillard 2012).

Some of the important insights emerging from these two case studies relate specifically to trust, dialogue, participatory methods, and empowerment. This study is consistent with the findings of previous work on trust and risk communication (e.g., Haynes et al. 2008). Generally, trust means confidence in the reliability of someone or something. In risk communication, trust is determined by several factors such as general trustworthiness (e.g., competence, care, fairness, and openness) and scepticism (e.g., credibility, reliability, and integrity) (Poortinga and Pidgeon 2003, p. 607). The case studies reinforced that participation builds trust among local and outside actors of DRR, which eventually results in more fruitful collaboration and better DRR. Programs that involve community participation empower local actors and eventually encourage them to
trust government authorities and their informa-
tion (Paton et al. 2008), and vice versa—outside
actors gain respect for local knowledge.

Achieving trust, however, is difficult. Trust is
only possible when actors of DRR are fully
engaged in a process of dialogue, i.e. the con-
tinuous exchange of knowledge, ideas, and
opinions. Dialogue is a means for DRR actors
(particularly marginalized sectors) to be heard on
equal footing with other actors (Heijmans 2009)
so as to: “respect the diversity of opinions”
(Abarquez and Murshed 2004, p. 81). Dialogue,
therefore, promotes integration of knowledge and
action in DRR (Wisner et al. 2012; Gaillard and
Mercer 2013).

To sustain trust and dialogue among actors, participatory methods and tools must also be sustainable, i.e. maintained and adapted at the local level by local actors who recognise (without being dependent upon) the contributions of outside actors. This is best achieved when local actors have active roles in the conceptualization, conduct, and maintenance of participatory approaches (Cadag and Gaillard 2012). This is the case of CBDRR in Bulusan Volcano where local actors have indicated greater interest in improving their 3D map and local plans to further strengthen their disaster preparedness.

In spite of their successes, in these case
studies, challenges extend to both local and
outside actors. As noted in the Mount Rainier
example, during long-lasting efforts, it is inevi-
table that politics play a strong role; volunteers
reach fatigue; agency personnel change; and
competing priorities threaten the main objectives
of DRR efforts. Outside actors are often prohib-
ited by the institutionalized top-down and
command-and-control paradigm of DRR, which
logically contradict the idea of local participation
and empowerment. Meaningful efforts to pro-
mote empowerment and participation require that
outsiders recognise the need for change within
their institutions, which is emphasised by
Chambers (1995, p. 197):

Participation “by them” [‘local actors particularly
the marginalised sectors] will not be sustainable or

strong unless we ['outside actors'] too are partici-
patory. "Ownership" by them means
non-ownership by us. Empowerment for them
means disempowerment for us. In consequence,
management cultures, styles of personal interaction
and procedures all have to change.

6 Considerations for Policy and Practice of DRR in Volcanic Environments

This chapter highlights a number of lessons for
CBDRR policy and practice in volcanic envi-
ronments. It reaffirms that:

1. Participatory approaches in CBDRR initiate the personal and community progression from personalizing and then, confirming the risk with others, developing intentions for action, that are required to take action during a crisis, as noted variously by several authors (i.e. Sorensen 1982; Sorensen and Mileti 1987; and Paton 2003).

2. CBDRR can be well suited for volcanically hazardous areas as some appropriate emergency responses such as residents identifying locally understood and recognizable hazardous phenomena, developing locally-based neighborhood notification methods, self evacuation, and sheltering often requires the individual or community to be self reliant.

3. Dialogue developed through volcanic CBDRR can promote trust among all actors, which in turn sustains CBDRR efforts.

4. Co-development of hazard and response messages early on, and consistent use of them by local and outside actors can facilitate educational processes, and lay a foundation for sustainable CBDRR.

5. Participatory approaches can invite inquiry, such as the search for information that reinforces people's recognition of the hazard, and discussion about DRR. As with any educational activity, participation is the best teacher because it provides local actors with the knowledge to educate and empower others.
6. CBDRR can operate over short and long durations. The key components are that the process is collaborative and emphasises local actors in the processes of organization and planning for future necessary actions. While the resources of outside actors can strengthen CBDRR, planning should be accomplished, communicated, and practiced principally by local actors.

7. The value may be limited by vested interests within the community, fatigue of all actors, changing personnel, as well as other cultural and political or hazard issues that compete for focus. The actors may not understand each other's culture and resources, leading to unrealistic goals and expectations. Local actors can become insular and exclude new ideas and/or the needs of marginalized people, thus becoming, for all practical purposes, another group of 'outside actors.'

8. While governments and organizations may profess support for CBDRR, there is always a threat that, on a more personal level, outside actors will withdraw from CBDRR precepts for the sake of immediate efficiency, such that they damage outside/local actor relationships and the CBDRR that they seek to engender.

9. In addition to participatory approaches to CBDDR, in volcanic environments it is important to consider the value of legislative instruments and the legal responsibilities of government to protect the life of their citizens, thus directly affecting governmental decision-making. However, in some countries, legislation to manage volcanic DRR focuses mainly on crisis management often detached from larger risk reduction efforts such as land-use policy, protection of infrastructure and overcoming unequal power relations within society. Furthermore, crisis management planning is often restricted to government authorities with little or no community consultation and participation.

10. To achieve effective DRR in volcanic environments, an intense process of

facilitation and negotiation is required of scientists, policymakers and the public. This is especially necessary during long term crises characterized by shifting political, cultural and scientific landscapes (Donovan and Oppenheimer 2014). Scientific knowledge can be enhanced by the participation of local actors as citizen scientists (see Irwin 1995) and observers of volcanic activity (e.g., Stone et al. 2014).

11. In order to be effective, legislative instruments for DRR should be created and applied well in advance of a crisis and should involve all stakeholders, including local people and others exposed to the prevailing hazards.

## 7 Conclusion

Although limited to two case studies, this study provides examples and discussions which support the supposition that volcanic DRR is more effective when local actors participate, regardless of volcanic environments or contexts. CBDRR exists in varying forms across volcanic regions around the world, as exemplified by the long CBDRR ongoing at Mount Rainier and the short-term initiative at Bulusan volcano. Given that each volcano and surrounding communities have their own specific context, it is difficult and against best practice to determine a rigid and standardized procedure for conducting CBDRR. Rather than seeing this as an obstacle, it should be embraced as an opportunity to develop customized means to fulfil community needs.

Whilst it is not possible to standardise CBDRR, a number of guiding principles for fostering the participation of local actors in DRR have been identified. Firstly, participation is a process, not an outcome, and it should empower local people and build dialogues. This reduces dependence upon outside actors and resources, and encourages reliance on local capacities. Participation must be flexible and is only as good as the knowledge, intentions and resources available to local actors. At their best,
participatory approaches encourage collaborative contributions by both local and outside actors, the latter providing knowledge, resources and skills to complement the strengths of the former. Such approaches promote dialogue and co-production of knowledge between the community and outside actors. CBDRR should work in tandem with top-down, legislative processes, with local and outsider actors holding each other accountable. The personal and professional relationships developed with local actors can spur outside actors to continue to support efforts, whilst the attention from outside actors can motivate local actors to maintain CBDRR. The process should, therefore, be mutually beneficial. Finally, whilst it can be challenging to engage and maintain the participation of both local and outside actors, CBDRR has been demonstrated as an essential component in sustaining ownership and communication between key actors in volcanic settings. Indeed, the true value of CBDRR is not only measured in products or documents, but also in creating a conducive environment for collaboration where the hearts, minds and trust of the people are devoted. It is an environment where local actors are empowered to implement DRR plans and actions and where policies that institutionalize peoples' participation and multi-actor collaboration are in place.

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# “There’s no Plastic in Our Volcano”: A Story About Losing and Finding a Path to Participatory Volcanic Risk Management in Colombia

Jacqui Wilmshurst

## Abstract

This chapter tells the story of a group of stakeholders who came together to collaborate on developing a more effective risk management strategy at Galeras volcano; an active and potentially extremely dangerous volcano in southern Colombia. It tells of how they came together, lost their way and then finally found the path to a truly participatory process. Woven into the story is a history of the main phases of risk communication in its widest sense, including some of the lessons learned throughout recent decades. It also extends an invitation to those involved in volcanic risk management to explore aspects of their own psychology, as an extension to the growing body of work that seeks to understand the psychology of those living with the risks. Relevant factors suggested for such an exploration include assumptions, biases, perceptions and worldviews and how these might influence, for better or for worse, the contributions being made to the field. Alongside the valuable lessons drawn from the story itself, they include the pitfalls of unexamined assumptions, the importance and value of collaborative and participatory approaches, and the essential task of ensuring that everyone is truly speaking the same language. Further applicable insights are offered from a range of other fields beyond Disaster Risk Reduction including leadership development, psychotherapy and behavioural safety.

## Keywords

Risk communication • Psychology • Transactional analysis • Behavioural safety • Participatory approaches • Collaboration

J. Wilmshurst (✉)
83 Morley Street, Sheffield S6 2PL, UK
e-mail: jakwilmshurst@gmail.com

Advs in Volcanology (2018) 499–514
https://doi.org/10.1007/11157_2017_16
© The Author(s) 2017
Published Online: 15 July 2017
## Introduction

On the fourth day of a week-long workshop designed to promote dialogue and co-operation between stakeholders at the base of Galeras, an active volcano just outside the city of Pasto in Nariño province, southern Colombia (see Fig. 1), an indigenous elder took the stage in an agitated state. He began to outline all the reasons that it was ridiculous to suggest that their volcano, on whose flanks they had lived and worked for several generations, could possibly contain plastic. The many stakeholders attending the University-led workshop included scientists, local and national government agencies, emergency services and at-risk communities. The indigenous elder stated that he knew there to be rocks, ash and all sorts of other materials for sure, but categorically not plastic. He spoke so fast and with such force that the official translators in the box at the rear of the auditorium gave up after the first few minutes. At this point, most of the foreign scientists left the auditorium for a tea break and the attending community members stated that they no longer wished to remain for the final days of the workshop. On discovering this, the scientists, both local and international, congregated outside to discuss how such a well-intentioned and carefully planned opportunity to create new collaboration and what was believed to be a participatory path to managing risk could have broken down so completely.

At the same time, a Colombian scientist with a sound understanding of (and concern for) the social issues surrounding risk management at Galeras, asked me whether I would be prepared to spend some time with the community members to listen to their concerns. As a psychologist, whose reason for being at the workshop in the first place was to understand better the psychological issues relating to risk management and communication, I readily agreed and a meeting was set up with key community representatives at my hotel that evening. During this meeting, I spent over two hours simply listening to the attendees of the meeting express their views, needs and frustrations; something that they had been expecting to have the opportunity to do in front of a far larger audience during the workshop itself. This airing

<figure><img src="image_167.png" /><figcaption>**Fig. 1** Map of major volcanoes in Colombia (Source USGS)</figcaption></figure>

of opinion and opportunity to be heard was to become the basis for the renewed process of dialogue communication and the rebuilding of trust that is central to this chapter.

There is an ever-expanding body of literature on the psychology of risk communication and management in the field of Disaster Risk Reduction (DRR), the primary focus of which has traditionally been on the psychology of those 'at risk'. This is of, course, an essential field of study. As a psychologist working in DRR I argue that for us to understand better a scenario such as the one presented above, there is a balance to be redressed in understanding the psychology of those whose role is to communicate and manage the risks. How those inhabiting these roles think and behave also influences the outcomes of their vital work; for better or for worse.

If you are involved in the management and communication of risks in this context, or indeed any other, then this chapter is designed both to offer you an interesting and valuable story about a journey in risk communication and management, and to invite you to take the next step towards a
<figure><img src="image_168.png" /><figcaption>**Fig. 2** Galeras volcano viewed from the eastern side of the city of Pasto (Photo Wilmshurst 2009)</figcaption></figure>

better understanding of your own thoughts, perceptions and behaviours and how they may influence the work that you do. I use this story to illustrate and introduce a range of contributions to effective practice from a variety of contexts that translate usefully to work in DRR. Learning is drawn from other applied fields such as health psychology, leadership development, psychotherapy and industrial safety, all of which also seek to understand human communication and behaviour in their respective contexts.

This story is told from my own perspective and based on my personal interpretation of events, with all the accompanying filters, biases and as yet undiscovered (and therefore unexamined) assumptions. There is absolutely no intention to criticise any of those involved, although I do aim to challenge constructively at times. The intention is to generate reflection, discussion and perhaps even changes in practice in a vitally important field of study and application.

## Risk Perception Around Galeras

We will pick up the story again shortly, but first it is useful to offer some more information about the wider context in which the story unfolds.

This enables a broader understanding as to how and why initial attempts to engage with communities to create more collaborative approaches can be fraught with unexpected challenges. Especially for those who dare to try first!

The field of DRR is generally dominated in the academic realm by the applied physical sciences and is itself a relatively young field. It has taken significant time to recognise the importance of psychology and the social sciences and, as a result, the role of these disciplines is still unfolding. Early work concentrated on understanding the psychology of communities living at risk and relied heavily on work carried out in risk perception from the 1960s onwards, particularly in relation to nuclear power during those post war decades in which public consciousness of the potential dangers were at an understandable high (e.g. see Douglas 1992; Slovic 2000; Pidgeon et al. 2003).

Understanding how those living with risks make sense of those risks, and then make decisions accordingly, is certainly a good place to start. I would argue, however, that understanding the psychology of all stakeholders is not only desirable, but essential for the creation of truly effective risk management strategies that fully respect the needs and perspectives of all of those
stakeholders. The British Psychological Society (BPS) Crisis, Disaster and Trauma section state that “recognising that the role of psychology is not only to assist in managing the psychological impact of disasters but also to play a key part in understanding how people behave (or do not behave) in the events leading up to a disaster; and engaging in planning at all stages” (ICSU 2008, p. 38). Here, ‘people’ can be interpreted to be all those involved in risk communication and management, not just those who may be impacted upon by the risks. There are clearly several groups of ‘stakeholders’ who fall into the remit of communicating and managing the risks and therefore they are no more of a homogenous entity than ‘people living at risk’ or ‘the public’. With this acknowledgement, the intended lessons learnt from my experience is both for scientists, who primarily study the risks and seek to communicate them onwards, and for those who seek to use this scientific information to manage those risks and whose roles are often ‘sandwiched’ in between the scientists and those living with the risks.

Those of us who have tried it know that turning attention to an examination of oneself is generally a lot more uncomfortable than seeking to analyse others (if done honestly). The rewards are potentially enormous however; it is arguably a moral duty of anyone who seeks to involve themselves in the lives of others in ways that can have huge influence over their welfare. In other words, there is as much to be gained by scientists and risk managers taking an honest look at their (often unconscious until examined) beliefs, assumptions and biases as well as those of the people they seek to help. Otherwise they can end up, for example, openly despairing at the ‘irrationality’ of people who choose to live on an active volcano despite the warnings, whilst flying all over the world to warn these people of their erroneous ways at the same time as absolutely believing in human-induced climate change and yet racking up the air miles as they go! We are all contradictory by virtue of being human, and our unexamined assumptions (with consequent behaviours) can lead to the appearance of an attitude often referenced (with an intentional injection of irony) in the world of personal

development consulting as; ‘take my advice, I’m not using it…’.

Volcanic risk management in Colombia in the years leading up to the point in time at which the workshop took place is a complex story. The Colombian government, and indeed the population of the whole country, was dealt a huge blow when another volcano, Nevado del Ruiz (Fig. 1), erupted in 1985 killing over 23,000 people in just a few hours. Scientists had for some time been warning of an eruption and the potential for catastrophic consequences, but the country and the government had other priorities weighing heavily on them at the time, not least the civil conflict that had been raging for several decades with huge loss of life and drastic economic, social and political consequences. A retrospective examination of the events leading up to the disaster led researchers to conclude that it had been caused by “...cumulative human error—by misjudgement, indecision and bureaucratic shortsightedness.” (Voight 1990, p. 1; see also Hall 1990). Only three years later, whilst this devastating disaster was still exceptionally raw and very much at the forefront of the nation’s attention and psyche, Galeras volcano (Fig. 2) became active again after 10 years of dormancy. Scientists realised quickly that an eruption could occur of a great enough magnitude to cause another catastrophic disaster. It is no surprise, therefore, that the government wasted no time in giving Galeras emergency status and mobilised a great deal of resource towards averting a repeat of such a devastating event.

A feeling of panic was, of course, a fully understandable and very human response to the Nevado del Ruiz disaster. Such an emotive backdrop to the reactivation of Galeras would make it difficult for anyone (with their humanity intact) to respond with any kind dispassionate and methodical examination of the new risks posed. It is easy to see how some of the decisions made in this context would end up creating a legacy for those whose job it later became to manage the emerging risks at Galeras. One such decision made unilaterally and with lasting consequences, was to put in place a plan to relocate all communities who lived in an area deemed to
be ‘high risk’ by the scientific community. The plan was designed to ensure minimal loss of life in the event of the type of eruption that scientists’ research had suggested was possible, although incredibly uncertain.

There was an assumption that minimising loss of life absolutely had to be the top priority of any risk management strategy, therefore it came as a huge surprise to those who had devised the plan that there would be resistance from the communities whose lives were being so carefully protected. It turned out that there were other considerations alongside the protection of life that were featuring just as strongly, for a number of key reasons, and these were discovered later once dialogue became more open. And so it was that for a number of years an increasing ‘stalemate’ developed between those who felt that their role was to protect and those whose lives were being protected. It was in this context that finally, in 2009, it was decided that an opportunity must be created to bring together scientists, risk managers and communities in order to facilitate new dialogue and co-operation in relation to the potentially devastating risks posed by Galeras. This brings us back to the workshop, with the angry and distressed elder on the stage and the future of the workshop was found to be hanging in the balance. So where did it go from here?

## “There Is no Plastic...”

For three days, geologists from the UK, USA and Colombia had presented their latest scientific knowledge and understanding, relating to the unique behaviour of Galeras volcano, to the communities living on its flanks. The intention of the organisers was to give the scientists an opportunity to educate the communities as to the nature and magnitude of the risks and, as a result, to convince them of the importance of heeding the advice of the government and risk managers and, ultimately, to accept the need to be permanently relocated out of the areas deemed to be at greatest risk.

Here a wider moral question as to what we really believe the true purpose of risk communication is

raised. In my experience this can be diverse and often based on unconscious assumptions on the part of those responsible for informing and shaping it. I have heard the overall purpose of risk communication and management in DRR explained as all of the following at various times; (a) to use expert information to make decisions on behalf of people living at risk should they be deemed (by those experts) not to be making optimal decisions for themselves; (b) to attempt to persuade people to act in whatever way risk communicators deem best for them; (c) to offer timely, accurate and appropriately formulated risk information so that people can choose their own actions in a fully informed way, based on integrating this information with what else that they know; or (d) to work together as equals to understand the risks from all perspectives and to design collaborative and inclusive ways in which to manage them together.

Each of these aspirations is best met using very different approaches, informed by a diverse range of work on human behaviour and relationships. For example, where better to turn to if one’s goal is to persuade than the world of commercial advertising? Yet if the desire is to collaborate with those at risk such that they can make empowered decisions for themselves, consciously rather than through clever manipulation by the concerned ‘experts’, then the principles are entirely different. Thankfully there are ever fewer who subscribe to the intentions and accompanying beliefs contained in option (a) above. It is worth taking a moment here to consider what your approach has been so far and whether it might change once considered more carefully and consciously.

This brings us back to the business of how to examine and build a better understanding of our own psychology. When working as a consultant I use a model known as the ‘conscious competence model’ (Gordon International Training). The basic structure of this model is as follows; when one has not yet considered learning something new, one is necessarily then in a state of ‘unconscious incompetence’ (simply never having tried whatever it is and never having considered doing so—i.e. ‘we don’t know what we don’t know’). Think of learning to drive a car. In order
to begin learning, and before reaching the states of first 'conscious competence' (managing to drive, but still concentrating on finding the 'biting point' with each gear change) and then eventually 'unconscious competence' (arriving back home in your car via your usual route having actually meant on this occasion to go to the supermarket), it is first necessary to spend some time in a state of 'conscious incompetence' (think of early attempts at hill starts with frequent subsequent stalling!). This stage of 'conscious incompetence', however long it lasts, is a very uncomfortable one and creates a feeling known as 'cognitive dissonance'. In other words, we now know what we want to do but either cannot yet do it or are not yet doing it, for whatever reason. In health psychology and risk psychology, understanding cognitive dissonance has been instrumental in making sense of how, when we have a choice to change our behaviour or our belief (e.g. stop smoking, or convince ourselves that Auntie Ethel lived to 101 years old despite smoking heavily so it cannot be that dangerous after all). See, for example, Feather (1962), McMaster and Lee (1991), Conner and Norman (2001).

It is the same both when we decide we want to examine and better understand ourselves and when we decide we want to approach something in a different way. Like, for example, taking risk communication from an 'information deficit model' of one way communication, from 'experts' to target 'subjects', forward into a democratic, empowering and collaborative journey of discovery (The 'information deficit model' will be explained in more detail shortly.). Doing something like this requires a lot of hard work and it is very easy to slip back into what we previously knew and felt comfortable doing. This is summarised rather well by a well-loved British author of humorous science fiction Douglas Adams: "it can be very dangerous to see things from someone else's point of view without the proper training" (1995).

Another useful model for assisting a move towards better understanding the impact of our own unconscious behaviours and assumptions on those with whom we are communicating belongs to the field of Transactional Analysis (TA). Originally developed in the 1950s by a psychiatrist named Eric Berne for use in

psychotherapeutic practice, TA has been taken successfully (and enduringly) into fields such as leadership and management development (e.g. Wagner 1996) and industrial safety (e.g. Marsh 2014). In fact, the latter offers a good description of a facet of the model known as 'ego states', which is a way of explaining styles of communication that can influence significantly the effectiveness of our relationships (Fig. 3). The following explanation comes from the field of behavioural safety, a field which is also essentially about risk communication and management, and therefore from which we can draw much valuable learning: "the basic model is like a snowman with three bubbles on top of each other. The lower bubble represents passive, sulking behaviour. The top bubble represents aggressive, authoritarian behaviour. The middle bubble, however, is where you want to be—firm, fair, analytical and reasonable" (Marsh 2014, p. 97). Even more importantly for us, "the theory also talks of the 'nurturing parent'". This is still top bubble but without the aggression. The trouble is the side effects are that your paternal attitude may well be seen as patronising (because you are talking down to people). This mindset "will get in the way of your listening and communication" (Marsh 2014, p. 98). In understanding which bubble we are in when attempting to communicate something to another, we can gain a much better understanding of how people are likely to respond. If we are

<figure><img src="image_169.png" /><figcaption>**Fig. 3** Transactional Analysis Ego States Model (Source Davidson and Mountain (2017))</figcaption></figure>
<figure><img src="image_170.png" /><figcaption>**Fig. 4** Transactional Analysis Ego States: Crossed Transactions (Source Bush 2015)</figcaption></figure>

able to communicate from the middle bubble, we are most likely to elicit a middle bubble response from whomever we are addressing. When we communicate (consciously and intentionally or not; more often the latter), we risk what is known as a 'crossed transaction' (Fig. 4). When this happens, we are in a situation where, for example, an inadvertently parental style may elicit a rather child-like response—for example defiance and rebellion in the face of feeling patronised and told what to do. Similarly, a crossed transaction can go the other way; a defiant or rebellious stance can elicit a parental response. Suffice to say that crossed-transactions are far messier and difficult to manage that straightforward ones! Once one understands how crossed-transactions occur, it is far easier to adjust one's own position and therefore encourage the other to move into the adult bubble also.

The plan to give the scientists an opportunity to educate the communities as to the nature and magnitude of the risks falls in line with the previously mentioned 'information deficit model'. The assumption of such a model in a risk context is that if those at risk are not taking action to avoid the identified risks, there must be a deficit either in their understanding and perception of those risks. Without examining the assumptions underlying such a deficit model, it can appear to be the most rational and obvious approach to risk communication and it is for this reason that it

was the most dominant model for many years. Much has now been learned, however, about the limitations of such an approach due to the realities of human behaviour, emotion and cognition, especially in such complex risk contexts. "Information-deficit models of risk communication are simply inadequate to deal with the accumulation of data that illustrates the significance of emotional state and affective imagery" (Breakwell 2007, p. 172).

When information held by an 'expert' is deemed essential for the welfare of another it is communicated from an assumption (conscious or otherwise) of 'information deficit' and transmitted in a one-way communication designed to address this deficit, it could be said in terms of the model that one is in the 'nurturing parent' bubble. Whilst the intention is benign and caring, communicating from this bubble is more likely to trigger a 'crossed transaction' and often this is in the form of a rebellious and resistant 'child' response.

TA can help us to understand why the indigenous elder perhaps took to the stage in such an emotional state to declare that there was no plastic in their volcano. He may have been triggered into a defiant state by feeling that he was being told with great authority, by people from a faraway place, about his beloved volcano. In this state, it would have been much easier for him to hear the very technical, scientific and unfamiliar term 'pyroclastic flow' as 'plastic'.

The workshop had been set up explicitly as an opportunity for dialogue and co-operation on risk management at the Galeras volcano, with the invitation extended to all communities living in the high risk zones. Yet for the first three days these community members were given no opportunity to contribute, only to listen to a long list of scientific presentations using technical language. Great care had been taken to ensure effective translation from English to Spanish and vice versa, but the issue of translating scientific language into that which could be understood by non-scientists had been completely overlooked. This combination of oversights and miscommunications resulted in community members who felt, beyond having been invited in the first place, utterly disrespected and unheard (Fig. 5).
<figure><img src="image_171.png" /><figcaption>**Fig. 5** Elder from the indigenous community of Jenoy, featured in this story, on the stage at the University of Nariño talking about ‘plastic’ in their volcano (*Photo* Wilmshurst 2009)</figcaption></figure>

Over time, being communicated to by someone in that parental bubble, which can sometimes appear patronising and controlling, can lead to what is known as ‘learned helplessness’ (frequently seen in depression) where individuals simply perceive that they have no control over what is happening to them in a certain context and will stop trying to engage or change what is happening. It is worth noting that it is not especially relevant whether their perception of control continues to be accurate or not, what matters is that they stop attempting to have agency based on their perception that it is outside of their control.

The intention of all of this is not, I reiterate, to detract from the obvious importance of understanding and explaining the nature of the risks and of the way in which those risks are understood by those living with them. The challenge is how to integrate scientific information into an approach that stands the most chance of being ‘effective’, whatever that is decided to mean. Much has been learned about how to do this, and more of a consensus reached on the aim of risk communication in many contexts, over the past few decades of research and practice. Fischoff (1998, p. 134) offers a summary of the history of the evolution of risk communication and presents these as the first five phases:

1. All we have to do is get the numbers right.

2. All we have to do is tell them the numbers.

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

4. All we have to do is show them that they’ve accepted similar risks in the past.

5. All we have to do is show them that it is a good deal for them.

So, if the workshop was designed and approached from the perspective of these phases, then it offers another possible part of the explanation as to why those running it encountered the same pitfalls that were encountered during this period of evolution, which ultimately led to the current understanding of what more is required to achieve better outcomes for all.

## Working with Different ‘Ways of Knowing’

When communicating and managing risk, trust can be undermined and therefore affect the likelihood of scientific information being well received and acted upon in a positive way. It has been found that losing trust is generally a great deal easier than gaining it, so there is much value in understanding
how best to preserve it. This is known as 'the asymmetry principle' (Poortinga and Pidgeon 2004). Trust is a complex and multi-dimensional thing and absolutely key in effective risk communication (see Poortinga and Pidgeon 2003; Wilmshurst 2010; Crosweller and Wilmshurst 2013 for further discussion of trust in a DRR context). See also Paton's (2010) related work on people's relationships with information sources.

A more in depth understanding of biases in our decision-making, conscious or unconscious, is available through the work of Daniel Kahneman and his late research partner Amos Tversky (see Kahneman 2011). Perhaps the most common of the biases they propose and discuss is 'confirmation bias', in which we inadvertently filter out information that goes against what we already believe while seeking out and keeping only that which agrees with it.

An understanding of the biases brought into this field can offer much to the creation of a joint understanding of the perspectives and assumptions we all bring. In the case of science, an example of bias (to some degree including confirmation bias) can be in the form of what is sometimes known as 'scientism'. Broadly "scientism is a matter of putting too high a value on natural science in comparison with other branches of learning or culture" (Sorell 1994). An over-emphasis on the scientific method and its findings, leading to it being viewed as the only meaningful way of knowing about the world, can be extremely damaging when it leads to the dismissal of other forms of knowledge, including experiential. Participatory approaches in research allow for other forms of knowledge to be integrated alongside science and lead to much more collaborative and inclusive solutions, not to mention the ability to draw on a much more broader range of resources when addressing a given problem. They intentionally blur the lines between researcher and subject, creating conditions for all parties to become involved in constructing the questions, seeking methods to answer these questions and bringing different forms of knowledge to shape the answers. For more on participatory approaches, see Reason and Bradbury 2006.

One example of scientism in the context of volcanic risk, once noticed and appreciated, led to a public and very important apology. In Hawaii, myths shared and transmitted across generations about the behaviour of the volcanoes were dismissed for a long time by geologists working on the islands. Eventually, one of these geologists was forced to realise the mistake and was willing to acknowledge it openly and to apologise: "the cultural memory was right and our scientific surveys were wrong." "We were very clearly wrong and we only realised this recently. It's pretty embarrassing that geologists failed to take the Pele-Hi'iaka chants into account because we hadn't believed that the chants had any real meaning." This realisation and apology did not end there, but in fact led to a commitment to work with the locals and their myths in order to seek more insight from their own 'ways of knowing': "Swanson believes that many more scientific treasures lie in the Hawaiian chants, ready for scientists to decipher" (Swanson 2008; Palmer 2015).

I was offered anecdotal information about how the value of local knowledge at Galeras was also discovered. Stories that told of clear skies over the volcano preceding an eruption were initially dismissed by scientists, because their understanding at the time was that gas emissions (and therefore steam and cloud) would increase up to the point of eruption. It later turned out, I was told, that at Galeras there are indeed often clear skies up until the point of eruption. This is because a feature of the volcano is that as the pressure builds, the build-up of magma results in a 'plugging' effect thereby stopping gas emissions (and therefore preventing steam and therefore the resulting cloud sitting about the crater) until the pressure builds sufficiently to cause an eruption. I am not a geologist, so I cannot verify this story in terms of scientific data on the subject, but the story illustrates the importance to local people of their myths and cultural knowledge being respected alongside scientific knowledge.

As it happens, there have only been nine deaths caused by eruptions since Galeras became active again in 1989. Seven of those killed were
scientists and two were tourists who went up to the crater with them (their story is told in Williams and Montaigne 2001). What is relevant here is the fact that the only fatalities so far have been scientists (and those accompanying them), rather than any of those living on the volcano, and this has created an unfortunate legacy in relation to local perceptions of, and trust in, scientists studying Galeras. This was only ever expressed to me alongside deep regret about the lives lost, I must add.

For more on the evolving understanding of the role of myth and other non-science based sources of knowledge see, for example, Chester (2005). There has also been relevant and interesting work on cultural theory in relation to risk perception. Douglas (1992) pointed out that the Japanese did not have a word for risk (or didn't at the time of her writing) because they did not approach danger from the viewpoint of establishing probability. This has significant and obvious implications for the subject matter of this chapter. See also Smith (1999) on the importance of uncovering and examining cultural bias when conducting research with those from other cultures who may hold world views very different than our predominantly scientific paradigm in the so-called 'West'.

## Rebuilding the Trust

There has also been widespread belief among scientists that the public are unable to conceptualise uncertainty in relation to risk assessment. Many scientists have thought, as a result of this belief, that communicating uncertainty would therefore increase distrust in science and cause confusion (Frewer et al. 2003). This further points to an ongoing adherence, in some cases, to information deficit assumptions that may be taking time to shift. In contrast, research to understand effective leadership and management has repeatedly shown the value and importance of transparency and fallibility by those who seek to influence others. See also Gigerenzer (2002) for more on how different groups of people, including health professionals responsible for

communicating risk, understand risk and uncertainty themselves. This links back also to the work mentioned earlier on risk as a cultural concept that is not necessarily held by all those with whom DRR professionals seek to engage (Douglas 1992).

There are a number of additional phases in Fischoff's observed evolution of risk communication, based on more recent lessons learned across the whole of the risk communication field, to which we will return later. As we will see, the workshop described above appears to have entered into the 'stakeholder engagement' phase of risk management from an (inadvertent) place of unequal status between the scientists and risk managers on the one hand, and those they were seeking to inform and protect on the other. This approach to risk communication also generally demonstrates an intention towards persuasion. In her book on the psychology of risk, Breakwell notes that "...risk communication research has focused on what happens not simply when information is being transmitted but when that information is part of a message that is designed to persuade. The persuasion is aimed at making the recipients see the hazard in a different way and as a consequence change their attitude or behaviour towards it" (2007, p. 131). There is a huge and growing body of work on how to persuade people to engage in 'behaviour change' in various contexts (see Marsh 2014 to learn about 'nudge' theory and the very effective behavioural change intervention using a plastic fly in a urinal to improve hygiene in public toilets). For the purposes of this chapter and because of the nature of the DRR context, however, we are going to move on to those approaches that seek to be fully inclusive and participatory.

As a psychologist, I had been invited along to the workshop to assess whether it would be a viable case study for a research project to explore psychological risk factors in volcanic risk management. Clearly I had my answer at this point! The intervention by one of the local scientists that I mentioned earlier, who was really concerned that the hard work and good intentions were potentially about to be lost, was a major turning point. Once I had offered to spend some
time learning more about the perspectives, concerns and experiences that the community members had come along hoping to share, the energy changed and community participants agreed to re-engage in the workshop. Following this necessary and important clearing of emotional energy the way was finally cleared to get a range of stakeholders in a room to begin new dialogue.

Another meeting was organised for the next day and more emotional expression was needed and allowed before things could move on. This was especially important as this next meeting happened to fall on the anniversary of the Nevado del Ruiz disaster and there were people in the room who had lived through the devastation and loss first hand. Eventually, the subject matter turned to the future and the desire to find a more effective may forward was universally shared. From this new place, it was possible for the group to produce three lists, together, outlining the issues that all stakeholders present agreed on. These lists were; 'Points of Agreement', 'Points of Conflict' (they were surprised to find that they actually agreed on what the points of disagreement were and this provided a significant breakthrough in trust and understanding between the group members at this point) and 'Conclusions of the Workshop' (which included the need to review current decrees, laws, policies etc. and most notably the proposed plans for enforced relocation). The group included representation from national and local risk management bodies, communities living in the high risk zones and local scientists. International scientists were not represented as they were in a parallel session to discuss the communication of scientific uncertainty.

From the production of these lists, and agreement that all now felt that they had been given an opportunity to be heard more fully, came an agreement to embark on a new process of dialogue and collaboration between the stakeholders. The process would be facilitated and explore what could be done to take them forward, using their lists of agreement and of agreed areas of continued disagreement and conflict as a guide. Thus the step was taken from

an approach based on 'information deficit' and the need for persuasion and therefore from the one-way presentation of scientific data of Fischoff's step five, into the final three phases of his journey of risk communication:

6. All we have to do is treat them nice.

7. All we have to do is make them partners.

8. All of the above.

Thankfully most risk management strategies have now started to move away from an approach that suggests that it's all about risk perception, a deficit of knowledge (and the accompanying need to educate people about the risks until they understand enough to do as the scientists are telling them) towards approaches that are collaborative and participatory (e.g. John Twigg 2009). There is still a legacy of the old approaches apparent in some areas, however, and therefore more work to be done.

Participatory methods have been gaining ground rapidly in DRR in recent years, not least due to the evidence of how effective they are in creating sustainable strategies that draw on the wide range of knowledge and resource made available by such collaborative methods. One cautionary note worth making here is that they do, however, need to be truly participatory rather than approaches that appear to engage all stakeholders but that ultimately consist of officials seeking endorsement of decisions already made (confirmation bias at work) and mistaking this for collaboration and participation. Breakwell (2007, p. 172) notes that:

> Risk communication is a mammoth topic...in moving from an examination of the classic literature on persuasion through to the discussion of consultative and participation methods, it echoes the journey made by risk communication and philosophy over the last half-century. There has been a move from seeing the public as targets for influence to recognising them as partners of in the process of risk management. Of course, not all institutions have made this move and not all risks are particularly amenable to it.

Her last point is vital, and there will no doubt continue to be spirited debate about which hazards and risks are, and are not, amenable to
participatory approaches in the field of DRR and beyond. What should be avoided, however, is the use of non-participatory approaches simply because they are perceived to be less time and resource intensive and more comfortable and familiar, rather than because they best suit the context and needs of the people affected by them.

So, as the workshop concluded in the beautiful surroundings of La Cocha Lake in the hills to the east of Pasto, the participants of the group that had come together as a result of the breakdown part way through had made a commitment to meet again and to build an ongoing partnership. Here began a three month facilitated process of dialogue and collaboration back at the university in Pasto, to build a more participatory approach to risk management at Galeras volcano. Members of the group represented the local science community, the university, local and national disaster management groups and organisations and three of the communities living in the high risk zone on the flanks of the volcano. The process was named by the group, very aptly, ‘Speaking the Same Language’. Whilst I guided and facilitated the process, all content was created and decisions made by the members of the group. It was agreed that the group would follow, albeit loosely to allow for flexibility, an ‘action research’ approach

(Reason and Bradbury 2006). As part of this, the members drew up and reached consensus on a group objective and a set of group working ‘rules’ for the facilitation period (Figs. 6 and 7).

At the start of the process, solutions suggested by the officials responsible for managing volcanic risk centred on two main areas: (a) permanent relocation in the medium to long term for those living in the designated high risk areas of ‘red zone’ and (b) in the more immediate term and for those living outside the ‘red zone’ (high risk zone), having a well-practised evacuation plan in the event of a significant eruption being forecast. Many of the community members wanted to start from a place of open discussion about the suitability of the proposed (and in some areas partially implemented) plans. This included reaching agreement between all stakeholders on the nature and extent of the risks posed. Also, arriving at solutions that would satisfy ‘officials’ that the people whose interests they sought to serve were making sound and informed decisions about their safety and welfare. In a wider DRR context, the moral question remains as to who should have the final say in what constitutes sound and informed decisions and optimal behaviours, and with whom the responsibility to ensure behaviours are carried out ultimately lies.

<figure><img src="image_172.png" /><figcaption>**Fig. 6** Members of the group working together on a more inclusive risk management strategy (Photo Wilmshurst 2009)</figcaption></figure>
This is a question that permeates much of the risk literature in relation to health and safety as a whole, but certainly there are many more ambiguities in a situation such as this. There is, however, plenty of evidence to show that enforcing compliance in a 'top down' manner without genuine engagement with all parties is generally far less successful than approaches that allow all to have a genuine part to play in how a culture of good risk management is developed (Marsh 2014). For this reason, despite some obvious and important differences, there is much of value to DRR to be found in the world of industrial safety management.

The process ran from September until December 2009. At end of this first facilitated period, the group felt no further need for me as the facilitator (as was hoped and intended at the start, as the process was designed to work towards empowering the group to continue in a self-regulating manner). They had by this point identified and brought together a much wider group of important stakeholders, including representatives from further disaster management bodies and various government departments including, importantly given the nature of the risks, the department of health.

Things did not always go smoothly, of course, and we lost important representatives from one of the communities about one month into the process. This was due to an impasse relating to the presence of officials deemed by them to be essential for the process. These community members, from the indigenous community of Jenoy, were also at this time working hard to gain recognition from the government of their indigenous heritage and membership of the Quillasinga people. I am pleased to report that they had made significant progress on this when I visited them the following year. Following both their departure and the end of the facilitated period, it was also decided that 'communities' could no longer be a homogenous part of the group membership, as each community had different environments (literally in terms of living at different altitudes on the flanks of the volcano and therefore producing different crops and keeping different livestock). They also had different cultural, needs and priorities. It was therefore decided that representatives from each community would engage with risk managers independently until such time as they felt able to come back together as one group. As well as differences between them, there also emerged

<figure><img src="image_173.png" /><figcaption>**Fig. 7** Galeras volcano overseeing our work: the view from our meeting room within the University of Nariño (Photo Wilmshurst 2009)</figcaption></figure>
interesting and important differences in perspective amongst the young and the elders within the respective communities. A further very important consideration that emerged from the process was the fact that whilst the scientists and risk managers were mostly viewing the volcano as a potential hazard, the communities living on its flanks were seeing it as both a potential hazard and a huge source of opportunity. The opportunities include very fertile soil for growing crops, hot springs for bathing and their many myths and stories that being them close to their ‘Taita Galeras’ as a spiritual connection to their culture and their roots. For more on the more recent acknowledgement of the importance of volcanoes as opportunities as well as hazards, and how these perceived benefits can offset the risks, see Kelman and Mather 2008.

It emerged too that the way in which the community members were considering the risks was from a far broader perspective, and were taking into account other threats and relative considerations, than those of the risk managers. This is not surprising given that the focus of risk managers and communicators is usually from the point of view of a particular hazard, risk or set of priorities. Again, an examination of the assumptions inherent in that is hugely valuable and can avert a number of problems. In this case, it emerged from the conversations that despite the obvious fear of a large volcanic eruption following the Nevado del Ruiz disaster, there was a recognition that the risks of an earthquake are also very significant given that Pasto sits very close to a major fault line and has been affected by a number of large earthquakes in the past. This has important potential implications when considering relocating these communities from the flanks of the volcano into a city living at risk of powerful earthquakes. Community members resisting relocation to the city also pointed out that, to them, the loss of their culture and practices and their community cohesion was potentially a bigger threat to them than losing their lives to an eruption. This again surfaced the assumption that preventing loss of life should necessarily be the sole focus of risk management strategies. The request was instead that quality of life be held in equal regard by those managing the risks.

I left the process at the end of the agreed phase of facilitated work, at which point there was a fantastic level of motivation and commitment to continue to work in a collaborative and participatory way, in spite of the many hurdles and frustrations inherent in such an approach. The last time I had contact with members of the group they were continuing to progress, learn and further develop strategies together, although not without significant challenges. There was however thankfully still no desire to return to earlier approaches after all that had been gained and learned through such an inclusive approach.

## Conclusions: Speaking the Same Language

This experience has taken us on a journey through Fischoff’s stages of the evolution of risk communication and collected additional learning from other fields along the way. The intention was two-fold: firstly, to tell you a story about how a group of people came together from a place of mistrust and miscommunication to build a participatory approach to managing risks at Galeras volcano. Secondly, to use this story to bring to life a range of lessons and contributions from DRR and beyond as an invitation to you to think about your own role in DRR and the range of psychological factors you bring to what you do, including a whole collection of assumptions, biases, perceptions and beliefs.

The lessons learned through getting lost and finding the way again are many, but they can be centred around a few key areas. The journey of risk communication has been one of building layers, rather than of moving through and beyond distinct stages. This is important because it means that we need to hold on to the learning and contribution of each stage and keep learning about who is best placed to achieve each and how. This allows for all stakeholders to play their part in risk management processes that are truly inclusive and integrated, and which allow us to benefit from the immensely rich learning available from, for example, cultural memory, lived experience and lay-persons’ observations alongside scientific
inquiry. In bringing together stakeholders to work together, mistakes are inevitably made and many more lessons are learned, usually more quickly if at times a little more painfully! When the conditions are created for open, honest and respectful communication, assumptions are surfaced and can be worked with and through consciously. Through this, inadvertent biases can be removed, intentional ones can be challenged, and relationships will be both more effective and usually more enjoyable.

It is important, alongside continuing to develop the interdisciplinary nature of DRR by bringing in relevant academic disciplines, to continue to seek applicable learning from other fields involved in understanding human behaviour, relationships and communication. This not only opens the door to many more sources of rich learning, but helps us to minimise how many painful lessons we must learn for ourselves when others have already been there first.

When we make this into a conscious journey and maintain an open mind and a collaborative spirit, we stand the best chance of bringing about solutions in which we truly all are speaking the same language.

**Acknowledgements** Sincere thanks to all of those with whom I have worked at Galeras volcano in Colombia. May your perseverance, humility and ever-evolving insight continue to inform and inspire.

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# Cultural Differences and the Importance of Trust Between Volcanologists and Partners in Volcanic Risk Mitigation

Chris Newhall ID

## Abstract

A challenge in volcanic hazards communication is to bridge the cultural and language gaps between volcanologists and those who use volcanological information. We might be nominally from a single culture, e.g., Japanese, American, Italian, etc., but the cultural gaps between volcanologists and those who use volcano information can be as wide or wider than those from one country to the next. We have different goals or agendas, different approaches to solving problems, different terminologies, different definitions of success, and different reward systems. The first step toward bridging gaps is to recognize and accept the differences—valuing each other's goals and agreeing to work as a team to satisfy both. This acceptance plus involving information users in the information gathering helps to build trust. Without such trust, players are unlikely to accept each other's advice. Mainly from personal experience, I note commonly encountered cultural differences. Then, given the cultural differences, I note the critical importance of bridging those differences with trust. Finally, I give three short case histories—from Mount St. Helens, Pinatubo, and Usu—in which trust was built and differences were successfully overcome.

## 1 Introduction

At Mount St. Helens in 1980, Cowlitz County Sheriff Les Nelson once lamented: "Trying to get a straight answer from a geologist is like trying to corner a rat in a round house."

Geologists were not trying to hide anything, but they knew that Mount St. Helens could show a variety of behavior so they couched their answers in the kind of caveats that all scientists are taught to use. "There are several possible scenarios..." "Uncertainties are high..." and similar. Sheriff Nelson, and others, wanted simpler answers: yes, no, or, at least, most likely, probably yes, probably not, or similar.

<footnote>C. Newhall (✉)
Mirisbiris Garden and Nature Center, Santo Domingo, Philippines
e-mail: cgnewhall@gmail.com</footnote>
It is easy to imagine additional words that might be said about volcanologists, to their face or behind their backs. Here are some that I can imagine:

Volcanologists are a strange lot ... Some of them hike up and down volcanoes, digging in the dirt or whacking off pieces of rock and telling us that they know how this volcano works. Others go around planting sensors in the ground, or sniffing the gases, and tell us they know how this volcano works. Sometimes they agree, often they don't. We're told there are still others who spend all their time heating and squeezing rocks in their laboratories, or writing computer programs they say simulate real life volcanoes. They publish papers in scientific journals that only they can read, and consider their work done. If we ask them "Is it dangerous?" their answers are so ambiguous that we might do just as well with a pair of dice. Do they think we care about what will happen in the next thousand years? And if we ask them "What should we do?" they answer "Ask someone else. That's not our mandate or expertise!

Just as easily, I can imagine words of volcanologists about officials and other non-scientists:

Officials and the public are a strange lot. They think that if we are good scientists, we should know exactly when and how each volcano will erupt. If we explain how complicated volcanoes are, and how science focuses on what isn't known, they roll their eyes in disbelief. Why, some of them even want us to give them 24-hour warnings! We aren't like seers who can divine the future! If we talk about the different ways that a volcano can kill them, they say "We don't care HOW we might get killed - just if or when. For us, a bomb falling on our head is the same as being toasted front or back." If we offer probabilities of various scenarios, they don't understand. And they keep resisting us... saying they want to stay in their homes, or on their jobs, or protect their cows. How can they expect us to keep them safe if they themselves won't take precautions?

Everyone who has travelled or worked in another culture knows that there are significant differences in values and customs from one culture to the next. This paper is a short cross-cultural look at differences within single cultures, just between scientists and those who use scientific information.

## 2 The Literature of Scientific Communication

Many books have been written about scientific communication, and how to bridge between the worlds of science and everyday life. Many excellent tips are given by Hayes and Grossman (2006), Manning (2006), Dean (2009), Olson (2009), Kennedy and Overholser (2010), Bultitude (2011), Fischhoff (2011), Graveline (2013), and other references in The Earth Institute (2014). Broad concepts of credibility and trust in risk communication are discussed by Renn and Levine (1991). Ways by which scientific uncertainty can be communicated in ways that enhance scientists' credibility are discussed by Morgan and Henrion (1990), Morgan (1998), Moss (2011), Mastrandrea et al. (2010), Pidgeon and Fischhoff (2011), and Socolow (2011). Ways by which scientists can communicate well across disciplines are discussed by Harris and Lyon (2013), among others. The present paper does not pretend to review the available literature, much less be a scholarly treatise. Rather, it presents personal experiences, which can be put by others into more general lessons of how best to communicate across professions.

## 3 Cultural Differences Among Players at Volcanoes?

Here are six cultural differences between scientists and non-scientists, as noticed during volcanic crises and as seen through my eyes as a volcanologist. By the generic term "scientist" I refer to both physical and social scientists, though my personal focus is naturally in physical science, specifically in volcanology. Some of you will correctly note stereotyping and sweeping generalizations, made in the interest of brevity. But every user group is a body of individuals. Generalizations will not apply to all, but in my experience they do apply to many!
**First, we are concerned with different problems.** *Scientists* ask “What, when, how, and especially, WHY?” *Civil defence officials and land managers* are concerned with “What, when, how serious, and what can we do to keep people safe?” *Engineers* ask “What is the problem and what can we build to fix it?” *Politicians* ask “How can we balance many competing interests (and be re-elected)?” *News media* ask “How can we translate and convey this in interesting ways?” And *citizens* ask, “What should my family do?” None of these are easy questions or tasks!

**Second, scientists and non-scientists have different goals and reward systems.** Everyone shares the common goals of public safety and well-being, doing one's job well, and advancing one's career and pay scale. In addition, differing goals include, for research scientists, to satisfy intense curiosity and to have fun in doing so. Much of the reward for scientists is the simple satisfaction of making new discoveries. However, these days, scientists must also compete with peers for professional recognition, including metrics of academic achievement. Those at universities and research-oriented volcano observatories get rewarded primarily for their research publications or contributions to such publications, how often their publications are cited by other scientists, and their success in garnering research grants. Scientists at public-service oriented organizations may be rewarded primarily for smooth operations and providing high quality advice to those who seek it.

**Career public servants such as civil defence officials or land managers** typically get rewarded for protecting the lives, infrastructure, property, economies, natural resources, and well-being of communities. Local officers will be rewarded for answering directly to people of the community while officers at higher levels of government may be rewarded for aiding the development of policy and/or funding prospects for the organization. *Politicians* seek a variety of rewards. They seek re-election, yes, and funds for re-election, but also the satisfaction of successfully balancing between competing interests. A common requirement in times of volcanic crises is to

successfully guard the safety of their constituents yet, at the same time, help them continue their lives as normally as possible, and to minimize disruption of business. *Engineers* are typically tasked with designing and implementing structural measures to reduce risk, and are rewarded with contracts, positive evaluations, and promotions if the project is successful. Most engineers take great pride in what they build or fix, so some of their reward is also internal. The *owners of news media* are driven variously by commitment to inform and serve the public and by the profit motive. *News reporters* are driven by similar commitment to public service, but are rewarded for column inches or minutes of airtime and editorial, peer, and public recognition.

*Citizens*, the most diverse group of all, need to balance keeping their families safe from the volcano and safe from other threats, including loss of crops, jobs, income, schooling, friends and social support networks, and other pillars of daily life.

**Third, we speak different languages.** Every field has its own specialized jargon. The jargon of scientists is a shorthand that is generally understood ONLY by scientists. Volcanological terms for major hazards like pyroclastic flows, tephra fall, and lahars all need clear definition, ideally in videos; more technical terms like magma compositions, extrusion rates, earthquake types, or monitoring technologies are best reserved for audiences who will appreciate them. Similarly, social science has its own jargon.

*Engineering* also has a specialized vocabulary, though more widely used and understood than that of scientists. *Civil defence officials* have their own jargon and acronyms, mostly non-technical but equally baffling to scientists. *News media and the public* use the language of everyday life.

The ways we view and draw the world are also different. Historically, *geoscientists* used maps and cross-sections to visualize the world in three dimensions, though increasingly those can be combined into fancy 3D graphics. Traditional maps (in plan view) and cross-sections are fine
for geoscientists and engineers, but too abstract for most others (Haynes et al. 2007). Modern 3D visualizations, including oblique aerial views, are much better. GIS technology and the ready availability of 3D visualization tools through local-host GIS, Google Earth, Bing Maps, and other services are wonderful tools to help geoscientists communicate with non-geoscientists.

The meanings we attach to adjectives and other descriptors may be very different. Geologists have a very long view of time, far longer than of interest to most who seek advice. “Soon” to a layman might mean tomorrow while “soon” to a geologist might mean 100 years from now! Fast or slow are in the same category. The terms high and low, and possible, probable, likely and unlikely are notoriously ambiguous. Social scientists and others have documented wide ranges of numeric probabilities that different people attach to the same terms (Morgan 1998; Mastrandrea et al. 2010). Doyle and Potter (2015) recently suggested a table that translates from adjectives to probabilities of geologic hazards. In my own experience, the best ways to avoid the ambiguity of adjectives is to define them quantitatively, as in Mastrandrea et al. (2010) and Doyle and Potter (2015), or avoid them entirely by using a ladder of comparable risks as discussed later in this paper.

**Fourth, we have different approaches to solving problems.** In the scientific method, scientists identify a problem, propose hypotheses, gather data, and test the hypotheses (including forecasts of the future). Typically, the data gathering and interpretation involves a strong emphasis on observational skills, measurement, and quantitative assessment. Indeed, scientists like to quantify everything, including hazard and risk. Non-scientists (except engineers and a few others) are often wary of numbers, either because they don't understand them or they don't trust them. In an exception, those making policy for climate adaptation reportedly prefer numbers to qualitative descriptors (Moss 2011).

Scientists also strive for very low levels of uncertainty, such as might be acceptable for publication in peer-reviewed journals. Notwith-

standing pressures to publish several papers per year or meet deadlines for project funding, scientists pride themselves in taking as much time as is needed before they offer advice, often months or years. Often, scientists resist calls to provide quick advice; at the same time, they should recognize that some decisions simply must be made quickly.

In contrast, Civil Defence leaders and land managers identify the problem, consider alternative solutions, prepare a decision matrix (e.g., cost benefit, etc.), and then make the optimal decision, sometimes within just hours or days. These decision-makers typically have higher tolerance than scientists for uncertainty, though in very high-stakes decisions such as siting of a nuclear facility, they too will pay great attention to uncertainty. Politicians follow a similar approach, though with more attention to public opinion. Accordingly, the metrics and weightings may be different. Scientific facts and advice may be just a small part of a political decision. For example, on matters of hazards and risk, scientists can evaluate hazard (and sometimes risk), but it is inevitably a political matter to evaluate how much risk the public (and the politician) is willing to accept. Decisions about acceptable risk, in turn, depend on the trade-offs between the benefits of taking the risk versus the potential losses if one takes the risk and loses. Scientific probabilities play a role, but only alongside many other factors. The role of citizens is to tell politicians and other decision makers how much risk they are willing to tolerate, and/or to ‘vote with their feet’ by self-evacuating if they so decide.

Engineers define the problem as best as they can in the time available, then design and implement a solution. The process may include consideration of several different designs and eventually choosing one. Sometimes, engineers express frustration with scientists if the starting or input parameters for what they are supposed to design keep changing. At some point, an engineer must lock in a design, whereas scientists keep on gathering data and, in some cases, call for a different or more flexible design. Scientists
expect Nature and people to change; engineers
may also expect change, but for their design they
need a snapshot in time. Scientists emphasize
uncertainty; engineers typically include a factor
of safety to account for uncertainty and are ready
to move on. *News media* generally limit them-
selves to reporting on how others solve prob-
lems, though some opinion or editorial pieces
and some committed local reporters will actively
facilitate communication between scientists,
engineers, decision makers and the public.
Members of the media bring special expertise in
interviewing, listening, and comparing various
points of view or approaches to problem solving.

**Fifth, we differ in how we know what we know (epistemology).** Nearly all who want to learn about a topic—scientists and non-scientists alike—start with published knowledge. The primary knowledge might be in academic journals, or in more accessible forms like books, popular magazines, Wikipedia and other sources on the internet, documentary videos, public lectures, and the like. While most of what is published is correct, all of us who publish know that there is misleading information too. The “library”—sensu latu—is a great place to start, but must be read with a critical mind.

Most *physical scientists* believe that the world
operates according to well-known physical laws
and that most everything can be explained in
terms of physics and chemistry. I am among
them. We have strong faith in the scientific
method, observing, testing multiple hypotheses,
and throwing them out in order until we accept
the surviving hypothesis (or few). Scientists are
always studying the world, learning, and dis-
covering. We accept that the process should
involve high levels of self-critique and peer
review. We should be glad to disprove our own
hypotheses or have our hypotheses be disproven,
as that invariably leads to formulation of better
hypotheses and brings us closer to the truth.

Jasanoff (1996) and Bäckstrand (2003)
describe civic science: participatory, democratic,
and addressing often-controversial societal
problems without simple right or wrong answers,
and with meaning derived from both absolute
knowledge and human context. Civic science

stands in contrast to conventional academic sci-
ence that seeks to prove or disprove hypotheses,
creating “absolute” knowledge within the scien-
tific community that may or may not be used by
decision makers, and that almost never involves
citizens. On controversial matters involving big
business, civic science also stands in contrast to
science which promotes corporate interests. Most
scientists are trained for conventional academic
science, and can easily enter the proprietary
world of corporate science. Those who will join
in civic science must expect greater democracy
and relativism than in standard university
training.

What does civic science have to do with nat-
ural hazards? After all, aren't natural hazards
wholly apolitical? No, decisions must still be
made, sometimes even controversial decisions,
and the more transparent and democratic the
scientific process, the more trust will be estab-
lished. One excellent example of civic vol-
canology is the network of *vigías* around
Tungurahua Volcano in Ecuador, where an early
overestimation of hazard created distrust of vol-
canologists that had to eventually be reversed,
and an important part of that reversal was
inclusion of local residents as scientific observers
and alerters (Stone et al. 2014).

Where *decision makers and engineers* do rely
on scientists for information on hazards and risk,
there comes a serious responsibility for those
scientists to resolve normal differences of inter-
pretation. Scientific teams must try to resolve
scientific debates and then present a consensus
view to decision makers. If some issues cannot
yet be resolved, it is fine to present them as
competing hypotheses and explain how we will
try to test them [from the field of climate change,
see advice by Socolow (2011)]. Scientific credi-
bility will still be intact. But if several different
scientists offer competing advice, decision mak-
ers must decide who to believe. Personalities and
trust, as much or more than evidence, become
deciding factors. If scientific debate still rages in
public, officials will lose faith in all scientists.

*Many citizens* “learn” by trusting a charis-
matic public figure—be it a politician, a cleric, a
media figure, or anyone else. Sometimes, a
scientist with unusually good communication skills and a knack for simplifying and popularizing scientific concepts can be the charismatic figure, but there is a risk that such scientists will fall into the trap of dogmatism unless they listen carefully to all scientific views before making public pronouncements. Charisma should be paired with humility, as I have seen cases in which good scientists became overly confident of their own expertise and Nature has proven them wrong.

*Other citizens* learn by their own observations, and by oral traditions. Traditional knowledge includes non-scientific explanations of the natural world that may or may not have a basis in physics or chemistry. For example, traditional knowledge around some volcanoes that water wells dry up before eruptions has a good physical explanation. But other “knowledge” (belief) has no physical explanation and is, instead, based on religious faith. This group of *citizens* will be equally or more convinced by traditional explanations as by those from scientists. A good case in point involved the late Mbah Marijan, spiritual gatekeeper of Merapi, who was trusted by a group of followers to know from conversations with the spirits of Merapi whether their place would be in danger or not (Schlehe 2010; Donovan et al. 2012) and, more broadly, how that augured for future national events (Dove 2010). Once differences in jargon are overcome, social scientists can help physical scientists to understand that the latter’s physical explanations may or may not trump traditional knowledge.

**Sixth, we have different resources and tools at our disposal.** Typically, scientists have moderate to good resources for literature review, gathering of new data, computing, and sharing results through scientific meetings and publications. We may also have extensive experience with other volcanic crises—something that is rare for those with whom we work.

*Engineers* have resources for design and implementation of structural measures—often much more, in monetary terms, than resources of

scientists. This is a natural consequence of the cost of such structural measures, and in most cases is accepted as necessary. However, this discrepancy between funding for science and engineering intervention can become a sore subject for scientists if engineers are not utilizing the best available scientific information, and end up wasting large amounts of money on structures that scientists anticipate will not work. At Pina-tubo, much money was spent on building woefully inadequate sediment control structures before engineering measures eventually grew large enough to handle the threat (Janda et al. 1996). At Merapi, in retrospect, sediment control structures actually caused pyroclastic flows to jump out of stream channels and thereby increased the death toll (Lube et al. 2011; Baxter et al. in press).

*Civil defence officials, land managers, and politicians* typically have the authority and resources to control public access to areas near a volcano, to support an evacuation if needed and, sometimes, to fund engineering intervention. In a few countries, civil defence agencies provide substantial funding to scientists and, in return, can expect projects that address their very practical concerns. The *news media* have, by the nature of their work, great communication resources. They have the ear and the eye of the public and, if they choose to do so, they can be wonderfully effective in translating scientific information into terms that others can use and facilitating two-way communication with scientists.

*Citizens* have only their own eyes and ears, but often have the advantage of living on the volcano and being able to spot changes that escape modern instruments. A case in point is that local farmers reported the start of the flank eruption of Eyjafjallajökull in 2010 to police and scientists, not vice versa (Bird and Gísladóttir 2012). A number of eruptions in remote areas like the Aleutians are reported first by airline pilots who are constantly scanning their horizons for any in-flight hazards.
# 4 TRUST Between Scientists and Non-scientists Is Critical for Successful Risk Mitigation

Given the significant cultural differences between players in a volcanic crisis, there will inevitably be scepticism and a period of adjustment before each group is comfortable with the others. Perhaps the biggest challenge is to develop trust between the various players. More specifically, trust between scientists and those who use scientific information is *essential* if that information is to be accepted and used (Paton 2007; Haynes et al. 2008a, b; Donovan et al. 2014; Stone et al. 2014). Trying to understand and accept the cultural differences among the various groups, and involving users in the scientific process whenever feasible, are the best ways I know to develop this trust. If the scientific team with an official mandate for advice doesn't reach out to develop such trust, decision-makers may very well look elsewhere for advice, including to scientists perhaps less qualified but more communicative, or even to pseudoscientists who seem to speak with authority.

Here are three examples where trust was critical for volcanic risk mitigation.

## 4.1 Mount St. Helens 1980

Capsule timeline: March 20, 1980, earthquakes start. March 27, first phreatic eruption. More phreatic eruptions and strong bulging of North flank. Sunday, May 18, massive sector collapse and laterally directed blast. Most forest workers were off work on Sunday; most would-be tourists had been kept out of the area but there was access for some tourists along a myriad of small logging roads. A lateral blast far larger than expected led to 57 deaths.

Years of friendly interaction between geologists of the US Geological Survey (USGS) and officials of the US Forest Service (USFS) had already establish good trust and credibility even before the volcano became restless in 1980. An

excellent long-range hazard assessment had already been published in 1978, albeit not promoted or read as widely as it might have been.

Trust had also been developed over nearly a decade of interaction between seismologists of the University of Washington (UW) and a few USGS seismologists who worked at the University, and that served as a good introduction between the UW seismologists and other USGS scientists who came quickly to Vancouver, Washington.

As the crisis evolved, USGS and UW scientists and USFS/State officials grew to understand and appreciate each other's roles. Most of these roles were never in doubt: scientists would try to anticipate what the volcano might do; USFS and State officials would decide how to manage the risk. Aside from a few early hiccups in which officials asked the USGS what they should do and the USGS declined as a matter of agency policy, these complementary roles were well understood and accepted.

The USFS quickly established an Emergency Coordination Center (ECC), where they provided desks and phones for all of the other key parties (State of Washington Emergency Services, County Sheriffs, representatives of hydroelectric and nuclear power utilities, major timber companies). The Forest Service also organized daily briefings for these representatives and for the press. The ECC was great for building trust, as it also afforded opportunities for 1:1 consultations with the scientists about specific places, e.g., a specific bridge, road intersection, etc., free from the glare of TV cameras. Even before the giant landslide and blast on May 18, 1980, trust between scientists and USFS was strong.

The public, the news media, and the timber companies clamoured for unrestricted access. Fortunately for most, the USFS resisted and declared a red zone off limits to all and a blue zone with only limited access. Unfortunately, the Governor of the State of Washington bowed to political pressure and kept areas under her jurisdiction officially open. The Washington State Patrol tried to block access anyway, but
couldn't legally do so, and most fatalities in the eruption occurred on land under State control (Saarinen and Sell 1985).

After the landslide and blast, the shock of events practically glued everyone together. The USGS stationed two scientists at the ECC—one as liaison between the scientific team and the risk managers, and the other to provide consistent information to the news media. I came to Mount St. Helens not long after the landslide and blast, as the liaison to risk managers, and worked side-by-side for several years with USFS and State personnel. Because we worked in the same office, shared the same coffee pot, and heard the same conversations, we developed a mutual understanding of each other's needs and competencies, even idiosyncracies. We learned to "read" each other, and to learn from each other.

As mentioned above, USGS policy strictly forbade scientists from suggesting to public officials how they should manage risk. Any recommendation regarding evacuations or other mitigation measures contains an implicit assessment of acceptable risk, including personal, economic, and political matters well beyond the expertise or mandate of scientists. In the US, the public is staunchly, vehemently protective about personal freedoms, including the right to make most decisions about their own personal safety. While private citizens might take recommendations or orders from land-managers and law-enforcement, they certainly would not wish for their freedom to be "managed" by scientists. Recommendations about evacuations and other mitigation are political matters, all agreed. Nevertheless, there were times when Forest Service or other risk managers struggled to understand the hazard, and to decide on their response. In those cases, because we trusted each other, we held "off-the-record" conversations in which scientists actually went beyond their official limits to guide risk managers. We did not suggest what officials should do, but used personal risk tolerance as bridge. The Forest Service staff would ask us, "Would you personally stay in this place, or would you let your own family stay in this place?" Those were questions we could answer without going beyond our brief, yet our

answers gave them the information they needed to make their own decisions.

As another example, we struggled together to reach a shared understanding of the magnitude of remaining risk, using probabilities. The Forest Service, timber companies, and loggers pushed us to simplify the presentation and to make the bottom line something that they could easily understand. The result was a chart ("risk ladder") on which volcanic risk, once calculated, could be compared at a glance to familiar risks (Fig. 1). The chart includes occupational risks (soldier in war, helicopter pilot, logger, office worker, etc.), lifestyle risks (lung cancer from smoking), and accident risks (traffic risks, risks from floods, lightning strikes, etc.). Probabilities per se meant almost nothing; locating one's risk on this chart made it instantly simple to decide whether a risk was acceptable or not. None of the parties—the timber company, loggers' union, or Forest Service—was concerned about high uncertainties or about caveats in comparing voluntary and involuntary risk.

Although the post-May 18 period had far less threat and drama than that during and before May 18, trust and personal friendship that developed in the course of working together has continued to serve all parties well right up to the present, including the 2004–2008 eruptive period.

## 4.2 Pinatubo 1991

*Capsule timeline: July 16, 1990: M 7.8 strike-slip earthquake with epicenter 100 km NE of Pinatubo. April 2, 1991, phreatic explosions along a fissure across north-northeast flank of Pinatubo. Fluctuating unrest until escalation in early June. Extrusion of lava dome June 7–12. Strong VEI 3 scale eruptions June 12–14. Climactic VEI 6 scale eruption and caldera formation on June 15. Most of those at risk from pyroclastic flows had been evacuated by June 14, just barely in time.*

Because Pinatubo had no historic eruptions, officials of Central Luzon had no established relations or trust with Philippine scientists. There was, however, a well-established relationship and
<table><thead><tr><th>Annual Risk</th><th>Age</th><th>Occupation</th><th>Disease</th><th>Accident</th></tr></thead><tbody><tr><td>10<sup>0</sup></td><td></td><td></td><td></td><td></td></tr><tr><td></td><td>90</td><td></td><td></td><td></td></tr><tr><td>10<sup>-1</sup></td><td></td><td>Soldier in war</td><td></td><td></td></tr><tr><td>10<sup>-2</sup></td><td>60</td><td>Helicopter pilots</td><td>Heart disease</td><td></td></tr><tr><td></td><td>50</td><td>Logging</td><td>Cancer</td><td></td></tr><tr><td>10<sup>-3</sup></td><td>20</td><td>Mining</td><td>AIDS, Sub-Saharan Africa</td><td>All accidents</td></tr><tr><td></td><td></td><td>Agriculture</td><td>Car accidents</td><td></td></tr><tr><td>10<sup>-4</sup></td><td></td><td>Transport, construction</td><td>AIDS, industrial</td><td></td></tr><tr><td></td><td></td><td>All workers (avg.)</td><td></td><td></td></tr><tr><td></td><td></td><td>Manufact'g, retail, gov't</td><td></td><td></td></tr><tr><td>...</td><td></td><td></td><td></td><td>Drowning</td></tr><tr><td></td><td></td><td></td><td></td><td>Hurricanes</td></tr></tbody></table>

**Fig. 1** Risk ladder showing comparative annual risks to life, in the US, circa 2000. Simplified and updated from that originally used in Newhall (1982) to help loggers and timber company managers understand volcanic risk they faced in salvaging blown-down timber. Assuming good volcano monitoring, communications, and willingness to

stop work during elevated volcanic unrest, the added annual risk to each logger's life was ~0.0012/y (± one order of magnitude), or approximately the same as a logger's normal occupational risk though with higher uncertainty

trust between the National Disaster Coordinating Council (civil defence, NDCC) and the Philippine Institute of Volcanology and Seismology (PHIVOLCS). Starting from the top, this relationship and trust was brought down to the provincial and municipal levels. Initially, local scepticism was extremely high, so trust at the local level took a long time to develop, but a combination of many briefings and increasingly visible signs from the volcano itself eventually turned the tide and allowed evacuation of the riskiest areas before the eruption (Newhall and Punongbayan 1996; Punongbayan et al. 1996; Newhall and Solidum, this volume).

The slopes of Pinatubo were home to an indigenous people, the Pinatubo Aytas. Centuries of discrimination and distrust led most Aytas to shun interaction with lowland Filipinos. Few of the Aytas understood anything of modern science, and most believed that Mount Pinatubo was the home and domain of their god Apo Namalyari, so anything that happened at Pinatubo would have to be explained as an action of Apo Namalyari. A few of the responding PHIVOLCS scientists spoke Kapampangan or

Ilocano, languages familiar to all of the Ayta, but none of the scientists spoke any of the Ayta dialects, nor were there any longstanding relationships. Fortunately, there were several trusted religious missions on Pinatubo—one of the Franciscan Sisters of Mary northwest of the summit, and two of evangelical Protestant missionaries north and south of the summit. The communication gap between scientists and indigenous Aytas was bridged by these trusted missionaries.

Longstanding trust between USGS and PHIVOLCS scientists also helped greatly in this crisis, and I suspect that it helped in the larger task of developing trust and credibility with local officials. Had we scientists ourselves not been completely unified, our task to dissolve official and public scepticism and promote preparedness could easily have foundered.

The matter of trust with commanders of the US military bases was particularly complicated. The Pinatubo crisis arose in the midst of a tense renegotiation to extend the lease for US bases in the Philippines, and there was little trust between officials of US military bases and those of the
Philippine government. Initial warnings from Philippine scientists were dismissed, and US commanders only began to pay attention when USGS scientists were invited in by PHIVOLCS. Even then, scepticism remained high, as the US scientists had to be conscious of their first duty to the Philippine government and populace. Gradually, though, daily interactions and a growing body of worrisome facts about the volcano dissolved scepticism one officer at a time. The joint PHIVOLCS-USGS team received critical logistical support from the US military (especially, the US Air Force), and the US military in return received notices at the same time as Philippine civil defence officials, and had access to the scientific team for additional discussions.

Two seemingly minor incidents at our make-
shift observatory on Clark Air Base greatly
improved trust and understanding of our mes-
sage. The first was the anniversary of the big
eruption of Mount St. Helens, on May 18. After
working day and night since early April, the team
took a day off on May 18 to relax, and invited
military officers over for a BBQ and beer. There,
we could talk about our families, fun, and matters
other than the volcano, and we noticed a palpable
improvement in relations with the military offi-
cers. They saw, for the first time, that we scien-
tists were human and not much different from
themselves! We even had a sense of humour.
Amazing 😊

The other incident was soon thereafter, when
scientists started looking for a fall-back position
on Clark Air Base, as far from the volcano as
possible. The very fact that we were concerned
for our own safety in the middle of Clark Air
Base made the officers take notice. Suddenly,
things we had discussed many times before,
including the possibility of pyroclastic flows
reaching Clark Air Base, took on new meaning.
On June 10, shortly after evacuation of most
personnel from Clark Air Base to Subic Naval
Station, the scientific team moved to the fallback
position at the far edge of Clark Air Base, and
some of the remaining military officers moved
with the scientists.

4.3 Usu 2000

Capsule timeline: March 27, strong earthquake swarm and pronounced ground fracturing begins. March 31, explosive eruptions begin and continue for ~3 weeks while a cryptodome is simultaneously being emplaced. The main hazards were ballistic fragments, formation of new craters, widespread ground fracturing, and hot lahars. Timely evacuations kept everyone safe.

Usu Volcano, in Hokkaido, Japan, has a history of explosive eruptions and cryptodome growth over many centuries, most recently in 1910, 1943–44, and 1977–1982. In those same crises, there was unusually good trust between scientists, police officials, and mayors. In the case of 1910, the police chief Mr. Iida had been a student of the leading volcano and earthquake scientist of the time, Prof. Omori at Univ. of Tokyo, so the contact and respect was already established. The crisis of 1943–44 came during WW II, and scientific response was led by another senior professor from Univ. of Tokyo, Prof. T. Minakami. The postmaster, Mr. S. Mimatsu, was an amateur scientist and worked closely with Prof. Minakami. (Mr. Mimatsu’s son still maintains a volcano museum near Usu).

After the 1943-44 eruption, tourist develop-
ment and population increased significantly. Risk
at Usu arises because towns lie extraordinarily
close to the volcano, just 2-3 km from the
summit and even less from flank vents. For fear
of scaring away tourists, there was strong resis-
tance to discussion of volcanic hazards. How-
ever, Prof. Hiromu Okada had learned from
study of previous crises that the key to risk
mitigation had been trust and respect between
early scientists and police officials. So, Prof.
Okada took on the personal challenge of frequent
interaction and trust-building with local officials,
especially local mayors. He managed to change
the conversation from "Don't mention volcanic
hazards!" to "OK, if we listen to the scientists,
educate the public, and back off briefly when
needed, we can safely co-exist with these vol-
canic hazards!" Mayor Okamura of Abuta town
was an early convert. Prof. Okada's personality is excellent for building trust and, in 2000, when another magma intrusion (cryptodome) was rising, people were safely evacuated ahead of phreatic explosions that damaged many buildings. It was an outstandingly successful case of volcanic risk mitigation in Japan.

## 5 Concluding Tips

When a volcano awakens, volcanologists and other scientists will need to work with civil defence leaders, politicians, business leaders, engineers, news media and, sometimes, citizens. Most scientists are not trained for such interaction, and the interaction can be challenging. There will be an initial period in which each group is simply trying to get to know the other, and to assess each other's motives, technical competence, and judgment. Scientists will be under a spotlight, since scientific information will become a major factor in mitigation decisions.

Wide cultural differences exist between volcanologists and those who use volcanological information, and these differences must be understood and respected if there is to be trust between both groups. How can this understanding be achieved? The following tips are especially for volcanologists, but may apply as well to other players.

* Work in close proximity as much as you can, and try to understand each other's culture and needs. Volunteer to work side-by-side in space organized by and for those needing volcano information.

* Expect scepticism, and do not take it personally. Things that may signal obvious danger to a scientist, e.g., a town built on a pyroclastic flow deposit or unusual squiggles on a seismogram, may not be at all obvious to others, and the onus is on those who see danger to convince others that it is real. Try to relate it to what the audience knows and cares about.

* Involve those who need volcano information in the gathering and dissemination of that

information. Users become partners in the scientific process.

* Be professional, patient, and show that you want to help those at risk and those who must make mitigation decisions. Without pre-empting the decision maker's responsibility, share insights into your own personal risk tolerance.

* Remember, we scientists may seem to be from another planet. Bring humility and a sense of humour to the table. Share personal aspirations and worries, notes about families, and other common interests, and food and drink as well. Invite your counterparts out for a beer, or a picnic, or birthday party, or make any other simple, personal gestures to move your interaction from strictly formal to space in which you see the more human sides of each other.

* Personal trust that grows out of such interaction is a critical prerequisite before officials will make the necessary, hard decisions for mitigation.

* Once trust has been built, be careful to maintain it. Obviously, correct forecasts will build and maintain trust, but so, too, can humility and honest statements of uncertainty when we don't know what the volcano will do next.

In every interaction, professionalism, cross-cultural sensitivity, and personal touches make a powerful combination. Good luck!

**Acknowledgements** Thanks to Kevin Krajick, Earth Institute of Columbia University, for helpful pre-review comments, and to anonymous reviewers who pointed the author to relevant social science literature, the importance of distinguishing opinions from evidence, and necessary clarifications.

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# International Coordination in Managing Airborne Ash Hazards: Lessons from the Northern Pacific

Yohko Igarashi, Olga Girina, Jeffrey Osiensky
and Donald Moore

## Abstract

Airborne volcanic ash is one of the most common, far-travelled, direct hazards associated with explosive volcanic eruptions worldwide. Management of volcanic ash cloud hazards often requires coordinated efforts of meteorological, volcanological, and aviation authorities from multiple countries. These international collaborations during eruptions pose particular challenges due to variable crisis response protocols, uneven agency responsibilities and technical capacities, language differences, and the expense of travel to establish and maintain relationships over the long term. This report introduces some of the recent efforts in enhancing international cooperation and collaboration in the Northern Pacific region.

## 1 Introduction

Airborne volcanic ash is one of the most common, far-travelled, direct hazards associated with explosive volcanic eruptions worldwide. Management of volcanic ash cloud hazards often require coordinated efforts of meteorological, volcanological, and civil aviation authorities from multiple countries. These international collaborations during eruptions pose particular challenges due to variable crisis response protocols, uneven agency responsibilities and technical capacities, language differences, and the expense of travel to establish and maintain relationships over the long term. The steady rise in global aviation, particularly on the remote routes between North America and Asia that overfly more than 100 potentially active volcanoes in the

Y. Igarashi (✉)
Seismology and Volcanology Department, Japan
Meteorological Agency (JMA), Tokyo, Japan
e-mail: y_igarashi@met.kishou.go.jp

O. Girina
Kamchatka Volcanic Eruption Response Team
(KVERT), Petropavlovsk-Kamchatsky, Russia

J. Osiensky
Environmental and Scientific Services Division,
National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration,
National Weather Service (NOAA/NWS) Alaska
Region, Silver Spring, USA

D. Moore
Volcanic Ash Advisory Centre (VAAC) Anchorage,
National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration,
National Weather Service (NOAA/NWS) Alaska
Region, Silver Spring, USA
<figure><img src="image_174.png" /><figcaption>**Fig. 1** Route map in the Northern Pacific region</figcaption></figure>

United States (Alaska and Aleutian Islands) and the Russian Federation (Kamchatka and Kurile Islands), means that more and more aircraft are at risk from the impacts of airborne volcanic ash.

The Northern Pacific (NOPAC) air routes connecting Alaska to the far east (Fig. 1) carry 10,000 people per day and up to 50,000 aircraft per year with some routes passing over the Kamchatka Peninsula with around 30 volcanoes (Gordeev and Girina 2014; VAAC Anchorage 2015a). Commercial aircraft in this region are required to operate on a fixed route and flight level approved by Air Navigation Service Providers (ANSPs). They need an approval before or during a flight when they change their route and/or flight level; re-routing to avoid a volcanic eruption is no exception. Over the past two decades, more than 60 strong explosive eruptions in the Russian Far East (Girina et al. 2007, 2009, 2014a, b; Gordeev and Girina 2014; McGimsey and Neal 1996; McGimsey and Wallace 1999; McGimsey et al. 2003, 2004a, b, 2005, 2008, 2011, 2014; Neal and McGimsey 1997; Neal et al. 2004, 2005a, b, 2009a, b, 2011, 2014) have tested coordination among relevant agencies and institutions in Japan, the Russian Federation, the United States, and Canada, prompting ongoing testing of existing systems with a number of lessons learned. Critical to meeting this challenge of a rapid, international response to volcanic ash

cloud hazard is development of written, updated, and practiced response plans or agreements detailing roles and responsibilities.

Frequent exercises that test the readiness and procedures, involving representatives of international air carriers, are important tools to continually refine the response process. A mechanism to engage air carriers and critically evaluate individual eruption responses to events is also necessary to focus these improvements. Each of the three main components of ash cloud response: meteorology, volcanology, and air traffic management, have different challenges in obtaining a seamless coordinated response. The establishment of a worldwide system of Volcanic Ash Advisory Centres (VAACs) in the mid-1990s assisted greatly in development of a consistent meteorological response and warning product suite. Similarly, the mature system of international conventions in air traffic management contributes significantly to coordinated handling of air traffic during eruptions that may disrupt the air routes. However, there remains strong variability in the adequacy of volcano surveillance and alerting by appropriate regional volcanological authorities, a challenge increasingly met by the growing use of remote and satellite based monitoring and eruption detection techniques. Recent eruptions of Sarychev-Peak Volcano in 2009 (McGimsey et al. 2014) and Kliuchevskoi
Volcano in 2013 (Girina et al. 2014a, b) illustrate aspects of both the successes and ongoing challenges of international eruption response in the Northern Pacific, as well as worldwide.

## 2 VAACs and Volcano Observatories Related to Volcanic Ash Clouds in the Northern Pacific Region

To avoid aircraft-related disasters caused by volcanic ash clouds, a framework for the International Airways Volcano Watch (IAVW) was established in 1993 by the International Civil Aviation Organization (ICAO). Under this framework, nine VAACs were designated as centres to monitor volcanic eruptions and to provide information on the locations and movement of volcanic ash clouds as well as an outlook for their regions of responsibility (Fig. 2). In the Northern Pacific region, there are four VAACs: Anchorage, Montreal, Tokyo and Washington. Among them, VAAC Anchorage has the area of responsibility covering the entire Anchorage Flight Information Region (FIR) as well as an area bounded on the west by 150°E Longitude

and on the south by 60°N Latitude, which includes all the volcanoes within the State of Alaska. VAAC Anchorage's area of responsibility is adjacent to volcanoes located in Kamchatka Peninsula and the Northern Kurile Islands, which are in the area of responsibility of VAAC Tokyo that covers the East Asia and Northwest Pacific regions. Several volcanoes in the region are quite active and ash clouds often move across the boundary of the area of responsibility of these two VAACs where the VAACs hand over the responsibility of information issuance through close coordination and communication. This chapter mainly highlights the activities of these two VAACs and related organizations in the region.

VAAC Anchorage was established by the United States Department of Commerce (DOC) National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration's (NOAA) National Weather Service (NWS) at the request of the Federal Aviation Administration (FAA). It has been providing information on volcanic ash clouds in the form of Volcanic Ash Advisories (VAAs) around the clock, supporting the Anchorage Meteorological Watch Offices (MWO) and the Anchorage Area Control Center (ACC).

<figure><img src="image_175.png" /><figcaption>**Fig. 2** Areas of responsibility of all VAACs as of October 2016</figcaption></figure>
VAAC Tokyo has been monitoring volcanoes around the clock and issuing VAAs since 1997. It is a part of the Japan Meteorological Agency (JMA). VAAC Tokyo was originally established in the Tokyo Aviation Weather Service Center, the branch office of JMA located at Haneda Airport, and was transferred to JMA headquarters in Tokyo in 2006. Through the experience of several significant eruptions such as that of Sarpychev Peak in 2009, VAAC Tokyo strengthened the operations by allocating five forecasters specific for volcanic ash in 2011, while not all VAACs have their own forecasters (in such VAACs, forecasters share other aviation duties, too). VAAC Tokyo supports MWO Tokyo, also a part of JMA, as well as the ACCs in the area (JMA/VAAC Tokyo 2015).

As for VAAC operations, early detection of volcanic eruptions is crucial. To enable timely VAA provision, a VAAC monitors satellite imagery for volcanic ash clouds around the clock. Whenever a new eruption is identified, it announces the possibility of eruption through VAA issuance and continues VAA provisions until the volcanic ash cloud is dissipated. However, as satellite imagery is not continuous data, the initial detection can be delayed. For example, the new satellite of HIMAWARI-8, that was launched on October 7, 2014 and has been operational since July 7, 2015, principally provides imagery every ten minutes, and MTSAT-2, still in operation as a back-up, provides imagery twice per hour. Therefore, adding to the data from satellites, VAACs Anchorage and Tokyo also receive information about eruptions from relevant volcano organizations and sometimes from aircraft in operation. For example, the Alaska Volcano Observatory (AVO), operated conjointly by the University of Alaska and the United States Geological Survey (USGS), provides daily and weekly volcano reports to adjacent VAACs. Volcano observatories such as the Kamchatka Volcanic Eruption Response Team (KVERT) on behalf of the Institute of Volcanology and Seismology (IVS) Far East Branch of Russian Academy of Sciences and the Sakhalin Volcanic Eruption Response Team of the Institute of Marine Geology and Geophysics,

provide not only daily and weekly volcano reports but also timely eruption information about volcanoes in Kamchatka Peninsula and Kurile Islands.

Volcano activities in Japan are monitored by four JMA Volcanic Observations and Warning Centers (VOWCs) located in Sapporo, Sendai, Tokyo and Fukuoka. VAAC Tokyo receives volcanic activity reports from these VOWCs immediately after eruptions. As the area of responsibility of VAAC Tokyo extends to the Philippines, the centre also receives timely information from the Philippine Institute of Volcanology and Seismology (PHIVOLCS).

Information provided by most of these volcano observatories is called “Volcano Observatory Notice for Aviation” (VONA). While periodical information is useful to grasp the latest volcanic conditions, VONAs are indispensable for timely VAA provision by VAACs, especially with regard to the initial issuances. Given volcanoes in Kamchatka Peninsula are remarkably active, VAACs Tokyo and Anchorage often issue VAAs regarding volcanic ash clouds from those volcanoes based on VONAs from KVERT.

KVERT was established in 1993 aiming at improving safety for aviation during explosive eruptions. It has a similar goal to VAACs to reduce the risk of aircraft encountering volcanic ash clouds in the Northern Pacific region through timely detection of volcanic unrest, tracking of ash clouds, and prompt notification of airlines, civil aviation authorities, and others about the hazards (Gordeev and Girina 2014; Neal et al. 2009a, b). The complex analysis of published data on volcanic activity and the data from 22 years of KVERT’s continuous monitoring of volcanoes allows a quantitative evaluation of the hazard posed by volcanoes to aviation. The level of hazard to aviation from each of the Kamchatkan volcanoes is communicated by KVERT using the Aviation Colour Code recommended by ICAO (2004). When KVERT issues a VONA, it is automatically disseminated to VAACs Anchorage, Darwin, Montreal, Tokyo and Washington, and all international and local users of the Northern Pacific region such as ICAO, FAA, NOAA, AVO, USGS, the Yelizovo
Airport Meteorological Center (Yelizovo AMC), the Kamchatka Hydro-Meteorological Center (KHMC), the Kamchatka Branch of the Ministry for Emergency Situations (KB MES), and mass media. It is also automatically uploaded on the KVERT website: http://www.kscnet.ru/ivs/kvert/van/ (Girina and Romanova 2015).

Adding to the volcanoes in Kamchatka Peninsula, several volcanoes in Japan are also very active; therefore, VAAC Tokyo frequently issues VAAs in this regard based on VONAs from JMA's VOWCs.

Based on VONAs from volcano observatories adding to volcanic ash clouds detection in satellite imagery, VAACs issue VAAs designed to assist MWOs in preparing international standard Significant Meteorological Information (SIGMET) on volcanic ash clouds. VAAs, describing the latest extent and forecast trajectories of volcanic ash clouds, are updated every six hours so long as ash clouds are identified by satellite imagery. The VAAs are issued within the six hours if unforeseen changes occur in observations. The roles of relevant organizations and regulations of operations are given by ICAO (2007).

## 3 Case Study of Impacts of a Volcano Eruption onto Air Traffic

The impacts of volcanic eruptions are the strongest triggers for improvements in volcanic ash responses by relevant organizations because they give a true account of tasks to overcome as well as successful operations. This section shows two case study examples of major volcano eruptions and subsequent actions taken by relevant organizations.

### 3.1 Case Study #1

#### Eruption of Sarychev-Peak Volcano in 2009

An eruption of Sarychev-Peak Volcano in the Kurile Islands was detected at 01:59 UTC on

June 12, 2009. VAAC Tokyo identified the eruption from satellite imagery and issued the first VAA at 06:49 UTC with an observed volcanic ash cloud at 34,000 ft extending to the east.

On the day of the eruption, only five aircraft requested re-routing; however, the volcanic ash cloud in the VAAC Tokyo's area of responsibility reached 54,000 ft the next day according to the VAA issued by VAAC Tokyo, and the volcanic ash cloud continued to be observed at that height for one and a half days. As a result of the VAAs, most flights avoided the NOPAC route and flew through Russian airspace instead.

As it was a continuous eruption with ash emission, the volcanic ash cloud extended more and more widely. It migrated into VAAC Washington's area of responsibility, also covering a small part of VAAC Anchorage's region, while volcanic ash clouds due to subsequent emissions covered VAAC Tokyo's area of responsibility. VAACs Tokyo and Washington (and later VAAC Anchorage) issued VAAs and advisories in graphic format (Volcanic Ash Graphic: VAGs) (Fig. 3). As the volcanic ash cloud covered a wide area across the NOPAC region, the Air Traffic Management Center in the Japan Civil Aviation Bureau (JCAB/ATMC) set the Pacific Organized Track System (PACOTS) avoiding the NOPAC route based on the VAAC Tokyo's advisories. Oakland Air Route Traffic Control Center (ARTCC) set westward PACOTS based on the advisories provided by VAAC Washington and requested JCAB/ATMC also to set eastward PACOTS in the same way.

The volcanic ash cloud remained relatively high even after it lowered from the maximum height. Following a request from an airline, VAAC Tokyo therefore began providing VAA/VAG every three hours instead of the regular six-hour interval from around 09:00 UTC on June 16. Under this situation, some irregular incidents occurred and JCAB/ATMC as well as the Oakland ARTCC responded to each case. For example, a particular aircraft headed into the volcanic ash cloud area without knowing the situation and JCAB/ATMC was obliged to advise re-routing. Another example was that one particular airline, flying on a regional route in
<figure><img src="image_176.png" /><figcaption>**Fig. 3** VAGs by VAACs Tokyo (**left**) and Washington (**right**) issued at 06:22 UTC and 06:24 UTC on 14 June 2009, respectively, for a volcanic ash cloud covering a wide area from Sarychev-Peak Volcano in Kamchatka peninsula in VAAC Tokyo's region to VAAC Washington's area of responsibility. VAG is composed of four</figcaption></figure>

maps with volcanic ash cloud areas at present (**left top**), six hours ahead (**right top**), twelve hours ahead (**left bottom**) and eighteen hours ahead (**right bottom**), and explanatory text. Here, only maps are extracted from the original VAGs (he texted information is not shown).

Southeast Asia, wished to request rerouting, but did not know where to make a request, so JCAB/ATMC in Japan and the Oakland ARTCC coordinated with JCAB/ATMC taking the role to respond to the request. Considering the situation, JCAB/ATMC issued a NOTAM at 12:53 UTC on June 22 describing the need to collect information about the volcanic ash cloud caused by the Sarychev-Peak Volcano eruption.

VAAC Washington ended advisory provision in its area of responsibility at 05:00 UTC on June 19. VAAC Tokyo announced the volcanic ash cloud dissipation at 02:52 UTC on June 23 and the VAAC Anchorage at 07:30 UTC on June 25. As the volcanic ash cloud remained for more than ten days, the impact on aviation operations was significant.

During this event, close communication between JCAB/ATMC and the Oakland ARTCC assisted successful collaborative operations. The flexibility of VAAC Tokyo in providing VAAs every three hours instead of the regular six-hour interval was also user-friendly because airlines were able to re-route with minimum detours based on the frequently-updated advisories. However, at the same time, this event highlighted a necessity for thorough information distribution so that no aircraft operates toward the volcanic ash cloud area (McGimsey et al. 2014; JMA/VAAC Tokyo

2010; NOAA/VAAC Anchorage 2015b; NOAA/VAAC Washington 2015).

## 3.2 Case Study #2

### Eruption of Kliuchevskoi Volcano in 2013

A strong explosive and effusive eruption of Kliuchevskoi Volcano in the middle of Kamchatka Peninsula started on August 15, 2013 and lasted until December 20, 2013, with repeated eruptions and ash dissipation. VONA and VAA/VAGs on November 19 reported that the ash reached above 40,000 ft; however, the paroxysmal phase of eruption on October 15–20, in which explosions sent volcanic ash up to around 30,000–33,000 ft each time, was probably the most significant phase of the activity, because the volcanic ash cloud extended across the boundary of VAACs Tokyo and Anchorage's areas of responsibility and both VAACs issued advisories for their respective areas of responsibility (Girina et al. 2014a, b; JMA/VAAC Tokyo 2014; KVERT/VONA 2013; NOAA/VAAC Anchorage 2015b).

The volcanic ash cloud moved to the south-east and partially migrated into VAAC Anchorage's area of responsibility at around 18:00 UTC
on October 18. VAAC Anchorage then consulted with VAAC Tokyo on future plans of VAA/VAG issuances. VAAC Tokyo decided to continue VAA/VAG issuances but from 00:54 UTC on October 19, VAAC Tokyo handed over the responsibility for some part of the volcanic ash cloud, which had migrated into VAAC Anchorage's area of responsibility. The volcanic eruption continued with volcanic ash clouds continuously produced. Once VAAC Tokyo handed over the responsibility for some part of a volcanic ash cloud that had migrated into VAAC Anchorage's region, another volcanic ash cloud extended across the boundary of the VAACs areas of responsibility a few hours later, instigating another handover. In this way, the VAACs provided VAA/VAGs for their respective airspaces, that is, the ash area was divided into two following their areas of responsibility (the entire volcanic ash cloud area could not be obtained in either single VAA/VAG). In addition, each VAAC uses its own diffusion model for forecasting volcanic ash cloud areas, so the results differ slightly. For this event, the results of the two VAACs were inconsistent, each having issued VAA/VAGs for their own region without coordination with the other (Fig. 4). An airline made an inquiry as to the difference of volcanic ash cloud extent in the VAA/VAGs issued by VAACs Tokyo and Anchorage, which highlighted the difficulty for airline users when two or more VAACs issue advisories for volcanic ash clouds caused by the same eruption individually without adequate coordination. In such cases, users need to obtain and monitor two advisories for one event. If the advisories have a gap that cannot be ignored, users will have difficulty in understanding the situation.

As the volcanic ash cloud moved to the southeast and approached VAACs Washington and Montreal, those VAACs also issued transfer VAAs. When an ash cloud is approaching within 300 nautical miles from the boundary of areas of responsibility, VAACs to which the ash is approaching are required to transfer VAAs from a VAAC with volcanic ash in its airspace (ICAO 2004). In this way, as the volcanic ash cloud covered a wide area over the boundaries of

multiple VAACs' areas of responsibility, not only the volcanic ash cloud itself but also the situation that multiple VAACs issued VAAs and/or VAGs for its respective area of responsibility had an impact on users (JMA/VAAC Tokyo 2014; NOAA/VAAC Anchorage 2015b; NOAA/VAAC Washington 2015).

## 4 Particular Challenges of International Coordination in Volcanic Ash and Visions of the Future

As volcanic ash clouds flow regardless of borders, international cooperation/coordination is indispensable. Smooth communication between VAACs as well as among all the related organizations is essential in order to ensure safety. It is essential for volcano observatories, MWOs and VAACs to provide information on volcanic eruptions and sequential volcanic ash cloud diffusions to users such as airlines, civil aviation authorities, and relevant organizations in a way that users can grasp the situation easily. Users need to prepare effective risk management procedures and protocols for such cases. Close coordination/communication between information providers and users is required for smooth response against volcanic ash cloud emissions. Both information providers and users need to be prepared for various types of cases considering volcano locations, eruption duration, volcanic ash cloud propagation and coverage, as preferable responses may differ for each type. Adding to such preparation, a language skill is also required. As English is the standard international aviation language, some organizations in non-native English speaking countries encounter a language barrier that makes it difficult to coordinate/communicate smoothly, speedily and in detail.

Therefore, both information providers and users have been undertaking various efforts regarding the requirements, including efforts of eliminating language barriers. This section introduces some of the particular challenges being addressed by them.
<figure><img src="image_177.png" /><figcaption>**Fig. 4** **a** Observed (present) volcanic ash cloud extent in a left top of a VAG from VAAC Tokyo before handover which was issued at 23:59 UTC on 18 October 2013. The volcanic ash cloud area surrounded by a dotted line was in VAAC Tokyo's region and that surrounded by a solid line was in VAAC Anchorage's region. **b** VAGs from VAACs Tokyo (**left**) and Anchorage (**right**) after the handover for the same volcanic ash cloud issued at 00:54 UTC and</figcaption></figure>

02:20 UTC on 19 October 2013, respectively. From these issuances, the VAACs started to provide VAA/VAGs for the volcanic ash cloud in their respective areas of responsibility individually. The volcanic ash extent in the VAGs had a big gap especially for forecasts at 12 and 18 h ahead. **c** VAGs from the VAACs at 04:45 UTC and 04:15 UTC on 19 October 2013, respectively. The gap in the VAGs became smaller but still inconsistency remained

## Challenges being taken by information providers

When a volcanic ash cloud flows from the area of responsibility of a certain VAAC to another, the responsibility to issue VAAs is to be handed over. This situation frequently occurs between VAACs Tokyo and Anchorage: when a volcano in Kamchatka or Kuril Islands erupts, the volcanic ash cloud often migrates into the area of responsibility of VAAC Anchorage. VAAC Tokyo then hands over its responsibility to VAAC Anchorage. One important aspect to note here is, aircraft need to

continue their flights across the Northern Pacific region under a consistent risk management approach, regardless of which VAAC is responsible. Therefore, the forecast extent of volcanic ash clouds in VAA/VAGs from VAAC Tokyo before a handover and from VAAC Anchorage after the handover should not have inconsistencies. Considering the frequent occurrence of a handover as well as the necessity of providing consistent advisories between the two VAACs before and after the handover, there are particular challenges in coordination.
<figure><img src="image_178.png" /><figcaption>**Fig. 5** Handover request sheet used between VAACs Anchorage and Tokyo. Necessary items for handover procedures are already in the sheet both in English and Japanese</figcaption></figure>

HANDOVER PROCEDURES
BETWEEN
THE VOLCANIC ASH ADVISORY CENTRES
ANCHORAGE AND TOKYO

May 06, 2015

**Fig. 6** Guideline of handover procedures. Criteria to conduct a handover is documented for eruption types such as single (short duration) eruptions, intermittent eruptions

and continuous eruptions with a volcanic ash cloud moving to the east, south or west

(1) Guideline of handover procedures

VAACs Anchorage and Tokyo have prepared
a specific form called “Handover Request Sheet

(HRS)” in which necessary items are already included both in English and Japanese (Fig. 5). When a case that requires a handover occurs, the VAACs complete necessary parts on the sheet
Handover procedures from Tokyo to Anchorage

- Type 3: Continuous (long duration) eruption (case 2: propagating eastward) -

**Condition:** some part of an ash cloud due to a continuous eruption diffuses eastward, crosses the boundary of the AoRs from the Tokyo VAAC's side and approaches the meridian of 180 E longitude.

**Handover:** the Tokyo VAAC requests a hand-over to the Anchorage VAAC and the Anchorage VAAC sends back an AS.

**Further action in case the Anchorage VAAC accepts the request:**

the Tokyo VAAC issues a VAA stating in RMK that some part of the volcanic ash cloud has moved out of its AoR and it notifies the necessity of checking VAAs both from the Tokyo and Anchorage VAAC. Once a handover is done, both VAACs will issue VAAs only for the ash cloud in their own AoR, regardless of 180 E.

**Note:** even after some parts of the ash cloud crosses the boundary of the AORs, the Tokyo VAAC basically continues to issue a VAA for the whole ash cloud until it approaches 180 E considering the convenience for users, though there may be some exceptional cases.

Scenario of Eruption:

<figure><img src="image_179.png" /></figure>

1. Tokyo issues VAA

2. Tokyo keeps issuing VAA and hands over to Anchorage once the cloud reaches 180E

3. Both Anchorage and Tokyo issue VAA for their own AoRs

4. When the eruption ends and the cloud becomes obviously apart from the volcano, Anchorage issues VAA for the whole cloud

Example of a VAA

FVFE01 RJTD DDhhmm
VA ADVISORY
DTG: YYYYMMDD/hhmmZ
VAAC: TOKYO
VOLCANO: SHEVELUCH 300270
PSN: N5639E16122
AREA: RUSSIA
SUMMIT ELEV: 3283M
ADVISORY NR: YYYY/nnn
INFO SOURCE: MTSAT-2
AVIATION COLOUR CODE: NIL
ERUPTION DETAILS: VA EMISSIONS CONTINUING. (or other comments depending on the situation.)
OBS VA DTG: DD/hhmmZ
OBS VA CLD: (observed VA area)
FCST VA CLD +6 HR: (forecast VA area)
FCST VA CLD +12 HR: (forecast VA area)
FCST VA CLD +18 HR: (forecast VA area)
RMK: THE RESPONSIBILITY FOR SOME PART OF ASH IS BEING TRANSFERRED TO ANCHORAGE. PLS SEE FVAK21
PAWU ISSUED BY ANCHORAGE WHICH DESCRIBES CONDITION OVER OR NEAR THE TOKYO AREA. WE KEEP
ISSUING VAA FOR THE VA CLD IN OUR AREA.
NXT ADVISORY: YYYYMMDD/hhmm=

<caption>**Fig. 6** continued</caption>

and exchange it in order to simplify and speed up the procedures. Additionally, the two VAACs, in advance, shared information on decision-making criteria on how and when to conduct handover procedures. This is because the timing to handover may well be different between VAACs

depending on the situation, especially when a volcanic ash cloud extends across the areas of responsibility of both VAACs. The criteria have been coordinated and documented as a guideline (Fig. 6) in order that both VAACs can expect beforehand how the other centre will act with
## Handover procedures from Tokyo to Anchorage

- Type 3: Continuous (long duration) eruption (case 3: propagating southward) -

**Condition:** some part of an ash cloud due to a continuous eruption diffuses southward, crosses the boundary of the AoRs from the Tokyo VAAC's side and is expected to enter the AoR of the Washington VAAC.

**Handover:** the Tokyo VAAC requests a hand-over to the Anchorage VAAC and the Anchorage VAAC sends back an AS. The Tokyo VAAC informs the Washington VAAC of the situation.

**Further action in case the Anchorage VAAC accepts the request:**

the Tokyo VAAC issues a VAA stating in RMK that some part of the volcanic ash cloud has moved out of its AoR and it notifies the necessity of checking VAAs from the Tokyo, Anchorage and Washington VAAC.

**Note:** even after some parts of the ash cloud crosses the boundary of the AORs, the Tokyo VAAC basically continues to issue a VAA for the whole ash cloud. Discussion on heights and areal coverage of the plume will be held whenever necessary in order to reach a reasonable agreement between Anchorage and Tokyo.

### Scenario of Eruption:

<figure><img src="image_180.png" /></figure>

1. Tokyo issues VAA

2. 3. Tokyo keeps issuing VAA for the whole ash cloud

4. When the eruption ends and the cloud becomes obviously apart from the volcano, Anchorage issues VAA for the whole cloud

### Example of a VAA

FVFE01 RJTD DDhhmm
VA ADVISORY
DTG: YYYYMMDD/hhmmZ
VAAC: TOKYO
VOLCANO: SHEVELUCH 300270
PSN: N5639E16122
AREA: RUSSIA
SUMMIT ELEV: 3283M
ADVISORY NR: YYYY/nnn
INFO SOURCE: MTSAT-2
AVIATION COLOUR CODE: NIL
ERUPTION DETAILS: VA EMISSIONS CONTINUING. (or other comments depending on the situation.)
OBS VA DTG: DD/hhmmZ
OBS VA CLD: (observed VA area)
FCST VA CLD +6 HR: (forecast VA area)
FCST VA CLD +12 HR: (forecast VA area)
FCST VA CLD +18 HR: (forecast VA area)
RMK: THE RESPONSIBILITY FOR SOME PART OF ASH IS BEING TRANSFERRED TO ANCHORAGE. PLS SEE FVAK21 PAWU ISSUED BY ANCHORAGE AS WELL AS FVXX21 KNES BY WASHINGTON WHICH DESCRIBE CONDITION FOR THE VA CLD IN EACH AREA. WE KEEP ISSUING VAA FOR THE VA CLD IN OUR AREA.
NXT ADVISORY: YYYYMMDD/hhmm=

<caption>**Fig. 6** continued</caption>

volcanic ash clouds moving towards/across the border of their areas of responsibility.

As described in the case study of the eruption of Kliuchevskoi Volcano in 2013, it is not user-friendly if two VAACs provide VAA/VAGs with a volcanic ash cloud area for their own

individual areas of responsibility and/or if VAA/VAGs from two VAACs are inconsistent. Therefore, for continuous eruptions, VAACs Anchorage and Tokyo agreed to issue VAA/VAGs from one VAAC as much as possible even after the volcanic ash cloud area
<figure><img src="image_181.png" /></figure>

**Fig. 7** Handover procedures for a continuous eruption at a volcano in VAAC Tokyo's area of responsibility with a volcanic ash cloud extending to the east. *Triangle* and *rectangle* indicate a volcano and a volcanic ash cloud area, respectively. The boundary of VAACs is drawn with a *solid line* and 180°E is drawn with a *dotted line*. Phase 1: volcanic ash cloud is in VAAC Tokyo's area of responsibility and VAAC Tokyo issues VAA/VAG. Phase 2: volcanic ash cloud migrated into VAAC Anchorage's area of responsibility extending from the

volcano in VAAC Tokyo's region, but it remains west of 180°E, so VAAC Tokyo issues VAA/VAG for the entire volcanic ash cloud. Phase 3: volcanic ash cloud crossed 180°E so both VAACs Anchorage and Tokyo issue VAA/VAGs for their own areas of responsibility. Phase 4: eruption ended with volcanic ash cloud obviously apart from the volcano, so VAAC Tokyo conducts a handover and VAAC Anchorage issues VAA/VAGs for the entire volcanic ash cloud

extends across the boundary of their areas of responsibility.

For example, when a volcanic ash cloud, due to a continuous eruption at a certain volcano in VAAC Tokyo's airspace, extends to the east crossing the boundary of the areas of responsibility and covers a large area from the volcano to VAAC Anchorage's region, VAAC Tokyo continues to issue advisories for the entire volcanic ash cloud until it reaches 180°E so that airlines can grasp the current and future extent of volcanic ash cloud from VAA/VAGs provided by one VAAC (Tokyo). When it crosses 180°, VAAC Tokyo hands over the responsibility to VAAC Anchorage for a part of the volcanic ash cloud which has migrated into VAAC Anchorage's region. The VAACs cannot avoid providing VAA/VAGs from the two VAACs for a while, but once the eruption ends and the volcanic ash cloud separates from the volcano, VAAC Tokyo immediately conducts a handover for the entire volcanic ash cloud to VAAC Anchorage (Fig. 7).

When a volcanic ash cloud from a continuous eruption at a certain volcano in VAAC Tokyo's airspace extends to the south crossing the boundary of VAACs Tokyo and Anchorage's areas of responsibility and/or VAACs Anchorage and Washington's regions, VAAC Tokyo continues to issue advisories for the entire volcanic

ash cloud with necessary coordination with the other two VAACs about the height and extent of the volcanic ash cloud. The timing of handover varies, depending on the situation in this case, but when the eruption ends and the volcanic ash cloud moves to the south separated from the volcano, it is agreed that VAAC Tokyo immediately hands over the responsibility for the entire volcanic ash cloud to VAAC Anchorage, and VAAC Anchorage sequentially conducts a handover to VAAC Washington if the volcanic ash cloud still exists and is moving to the south (Fig. 8).

When a continuous eruption at a certain volcano in VAAC Anchorage's airspace produces a volcanic ash cloud to the west migrating into VAAC Tokyo's area of responsibility, VAAC Anchorage will continue issuing VAA/VAGs until it reaches 160°E, though this situation seldom occurs. Then, if the volcanic ash cloud continues moving to the west across 160°E and migrates into VAAC Tokyo's region, VAAC Anchorage hands over the responsibility for a part of the volcanic ash cloud that crossed 160°E to VAAC Tokyo. In the same way as mentioned previously, once the eruption ends and the volcanic ash cloud moves to the west separated from the volcano, VAAC Anchorage immediately conducts a handover for the entire volcanic ash cloud to VAAC Tokyo (Fig. 9).
<figure><img src="image_182.png" /><figcaption>**Fig. 8** Handover procedures for a continuous eruption at a volcano in VAAC Tokyo's area of responsibility with a volcanic ash cloud extending to the south. *Triangle* and *rectangle* indicate a volcano and a volcanic ash cloud area, respectively. The boundary of VAACs is drawn with a *solid line* and 180°E is drawn with a *dotted line*. Phase 1: volcanic ash cloud is in VAAC Tokyo's area of responsibility and VAAC Tokyo issues VAA/VAG. Phase 2–3: volcanic ash cloud migrates in neighbouring</figcaption></figure>

VAACs' areas of responsibility but is still extending from the volcano in VAAC Tokyo's region, so VAAC Tokyo issues VAA/VAGs for the entire volcanic ash cloud with necessary coordination among the relevant VAACs for its height and extent. Phase 4: eruption ended with volcanic ash cloud obviously apart from the volcano, so VAAC Tokyo conducts a handover and VAAC Anchorage issues VAA/VAGs for the entire volcanic ash cloud

<figure><img src="image_183.png" /><figcaption>**Fig. 9** Handover procedures for a continuous eruption at a volcano in VAAC Anchorage's area of responsibility with a volcanic ash cloud extending to the west. *Triangle* and *rectangle* indicate a volcano and a volcanic ash cloud area, respectively. The boundary of VAACs is drawn with a *solid line* and 160°E is drawn with a *dotted line*. Case 1: volcanic ash cloud migrates into VAAC Tokyo's area of responsibility extending from the volcano in VAAC Anchorage's region, but it remains east of 160°E, so VAAC Anchorage continues issuing VAA/VAGs for the entire volcanic ash cloud. Case 2: (Phase 1) volcanic ash</figcaption></figure>

cloud is in VAAC Anchorage's area of responsibility and VAAC Anchorage issues VAA/VAG. (Phase 2) volcanic ash cloud crosses 160°E and VAAC Anchorage conducts a handover for a part of the volcanic ash cloud that has migrated in VAAC Tokyo's region. Both VAACs Anchorage and Tokyo issue VAA/VAGs for their own areas of responsibility. (Phase 3) eruption ended with volcanic ash cloud obviously apart from the volcano, so VAAC Anchorage conducts a handover and VAAC Tokyo issues VAA/VAGs for the entire volcanic ash cloud

Information sharing on decision-making criteria is also done for single (short duration) eruptions and intermittent eruptions. The procedures for single (short duration) eruptions are more straight-forward. VAACs Anchorage and Tokyo agreed to hand over the entire volcanic ash cloud when more than half of it has migrated into the neighbouring VAAC's area of responsibility. The procedures for intermittent eruptions are also relatively straight-forward, because intermittent eruptions are, as it were, repeated single eruptions. VAACs agreed to repeat the procedures for single eruptions applying to newer ash clouds generated by intermittent eruptions.

## (2) Challenge to collaborative decision analysis and forecast via chat system

In order to provide consistent advisories before and after the handover, it is better to share forecasters' thoughts before volcanic ash clouds actually cross the border of the areas of responsibility, especially for a complicated or exceptional situation. Therefore, VAACs Anchorage and Tokyo have started testing a chat system for closer and more flexible communication. NOAA has provided its proprietary chat system and created an account for this challenge (Osiensky et al. 2014). As part of the test, the VAACs are
aiming at finding necessary specific patterns of
phenomena as well as phrases of questions and
answers corresponding to them, and creating a
template like a frequently-asked questions-sheet
so that the communication will be smooth
between members including non-native English
speakers.

The first test was held in July 2014 based on a scenario of the past eruption at Kliuchevskoi in October 2013, in which a volcanic ash cloud moved far southeast. As the VAA/VAGs were not user-friendly in those days as described earlier, the VAACs prepared a scenario following the current guidelines on handover procedures introduced previously that had been established between them in spring 2014, as shown in Fig. 6, and conducted the test. The second test was held in December 2014 based on a scenario of the eruption at Sheveluch in September 2014, in which a volcanic ash cloud moved to the north and where the timing of dissipation was not clear. The third test was held in July 2015 based on a scenario of the eruption at Sheveluch in March 2015, in which a volcanic ash cloud moved to the south and migrated into both VAACs Anchorage and Washington's areas of responsibility. Not only VAACs Anchorage and Tokyo but also VAAC Washington took part in the third test to check if communication/coordination among the three VAACs would work well via a chat system. After that, operational use of the chat system was utilized on a trial basis instead of through scheduled tests that required coordination ahead of time. If this trial proves to be successful and becomes fully operational in these VAACs, it could be used as a model case and applied to coordination/communication, not only between VAAC Tokyo and other organizations, but between other VAACs and volcano observatories particularly in the area where English is not the native language.

## Challenges being taken by information users

The cooperation/coordination introduced
before is undertaken by VAACs essentially as
information providers. Considering the impor-
tance of international cooperation and

coordination mentioned earlier, Volcanic Ash
Exercises are conducted in some regions under
the framework of ICAO. The first exercise was
established in ICAO European and North
Atlantic (EUR/NAT) region called the VOLCEX
and has been conducted since 2008. Realizing
the effectiveness of the VOLCEX, a similar
exercise in the EUR (EAST) Region including
Kamchatka Peninsula started in 2013 recognising
that this region experiences frequent volcanic
eruptions that often affect aviation operations
especially around the NOPAC routes. Therefore,
an exercise in this region, named VOLKAM, has
been conducted and is making good progress in
coordination procedures between all participating
parties (air navigation service providers, air
traffic management centres, aeronautical infor-
mation services, volcano observatories, VAACs,
MWOs and users such as airlines). So far,
VOLKAM has been held every year: the first
exercise was held from 21:00 UTC on January
15, 2013 to 06:00 UTC on January 16, 2013, the
second one from 21:00 UTC on March 4, 2014 to
04:00 UTC on March 5, 2014 and the third one
from 22:00 UTC on April 15, 2015 to 04:00
UTC on April 16, 2015. The exercises have a
different focus each time and participants test
new challenges during the exercises (ICAO
2014a, b, 2015a, b; JCAB 2015).

In addition to the volcanic ash exercises, when
airlines make a detour at an actual eruption, they
need to coordinate with relevant organizations
for re-routing. The Cross Polar Trans East Air
Traffic Management Providers Working Group
(CPWG) is dealing with the topic of international
coordination for re-routing and JCAB is one of
the members of CPWG.

The following are examples of the challenges
being met by participants of the exercises
including airlines, and/or members of CPWG.

(1) Determination of a re-route according to a scenario and a matrix on a response for a re-routing request

Once a notification of an eruption is received
by a dispatcher, the potential impact to flights that
are already en-route is evaluated and if the impact
is expected, re-routing procedures will be taken. Re-routing should be conducted immediately because an encounter with a volcanic ash cloud may cause a fatal accident; even a small amount of volcanic ash can cause enormous financial costs with respect to repairing engines and other parts. As all flights in the volcanic ash-affected region undertake re-routing procedures, it should be well organized to accommodate all of them in a limited number of routes, considering the issue of remaining fuel. Additionally, there are regulations and/or restrictions in each State, such that re-routing options are not always accepted. Hence, it is quite effective to prepare a possible contingency route based on an assumed eruption in advance, even if it is a paper-plan and only used during an exercise. As this route has cleared the political issue and other conditions (like a fuel amount), it could be a realistic alternative route in case of a sudden eruption, surely saving time in coordination and implementation.

However, procedures for responding to a request for re-routing are not currently standardized as described in the case study for the eruption of Sarychev-Peak Volcano in 2009; they differ depending on the ANSP. It may be better if a standardized procedure among all ANSPs is prepared, but this is difficult because of various restrictions in each country, and it will take time to achieve. For example, airlines expect re-routing procedures for aircraft in flight to be conducted using the Air Traffic Service Communication (ATSC) via air traffic control centres, while the ground system of air traffic control centres in some countries cannot process re-routing messages from aircraft in flight because transaction between pilots and air traffic controllers are prioritized. Another example is that some countries apply a license system and requires aircraft to obtain permission from an authorized organization when they fly over particular airspaces. If an aircraft requests re-routing over such countries in order to avoid volcanic ash cloud, it needs to obtain permission that will take time. Therefore, before pursuing this ideal to prepare a standardized procedure among all ANSPs, it has been set as a primary goal to create a matrix on each ANSP's status when it receives

a request for re-routing so that airlines can easily grasp the present situation. This work originated from the volcanic ash exercise VOLKAM. Currently the task has been dealt with in the framework of CPWG, so all the members of CPWG including FAA and JCAB can work on this issue. In addition, it is also regarded as an important aspect to consider how to enable organizations related to the matrix to obtain the volcanic eruption information; this is an on-going task as well. The matrix may be tested in VOLKAM sometime in the future once a draft version is prepared (ICAO 2014a, b).

## (2) Use of VOLKAM sheet

Similar to the collaborative decision analysis and forecast via a chat system being conducted between VAACs Anchorage, Tokyo and Washington, a spreadsheet named VOLKAM Sheet, prepared by JCAB/ATMC, was workshopped by participants of the volcanic ash exercise in 2015, in an effort to organize relevant information in one sheet chronologically and reduce the issue of language barriers. The VOLKAM Sheet contains chronological information on a present situation for the eruption phase, volcanic ash cloud area, influence in traffic flow and aircraft operations based on the volcanic ash cloud conditions, as well as the information about the expected coordination and actions among the relevant organizations such as a flow control of aircraft, resetting PACOTS and the timing of the next VAA/VAG, and other information issuances. A remarks column is prepared in the sheet in case there are any special notes to share (Fig. 10).

During the exercise, each organization sent this VOLKAM Sheet to all participants via e-mail, with an organization name and a version number so that everybody understood which spreadsheet was the latest one to add new information about the present situation and/or planned actions. The usability of this sheet to improve situation awareness among the relevant organizations was tested during the exercise in 2015. The participants understood the idea that it would be better to prepare a communication method rather than a phone call, considering that
<figure><img src="image_184.png" /><figcaption>**Fig. 10** VOLKAM Sheet used in the volcanic ash exercise in 2015: it was prepared by JCAB/ATMC with columns for the information on a present situation, expected actions and remarks. Participants of the exercise</figcaption></figure>

put some information that they have and shared the sheet during the exercise. Information was added in order of time

they respectively have three languages as a native tongue, English, Russian and Japanese. When a spreadsheet with necessary information is shared, the merits are that it can at least avoid mishearing and misunderstanding, and the participants can read what was discussed again later.

The exercise in 2015, which tested the usability of written information on the VOLKAM sheet, highlighted areas for improvement. One prospect for improvement is to share the information via a website rather than a spreadsheet. The website would have access limited only to relevant organizations, where participants would have the ability to directly edit and update the website ensuring it remains current with the latest information.

# 5 Summary

Volcanic ash cloud can seriously affect aircraft and air services by causing engine failure, poor visibility due to ash-related scouring of aircraft windshields and take-off/landing delays due to

ash accumulation at airports. As volcanic ash may cause a fatal accident and also as it crosses borders, it is essential to provide coherent and consistent volcanic ash-related information to airlines, civil aviation authorities, MWOs and other relevant organizations to avoid aviation disasters. Hence, international cooperation and coordination with the efforts of meteorological, volcanological and civil aviation authorities from multiple countries is indispensable.

Along with the requirement for proper information issuances and smooth coordination among relevant organizations, various efforts have been taken in some regions. As for the Northern Pacific region, volcanoes in Kamchatka Peninsula are remarkably active: this brings particular challenges for related organizations because a volcanic ash cloud frequently moves across the boundary of VAACs Tokyo and Anchorage's areas of responsibility. They need to conduct handover procedures whenever it occurs, and especially when the volcanic ash cloud covers the NOPAC routes, ATMCs, ACCs and airlines coordinate for re-routing.