Training experts, companies and the media

To deal with urban water problems, (. . .) information and contributions from specialists in water engineering, demography, economics, sociology and systems analysis are needed (Lindh, 1985). Yet, it may sometimes be difficult for so much different professionals to work together: team members must indeed become familiar with the vocabulary, techniques and goals of other disciplines. Even the vision of ways and means towards socio-economic development might not always be the same. In other words, a water policy for urban water management should not try to isolate the water sector from other urban sectors. Integrated water management policies are required and participatory processes illustrate the practical multidisciplinarity of it.

In other words, “the reputedly more “rational” discourse of risk managers occasionally lets slip elements which could (scientifically speaking) be considered non-rational (. . .) Both risk managers and the population (. . .) belong to the same species: both react in their own specific - yet comparable - way when confronted with danger (. . .). The dual gap in the core of technical and administrative risk management between “professionals” and inhabitants, local residents and other citizens, (. . .) seems to constitute an insuperable obstacle to any real exchange between the two worlds”. Yet, we believe that this gap may be crossed over.

According to Herrin and Whitlock (1992), “engineers are taught very few skills in interpersonal relationships, and much less in those of public interface and involvement. We spend little, if any, time addressing it at our conferences and conventions. We then spend thousands of hours and millions of dollars defending our projects when threatened by delays and possible blockage by public intervention”. As noted by Viessman (1989), water management problems “cannot be solved in the technologic area only.. .Engineers must be society-wise as well as technology-wise” (in Walesh, 1993). In other words the responsibility for building up a common scientific and technical language, which may be understood by the public as well, also lies in the hands of engineers and water specialists. “The educational level and the cultural behaviour and customs regarding water has a strong influence on the demand for and maintenance of a drainage system. For the planning engineer, who may be a foreign expert unfamiliar with the tradition and customs of the population, the actual willingness to change customs and traditions is extremely difficult to judge” (Geiger, 1988). This statement also advocates for the introduction, in the curricula of water scientists and engineers, of a

“socio-cultural dimension”, enabling water professionals to take more into account the

“human factor” when considering problem-solving of water issues. This introduction of elements of sociology, psychology and anthropology in the management of water resources is of particular importance when it comes to design and implement water management plans in conflict-prone urban areas.

For example, more than 50 students have now graduated from Coventry University with a BSc (Bachelor in Science) in International Disaster Engineering and Management (IDEM). The IDEM course was born from experiences of work in refugee camps in Kurdistan, making clear that few relief workers had a broad knowledge of the many complex human and technical issues emerging in disaster management, and that many were ill equipped personally to work effectively in complex situations. IDEM covers engineering and technology, international studies, disaster studies and management, emergency management skills, and field skills, including survival features. Applicants for IDEM and the development and health course come from a wide range of backgrounds, some mature students having already worked in the armed forces and in engineering companies,

According to Dupuy (1997, in Coanus et al., 1998), the new alliance between Science and Man must admit its failure: “The problem, he says, is not that this alliance alleged chasm between the two cultures (. . .). The problem is that techno-science, the backbone of our societies is not “cultivated”. And if it is so, it is not because of the way in which science is effectively practised”. This practice can, he argues, be characterised along three main lines: 1) Science denies its own history (poor historical and epistemological culture of specialist field), 2) Science obliterates meaning (notably by the importance accorded to models, initially

“small-scale models”, but often used to represent a broader reality, and 3) Science refuses reflexivity (lack of systematically doubting of scientific activity). From these radical statements, Dupuy draws an equally radical conclusion: “It is at the very level of the production of knowledge that the issue of “cultivating” science is posed (. . .) and it is at this level that it must be dealt with”. Dupuy therefore calls for a fundamental re-founding of scientific practice and training, so as to eliminate the main types of compartmentalisation, notably between science and “humanities” [social and human sciences].

This point of view is a radical one indeed. Still, water scientists, be they specialised in hydrology, hydraulics or water planning, would certainly bring even more to the society, should they be in a position to communicate more with the public. Water specialists may indeed benefit from enhanced knowledge on issues related to social sciences and bottom-up communication strategies. The transfer of water-related knowledge, information and technology (X.I.T.“), be it between developed and developing countries on the one hand, or between scientists, local authorities and the civil society at local level, on the other hand, may also greatly benefit from improved skills, to be developed among water specialists, on water- related communication, diffusion of innovation, public participation, participatory socio- economic development, etc. Developing such skills may be done for instance 1) via evening lessons, crash courses and thematic seminars, dedicated to water experts, and 2) via the integration of lessons in social and political sciences in the university curricula of future water professionals. Yet, and according to Lindh (1985), “we ought not to use the term “transfer of knowledge”, but rather the “exchange of knowledge”. The difference is not only semantic.

The deeper meaning is that a two-way communication must be established if the message (. . .) is to be received successfully. Language problems [and illiteracy], different religions, cultural diversity - all may be obstacles”. In other words, the content of the K&I transfert itself may be transformed once it is integrated in the welcoming “culture” (please see above the sub-section on the diffusion of innovations).

Mutual recognition and trust should be built between water scientists and practitioners on the one hand, and specialists in sociology, communication and political science on the other. According to Coanus et al. (1998), “the distrust a number of technicians feel towards

“people” is quite striking, and is not restricted to situations involving natural or technological risk. There is a persistent impression that for technicians, unsupervised contact with the population leads to potentially non-controllable situations. As a result, they often practice their profession in secret”. Coanus et al. (1998) also come to the conclusion that reactions of risk managers regarding the public at large often were more likely: 1) a systematic avoidance of relationships with the public, including secret and discretion regarding their own professional activities, and 2) a controlled relationship with the public (communication techniques, formal consultation procedures, etc.). In other words, the position of ‘risk managers towards the public often was connected with the control of the so-called “human factor”.

In this view, public participation in decision-making processes related to water science issues is intended to: 1) “safeguard the complexity of the problems, especially when approaching populations (Coanus et al., 1998), and 2) soften the “mutual distrust” possibly existing between water management professionals (including hydrologists, planners and decision-makers) on the one hand, and the general public (including representatives, if any, of the civil society), on the other hand. In so-called “risk situations”, how can we adopt the same conceptual approach to the action of institutional actors on the one hand, and the perceptions of the population on the other, when the two social worlds have been basically viewed and experimented as two entities with nothing in common ? In order to implement “a comprehensive approach to the actors involved in risk”, Coanus et al. (1998) advocate for 1) a definition of risk that will make this joint approach possible, and propose that 2) a distinction be made between “instituted risk” (a form of risk that is defined and validated by organisations or systems of [scientific, technical, political and administrative] legitimacy, and

“ordinary/non-instituted risk” (other forms of empirical knowledge of local dangers, as well as other endogenous strategies for risk prevention and mitigation)“.

Yet, some behavioural patterns of the public are also likely to account for the mistrust possibly existing between experts and the lay public. According to authors like Slavic or Wynne (in Joly et al., 1998), the public does not follow the experts just because the rationality is different (attitude about risk is the result of an holistic view which mixes facts and values:

perceived dangers, ethical views, socio-economic effects,. . .) and not because of an

“irrationality” of the public. According to Joly (1998), Margolis (1996) distinguishes three theories which may explain why experts and lay people disagree on risk issues (see box 44).

Box 44: Three theories explaining the expert/public gap

Theorv 1 is that these expert/lay conflicts are only in form about risk. What in fact (on this view) is driving matters are deeper conflicts about power and responsibility, about human obligations to other humans and to nature, and hence about what ends public policy is going to serve. In short, the controversy is about ideology, not risk;

Theorv 2, on the other hand, allows the controversy to be about the loss of trust by the public in the institutions that seek to assure that danger is under control;

Theorv 3 turns on the idea already emphasised, which is that what experts see as a risk is not the same thing as what the public sees. The expert is concerned with some quantitative measure, such as expected fatalities. But the public is concerned with a broader sense of danger that includes other dimensions, beyond expected fatalities.

For Margolis (1996) “expert and lay judgement [of risk] may thus indeed diverge (. . .) [because of] rival rationalities”

Companies and plants settled in flood-prone areas, as well as the local media, should also be trained to take part to participatory processes, so that they are able to express their views and opinions. This would also provide authorities with an opportunity to arrange with these two key stakeholders partnerships for disaster management. For example, local transport and civil works companies (likely to provide trucks, tools and to carry sand for emergency dams), as well as local media and radio stations (likely to contribute to the diffusion of prevention and warning messages, mitigation and safety instructions, and updated information during the disaster - emergency communication), may sign local “flood mitigation agreements”. Such agreements, possibly designed under the aegis of National IHP

Committees, would contribute to increased efficiency and synergy of flood mitigation and management at local level.