Artefacts of disaster risk reduction: conceptualizing bottom-up initiatives of climate action in informal settlements

Abstract

Purpose

Disaster risk reduction is of prime importance in informal settlements in the Global South, where several forms of vulnerability coexist. Policy and official programmes, however, rarely respond to the needs and expectations of citizens and local leaders living in these settlements. Even though these agents constantly attempt to reduce risks in their own way, we know very little about their activities, motivations and effective impact on risk reduction. Here we seek to conceptualize bottom-up initiatives to better grasp their origins, limitations and success.

Design/methodology/approach

Through a four-year action-research project in Colombia, Cuba and Chile, we theorize about the production of change by local agents. Through detailed case studies we explored the activism of 17 local leaders. Through narrative analysis we studied their motivations and explanations. Finally, by documenting 22 initiatives, we revealed effective changes in space.

Findings

In the face of risk and disasters, residents and leaders in informal settings engaged in symbolic, physical and social spaces of interaction. Their actions were guided by trust, emotions, time cycles and activism. Local agency was justified by narratives about risk and climate change that differ from those of authorities and scholars.

Research limitations/implications

There is still limited understanding of bottom-up initiatives in informal settings. It is crucial to conceptualize their origins, limitations and success. The focus on three specific countries necessitates further research for broader applicability and understanding.

Practical implications

A better comprehension of bottom-up actions is crucial for informing policies and programmes aimed at reducing risk in informal settings. Stakeholders must recognize the political, social and cultural roles of these actions for more impactful climate action.

Originality/value

We borrow Simon’s concept of “artefact” to introduce the notion of “Artefacts of Disaster Risk Reduction”, providing insights into the multifaceted nature of bottom-up initiatives. We also emphasize the simultaneous political and phenomenological character of these actions, contributing to a deeper understanding of their origins and impact.

Citation

Lizarralde, G., Herazo, B., Smith, D., Bornstein, L., Gould, K., Monsalve, E., Ordoñez, N., López, A., López, O., Burdiles, R., Araneda, C. and Olivera, A. (2024), "Artefacts of disaster risk reduction: conceptualizing bottom-up initiatives of climate action in informal settlements", Disaster Prevention and Management, Vol. 33 No. 5, pp. 455-479. https://doi.org/10.1108/DPM-11-2023-0315

Introduction – a phenomenological and political view of change in informal settings

Disasters are tangible manifestations of deep-rooted problems in society. As such, they demonstrate that changes are needed in spatial conditions. But not all citizens crave radical change in the face of risk or destruction. For many, the preservation of heritage, traditions and a sense of continuity with the past is key (Lizarralde, 2021). Today, debates around climate action are exacerbating tensions between transformation and stability. Increasing temperatures prove that radical changes are required, a necessity at odds with demands for continuity. Those living in disaster-prone informal settlements in the Global South, for instance, often resist to be relocated. Instead, they prefer to upgrade their built environment through small, incremental improvements.

Favelas, barrios, colonias, bidonvilles, bustees, townships, shantytowns and other forms of informal settlements often concentrate several vulnerability factors. But the history of interventions in informal settlements shows that slum removals, demolitions, relocations and other forms of radical change often fail to reduce structural vulnerabilities (Dovey and King, 2011). In many cases, they cause a significant financial burden to citizens and lead them to live far from jobs and services (van Welie et al., 2019). More worryingly, these solutions often reproduce forms of violence and exclusion, perpetuating social injustices (Winter et al., 2022). Given this context, how to reduce risk in informal settlements? What must be transformed and how? What must be maintained and why?

These questions motivated a four-year action research project in Colombia, Cuba and Chile. The study was based on the premise that we still know very little about the planning, design, management and execution of bottom-up solutions in conditions of informality (Cardosi et al., 2015; Cardosi and Lizarralde, 2014). Part of the problem lies on the fact that space in informal settings is often studied either through a phenomenological lens that focuses on people’s experience of space (Norberg-Schulz, 2019), or through a political lens where space and the built environment are seen as consequences of power dynamics. Here we combine both perspectives to explore the complex dynamics of space transformation. We provided financial, managerial and technical support to local leaders and their disaster-risk reduction initiatives. Over a period of four years, we documented how they identified priorities, initiated action, mobilized people and resources, and eventually transformed space. This work allowed us to understand what was important to communities and why, as well as their expectations for change and preservation of social structures and traditions. It eventually allowed us to conceptualize bottom-up interventions in a way that we can now better understand their motivations, challenges, functioning and benefits.

The first section analyses existing literature on bottom-up agency, presenting the background against which we later position the idea of “artefacts” of disaster-risk reduction. We mobilize concepts of phenomenological and Foucauldian influence, which reveal both the psychological and political character of interactions between institutions, citizens and space. We therefore see space simultaneously as a political and experienced phenomenon. Even though we present it here before the methods section the theoretical framework was not developed before the study. Instead, it was the result of an iterative process of analysis between empirical results and previous literature. It is therefore a way of organizing the data found and conceptualizing about it. In the third section, we explain the action research tools, showing how researchers, leaders, citizens and other stakeholders were both actors of change and subjects of investigation. The results are presented in terms of the interactions between activism, narratives and interventions in space. We eventually conclude that local initiatives are simultaneously objects, processes and narratives. They are interfaces between environments that help describe and communicate what reality is and what it ought to be. We therefore borrow Herbert Simon’s notion of “design artefacts” to conceptualize them in a way that captures their real complexity. A better understanding of these artefacts can inform risk reduction policy and climate action in the Global South.

Theorizing about bottom-up agency and change in informal settlements

For decades, researchers have debated the theoretical pertinence of the notion of the “informal” (Lizarralde and Fauveaud, 2024). Informal settlements in the Global South, are generally defined as areas characterized by inadequate housing, sanitation and basic services (Brown 2015). But informality is not only a characteristic of spatial conditions; it also exists in economic activities, project processes and forms of production (Habitat III, 2015; Hansen, 2001). Here, we adopt the term “informal settings” to refer to the combination of social and spatial conditions in which people develop mechanisms of response to a hostile environment. We recognize that the term has subjective and fuzzy boundaries, overlapping with ideas of the “vernacular”, “indigenous” or “craft”. We see informality as a feature of, and an action within, a system that encompasses a wide range of economic activities, governance structures and processes (Hernández-García, 2013; Hussmanns, 2004; Werna, 2001).

Citizens who live in informal settings, are often victims of exclusion, racism, marginalization, crime, violence and other social injustices (Mayne, 2017). In these settings, there is often a lack of trust in authorities and insufficient collaboration between local and external stakeholders (Choguill, 1996; Lizarralde, 2021; Lizarralde et al., 2009). Besides, urban informality often emerges under fragile governance structures (Choguill, 2007; Davis, 2006), political neglect and corruption (Jones et al., 1997; Lizarralde et al., 2018; Stiftel and Scholz, 2005).

Social injustices obviously affect residents’ individual well-being and limit their rights and freedoms. But, since the work of thinkers such as Foucault (1994), Scott (1998), Lefebvre (1968) and Soja (2010), we know that these injustices also affect – and are enacted through – spatial conditions. The “spatial turn” in philosophy, which began in the 1990s and extended into the 2000s is rooted in Lefebvre’s work but also the general recognition that globalization have impacts on space. Here, space is not given but rather produced through socio-political dynamics and capitalism is seen as a spatial project. This work helps us to make sense of how informal settlements, and their vulnerability, emerge through social relations.

A Foucauldian view often recognizes that injustices are not evenly distributed within cities and territories. Urban planning, infrastructure, housing forms and environmental features are used by political and economic elites to control and dominate individuals, social groups and territories. Differences in spatial living conditions, therefore, reflect disparities in rights and opportunities. It follows that people living in conditions of informality experience not only social, but also, spatial and environmental injustices.

In informal settings, policy is insufficiently implemented and construction codes, zoning and urban norms, are rarely enforced. Authorities often oscillate between exercising too little or too much influence on spatial conditions: from ignoring bottom-up agency to imposing evictions, relocations and major infrastructure projects (Bornstein, 1992). In all cases, authorities typically fail to consider the knowledge and skills of local leaders (Kellett and Hernandez-Garcia, 2013; Lizarralde, 2014).

Since the work of Blaikie et al. (1994), we know that social injustices create vulnerabilities. Risk are created when potential hazards meet conditions of vulnerability and disasters are conceptualized as risk that materialize in both destruction in space (buildings and infrastructure) and significant impacts on people (Pelling, 2003). Critical disaster studies recognize, however, that people are not naturally vulnerable but are made vulnerable (or “vulnerabilized”) by different forms of violence and oppression (Remes and Horowitz, 2021). Spatial conditions have an impact on both risk exposure and vulnerability (Wisner, 2016). Differentiated vulnerabilization can be found, for instance, among refugees and members of Black, indigenous and LGBTQ2+ communities. We know that these vulnerabilized people in the Global South often live in conditions of informality and are also particularly affected by climate change effects (Latendrese and Bornstein, 2012; Röhr et al., 2009). The impacts of global warming, such as sea level rise and disruptions in seasonal precipitations, exacerbate not only the hazards that impact them but their own pre-existing vulnerabilities (CRED, 2016; IPCC, 2014; Parry et al., 2007; UNISDR, 2013).

But people not only accumulate vulnerabilities. The resilience concept reminds us that those who are victims of injustices also have strengths and capacities that help them reduce risk and recover after disasters. To resist and condemn oppression and injustices, people use capacities and engage in activism that sometimes translate into risk reduction or disaster recovery. Residents and local leaders fill in existing gaps by constructing homes, infrastructure and basic services (Perlman, 2010; Roy, 2005, 2011). When discussing informal agency and activism, we refer here to bottom-up activities developed outside or parallel to institutionalized procedures and standards. However, we recognize that such activities often overlap or co-exist with professional and institutionalized plans and programs, thus any informal-formal dichotomy is simply an abstraction (Doherty and Silva, 2011; Durand-Lasserve and Selod, 2009). Figure 1 represents the relationships between social injustices, spatial and environmental injustices, and vulnerability. A horizontal axis shows the tension between people’s vulnerability and strengths in informal settings.

The tension between vulnerabilization and strengths is well illustrated by gendered conditions. Women living in informal settlements, for instance, are less likely than men to influence policy or to act as formal decision-makers (Aguilar, 2009). They are also less likely to own property and have access to welfare, credit, or formal employment (Chant, 2013). Additional domestic responsibilities, such as caring for children and the elderly, limit their opportunities to move and find better jobs and housing (World Health Organization, 2014). Women-run businesses often lack access to credit (Global Weather and Climate Alliance et al., 2016) or are granted loans at prohibitive interest rates, which makes them less likely to rebound after a crisis (Alston, 2014). Similarly, women living in conditions of poverty are less likely to recover after disasters due to higher unemployment rates (Kratzer and Le masson, 2016). All of this undermines their psychological health and well-being (World Health Organization, 2014). Nonetheless, women living in informal settings are especially active in domestic income-generation activities (Winter et al., 2022), water management, sanitation (Denton, 2002; Moser, 2012; Nussbaum, 2007) and food production (Heinrichs and Bernet, 2014). They play key roles as community leaders (Abunyewah et al., 2018) and in protecting the environment and vulnerable members of the community, notably, children and the elderly.

Not surprisingly, politicians and citizens often hold different perceptions and explanations of risk, disasters and climate change (Aragón et al., 2020). Through their own narratives, authorities legitimize spatial solutions that advance their interests and political agendas. In some cases, for instance, urban upgrading is presented as a measure to increase adaptation, resilience, or sustainability, while being used to evict residents and gentrify key urban areas (Anguelovski et al., 2016, 2018; Satterthwaite et al., 2020).

A political and phenomenological approach to spatial interventions

Phenomenology recognises that both the experience of, and interventions in, space respond to traditions, values, symbols and cultural traits (Seamon, 2002). Informal housing, for instance, is often built incrementally (Anand, 2023) responding to patterns that reflect not only economic and material conditions, but also social and symbolic dynamics (Kamalipour and Dovey, 2020). Informal settlements have an implicit order, structured around patterns that correspond to how people experience and represent space (Dovey and King, 2011).

Activism often translates into different forms of spatial agency. They are often explained through the notions of tactical urbanism (Silva, 2016), guerrilla urbanism (Hou, 2020), green infrastructure (Booth and Wiley, 2012; Gill et al., 2007), or spontaneous urbanism (Spataro, 2016). These notions recognize that residents modify public or collective space to produce incremental changes (Pagano, 2013) and to experiment, challenging traditional top-down approaches to planning.

Three concepts are useful to understand phenomenological connexions between people, risk and space, and their manifestations as culture, activism and spatial interventions.

1. Spatial justice: According to Soja, activists who recognize the production of “unjust geographies” search for better spatial dynamics. They range in scale from what Foucault calls “little tactics of the habitat”, to broader interventions in the city and territories (Soja, 2010). Soja builds on Lefebvre’s idea of the “right to the city”, to argue that people are in a constant struggle for recognition and legitimation in urban space. For Soja, spatial justice in socially produced settings allows people to avoid floating in idealized abstractions of universal human rights or radical revolution. The concept anchors ideals of justice in the way the space is (1) mapped, planned and measured; (2) conceived and re-imagined in the minds of the people who inhabit it; and (3) experienced. Soja calls this the “thirdspace”, a notion that captures not only the functional relevance of space, but its phenomenological and symbolic value (Soja, 1996).

2. People as infrastructure: As developed by Simone, the notion of people as infrastructure, explains the interaction between objects, spaces, persons and practices in urban settings. For Simone (2004), peoples’ interactions become an infrastructure that provides and reproduces life in the city. “Even when actors do different things with one another in different places”, he explains, “each carries traces of past collaboration and an implicit willingness to interact with one another in ways that draw on multiple social positions” (p. 408). The concept captures the dynamic character of roles, activities and exchanges that operate in conditions of informality. It indicates people’s need to produce change in contexts of collaboration where the traditional conditions of the “formal” economy do not fully apply. Studying the case of marginalized communities in Johannesburg, Simone finds that this invisible infrastructure produces “innumerable possibilities of combination and interchange that preclude any definitive judgment of efficacy or impossibility” (p. 428). Interactions are not deliberate or normative activism, but a form of resistance that allows survival and adaptation. This infrastructure is not based on specialization, efficiency and planning in the way they are understood in physical infrastructure. It feeds instead on adaptability, flexibility and constant change that allows residents to progressively improve their conditions.

3. (Reclaimed) technologies of recovery: Easthope and Mort (2014) adopt the term “technologies of recovery” to refer to the multiplicity of tools designed to operate in disaster planning. The notion builds on Foucault’s idea of “technologies of power”, used by authorities to exercise control over space. These technologies are both social and material, are embedded in policy networks, and seek to bring order and changes in people’s behaviours. They “are a form of socio-technical intervention, acting on the simultaneous construction of a range of human and non-human actors”, which include plans, policy documents and funding opportunities. For Easthope and Mort, technologies of recovery are initially based on official and distant narratives about risk, hazards and disasters, and therefore tend to ignore local needs and expectations, as well as context-specific knowledge.

But technologies of recovery depend on emerging relations between people, things and space. They are, in this way, phenomenological. Exploring a case of disaster reconstruction in the UK, the authors show how “technologies or recovery became transformed and remade in localized practice when enacted by newly formed and precarious collaborations of residents and local responders” (p. 135). Operating alongside or underneath official protocols and tools, residents and local agents transform those technologies. They reimagine instruments, reappropriate tools, and reclaim agency from imposed mechanisms. The instruments are used in ways quite different from those which were originally intended. In this reappropriation of technologies, locals collaborate with externals and authorities, dissolving traditional boundaries of “them and us”. A form of opportunism therefore emerges, in which locals exploit and adapt existing mechanisms (funding opportunities, for instance) to advance their own agendas.

Figure 2 shows the framework we eventually developed after iterative comparisons between empirical data and the concepts explained here. It shows how a continuum between the notion of vulnerability and that of strengths, resistance and resilience exist at the intersection between people, risk and space. It attempts to show how, even though injustices create vulnerability, at the intersection of people and space also lie a series of positive forces that facilitate change. It also illustrates how phenomenological concepts sit in a framework that combines culture, spatial interventions and activism. Spatial justice allows us to connect how people interact with space in reaction to injustices. People as infrastructure is useful to understand how people collaborate and interact with space to resist forms of change that are perceived as harmful. Finally, the notion of (reclaimed) technologies of recovery highlight how people, through activism, reappropriate and re-imagine formal mechanisms of intervention to reduce risk.

Now that we have conceptually clarified these relationships, what can we empirically learn from the way residents reduce risk?

Research methods: action research

To answer this question, a group of about 20 researchers put in place an action-research project from 2017 to 2022. The study (mostly funded by Canada’s International Development Research Centre) explored the implementation of twenty-two bottom-up, citizen-led initiatives in four small and medium-sized cities: Carahatas (Cuba), Yumbo (Colombia), Salgar (Colombia) and Concepción (Chile). Following a phenomenological approach, the team explored how residents, local leaders and institutions experience and influence space in response to risk. It aimed at understanding experiences and informally driven strategies, in particular those led by woman, who, as we saw before, are particularly vulnerabalized, but also frequent agents of change. We focused on neighbourhoods of informal origin at risk of climate effects like sea-level rise, floods, landslides and droughts. We conducted qualitative research before and after natural hazards occurred to understand changes sparked by destruction, as well as the opportunities for and barriers to change.

Our team engaged with local actors on-site to address the issues faced by leaders and communities. Our research methods included ethnography, guided visits, longitudinal case studies, narrative analysis and design workshops. We thus adopted a mixed-methods approach to incorporate both quantitative and qualitative analyses and combine multi-scalar inquiries and perspectives (Sletto, 2008, p. 15). We conducted interviews, of about 30 minutes each (in average), with over 50 residents, local leaders and government representatives. These interviews were held by local research teams, in Spanish, from 2017 to 2022. Interviews with residents were held in their own settlement and often included commented visits to their homes and local infrastructure. In parallel, we analysed reports by project interns, master’s and Ph.D. theses, videos leaders’ experiences, mapping techniques, GIS data and focus groups with about ten residents each (see Table 1). In focus groups (held by local researchers), residents were encouraged to talk about the type of transformation they want for their neighbourhood and their needs. Spaces for open dialogue and exchanges between local leaders, officers, decision-makers and academic partners were facilitated by local universities. At least one of such activities was held every year.

We noticed (and confirmed in literature) that “technologies of recovery” combine activism, narratives and spatial interventions. We therefore designed tools to capture each of them.

Activism: We documented in four detailed case studies how residents and local leaders in informal settings experience space and implement bottom-up strategies to reduce vulnerabilities. In this way, we mapped the “geographies of risk” to understand how they engage in risk reduction and activism. Drawings, maps and plans were used to document vulnerability factors and the impact of hazards. Data was also collected about social and economic conditions, demographics and livelihood opportunities. We mapped governance structures and followed the actions of about twenty local leaders for four years. We documented not only their activities on the ground, but also their posts in social media, presentations and interventions in radio and other communication means.

Narratives: The results from interviews were analysed using content analysis, first by local research teams and then by a group of scholars from different countries. Here we paid particular attention to how residents and local leaders explain risks, disasters, climate change impacts, and social, spatial and environmental injustices. In an activity in Caharatas (Cuba) and Yumbo (Colombia) we brought together leaders from different cities, where we captured their main aspirations and expectations and compared their perspectives about living environments. In this way, we were able to identify the main narratives mobilised by local actors and compare them with the discourses and explanations adopted by authorities and external decision makers. We reported differences in perceptions, processes, procedures and actions and how ideas were partially or completely implemented.

Spatial interventions: We wanted to understand not only how locals understand living conditions, but also how the experience space and to what extent they effectively impact their neighbourhoods and settlements. We thus designed a research strategy to support their bottom-up initiatives with project funds, which allowed us to follow implementation activities and document them for a period of four years.

To do so, we first set up a scientific committee to select the most pertinent disaster-risk reduction initiatives that emerged in the four locations. The committee prioritized initiatives led by women but also funded initiatives with mixed or male leadership. Local leaders had the freedom to use financial resources as they wanted, including the consolidation, or scaling up of existing ideas. We eventually funded twenty-two initiatives, each of them receiving CAN$4000. There were two types of initiatives:

• Type A: Here local universities played a leading or supporting role. Academics and students helped communities design, plan, build and manage the proposed solutions. This approach was adopted when technical support was key to the initiative’s success. Here, university students helped design technical solutions with the community and integrated knowledge obtained from research and design practice.

• Type B: We wanted to identify whether university involvement could bias results. We therefore supported initiatives completely led and coordinated by local leaders, with very little involvement from academics. Here, researchers only monitored the design, management and execution of initiatives and documented people’s activities.

Table 2 presents the main information about the 22 initiatives selected for the study. We had initiatives developed to address flooding, sea-level rise, food insecurity and other risks. Reponses included urban agriculture, sports, art, cultural events and education activities.

Several students from disciplines such as architecture, ecology, geography, graphic design, sociology, civil engineering and social work, among others, conducted the follow-up and analysis of bottom-up strategies. Activism and interventions were documented in videos, reports, transcripts, diaries and a report written by local research teams. Two independent researchers then analysed these reports, providing an internal process of validation, triangulation and peer review. Finally, we triangulated information and identified patterns within and across case studies. Table 3 summarises the information about the participants in each initiative.

Several social risks existed and thus the project required particular attention to ethical considerations. Given that we included researchers from different countries, there was the possibility that those from rich countries reproduced power imbalances and forms of colonialism while conducting studies in the low-income communities. There was also the risk of re-victimizing people affected by disasters and – by asking them to talk about their living conditions and experiences of risk – leading them to phycological distress or emotional instability. Given that the research team funded local leaders, there was also the risk of influencing leaders’ attitudes in ways that either biased the results or reproduced inadequate external influences. Considering that the project provided visibility and money to local leaders, there was the risk of exposing them to new risk, notably violence. Finally, local interventions could always disrupt social relationships and create tensions between residents such as, jealousy among those who were not funded.

We therefore adopted several measures to deal with these and other similar risks. First, all local research teams issued an ethics clearance within their own universities. Another ethics clearance was obtained in the university that managed the Canadian funds, where periodically reported ethical risks and mitigation strategies. Second, social workers, with more than 10-year experience, were involved in every step, providing methods and tools to conduct interviews and focus groups. Local, experienced social workers also animated the more sensitive activities with local leaders and disaster victims. We paid particular attention to residents’ desires about when and how they wanted to participate in the study (we gave leaders only the exposure they were comfortable having). We engaged only with communities with which local research teams had a significant relationship established before the study and in which they wanted to continue working after the end of funding. The scientific and management committees included researchers from every country participating in the study and all decisions were made giving priority to issues of security and respect to local values. An assessment of strengths and weaknesses was constantly made in management meetings, and – when necessary – some adjustments were made (for instance, we realised that political tensions could put some leaders at risk and changed activities to avoid excessive exposure to them).

Research results: patterns in activism, narratives and spatial interventions

Empirical results in Yumbo, Concepción, Salgar and Carahatas confirm that, stigma, gentrification, urban beautification plans and inappropriate housing and climate policies vulnerabilize citizens. Local narratives revealed the importance of women’s role in disaster risk reduction and of eliminating political corruption and patriarchal and oppressive structures. Local leaders rarely adopted in a natural manner the foreign narratives of disaster risk reduction and response. They hardly used terms such as “adaptation”, “adaptive capacities”, “resilience” or “sustainability” in spontaneous explanations about their interventions. Local narratives focused instead on producing changes in planning documents and policy to reduce inequalities, segregation, marginalization, racism and other social injustices.

There were different explanations of risk and climate change impacts between local leaders and authorities. Whereas leaders referred to how they are often victims of social, environmental and spatial injustices, authorities often pointed to hazards, economic problems and lack of infrastructure. While politicians and government officials saw climate change as a problem of increased hazards, local leaders and residents saw it as a problem that increased their vulnerability (Aragón et al., 2020).

Different forms of activism were justified by local narratives or ways of setting the “problem”. Activism was often aimed at reducing stigma and redressing environmental injustices. It was often mobilized through narratives of aspirations: aspirations of a better home, more vegetation, clean water, etc. Emotions also played a key role in activism. Leaders were prone to explain their emotions and motivated others to express their own. They often explained their actions in terms of anger, sadness, pride, love and other feelings. An explicit recognition of emotions was common in conversations, where residents and leaders often talked about how they felt frustrated with government inaction, amazed by the beauty of nature, or proud of their own homes and gardens. But residents rarely referred to fear of destruction by natural events. “The ocean has never harmed me, only people have” said a resident in Carahatas.

This activism eventually led to varied forms of interventions. When it came to modifying space, several initiatives focused on building natural barriers, water collectors, architectural structures and parks. Others focused on organizing activities related to education and the understanding of the territory; including botanical drawing seminars, training in risk management, courses on natural parks, activities of forest therapy, support for art festivals and special classes in schools. Finally, other initiatives concentrated on creating community and family food gardens and on facilitating communication between stakeholders. Environmental conservation was a common objective in almost all interventions. Several of them focused on water accessibility and security, and changes in the relationships between water and related ecosystems. Others focused on water use, water infrastructure and prevention of water-related hazards including floods, droughts, cyclones, tsunamis and sea-level rise.

Table 4 shows the main results found in narratives, activism and interventions in each location. It shows that there are common patterns within locations and, sometimes, among them.

Yumbo: Residents in Yumbo felt that the State is largely absent in informal settlements. “Our struggle is for redressing the injustices that we have suffered for decades”, explained a local leader. In most cases, local leaders resorted to explanations about the history of their struggle. They explained, for instance, how water infrastructure was obtained after putting pressure on local authorities. “Everything you see here has been obtained through a constant struggle”, explained another leaders. They also resented that authorities have permitted the exploitation of green areas and tolerate the pollution of over one thousand industries that operate in the area. They perceived that their environmental conditions have deteriorated over time, exacerbating their vulnerability and capacity to face threats. They therefore conducted environmental campaigns to protect the remaining green areas in the settlement. But this activism did not remain an abstract notion about climate justice. Instead, residents and leaders conducted concrete activities aimed at protecting green areas, cleaning polluted places and planting trees.

The initiatives in Yumbo highlighted the value of local knowledge about the territory and legitimized partnerships that allowed for new environmental actions to emerge. The initiatives also exposed links between risk management strategies and cultural practices that initially seemed unrelated, such as promoting soccer, gardening and other recreational objectives. “A soccer ball is useful to protect the environment, even if you don’t see it at first glance” exclaimed a local leader. This said, neither activism, nor interventions, were always smooth. There was in fact a constant competition for space: recreational and parks in Yumbo, for example, compete with other uses such as housing for newcomers, infrastructure and retail. Residents in Yumbo resented that new immigrants occupy green areas and there is a general perception in all locations that not everybody respect certain collective uses of space. Leaders were therefore in constant negotiations about the use of space and must deal with social tensions that emerged in land use.

Example in Yumbo: Sustainable urban drainage system. This initiative type A concerned the construction of drain system in a park where residents wanted to have a soccer pitch (Plate 1). It dealt with the cascading effects of climate change, displacement, violence and other threats in Yumbo, Colombia. The system was low-cost, replicable and easy to build by community members. The objective was to involve and train the community to improve the conditions for controlling, filtrating and treating rainwater. It also aimed at promoting awareness among residents to mitigate landslides and other risks exacerbated by climate change. But the initiative was seen also as way of strengthening the social fabric by collectively building a system that improves public space. This said, some tensions emerged when there were unbalances in the participation of residents in construction activities. Some leaders resented that people were not always fully engaged in constructon activities.

Salgar: Most residents saw disasters as concrete manifestations of the impact of social injustices and bad choices. Some of them were, however, particularly surprised by their level of risk. “I didn’t know what risk meant until I saw my family die”, said a resident affected by the avalanche. Residents resented that housing solutions built after the disaster (basically turnkey apartment blocks), failed to respond to their more rural living conditions. Activism quite often concentrated in empowering other residents. A participant in a training session in Salgar, Colombia, concluded, “in this workshop we learned to manage fear and help each other”.

Often, local leaders and residents leveraged existing cultural activities, such as sports, festivals and artistic events, in their risk reduction initiatives, responding to the needs of the most vulnerable population. Leaders focused on demonstrating the importance of spaces for open dialogue, social integration and discussions about equality and social justice. Most initiatives attempted to reduce a range of threats, from violence, crime, food insecurity and air pollution. They wanted to illustrate original ways of creating healthier relationships between humans and the built and natural environments.

Example in Salgar: A women leader brought together other leaders to conduct agricultural and social activities, including honey harvesting. She also used a local radio program to facilitate awareness about risk and mobilize other residents. She focused on developing activities that responded to the local ways of living, avoiding in this way the potential alienation that came with the construction of new apartment blocks after the avalanche.

Concepción: Residents deplored that authorities have tolerated rapid urbanisation that now threatens green and rural areas. Leaders complained that neoliberal and current economic models lead to inequality and perpetuate oppression and poverty. They wanted to demonstrate that risk reduction should not be separated from local struggles for social justice. Activism focused on teaching and recreational activities where people could appreciate the landscape and enjoy nature.

Example in Concepción: Vertical community garden. This initiative type A (Plate 2) seeked to establish a new social contract and better community relationships with nature in the outskirts of Concepción, Chile. The vertical garden was a collaboration between the community, the government upgrading program Quiero Mi Barrio, the Regional Ministry of Housing and Urban Planning and the School of Architecture of the Universidad del Bío-Bío. Through the implementation of small gardens in houses and public spaces, the project attempted to recover abandoned areas, promote sustainable practices of food security, restore the physical and social relationship between the neighbourhood and the nearby estuary, and enhance residents’ capacity to enjoy the waterway. However, at one moment, authorities failed to deliver the water system that was required. This led to tensions about the use of the space and eventually led to the dismantling of the structure.

Carahatas: Here, the government initially prioritized the relocation of the community to safer areas inland. But the community has been challenging this strategy, preferring to reinforce their houses and only relocate temporarily during hurricanes and tropical storms. Villagers find that policies designed in La Havana fail to consider local realities and the conditions required for maintaining fishing activities. Local narratives about risk and hazards were often grounded in the realities of daily life, rather than long-term or abstract threats. Many of them challenged or directly contradicted expert knowledge. “Authorities talk about sea level rise in 50 years; but we cannot fish today”, stated a resident in Carahatas. “They refer to floods that will occur in many years, but we do not have food for tomorrow”, said another resident.

Local leaders have lobbied to influence decision makers so that relocation plans are not enforced. Thanks to this pressure, local authorities have modified their approach and postponed the induced relocation of villagers in Carahatas and other coastal communities. Residents often debated about the symbolic and subjective value of space. A community center in Carahatas or a wooden dome in Concepción, were not only places for conducting meetings, but for reaffirming social connections, attachment and presence in the territory. The community center in Carahatas is decorated with imagery of the sea festival that characterizes the community, and the façades of houses display figures of flamingos, an animal that is common in the village and symbolizes the beauty of nature for local residents (see Plate 3).

The initiatives required different forms of individual agency. Leaders and citizens worked to produce objects, rituals, practices, events and spaces that had social value and brought together people, meaning and agency. “An art festival teaches more about the environment than a book”, explained a local leader. The local projects connected partners, individuals and communities with a common goal. They provided spaces for open dialogue and the building of trust between stakeholders, representing collective efforts that held significance for residents and reflected cultural values.

Example in Carahatas: Resilient housing through community self-management. An initiative type B in Carahatas, Cuba provided an opportunity to understand the deep connections between people, housing and the ocean (Plate 4). It sought to reduce disaster risk through improvements in village housing conditions. It is one of the few cases in which leaders included housing solutions to reduce risk. This initiative created a construction tool library where villagers in Carahatas can borrow equipment needed to upgrade their homes. A resident of Carahatas explained: “In the library of construction tools we meet not only to lend hammers but also to exchange know-how”. Women led this initiative, which they conducted with the technical support of the local community architect – a strong institutional actor in Cuba – and a project funded by the Swiss Cooperation Agency. As a result, more secure, comfortable and resistant houses were built.

By examining local initiatives, our team was able to identify the most effective risk reduction strategies and why, and under what conditions, they worked. We also identified why some local initiatives failed. We found, for instance, that local leadership in informal settlements tends to be fragile. Leaders engage in local initiatives, but their roles changed as projects moved through different stages. In many cases, this led to a lack of continuity and a loss of momentum, motivation and commitment of key participants. At least two initiatives were later abandoned.

Several initiatives responded to time cycles and a certain “social rhythm”. In this way, they are not anecdotic events, but processes that were rooted in social rituals. In Carahatas, the festival occurs once a year. In Yumbo, soccer games are organized on Sunday mornings. Education, fishing and agricultural activities are conducted around specific cycles. Local agents were careful to integrate risk reduction objectives in these temporalities.

Plate 5 shows images of some of the initiatives.

Discussion: artefacts as phenomenological and political instruments of local agency

The initiatives we found can be considered as reclaimed technologies of recovery that resulted from people trying to achieve social justice. Much like the technologies of recovery found by Easthope and Mort, these initiatives were “fashioned as objects, which shape[d] a relationship between numbers of actors and gain[ed] sense and significance within everyday activities and ordinary experience” (p. 137). Leaders used them to obtain funds, exploiting opportunities that were available. Surely, they led to temporary or permanent physical interventions in public or collective space. But they were more than acts of space occupation. They were acts of resistance, and political and social spaces of interaction, where participants mobilized cultural references, attempted to transfer knowledge and practiced rituals and traditions. Many of these initiatives initially looked disconnected from risk, and it was only through dialogue about local narratives that the connections with disasters were revealed.

In The Sciences of the Artificial, Herbert Simon (1996) famously used the term “artefacts” to refer to interfaces between “inner” and “outer” environments. Simon’s artefacts are physical and social products of human design and ingenuity, by which designers attempt to change reality from what it is to what it ought to be. Simon adopts a broad view of design and designers. For him, people attempting to modify a current condition deploy a design process that acts as an interface between environments. Artefacts are both processes and results of an ideal of change. Given the characteristics of the bottom-up interventions we found, and their triple role as object-process-narratives, we call them here “artefacts of disaster risk reduction”.

Artefacts relied on social networks and time cycles, and were structured around cultural and social dynamics, as Kellet and Hernandez-García previously discovered (2013). These artefacts combined human and non-human agents and differed from the type of outputs typically known as “tactical urbanism”, “incremental construction” (Greene and Rojas, 2008) and “green infrastructure” (Bilec et al., 2007). Contrary to several tactical urbanism strategies, these artefacts were not temporary interventions. They were instead inserted in recurrent cycles. Also, they were not simply spaces for recreation or immediate urban improvement. Contrary to initiatives typically labelled as green infrastructure, these artefacts were rooted in rituals and cultural practices. They involved environmental concerns, but also combined them with emotions, traditions and seasonal practices such as courses, art exhibitions and festivals. Similarly, the artefacts were not simply slum upgrading initiatives. Surely, many of them relied on self-help to improve conditions in the built environment, but they also concerned the consolidation of social and cultural structures – not only physical ones. As such, they became spaces for governance action, based on emotions and trust between diverse actors. As we shall now see, they fulfilled several roles.

Artefacts of communication: By producing artefacts, local leaders and citizens focused on daily struggles and manifested different understandings of risk than climate experts and government officials. Whereas government and agencies focused on atmospheric and long-term impacts (such as rising sea levels and warming temperatures), locals focused on artefacts to cope with concrete challenges, such as food insecurity, crime, violence and lack of water and infrastructure. Artefacts were thus less focused on exposure and more on well-being. Locals also tended to view climate impacts as a consequence of social and environmental injustices. They had a deep knowledge of existing risks, available resources, social dynamics, traditions and activities of cultural value. Their ideas for change, as materialized in artefacts, were not based on abstract notions of sustainability, resilience, or adaptation, but on daily practices and emotional responses.

Artefacts of change: Existing urban systems and regulatory frameworks in all locations have failed to provide adequate infrastructure and services. Policy documents in the three countries often recognize the importance of safety and access to housing, infrastructure and services, but there is little implementation. Quite often, contradictions in policy hinder implementation. For instance, in Colombia, local entrepreneurs cannot be awarded government contracts due to their informal status. The three countries have advanced policy that encourages urban agriculture, but municipal regulations and red tape makes implementation difficult. In response, local leaders and citizens built on local knowledge, rituals and activities such as sports, cultural celebrations and artistic events. Financial and social support for such initiatives highlighted the value of local knowledge, reduced social and governance tensions, and helped legitimize networks and partnerships. Instead of creating initiatives from scratch, they tended to expand existing practices and activities to include objectives of risk reduction and environmental protection. Through object-process-narratives, leaders and residents relied on pragmatic sectors they control (soccer, urban agriculture, gardening, etc.), rather than abstract notions about adaptation or risk reduction.

Women in all locations have been active leaders of change in their communities. They do it despite shouldering a triple burden of domestic work, income generation and community engagement. But these women leaders were not necessarily looking for political careers, nor were they aiming to become public figures; they preferred to produce change in more subtle ways. They embraced several opportunities to mobilize, create awareness, motivate creativity, establish trust and fostering legitimacy, highlighting the important link between ancestral knowledge and the capacity to imagine opportunities for change. Some of these activities included education and skill building; networking and collaboration; leadership and advocacy, among others.

Artefacts as spaces of emotions: Most climate change policy and programs are based on the notion that people are or should be afraid of hazards. But we found that risk aroused many more emotions that authorities often underestimate or ignore. Emotions, such as attachment to place and pride, often drove local activism and actions. Artefacts also developed spaces for expressing those emotions and establishing communication about fear, pride and awe, among other feelings that individuals associated with disasters. Corruption, violence, exclusion, racism, patriarchal structures, elitism and systemic marginalization, posed significant challenges to positive change. Lack of trust characterized the relationship between residents and government officials, international agencies and the wealthy. Within this socially tense environment, community leaders and their Allies spent a lot of time and effort fostering the institutional relationships and networks needed to mobilize resources and maintain engagement. Community leaders and their Allies tried to establish and maintain trust through sustained dialogue and creativity. The artefacts provided spaces for these negotiations to unfold and for consolidating social relationships.

Artefacts as mechanisms of engagement: Community leaders often prioritized sustained engagement, attention to detail, legitimacy, time cycles and trust over the replicability and scalability of their artefacts. In this way, they valued the social impact, civic response, networks and relationships created during these processes. Local leaders saw impact was a process analogous to detailed craftmanship, rather than to mass production or radical change. It depended on characteristics that cannot be easily transferred to or replicated in other informal settings. The processes of deliberation and reinforcement of social bonds was sometimes more important than the final output. Finally, the artefacts challenged premises often associated with government authority and puzzled some external decision-makers who preferred resources to be invested in formal projects such as infrastructure or relocation.

Figure 3 illustrates how these artefacts are situated, in a phenomenological/political model, at the intersection between people, space and risk. They are the result of culture, activism and interventions in space, and help people transform conditions of vulnerability into strengths and forms of resistance and resilience.

This study has several limitations and thus results must be taken with discretion. Even though it was based on action research, the study did not include a control case in a different location, which could have been useful to compare the actions found with others where there was no influence at all. In order to generalize patterns, more research is required in other countries and locations. More emphasis can also be placed on analyzing the specific conditions of indigenous, Black, refugees and LGBTQ2+ communities. The qualitative data presented here should also be compared with quantitative data about disaster impacts, livelihoods and improvements in income, food security and other variables after the artefacts are completed. Surely, quantitative work is needed to draw patterns across artefacts. This said, we are confident that the model we propose can be used and adapted to other similar conditions.

Conclusion: the significance of artefacts of disaster risk reduction

In this project, we adopted notions of phenomenology and critical disaster studies to examine the “geographies of risk and injustices” present in four settlements of informal origin in Latin America and the Caribbean. These settlements face unique challenges in terms of climate change and risk reduction. Whereas communities lack the resources and infrastructure to adapt to changing environmental conditions, traditional practices allow them to cope with current challenges. But, these local practices are often ignored or discouraged by authorities and decision-makers, which tend to prioritize large-scale solutions such as relocation, slum clearance and infrastructure projects.

Citizens and local leaders engaged in change by deploying object-process-narratives that we called artefacts of disaster-risk reduction. They comprised physical elements, but also spaces that kindle social interaction, political debate, expression of emotions, collaboration and the establishment of trust.

Policy-, decision-makers and researchers can gain from understanding the design, planning and implementation of these artefacts. Building on the outcomes of these interventions, decision-makers can avoid abstract and distant narratives, such as those based on sustainability, adaptation and adaptive capacities. Instead, they can embrace exploratory frameworks that better engage and mobilize local knowledge and residents’ responses to risk and expectations about change. Governments, agencies and other stakeholders should develop policies and devise projects grounded in local perspectives and understandings of risk. They should support bottom-up incremental solutions that target the needs and desires of those exposed to hazards.

Policy is not enough. To reduce risks, authorities, agencies and NGOs must address the problem of implementation. To do so, they can adopt practices that are common in local artefacts and must also revise policy and regulations to identify contradictions and eliminate bureaucratic barriers and red tape. A disaster risk reduction agenda must allow for artefacts to emerge bottom-up. Authorities and other decision-makers hold a core responsibility in creating spaces that make possible engaged, transparent and respectful dialogue with residents in informal settings.

Risk reduction initiatives must not be separated from social and political agendas aimed at redressing social, spatial and environmental injustices. In areas often characterized by violence, poverty and marginalization, socially and culturally relevant spaces, networks, activities and events must be supported. Risk reduction must not be detached from efforts to eliminate patriarchal structures that perpetuate gender inequalities. Climate action must therefore support community leaders, and especially women, who can benefit from safety nets, psychosocial support, training, organizational assistance and security. Scaling impact must respect issues of legitimacy, trust, time cycles, attention to detail and local expectations about change. In sum, risk reduction requires challenging traditional notions of change. It requires an understanding that incremental change can be achieved through artefacts that synthesize local values, activism, emotions and notions of trust.

Figures

Figure 1

Model of the relationships between different forms of injustice, vulnerability and people’s strengths in informal settings

Figure 2

Conceptual model to explain the relationships between the main concepts analysed in the study

Plate 1

Construction of an urban drainage system in Yumbo, Colombia

Plate 2

The vertical community garden in the Concepción area in Chile

Plate 3

A façade decorated with a flamingo, a symbolic feature in local culture in Carahatas

Plate 4

Community members providing support for home repair

Plate 5

Examples of initiatives, including the Marine Festival in Cuba (top), the River Dome in Concepción, Chile (bottom-left) and honey harvesting in Salgar, Colombia (bottom-right)

Figure 3

Artefacts of disaster risk reduction in a phenomenological and political model of agency in informal settings

Table 1

Empirical activities conducted in the four locations

	Guided visits conducted by local team (by int. Team)	Interviews with residents (interviews with officers)	Focus groups	DRR initiatives documented	Hours of interviews with local leaders	Meetings with community leaders
Yumbo, Colombia	7 (3)	6 (3)	4	9	11	10
Salgar, Colombia	3 (1)	10 (2)	1	2	9	3
Carahatas, Cuba	8 (2)	10 (10)	4	4	10	6
Concepción, Chile	4 (0)	5 (5)	4	9	9	6

Source(s): Table by authors

Table 2

Summary of local initiatives, including the type of risk addressed and response deployed

Table 3

Summary of participants, residents, researchers and students involved in each initiative

	Bottom-up initiative	Leaders involved*	Residents potentially impacted*	NGOs participating in implementation activities *	Institutions involved*	Researchers (professors) involved*	Students involved*
1	Resilient housing through community self-management	1	215	2	3	3	2
2	Community group Mujeres del Mar (Women of the Sea)	6	130	2	2	3	1
3	Circle of interest Yo me adapto	4	150	2	2	3	2
4	Coastal marine festival	3	500	1	1	3	0
5	Community social networking group Voces de Carahatas	10	120	2	2	2	4
6	Vertical community garden	7	90	4	4	8	15
7	Pottery workshop	3	45	1	4	6	2
8	Natural mitigation and irrigation barrier	1	45	1	2	4	0
9	Botanical illustration workshop	2	35	2	2	2	3
10	Classrooms in natural environments	3	40	2	2	3	0
11	Forest therapy	4	80	1	3	4	20
12	Plaza Nonguén	1	20	1	1	2	2
13	Estuary dome	3	60	1	2	3	2
14	Water recovery demonstrations	5	250	3	2	2	0
15	Sustainable urban drainage system (SUDS) (I and II)	8	250	1	3	2	9
16	Water management system	8	150	2	3	3	9
17	Community gardens	9	400	4	3	2	8
18	Reforesting Yumbo	7	250	4	3	2	9
19	Family garden (I and II)	2	175	2	3	2	3
20	Reforesting Guanabitas (I and II)	2	75	3	2	2	3
21	Ecosystem adaptation	8	160	8	4	2	1
22	Managing the risk	5	300	6	4	2	1

Note(s): *These total figures must be taken with prudence, because most leaders, students, residents and stakeholders participated in more than one initiative. Therefore, they should not be counted more than once

Source(s): Table by authors

Table 4

Empirical results in the four locations

	Results from narratives		Results from activism		Results from interventions
	Problem as seen by locals	Problem as seen by authorities	Goal of local activism	Form of local activism	Goal of spatial interventions	Main challenge in spatial interventions
Yumbo, Colombia	Lack of presence of the State, corruption, neoliberal policies, pollution. Climate change increases people’s vulnerability	Lack of infrastructure (roads, water and sewage systems, etc.). Climate change increases hazards	Environmental awareness, lobbying among authorities, integrate residents	Environmental programs, protection of green areas, promotion of recreational activities	Protect and improve public space and green areas. Facilitate the development of recreational activities	Occupation of public space and green areas, corruption, lack of funding
Salgar, Colombia	Solutions provided by authorities after the disaster are inadequate. Reconstruction must guarantee continuity of ways of living and traditions	Economic challenges. Reconstruction is a moment to produce change, It is important to rebuild quickly	Environmental awareness, lobbying among authorities, integrate economic activities	Environmental programs, promoting entrepreneurship, education and communication	Promote entrepreneurship, create awareness, train local leaders and residents	Lack of influence by local leaders, lack of funding
Carahatas, Cuba	National policy underestimate local capacities to live in coastal areas. Climate change represents one of multiple other risks	Coastal communities are at risk and must be relocated. Climate change is a major challenge to communities	Environmental awareness, lobbying among authorities, create awareness about local capacities	Avoid relocation. Illustrate how to guarantee continuity in coastal villages. Teach children and youngsters	Facilitate house repairs, reinforce cultural events and festivals	Lack of funding, lack of equipment and lack of construction tools and materials
Concepción, Chile	Neoliberal policies, corruption, neglect, deforestation, Climate change increases people’s vulnerability	Increased hazards, social unrest, economic challenges	Environmental awareness, lobbying among authorities, create awareness about natural features and the beauty of landscape	Environmental programs, education and communication	Create spaces to enjoy the landscape, learn and produce food	Lack of coordination with official policy, lack of funding. Lack of continuity in public programs

Source(s): Table by authors