 Today I'm going to talk about a topic that's very urgent and an emerging field in criticism called ecocriticism and the topic is all about how disaster is framed. I start with a definition of disaster, which from a United Nations body is defined as a code, a serious disruption of the functioning of a community or a society involving widespread human, material, economic, or environmental losses and impacts, which exceeds the ability of the affected community or society to cope using its own resources. If the picture that I'm showing now is any indication, disasters, in this case the eruption of the Al volcano in 1911, destroy human life on a scale wide enough to excite public alarm, thus disrupting internal patterns or normal patterns of behavior and impairing, I quote from another source, any of the services necessary to the conduct of normal affairs or to the prevention of suffering and loss, unquote. The question is, is the picture an accurate reflection or depiction of reality? On one level, the answer is yes, it is factually correct, the Al did erupt in 1911, many people have indeed died and the magnitude of loss and grief is indeed disruptive of normal patterns of behavior. On another level, we could also say that the picture's depiction of reality is highly selective, occupying almost 90% of the pictorial plain is a wasteland strewn with burnt corpses and trees. Barely discernible in the background is the idyllic image of two islands on a placid lake, forming a stark contrast to the scene of destruction in the foreground. The shot might have been taken from a low angle dead center and our sight line cannot help but focus on the bodies looming before us. We could almost smell the stench of death with little relief inside. The scene is claustrophobic, the feeling is one of horror and shock. In short, the shot was skillfully framed to elicit the kind of reaction I described. The photographer was coming from a certain position or viewpoint and was telling a story according to a trope, which is defined as a widely shared narrative pattern or interpretation of a situation or a story based on the simplest, most archetypal and most widely held beliefs. A trope can be considered a narrative stereotype that is so commonplace and deeply ingrained, it has become natural, innocent and largely unconscious. My aim in this short talk is to surface the natural and unconscious positions and tropes, particularly those concerned with how we view our relationship with the natural and physical elements that make up our ecosystem. In other words, our home, the English equivalent of echo, which comes from the root word oikos or home. I argue that there is no innocent eye, only lenses through which we interpret the so-called objective phenomena like disasters. To be aware of these lenses is to develop a critical eye, one that will help us understand reflectively, reflexively and critically disasters in their multiple dimensions and enable to take the appropriate measures to mitigate disasters damages. The key points of this essay largely drawing on the book entitled Echo Criticism by Greg Garard revolve around the following pairs. Anthropocentrism vis biocentrism, mechanistic vis-a-vis organismic, shallow vis-a-vis deep ecology, artist representation vis-a-vis artist process, the logical and literal vis the illogical and figurative. Last but not the least, the stress on fixed outcome vis-a-vis intermodality and poasis. With its focus on death and destruction, the picture tells us an apocalyptic story. One possible result of the sensational depiction is the reaffirmation of the common sense logic that perhaps these people were given fair warning about the dangers of living so close to the volcano and were given enough notice to evacuate but were overtaken by the overwhelming forces of nature. The picture relies on the shock and fear tactics of the visual language so stark we all have to take notice and learn our lessons. On the other hand, the horrifying quality of loss is contained within the confines of the photograph and our TV or computer screens. Unless we are directly affected, the time and place are by now very remote, 1911. Such that while we only imagine and empathize with a grief and pain, we are detached and distanced from the actual event. After the initial shock, one possible response could be fatalist. We could assume that the event is extraordinary and it's just a matter of luck or chance for such outcomes to affect us in our lifetime. Perhaps in the end, preparedness would not matter. We either become paralyzed with inaction or we can instead focus on coping and finding our resilience in the face of hardship. We can choose to highlight smiling people, receiving reliefs, or finding strength in Bayanihan and volunteer work. Or in religiosity, a scene in a very poignant photo by Philippe Lopez of Agence France-Presse. Once documented, we move on to the daily business of living. Disasters are therefore seen as isolated, destructive, in uncontrollable episodes, even if we know they are naturally recurring, especially in the Philippines, where we are in constant state of habul-hininga, or gasping for breath, a means one disaster after another. In the face of inconsolable grief, the paga-habul-hang-hininga, or gasping for breath, oftentimes leads to huling-hininga, final breath. For long effects of disaster, leave us in a state of pag-hingingalo, a word used to describe someone caught in the final death throes. The framing of disaster as non-routine incidents renders it distinct from the everyday struggle of a great number of the population, who are often out of breath, kapus-hininga. The poor are the most vulnerable and the most exposed to hazards, and when they are visited by disaster after disaster, the helplessness and hopelessness they encounter in their daily lives are reinforced. Given the unequal distribution of wealth, where 20 richest Filipinos have a net worth equivalent to the combined income of the poorest Filipinos, those who are deprived of the most basic needs are left to hajive a sigh of frustration or bun-tung-hininga, as Maria Linn Versosa in one of her studies put it. Disasters recur so frequently that they have already become markers of time according to Cecilia de La Paz in her essay on disasters and Philippine festivals. For instance, Bukawa residents mark calendar years not according to a linear periodization, but according to the eruption of volcano in 1991, Lahar flow in 1992 onwards, and the sinking of the boat in a pagoda festival in 1993. From an ecomarxist position, social conditions that affect human life are paramount. Nature is harnessed as a primary resource for land use management, for production and so on. The degradation of these resources affects housing, education, availability of clean water, health among others. Unequal distribution of resources alongside with the growth of human population makes certain societies more vulnerable to disaster. Lack of proper waste disposal, helter-skelter urban planning beset with clogged drainage, for example, could quickly turn the chance occurrence of continuous rainfall into a major disaster such as what happened with Andoi. The stress on the apocalyptic, non-routine dimension of disasters overshadows these social realities and the endless cycle of vulnerability of disadvantaged overpopulated communities. The ecomarxist position argues that daily life is not a separate sphere. The issues arising from it are of important consequence to the onset and mitigation of disasters. Disasters hit us whenever and wherever we are. Framed by the apocalyptic and fatalist trope, it is assumed that the future is so uncertain that planning and preparation are bound to fail. So one must respond to a hazard event and hope for the best. On the other hand, the more rational and logical approach depends on the ability of humans as the determining center of reality in the era of modern capitalism. The focus is on knowing the seemingly unknowable. It is possible to study hazards as a natural phenomena with characteristics that are measurable, concrete, and observable, and that while we cannot control the eruption of volcanoes and the natural cycles of weather and shifting of tectonic plates, the disastrous effects of such hazards can be mitigated, prepared, and planned for. Hazards from eruptions of volcanoes, from floods and typhoons, from earthquakes, landslides, and fire, among others, need not necessarily turn into disasters. The unknowns can be known, the powerless can be empowered without knowledge, and that knowledge can form the basis for concrete and proactive solutions instead of reaction, inaction, and resignation. On the other hand, the faith in science and technology could come very close to what Greg Gerard explains as the cornucopian position, which posits the assumption that technological progress, the cornucopia of wealth, growth, and commodity production, within capitalism, can manage or even solve our environmental problems largely brought about by industries that are often environmentally damaging. Entrepreneurs and consumers can produce and prefer to use green technology, for example, such as electric vehicles, recyclable eco bags, energy saving appliances, compost pits, among others. In other words, capitalism can find the solutions to the damages it rots. The magnitude of environmental impact is then minimized, if not altogether elided. At the end of the day, the primary motivation is profit. The apocalyptic trope and the cornucopian positions may, at first glance, appear as opposite assumptions clustered around two extremes. One is grounded in a rational approach, and the other a resigned, fatalist response. Both share an anthropocentric view of the environment, which is considered of no inherent value and valued only in so much as it is of interest to human wealth and welfare. Nature is separate from the human realm. It exists out there in the external world. At times, it can be mindlessly and randomly be powerful, unpredictable, and destructive. At other times, it can be managed, known, and controlled. Swinging between extremes, depending on the situation, humans view the environment mechanistically. Nature and the rest of the non-human world is an inert, inanimate resource that can be exploited for human interests. The non-human world is not just a source of food, shelter, clothing, and other basic needs. It is also a source of emotional retreat, leisure, and aesthetic pleasures. We go to beaches and mountains and other places, left relatively unspoiled, pristine, or untouched by human intervention. At least that is the image. In concrete terms, in the age of capitalism, virtually nothing is left untouched. Resorts are carved out of landscapes. Hotels are built for our comfort as we go snorkeling, trekking, or bird-watching. We go to Tagaytay or Baguio to picnic, enjoy the view, with some of us opting to live there on a long-term or periodic basis. When we reach the peak of the mountain, we take a picture, as proof of having been there and conquering not just the landscape, but also ourselves and our weaknesses. Nature and its beauty becomes a photo op, a painting, a film, and a romantic song or dance in the pastoral or wilderness mode, where the former highlights the bucolic calm of the countryside as explored in an amor solo painting. The wilderness trope, on the other hand, finds solace in the primeval, at times terrifying and exotic beauty of the wild, a stable and changing heart of darkness in which lies the core of human existence, stripped of the veneer of civilization. We hear of Western artists like Rambol or Gogan, who got so burned out in the civilized Western world and left it in search of themselves in the wilds of Africa or Tahiti. Today, we call them expats, who settle in third-world countries like the Philippines to retire, build resorts, and or do humanitarian work. They find self-fulfillment in the other world of underdevelopment and poverty. We wish to protect, preserve and save such images and instances of wilderness, not for the environment's own sake, but for our own, so that at the end of the day, we can seek refuge in the space and recharge. The anthropocentric and mechanistic view of the environment is anchored on a hierarchical relationship between elements that make up an ecosystem. Ecology, as previously mentioned, is a branch of biology that studies the relations or organisms to one another and to their physical surroundings. It comes from the root word oikos, meaning home. In the anthropocentric view of the world, home is a place where humans occupy the top tier of the food chain. Other creatures exist for their survival. One might also notice from the illustration that the figure of the woman is similarly placed with other creatures, implying a patriarchal structure. The pastoral, apocalyptic and wilderness tropes could also partake of the system of domination this time along gender lines. In the language of patriarchy, there are certain terms associated with being female, nature, the earth and the land, which, as we have earlier discussed, are resources that sustain man's survival. We can detect the meaning system in the use of terms. Nature is always nurturing mother nature, which is according to the apocalyptic trope will be lost to us if we do not do something about it. In various images, woman is associated with a beautiful pastoral landscape and functions as a poster girl for the bucolic, as seen, for example, in Amor Sola's calmly bariolas dalagang filipina. As the Marxist critic John Berger famously and succinctly stated, men act, women appear. The woman is the object of the gaze. They look at themselves as objects of sight. Men are seen as active doers exemplified in the commercial from Marvel. The male figure in the ad appears at rest, but it is strongly implied that he may just be resting from doing his job on the land aided by the horse, both of which, wild land and wild animal, he tames and domesticates to his will. His post indicates that he will spring into action the moment he lights and smokes his cigarette. From the combined viewpoint of the ecomarxists and ecofeminists, the apocalyptic pastoral and wilderness tropes, along with a cornucopia position, efface the importance of gender, class and context in understanding the way we look at nature and by extension, the way we look at disasters. Ecomarxists and ecofeminists aim to focus not just on the damage to human life, to property and the way of life, but also on perception and practices in our everyday life that may affect the way we understand and act before, during and after disasters. The mechanistic and anthropocentric positions and tropes can also be described as instances of shallow ecology. Saving the earth is important for the sake of saving our skins. The strategies are often short-term, quick fixes, recycle, reuse, create substitutes, use technology creatively and sustainably. There is no accompanying overhaul in lifestyle and consciousness. On the other hand, deep ecology poses a change in paradigm. Home is not just a place where humans dwell, separate from the non-human world. Home includes that world, which is not an inert resource, but is alive with an agency or will of its own. Maurice Berman describes that connectedness as one of enchantment. Where rocks, trees, rivers and clouds were all seen millions of years ago, down to the eve of the scientific revolution. As I quote, wondrous, alive, and human beings felt at home in this environment, the cosmos in short was a place of belonging, unquote. Today, at least at the level of the mind, the story of the modern world is thought of progressive disenchantment. I quote, from the 16th century on, mind has been expunged from the natural world, unquote. For deep ecologists, the call is for a re-enchantment of the world, for reconnection with nature, which we will protect and save for its own sake. The process of re-enchantment is holistic, long-term, rooted in magic, beyond logic, beyond surface appearances. The relationship between humans and non-humans is egalitarian, not one based on hierarchy and domination. The self is one with instead of separate from the rest of creation. In the Philippines, this sense of interconnectedness beyond the self is concretely manifested in the practice of pakeipag kapwa, which roughly translates into treating your kapwa, fellow human beings, fellow beings, as equals. Kapwa cannot be framed or subsumed under the I slash they, self, others, I, non, I, binary's Western schema. As kapwa, one is not separated from the others, but rather the self, the one is inextricably part of others. Pakeipag kapwa translates into helping out or providing tulum, not as a matter of charity or simple volunteerism, as in giving back, for example. But should be seen as addressing a need, kailangan, and that is about the humane or makatao and proper or right thing to do. Karapat, dapat or dapat. For a person to retain and reclaim a sense of dignity, karangalan, pagkatao, amorpropio, and humanity, pagiging tao. Pantay-pantay na karapatan or equal rights are not just about addressing discrepancies in what is delivered and what is promised in terms of material and basic needs, but rather they are about not being scorned and treated as less than human, just because one lives in poverty or nagahabulhinigah. To be deprived of resources is equal to being deprived of the means, not just to survive or address basic needs, but to live decently and to be treated decently as equals. In deep ecological terms, our cop walk can include not just humans, but other creatures in an ecosystem where man does not have dominion over others as illustrated in this diagram. Deep ecology is exacting and requires a lot of time and effort. Consciousness and lifestyle overhauls do not happen overnight, especially since, as previously pointed out, positions and tropes are deeply ingrained into the unconscious. But perhaps we can find and learn from traces of deep ecological practices that have survived in traditional societies through time. Among the aitas of Pinatubo, land is life, not a commodity. It is a legacy handed down to them by Apanamaliari. To lose their land is to lose their lives and their claim to dignity and humanity. The essay by Cynthia Sias may prove instructing at the very least for understanding why the aitas were resistant about evacuating despite Pinatubo's then impending eruption. My essay on the Pasig River and a ritual in Batanes where I conducted a short field for a documentary is also an effort to understand how a community can preserve a watershed from a deep ecology position. Deep ecology also intersects in significant ways with eco-phenomenology, which draws on some of the principles outlined by Heideggerian philosophy. The first concept, that of intermodality, is anchored on the sharpening of our senses and being more attuned to your environment, which we take for granted as we go about our daily routines. The idea is to feel and experience danas, dama. The world around us is beyond the literal and beyond our usual ideas of what home is. Art, with its powerful resources, can open up the world and come alive, thus expanding our initial contexts, which becomes consequently molded by this constant exchange between the body and the environment. As we attune ourselves to the living, breathing world around us, we develop a heightened sense of being that makes us more active participants to even the most subtle, mundane moments of our everyday life. In the process, we are reminded that home is contiguous with the larger world. As the Robin Williams character in August Rush tells us, music and perhaps all the other arts is God's little reminder that there is something else besides us in the universe and there is harmonic connection between all living beings everywhere, even the stars. Continuous interaction with art can also have applicability to real-world situations. Our powers of observation and perception occasioned by looking at and analyzing art lead us to see events from different perspectives, a skill that does not begin and end in an esoteric plane of the fine arts but have applicability in dealing with real-world problems. Art and art-making are thus more than just expressions, reflections or representations of emotions, events or ideas, nor is it a finished product or object, a perspective that puts more emphasis on the outcome, artwork, instead of the process, work of art. The art as object paradigm sees the arts as a tool for producing an expected, often profitable outcome. As collection, for example, as object of display, as status symbol, et cetera. On the other hand, art is a process of poesis of bringing forth through creative revealing, responsiveness and interconnectedness or pakepagkakwa. Thus open many other forms and opportunities for thinking, acting and feeling outside the box. Poesis is about imaging and imagining other worlds, not to escape this one, but by making present and bursting open a broader range of experiences, interaction and realizations. It does not mean we ignore the overwhelming feeling of grief and pain or wish away the death and destruction resulting from disasters or pretend they did not happen. We acknowledge the feeling and the event and put it in perspective in a larger context, our bodies, other bodies and the world around us. When we open ourselves to the rhythm of the cosmos and the pulses of the larger life world, we're able to sink the beats of our heart and of our breaths with that larger world. In effect, we draw strength from the process of fully sensing and interacting with the material, spatial and temporal environment. Disasters are totalizing events. They result in injury, death, suffering and loss. However, they are not unidimensional and unified physical phenomena that can be understood by one discipline alone. My discussion is a contribution from the arts which highlights the social and cultural nature of disaster and the role of deeply ingrained and widely held beliefs about the environment. Several paradigm shifts have been forwarded but one of the most important is the shift in the concept of art from one of object artwork to process work of art and from one of fixed and prescriptive outcomes to one of openness to many possibilities within the noise and routines of the everyday. From such transformative and process well viewpoint, we may find a springboard for action for change.