Natural Hazards Center

Why remembering the Big Thompson Flood of 1976 matters today

Rachel Sauer — Wed, 29 Jul 2026 15:44:28 +0000

Why remembering the Big Thompson Flood of 1976 matters today Rachel Sauer Wed, 07/29/2026 - 09:44

A cabin lodged on a private bridge just below Drake, Colorado, following the Big Thompson Flood in 1976. (Photo: W.R. Hansen/U.S. Geological Survey)

Bradley Worrell

��Ҵ�ý�ƽ�� Natural Hazards Center Director Lori Peek says there are still lessons to be learned from the devastating flash flood, 50 years later

Fifty years ago this week, a beautiful summer evening in Colorado ended in catastrophe.

On the night of July 31, 1976, a powerful thunderstorm stalled over the Big Thompson Canyon west of Loveland, unleashing a torrential rainfall in a matter of hours. The resulting flash flood killed 144 people and became the single deadliest disaster in the state’s history.

For Lori Peek, professor of sociology and director of the Natural Hazards Center at the University of Colorado Boulder, the flood’s most important legacy may be the lessons that emerged from it—and the realization that those lessons still require attention today.

Lori Peek is a ��Ҵ�ý�ƽ�� professor of sociology and director of the Natural Hazards Center.

“Anniversary events like this one are so important because they serve as moments for communities to come together and reflect upon what was lost, what we’ve learned and what we still need to do to become more resilient in the future,” she says.

A perfect storm of human, environmental and built factors

While the Big Thompson Flood is often remembered for its meteorological extremes, Peek says that disasters are never caused by nature alone.

“One of the things we say in this field of study is that there are natural hazards, but there’s no such thing as a natural disaster,” she says. “Every disaster has a human component.

“There are, of course, natural hazards—floods, fires and tornadoes—but what turns them into disasters is the collision between vulnerable built environments, vulnerable human systems and the natural environment. That’s what creates a disaster.”

In the case of the historic Colorado flood, Peek says several factors converged to maximize the damage. These included:

Storm stalled: Rather than moving through an area as storms tend to do, the storm that evening stalled over the canyon, dumping more than 12 inches of water in just over four hours. “It was almost like pouring water into a bowl,” Peek says.
Rapid water rise: The floodwaters rose with astonishing speed, leaving many people trapped in cabins, automobiles or low-lying areas before they understood the danger.
Geography: The canyon’s steep walls funneled water into a narrow corridor, placing people in homes, hotels, campgrounds and vehicles along the river in harm’s way. “The topography played a major role,” Peek acknowledges.
Nightfall: The storm struck after dark, when many people were sleeping. Also, of those who were awake, some could not see or sense the danger.
Cars: Many victims were in cars—either trying to flee the storm or parked near the river. “The people with the highest risk of dying were those who remained in their vehicles,” Peek says.
Timing: The storm struck during the final holiday weekend of the summer, when the canyon was crowded with campers and visiting tourists, as well as a mix of full-time and part-time residents. In total, it is estimated that about 2,500 people were in the canyon at the time.

“There’s also the human dimension—whether people understood the risk, knew what to do, could physically take action and could get to safety,” Peek says. “That complicated mix is what led to so many deaths.”

A cabin lodged on a private bridge just below Drake, Colorado, following the Big Thompson Flood in 1976. (Photo: W.R. Hansen/U.S. Geological Survey)

She adds that research conducted soon after the flood found that survival often depended upon a simple but critical decision: getting out and moving uphill.

“What the research on who survived and why—and who died and why—showed was that the key to survival was getting out … and literally climbing to safety,” she says.

She says that finding is one of the flood’s most enduring lessons.

A (new) sign of the times in 1977

Today, anyone who travels through Colorado canyons is likely familiar with the bright yellow signs depicting a person climbing uphill.

Peek says those signs endure because they communicate something essential: Survival depends upon taking immediate action.

Today, anyone who travels through Colorado canyons is likely familiar with the bright yellow signs depicting a person climbing uphill. (Photo: Brad Turner/KUNC)

“If you’re going to communicate risk effectively, the message has to be actionable,” she explains. “That’s why, even 50 years later, the signage remains so powerful. It tells people exactly what to do in the face of an imminent threat to life safety.”

Peek notes those climb-to-safety signs were the result of an August 1977 working paper by ��Ҵ�ý�ƽ�� researcher Eve C. Grunfest, who interviewed dozens of flood survivors, first responders, emergency management professionals and others to learn what worked and what needed to be improved following the Big Thompson Flood. Grunfest studied under Gilbert F. White, a ��Ҵ�ý�ƽ�� professor of geography who Peek says is widely considered the father of floodplain management and who founded the Natural Hazards Center in 1976.

The Natural Hazards Center was not established because of the Big Thompson Flood, as White was already in the process of founding the organization in 1975. However, Peek says the flood demonstrated why such an academic research center, dedicated to translating and sharing findings, was needed.

“The Natural Hazards Center was established because, at the time, a lot of research wasn’t making it into the hands of practitioners and policymakers,” says Peek, who was a graduate research assistant at the center from 1999 to 2005. She returned to ��Ҵ�ý�ƽ�� in 2017 to serve as the center’s director. “The Natural Hazards Center was established to nurture the hazards and disaster research community and share information with those concerned with reducing disaster risk. That’s the work that federal agencies like the National Science Foundation support us to do, because the evidence shows that actions we take before disaster can save lives and prevent unnecessary harm and suffering.”

Comparing the floods of 1976 and 2013

In many ways, Colorado today is better prepared for flooding than it was in 1976, Peek says.

At the time of the 1976 disaster, emergency managers lacked many of the tools that are the norm today. Then, there were no cellphone alerts, no modern emergency notification systems, no social media networks and few of the sophisticated weather forecasting capabilities available today.

Peek says that weather forecasting has become more precise, at-risk communities have installed warning sirens and emergency communication systems can distribute alerts through many channels and in many different languages to serve diverse groups.

In the Big Thompson Canyon, some vulnerable structures destroyed in the 1976 flood were never rebuilt in the same locations.

“Portions of the built environment have been moved out of the highest-risk floodways and floodplains,” Peek says. “Some of the streamside motels, cabins and other structures that were destroyed in the flood were not rebuilt in those same vulnerable locations.”

When the Big Thompson River flooded again in 2013, Peek says it demonstrated both the value of those improvements and the continuing reality of flooding danger. While the 2013 flood caused massive damage and resulted in at least eight deaths, Peek says she believes losses would have been even worse without decades of investment in warning systems and flood mitigation.

Why some lessons go unlearned

Despite the progress made since 1976, recent disasters show that communities do not always implement best-practice safety measures. Peek points to the 2025 Camp Mystic tragedy in Texas, where children were swept away in a flash flood.

“They didn’t have an emergency action plan. They didn’t have sirens. They didn’t have timely cell phone alerts. They hadn’t moved structures in the floodplain out of harm’s way,” Peek notes.

Why do these failures persist?

Peek offers several reasons. While disasters can create “policy windows” for lawmakers and regulators to act, those windows close more quickly today due to short public attention spans, and consensus is harder to build in today’s age of political polarization, she notes. Additionally, even when guidance exists, people may not know where to begin or may be overwhelmed, she adds.

Still, Peek sees some reasons for optimism. New guidance documents from the Association of State Floodplain Managers provide step-by-step instructions for camps and RV parks to create emergency action plans and offer model ordinance language for lawmakers.

“That’s a good example of how progress happens,” she says. “Such guidance can help spur action.”

A state that has changed—and largely forgotten the storm

Meanwhile, back in Colorado, Peek says one of the bigger challenges in commemorating the anniversary of the Big Thompson Flood is that most Colorado residents—and nearly all of its visitors—have no memory of it.

“Fifty years is a long time,” she notes. “Most visitors would have no reason to know anything about the Big Thompson Flood unless they are particularly interested in disaster history.”

The Big Thompson Flood remains the deadliest disaster in Colorado’s history. By learning what happened, how lives could have been saved then and how lives can still be saved today, we have an opportunity to build a more resilient state.”

Even among residents, Colorado today is a relatively young state demographically. Many people weren’t alive when the flood occurred, and many didn’t attend school here. As a result, public awareness of flood risk remains low, Peek says.

“People are often surprised to learn that Boulder is one of the state’s communities most at risk to flash flooding,” she says.

At the same time, Colorado itself has changed dramatically since 1976. The state’s population has swelled from 2.6 million then to more than 6 million today. More people are hiking, camping and driving through canyons than ever, oblivious to the dangers that flash floods pose. And while technology has improved, many of those areas are still without reliable cell service, Peek notes. She adds that floods can strike with little warning.

Could a disaster like the 1976 Big Thompson Flood could happen today?

Peek’s answer is an unequivocal yes. That’s why physical signage, emergency planning measures, public education and land-use planning all remain essential—especially in a warming climate, she says.

“Risk isn’t static,” she says. “As we experience more extreme rainfall events, places that once weren’t considered high risk, or weren’t mapped as flood hazards, may now be vulnerable.”

Peek says it’s also why remembering anniversaries like the 1976 Big Thompson Flood still matters today.

“It’s so important to know our history,” she says. “The Big Thompson Flood remains the deadliest disaster in Colorado’s history. By learning what happened, how lives could have been saved then and how lives can still be saved today, we have an opportunity to build a more resilient state.”

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��Ҵ�ý�ƽ�� Natural Hazards Center Director Lori Peek says there are still lessons to be learned from the devastating flash flood, 50 years later.

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Top photo: Damage caused by the 1976 Big Thompson Flood (Photo: Maurice L. Albertson/Maurice L. Albertson Papers at Colorado State University)

Sometimes ‘building back better’ doesn’t include everyone

Rachel Sauer — Mon, 22 Sep 2025 23:14:40 +0000

Sometimes ‘building back better’ doesn’t include everyone Rachel Sauer Mon, 09/22/2025 - 17:14

Structures and infrastructure in Jamestown, Colorado, were significantly damaged by 2013 floods (Photo: Steve Zumwalt/FEMA)

Cody DeBos

��Ҵ�ý�ƽ�� researcher Mary Angelica Painter finds that in post-disaster recovery, equity isn’t guaranteed

In the mountains of Colorado outside Boulder, a tight-knit community once made up of mobile homes and modest living has all but disappeared. Now, visitors will find the hills dominated by sprawling new homes and residents of a different tax bracket.

“We were driving through, and it was all these multi-million-dollar homes. A lot of talk about this community having more dogs than people,” Mary Angelica Painter recalls after a recent trip to the town. “It’s a very wealthy, affluent community.”

Painter, a research associate at the University of Colorado Boulder’s Natural Hazards Center, knows the history of this town from the work of scholars in the hazards and disaster field. It was a place where lower-income, often elderly residents leaned on each other for care and social support. But after a devastating flood in 2013, everything changed.

Mary Angelica Painter, a research associate in the ��Ҵ�ý�ƽ�� Natural Hazards Center, co-authored a paper defining “hazard gentrification” as the process that unfolds when natural hazards destroy a large portion of a community and residents are displaced by wealthier newcomers during recovery and rebuilding.

“After this event, most of the residents were dispersed and displaced. We saw one area where there was supposedly low-income housing, and we were told rent was ‘only’ $1,800 a month. I was like, ‘Wow.’ I had no other term to define it than hazard gentrification,” Painter says.

It’s a familiar pattern she has seen while studying natural hazards and the subsequent recovery efforts of the affected communities.

In an effort to better describe the trend, she recently co-authored a paper defining “hazard gentrification” as the process that unfolds when natural hazards destroy a large portion of a community and residents are displaced by wealthier newcomers during recovery and rebuilding.

Unlike slower-moving forms of gentrification, such as those related to climate change, Painter says hazard gentrification is more rapid and has devastating repercussions.

Defining a new kind of gentrification

The term coined by Painter and her co-authors builds on years of disaster capitalism research—the idea that public and private entities exploit disasters to consolidate power and wealth.

“We often hear the term ‘build back better,’ which leads to the question of ‘build back better for whom?’” she says.

Sustainability gentrification, a similar but unique concept, has been coined recently as well. However, those takeovers tend to happen gradually.

“Hazard gentrification is much faster than other forms of sustainability gentrification,” Painter explains, “so that’s why we really felt the urge to write this short paper and punctuate this specific type of gentrification.”

She also warns that it isn’t a theoretical concern. From New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina to the aftermath of wildfires in Lahaina, Hawaii, the pattern has played out repeatedly.

“We needed to name this phenomenon as its own thing so we can start identifying solutions,” Painter says.

The forces at play

So, what turns a disaster into a reality-altering event for a local community? Painter says the answer is political as much as environmental.

“Disasters stem from social, economic and political choices that leave people in devastation. So, in my mind, disasters are very political.”

After a natural hazard hits, local governments often face pressure to restore services quickly and begin the rebuilding efforts. Much of that push comes from the loudest and most affluent voices in the community.

Structures and infrastructure in Jamestown, Colorado, were significantly damaged by 2013 floods (Photo: Steve Zumwalt/FEMA)

“There is a huge push to build back faster,” Painter says, “and because of that, there are fewer opportunities to involve local community members in the process of making decisions of how it happens.”

When participation is limited, she points out, redevelopment favors those with more money, time and connections. The dynamic also benefits outside investors and developers who are eager to move in where disaster presents an opportunity.

Who gets left behind

For many long-time, even lifelong, residents, rebuilding after a hazard hits simply isn’t an option.

“These populations that are more socially vulnerable tend to either be underinsured or not insured at all against hazards and disasters. They might be living paycheck to paycheck and don’t have the extra income or time to find secondary housing,” Painter says.

“We actually know from research that white affluent people post natural hazard are actually better off after the disaster. They are able to get large insurance payouts, and if their house needs to be rebuilt or refurbished, the value can go up and they can sell it for a profit,” she adds.

Those benefits aren’t present for people who live in mobile homes or manufactured housing, let alone renters. Painter explains that rental assistance is often insubstantial, and renters do not receive the same high priority as homeowners.

The loss of social safety nets, both formal and informal, compounds the trauma for local residents who rely on them.

“They lose their networks of support. There are just so many factors that come together that make it slower or impossible for them to recover,” Painter says.

As a result, many residents find themselves priced out of the place they called home and are left to watch as the area is redeveloped without them.

How some communities push back

Despite the powerful forces at work, hazard gentrification isn’t inevitable. Painter points to a few examples, including Joplin, Missouri; Coffey Park in California; and Seattle’s Duwamish Valley. Here, early and meaningful community engagement helped limit displacement after natural hazards wreaked devastation.

People evacuate West Glenwood Springs, Colorado, in the face of spreading wildfires in 2002. (Photo: Bryan Dahlberg/FEMA)

She notes that Joplin’s story, one close to home, is especially striking. After an EF5 tornado nearly leveled the town in 2011, local leaders mobilized quickly.

“They really self-organized effectively. They were very engaging with the community in the rebuilding process and prioritized not leaving anyone behind,” Painter says.

“Not every community is able to do that in that way, but it was something that really jumpstarted their recovery into a positive life.”

Painter notes that these engagement efforts helped preserve community bonds and gave residents a sense of ownership over the recovery.

“There seems to be much more cohesion and democratization when it comes to rebuilding like that,” she says. “The idea is that you need to bring communities together and let them share their voices. It’s so important.”

What needs to change

The question going forward, Painter posits, is whether policymakers will make bold choices to prevent displacement before the next hazard strikes.

“You can’t be prioritizing the stuff you’ve been prioritizing. If in the past it was something like economic development at the harm of lower-income and marginalized residents, that can’t be the way you go forward,” she says.

In other words, more equitable recovery efforts must start with a cultural shift in how communities allocate resources. New policies promoting rent control, expanded insurance and better disaster assistance for renters can all help lower the burden in the wake of a hazard.

“People need to understand the idea of sacrifice for their neighbors,” she says.

��Ҵ�ý�ƽ�� Natural Hazards Center is working to bridge the gap between research and real-world solutions.

“We aren’t just a research apparatus,” Painter says. “We’re also a connecting body. It’s important that we as researchers connect with policymakers and decision makers and are solution oriented.”

As climate change fuels more frequent and intense natural events, hazard gentrification will become more common. Naming the problem is just a first step, but also a necessary one. From there, Painter hopes society collectively adopts an action mindset.

“We need to find ways to be equitable and to provide for and support our communities, and to have plans for if there’s devastation, too. Academics are really good at identifying problems. However, we need to focus on how we actually solve these problems and how we can use our positions to vocalize and advocate for those solutions.”

Justin Stoler, Ethan Sharygin and Sameer Shah also contributed to this paper.

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��Ҵ�ý�ƽ�� researcher Mary Angelica Painter finds that in post-disaster recovery, equity isn’t guaranteed.

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Top image: Lahaina, Hawaii, was devastated by August 2023 wildfires. (Photo: State Farm/Wikimedia Commons)

Rebuilding lives after the headlines fade

Rachel Sauer — Wed, 08 Jan 2025 20:03:03 +0000

Rebuilding lives after the headlines fade Rachel Sauer Wed, 01/08/2025 - 13:03

��Ҵ�ý�ƽ�� researcher Lori Peek (center) with participants in the Gulf Coast-based youth empowerment program called SHOREline, which she co-created and that was designed to make fundamental changes in the lives of youth and their communities, including reducing inequality before and after natural disasters.

Cody DeBos

��Ҵ�ý�ƽ�� researcher Lori Peek emphasizes that the impact of natural disasters can be multiplicative

Six-year-old Samantha’s new ballet slippers, ready for her first dance class, sat untouched as Hurricane Katrina tore through New Orleans in 2005. Five years later, another disaster—the Deepwater Horizon oil spill—compounded her family’s challenges.

“Losing everything and having to start over, that has happened to me so many times, it just feels like I lost my childhood,” she reflected when talking with Lori Peek, University of Colorado Boulder Department of Sociology professor.

Stories like Samantha’s illuminate a deeper truth: The harm caused by disasters doesn’t fade when the news cycle moves on. Hers is one of many stories Peek has heard while conducting research for more than a decade in the Gulf Coast region.

Peek, who also serves as director of ��Ҵ�ý�ƽ�� Natural Hazards Center, has dedicated her career to understanding how disasters shape the lives of children and families.

Out of the spotlight, families across the country are fighting against systemic challenges, emotional tolls and inadequate support to get their lives back on track. Peek’s research focuses not just on immediate devastation, but also on the long road to recovery that so many disaster survivors must travel.

The compounding effects of disaster

Most natural hazards leave visible scars when they sweep across a landscape—flooded homes, shattered schools and shuttered businesses. Peek’s ethnographic approach reveals the experiences of people and the hidden struggles they face while navigating the aftermath of major disasters.

Her long-term, collaborative research along the Gulf Coast, recently highlighted in a Journal of Child and Family Studies article titled “Adverse Effects of the Deepwater Horizon Oil Spill Amid Cumulative Disasters: A Qualitative Analysis of the Experiences of Children and Families,” underscores how compounded disasters can upend entire communities for decades.

“One disaster can obviously wreak havoc on a young person’s life,” Peek explains. “But now we are living in an age of extremes, where families and communities may be affected by multiple disasters in a relatively short period.

“The impact of these events isn’t additive—it’s multiplicative.”

Peek’s longitudinal study of Gulf Coast children illustrated this phenomenon. After Hurricane Katrina, countless families were just beginning to rebuild their lives when the Deepwater Horizon spill once again devastated local economies and ecosystems.

Children like Samantha, Peek notes, are particularly vulnerable in such contexts. They absorb not only the immediate chaos of a disaster but also the long-term stress of financial insecurity, familial upheaval, displacement and disrupted support systems.

Peek and her co-authors use the term “toxic stress” to describe this chronic strain. Its effects can lead to serious health and developmental challenges that persist for years—or a lifetime.

Lori Peek, a ��Ҵ�ý�ƽ�� professor of sociology and director of the Natural Hazards Center, conducts fieldwork with a child after Hurricane Katrina; the child was later affected by the BP Deepwater Horizon oil spill as well.

Samantha’s story isn’t isolated. Rather, it’s one of many narratives underscoring the profound sense of loss that lingers long after the immediate crisis concludes.

Peek believes these stories must be heard and addressed if communities and families are to build resilience against future disasters.

“Until relatively recently, the recovery phase of disaster was the most understudied,” she says. “That started to change after Katrina. But now we are in a new era, where disasters are becoming more severe and intense, and communities are being hit more often.”

This not only makes studying disasters more complicated, but it also can lead to recovery resources being averted just when they are needed most, she adds.

The role of support systems

Peek’s research emphasizes that recovering from a disaster cannot be an individual journey. Robust support systems are necessary.

“For children to recover from disasters, they need support from their family members, peers, teachers and broader community. Strong institutions—such as stable housing, quality health care and safe schools—are equally crucial,” she says.

Yet many children lack these foundational supports even before disaster strikes, Peek notes. When a catastrophe does occur, it magnifies pre-existing inequalities, and vulnerable families often find themselves in even more precarious situations.

On the bright side, Peek says, “disasters can be catalysts for change. But only if recovery funding is targeted toward the people and places that need it most.”

A call to action

Peek’s findings highlight the imperative to ensure that recovery efforts reduce inequalities both before and after disasters occur. She co-created a Gulf Coast-based youth empowerment program called SHOREline that was designed to make such fundamental changes in the lives of youth and their communities.

By bringing together policymakers, educators and community leaders, Peek aims to create frameworks that protect communities before the next disaster strikes.

She also emphasizes the importance of not just studying disaster recovery but acting before communities are devastated by the next hurricane, flood or wildfire. To achieve this, Peek advocates for policies that prioritize equity and resilience, emphasizing the need for long-term planning and cross-sector collaboration.

"One disaster can obviously wreak havoc on a young person’s life. But now we are living in an age of extremes, where families and communities may be affected by multiple disasters in a relatively short period."

“Recovery frameworks are still designed as if a single disaster is affecting a place, and as if recovery is occurring in a neat, stepwise fashion. That’s simply not the reality.”

Through her work, Peek hopes to reshape how communities and policymakers approach disaster recovery. As Samantha’s story reminds us, disasters leave marks that linger far beyond the headlines. The disruption of her childhood dreams reveals a profound need for systems that protect society’s most vulnerable.

With the right support, Peek notes, children like Samantha can regain their footing and even thrive in the aftermath of disaster.

Peek’s vision for the future—one where no child’s dreams are washed away by hurricanes or tarnished by oil spills— enters on resilient communities safeguarded by robust support systems and programs that address systemic issues rooted in poverty and racial inequality.

“If we can use the small windows for change opened by disasters to make progress in reducing—rather than exacerbating—inequality and suffering, that would be a real win for current and future generations.”

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��Ҵ�ý�ƽ�� researcher Lori Peek emphasizes that the impact of natural disasters can be multiplicative.

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Top image: Lori Peek with participants in the SHOREline program

Researchers aim to see which COVID-19 policies worked

Anonymous — Thu, 26 Aug 2021 19:51:31 +0000

Researchers aim to see which COVID-19 policies worked Anonymous (not verified) Thu, 08/26/2021 - 13:51

Nicolette Edwards

Researchers from around the globe are studying the challenges and successes of social distancing policies

Since COVID-19’s discovery in Wuhan, China in Jan. 2020, one of the greatest challenges of managing its spread has been the patchwork-policy approach around the world—from complete shutdown of borders like New Zealand’s to the initial attempt at “herd immunity” in Sweden.

Researchers from the University of Colorado Boulder, as part of a collaboration led by Elizabeth Alvarez of McMaster University, though, hope to provide clarity about what policies actually worked.

The effort, COVID-19 Policies & Epidemiology Research Project, is a comparative analysis of the challenges and successes of mitigating COVID-19, looking at the effectiveness of social distancing policies and their epidemiological outcomes from country to country.

At the top of the page: Digital map of COVID-19 spikes around the world. Image by Martin Sanchez on Unsplash. Above: Magnified view of England and Ireland, used for the England case report. Image provided by COVID-19 Policies & Epidemiology Research Project.

“What will social distancing and masking do in a range of countries across the globe to stem the tide of COVID?” asks Donna Goldstein, a ��Ҵ�ý�ƽ�� anthropology professor and one of the project’s researchers.

“What I really continued to believe in about this project and what I love about it is, it really has at its core this comparative depth that can really show you what worked and what didn’t work where and what things fell apart.”

On a Zoom call in April 2020, Alvarez, an assistant professor in the department of health and research methods, evidence and impact at McMaster University, presented the project to Goldstein and other researchers on the CONVERGE (National Science Foundation initiative housed at the ��Ҵ�ý�ƽ�� Natural Hazards Center) collaborators Zoom call with the project’s leading question: What public physical distancing policies were implemented to combat SARS-CoV-2 and how did they influence the epidemiology of SARS-CoV-2?

From there, some of the researchers, including Goldstein, decided to get involved.

The Canadian-based project brought together researchers from around the world to explore this multi-dimensional question through a series of individual country reports. Each researcher was assigned to one or more countries to gather qualitative and quantitative data that highlighted five relevant categories that would give a partial story of how a country might respond—geographic, environmental, social, economic, demographic and health—along with the relevant COVID-19 policies, dating from when the WHO announced a Public Health Emergency to Aug. 30, 2020.

What I really continued to believe in about this project and what I love about it is, it really has at its core this comparative depth that can really show you what worked and what didn’t work where and what things fell apart."

“This project felt very important, not only for the topics we were addressing but also in how we were addressing them,” Anna Wynfield, a doctoral student in anthropology, said. “Bringing together researchers from fields including anthropology, public health, medicine, and other disciplines has allowed us to approach questions of policy guidance, implementation, and epidemiological outcomes in unique and collaborative ways.”

Goldstein has carried out long-term anthropological research in Brazil, so she conducted interviews with policymakers and public health officials there to gain a better sense of what happened in the country relative to the COVID-19 response during the timeframe. Wynfield, on the other hand, explored Ireland’s pandemic response.

“For Ireland, and in many jurisdictions around the world, having a cohesive and coordinated plan has been critical to mitigation,” Wynfield said. “Island countries like New Zealand have had certain geographic advantages in dealing with the pandemic. In Ireland, however, this was complicated by the fact that Ireland shares a border with Northern Ireland and policies differed between them.”

The researchers hope that the thorough analysis of each country’s characteristics will help answer the main research question while also looking critically at political leadership, public adherence and the overall effectiveness of COVID-19 policies.

Donna Goldstein is a professor of Anthropology at CU and is reviewing Brazil in the research project.

“We really try to understand what worked and what didn’t work globally—and why—in different places,” Goldstein said. “We can now—having all this data about the difference in policies—weigh and compare the policy rollout and effectiveness across all these different domains.”

To date, there are five published case reports: Ireland, Ontario, Sri Lanka, England and Singapore. More reports will follow in the coming months, including Goldstein’s report on Brazil. Throughout each country's analysis, however, the researchers found that successful COVID-19 mitigation starts with clear, cohesive messaging, public trust in leadership and financial aid to populations experiencing income loss.

“It has been important to assess not only how decisions were made and communicated, but also how the public has adopted, or challenged, these measures,” Wynfield said. “To understand these dynamics, we looked holistically at how policy implementation has been supported in different places through economic support, trust in government, historical frameworks, health care infrastructure, centralized decision-making, and cohesive messaging.”

Which is something that Brazil did not do well, Goldstein said.

“A lot of public health people really pointed at Jair Bolsonaro, current president of Brazil just like many people here would point at Trump as being the most critical, problematic aspect, politicizing a virus and confusing the messaging on what to do in the pandemic,” Goldstein said.

While the initial data collection period has ended, the research continues as COVID-19 mutates and changes, and vaccines are distributed.

“There’s so much complexity to what happened and what’s still happening. … The project’s a huge feat, but I think the bigger takeaway is that doing these global-scale projects while keeping an eye on all the local nuances that have occurred is difficult but worthwhile,” Goldstein said, adding:

“It’s a form of scientific research as well as an art form to have all of these conversations globally and locally with a range of people simultaneously, and then to write about what we have learned and how to move forward.”

Researchers from around the globe are studying the challenges and successes of social distancing policies.

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Prof seeks avalanche of ideas to help prevent disaster

Anonymous — Mon, 14 Dec 2020 21:21:39 +0000

Prof seeks avalanche of ideas to help prevent disaster Anonymous (not verified) Mon, 12/14/2020 - 14:21

Clay Bonnyman Evans

��Ҵ�ý�ƽ�� Natural Hazards Center calls for 1,000 letters to inform Biden transition team on how to respond to hazards, disasters

The transition team for the incoming presidential administration of Joseph R. Biden recently sent an email to institutions around the nation, seeking input and names of experts in four key priority areas—the COVID-19 pandemic, economic recovery, racial equity and climate change.

“So many names came to my mind in all four areas,” said Lori Peek, professor of sociology and director of the Natural Hazards Center in the Institute of Behavioral Science at the University of Colorado Boulder. The priorities “really cross-cut the work that people in the hazards and disaster field do.”

At the top of the page: Fires in Pine Gulch and Eldorado Canyon have filled the air in Boulder, lending sunsets and sunrises with an eerie color. Taken August 27, 2020. Photo by Jeff Mitton.
Above: Lori Peek

The Natural Hazards Center is a National Science Foundation-designated information clearinghouse for the societal dimensions of hazards and disasters. Founded in 1976 by the late Professor of Geography Gilbert F. White, the center is dedicated to reducing disaster harm through sharing information, connecting researchers, producing novel research and training, and mentoring the next generation of professionals.

Recognizing how many ideas are out there, Peek conceived the One Thousand Letters Project, inviting the people in the ��Ҵ�ý�ƽ�� community and far beyond to compose 500-word letters to the transition team, to “share your vision for how we can work together to ultimately reduce the enormous harm and suffering caused by disasters, while identifying practical steps that will help move the vision forward.”

“I just want to share the expertise that I know exists here at ��Ҵ�ý�ƽ��, but also across the nation,” Peek said. “During this time of transition, it just seemed like our scientific and civic duty.”

Anyone interested in submitting a letter, including students, should send it to 1000Letters@colorado.edu by no later than Tuesday, Dec. 15. The team at the center will read and compile letters and submit to the Biden transition team. Anonymous letters will be accepted, and authors will not be identified without permission, Peek said in her call for contributions.

She’s heard through the grapevine of larger institutions that the transition team is serious about soliciting information from a wide range of sources, even if they won’t necessarily read each and every letter.

“They are just processing so much information, getting ready to take over the administration of a massive federal infrastructure. I know the likelihood of them sitting down over the next 60 days and reading them all isn’t high,” Peek said with a laugh.

“But I am synthesizing all that we are receiving into a high-level memo for the transition team, and the letters are important symbolically. A thousand voices don’t even begin to capture the size of the natural hazards and disaster research and management community.”

The Natural Hazards Center has been extremely busy over the past year, not just with its response to COVID-19, but also several destructive hurricanes and a ferocious wildfire season.

It is going to take all of our science and best practices to turn the tide of rising hazards losses."

The center’s CONVERGE facility put out a special call for grant proposals for COVID-19-related research in the spring, providing $1,000 grants to 90 working groups encompassing some 1,200 people in social and behavioral sciences around the world. Peek says the center expects to announce the names of grantees from a second round of associated COVID-19 funding before the end of the year.

Peek experienced disaster up close and personally herself when she and her husband had to evacuate their home when the Cal-Wood Fire raged out of control Oct. 17, eventually destroying some 26 homes and more than 10,000 acres in the foothills and mountains northwest of Boulder. She wrote about her experience in a recent article, imploring others to prepare for the worst.

“I’m looking out my window right now at the burn scar from the fire,” Peek says during a phone interview.

The recent brush with disaster has only deepened her sense of urgency to act in the face of widespread disaster losses.

“It is going to take all of our science and best practices to turn the tide of rising hazards losses,” she wrote in her call for letters. “May we listen to and learn from one another and act together as we imagine new possibilities for a just and sustainable future.”

��Ҵ�ý�ƽ�� Natural Hazards Center calls for 1,000 letters to inform Biden transition team on how to respond to hazards, disasters.

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��Ҵ�ý�ƽ�� experts discuss disaster preparedness

Anonymous — Wed, 13 Sep 2017 22:23:25 +0000

��Ҵ�ý�ƽ�� experts discuss disaster preparedness Anonymous (not verified) Wed, 09/13/2017 - 16:23

Disaster preparedness is the focus of the next Social Sciences Today Forum at the University of Colorado Boulder.

The event, titled “Disasters: Can We Be Prepared?” features three experts and is scheduled for Tuesday, Sept. 26, at noon in Old Main Chapel on the ��Ҵ�ý�ƽ�� campus. Each faculty member will speak for about 15 minutes and then answer questions. The panelists are:

Nicholas Flores, Department of Economics
Emmanuel David, Department of Women and Gender Studies
Lori Peek, Natural Hazards Center and Department of Sociology

Peek will discuss the complexity of preparing at different levels—ranging from the individual to the societal. She will also emphasize the importance of preparedness for the most vulnerable members of our communities. Flores will discuss the principles and challenges of using insurance to manage catastrophic risk. David will address gender inequalities at various stages of disaster.

The event is free and open to the public and is sponsored by the Center to Advance the Research and Teaching in the Social Sciences (CARTSS) and the College of Arts and Sciences.

The Social Sciences Today Forum, a series during the school year, is designed to help the public gain broader perspectives and deeper understanding of human society and how individuals relate to the community and one another. This forum brings the knowledge and expertise of social-sciences faculty to the greater community and allows the community to ask questions of leading scholars.

Disaster preparedness is the focus of the next Social Sciences Today Forum at CUBoulder. The event, titled “Disasters: Can We Be Prepared?” features three experts and is scheduled for Sept. 26, at noon in Old Main Chapel.

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��Ҵ�ý�ƽ�� Natural Hazards Center calls for 1,000 letters to inform Biden transition team on how to respond to hazards, disasters

��Ҵ�ý�ƽ�� experts discuss disaster preparedness