Lessons under the volcano
Tourists need to be aware that often they take their lives into their own hands
THE recent eruption on New Zealand’s White Island has left 18 people presumed dead, 26 hospitalised, and the rest of us wondering how tourists ended up on the ledge of an active volcano.
We ask the same question after every such accident: How could ordinary holidaymakers find themselves in such peril?
My wife and I faced this question 11 years ago, when a rafting trip on the Green River, on the border between Utah and Colorado, ended in mayhem at a place aptly named Disaster Falls.
Several tourists capsized on those rapids, and one drowned. That was our son Owen, 8 years old.
I expect that, like us, survivors of White Island will question the string of decisions that led them to book this trip. Some will probably blame themselves for this tragic outcome. I certainly did.
All of us are responsible for our own decisions. Still, a decade later, it’s clear to me that we make these decisions within a specific economy of risk.
The language and images that surround such trips promise controlled harmless thrill. In reality, tour companies often leave us to determine on the spot how much danger we – and our children – should tolerate. First, risk is denied.
Early reports suggest that the White Island travellers had been promised they would get close enough “to the drama” to take photos of the volcano’s
“vivid hues of yellow and orange”.
The trip we booked had likewise been advertised as a “family vacation for kids 7 years and up”. Riding the Green in an inflated, two-person “ducky” boat would, the brochure promised, provide a sense of what it was like to be a river otter. Second, risk is minimised. According to the New Zealand Herald, the White Island volcano had recently been rated Level 2, indicating “moderate to heightened volcanic unrest”. While I cannot know what those tourists were told, I can still hear our guides assuring us that my son and I, inexperienced though we were, could run the Class III rapids of Disaster Falls in a ducky.
Because the flow of the current and the sound of the water made the rapids seem formidable, I asked two guides, separately, whether we would be safe. Both told me it would be fine.
As they approached the crater, did some New Zealand travellers question the judgement of their guides? Did they revisit their own decision to book this trip? Did they ask to return to the boat?
Making decisions in such a situation is extraordinarily difficult. One is outside one’s element, dependent on guides who, one has to assume, know better. How does one find the confidence to question their expertise? To interrupt an exhilarating group experience that is presented as not only permissible, but perfectly normal?
The investigation will determine exactly what happened on White Island. On the Green, the director of the rafting company acknowledged after my wife and I filed a civil suit alleging negligent and unnecessary death, that “the risk of a novice falling out of an inflatable kayak in a Class 3” is in “the 25 to 35% category”.
These rapids posed a “risk of death”, he said in his deposition. That was not in the brochure.
There was no need to share this information, the director explained because the risk would be “very clear”. (The suit was settled out of court.)
This is the third facet of this economy of risk: the assumption that, regardless of our background or previous experiences, all of us share the same ability to gauge risk and make decisions accordingly.
Because this notion of risk was not ours, my wife and I failed to understand the company’s brochure. When we read that the trip was “open to children 7 and up”, we concluded that its “skilled, knowledgeable, professional guides” had vetted the rapids for every age, every skill level. We were wrong. The company was promising only to bring us to the rapids. Once there, we could look at the water and, on the basis of what we saw, make an instinctive determination of risk.
I fear that the same thing happened on White Island, that the same thing takes place daily across the globe. Were politicians to tighten regulations and travel companies to devise more stringent protocols, such accidents would become less likely. But true change will require a deeper transformation of our shared understanding of risk.
In the meantime, plan your next holiday with the expectation that it will fall upon you to decide, in a matter of minutes, whether the volcano or rapids facing you are safe or not.
It will fall upon you to assess the risk of death and then, if necessary, find the resolve to say no.
How does one find the confidence to question guides’ expertise?