Palu Earthquake: A Wake‑Up Call for Indonesia
Picture a young man standing on a crumbling mound of mud and debris in Palu, the island city that slid into chaos when a 7.5‑magnitude quake hit on September 28. He is waiting for an excavator, hoping to unearttle the bodies of his parents before his sneakers sink deeper into the earth, and his shout echoes a feeling many feel across Indonesia: “This kind of thing happens every damn day. Why isn’t the country just getting better at what it does?”
Bachtiar’s plea as a mechanical rumble hit the ruins of a home kitchen—half‑burnt and half‑mangled—highlights a glaring problem: our disaster playbook is still ancient drafts.
How Bad Was It?
- Magnitude 7.5 earthquake + tsunami + rock‑solid soil liquefaction.
- Official death toll: 2,073, with up to 5,000 possibly missing.
- RtP (Rescue to Problem) budget: 4 trillion rupiah (around $362m), a measly 0.002% of the national treasury.
- Other disasters in 2018: Lombok quake in August stole 500 lives.
- Historic tsunami misery: 2004 at 226,000 deaths; 2005–2010 multiple tsunamis; but 2004 reigns supreme.
Why Are We Still Fumbling?
The disaster mess-ups stay even after the 2004 tsunami learning curve. Local authorities often lack the know‑how or the gear, meaning the army usually has to swoop in to kick things off. And if you don’t know how to protect yourself when the ground shivers under your feet, you’re in for a rough ride.
Administrators claim the country’s disaster readiness is in shambles—primarily because the government is tight‑fisted, and the budget is far from the amount we need. While Japan pushes for consistent prep, we’re far behind.
The Unexpected Terror: Soil Liquefaction
Liquefaction turned Palu’s whole neighborhood into a “water‑ish” nightmare. Imagine a place where every shake transforms solid sand and silt into a commercial‑grade liquid that swallows homes, vehicles, and even families whole.
With power and lines knocked offline, rescue crews had to fight head‑first through the broken streets of Palu’s commercial core and the watertight beachfront. Roads to the south were basically impassable, delaying rescue in Balaroa, Petobo, and Sigi until the ground returned to deathly silence.
“Liquefaction is new science,” said a geological agency secretary. “We still have no real guidelines on how to deal with it.”
Education and Early Warning Failings
After 2004, a tsunami warning system was set up—only to fail again in Sulawesi. The network of 22 buoys was GONE in 2012 due to neglect or vandalism. The power outbreak in Palu meant no SOS signals or sirens could warn people of potential six‑meter tsunamis.
“People in coastal communities shouldn’t wait for a warning if they feel a big quake,” said a Singaporean tsunami expert. “The earthquake itself is the warning; it’s all about education.”
Unlike Japan and New Zealand, Indonesia rarely holds earthquake drills. So the public remains in the dark, a major culture issue that Nugroho sees as the greatest weakness of our warning systems.
One Man’s Resilience
“Palu is not dead,” a local billboard declares. It’s a soaring testimony that people aren’t giving up. Eko Joko (41), his wife, and their two children are picking up scrap wood and metal, rebuilding a beachfront shop‑house that had been flattened like a pancake. “I tell my family they have to be strong, not scared, so that I can be strong,” he says. “This disaster has not destroyed us.”
