We cannot stop natural disasters but we can arm ourselves with

Hear the sobering words of Petra Nemcová: “We cannot stop natural disasters but we can arm ourselves with knowledge: so many lives wouldn’t have to be lost if there was enough disaster preparedness.” These words are not born from idle thought, but from the depths of lived suffering. For Petra herself endured the great tsunami of 2004, where she lost her beloved and nearly her own life to the power of the sea. From her pain, she forged wisdom, and from wisdom, this teaching: that though man cannot chain the forces of earth, wind, and water, he can gird himself with foresight, with planning, with knowledge—and thus turn despair into survival.

The ancients knew well that nature is both mother and destroyer. The same seas that carried ships of trade could also rise as tempests to shatter them. The same fertile earth that gave harvests could also quake and swallow cities. They could not prevent these calamities, but they learned to read the signs: they built walls against floods, they stored grain for famine, they raised temples on high ground to escape the wrath of rivers. This was their knowledge, born from bitter experience, and it became their shield against chaos.

History bears witness again and again to the truth of Petra’s words. When Mount Vesuvius erupted, Pompeii perished because the people had no warning, no preparedness. Yet in modern times, when volcanoes tremble, scientists now read the quakes, track the smoke, and call for evacuation. Thousands have been saved not because men stopped the mountain’s fury, but because they listened to the voice of knowledge and acted with readiness. Here lies the difference between tragedy multiplied and tragedy reduced: the wisdom of preparedness.

Consider also the story of Japan. For centuries battered by earthquakes and tsunamis, they did not surrender to despair. Instead, they wove disaster preparedness into their very way of life. Their buildings are designed to bend rather than break, their children are trained in drills from the earliest age, their people know where to go when the sirens sound. Though they cannot silence the quaking earth, they have learned to endure it. Their knowledge has become their armor, and countless lives have been preserved because of it.

The message is clear: man is small before the vastness of nature, yet he is not powerless. His greatest weapon is foresight. Knowledge is the lantern that lights the path through storms. Preparedness is the shield that guards the fragile body against destruction. Without them, we stand naked before the wrath of wind and wave; with them, we stand armed, and though we may tremble, we endure.

The lesson for us all is not to delay. Disasters do not wait for our convenience. Therefore, learn now. Teach your children where to go when the earth shakes. Store provisions for when the waters rise. Listen to the warnings of the wise, and do not scorn the voice of science. For the calamities of earth may be certain, but the loss of life need not be inevitable. The difference lies in whether we have clothed ourselves with knowledge, or whether we stand empty-handed when the hour comes.

What then must you do? Seek understanding of the dangers where you dwell. Study the history of your land—the storms, the quakes, the floods—and prepare accordingly. Do not live in fear, but in readiness. Share what you know with your community, so that all may be protected together. In this way, your knowledge becomes not only your shield, but a shield for your neighbors and your children.

Thus remember the wisdom born of Petra Nemcová’s sorrow: “We cannot stop natural disasters but we can arm ourselves with knowledge.” Let this truth be carried from generation to generation. For nature’s fury may humble us, but preparedness born of wisdom can save us. And in saving lives, we honor both the fragility and the resilience of the human spirit.