Disaster response typically refers to the immediate reaction to a crisis that prioritizes saving lives, minimizing infrastructure damage, and setting the stage for recovery. While the term “disaster” often evokes natural catastrophes like hurricanes and earthquakes, it more broadly refers to any large-scale disruption that exceeds a community’s ability to respond to or rebuild using its resources, including pandemics. Within public health, disaster response is generally approached in two primary ways: (1) emergency preparedness, the act of stockpiling food, resources, and medical supplies in anticipation of a crisis, and (2) emergency response, the deployment of aid, personnel, and logistical support to mitigate immediate harm. However, these approaches often overlook the systemic inequalities that make certain populations disproportionately vulnerable to disasters in the first place.
This is where the concept of disaster colonialism becomes essential. Disaster colonialism refers to the ways in which both natural and manmade disasters are strategically leveraged to reinforce colonial domination. In these moments of crisis, imperial powers exploit the vulnerability of affected populations, deepening dependency and advancing their own interests under the illusion of aid and recovery efforts. Originally theorized by Danielle Zoe Rivera in the context of Caribbean nations, the framework of disaster colonialism should be extended to the U.S. territories, which face similar patterns of abandonment, exploitation, and militarization, both before and after disasters.
Take, for instance, the early months of the COVID-19 pandemic. On February 18, 2020, the Diamond Princess cruise ship was quarantined off the coast of Japan. A few weeks later, on March 6, the Grand Princess was held off the coast of California. In both cases, U.S. authorities took significant measures to limit the spread of COVID-19 from exposed ship passengers to the surrounding population.
However, the same level of protection was not extended to Guam, a U.S. territory without voting representation in Congress or sovereign decision-making power. In mid-March 2020, over 4,000 sailors from the USS Theodore Roosevelt were quarantined on the island following a COVID-19 outbreak onboard. Unlike mainland responses, this decision was made without transparent communication with the Guamanian public or meaningful consultation with local leaders, despite the serious public health implications for the island’s 160,000 residents. Community leaders raised concerns but were ignored; for example, Senator Sabina Flores Perez urged the governor to reconsider housing the sailors in local hotels, recommending instead that they remain on base. Her request was denied. The sailors were placed in Guam’s hotels, and while hotel workers were instructed to avoid direct contact and were provided personal protective equipment by the military, they were still required to maintain hotel operations. Unfortunately, there is little public data available about whether these protective measures were effective or whether this decision had any long-term impact on the health of Guamanians. However, it was made clear that the military’s priorities overpowered and outweighed local autonomy.
The next year, in 2021, the U.S. military deployed National Guard units and U.S. Army medical professionals to administer vaccines in Guam. This pattern of putting communities at risk, then offering highly publicized aid as a form of damage control, highlights the performative nature of disaster response under colonial governance. It is not simply about saving lives. It is about maintaining a global image of humanitarianism while continuing to extract value and suppress autonomy.
Humanitarian aid has become intertwined with militarization strategies throughout history, particularly in post-war contexts like World War II, where the goal was to establish martial law. The military, with its resources and control over day-to-day operations, quickly became conflated with aid efforts. This manufactured connection between humanitarian aid and military power reinforces dependence on imperial powers such as the U.S., which has historically exercised dominance over its territories through militarization. By using the military to deploy disaster response, the U.S. not only asserts its control over affected territories but also positions itself as the sole provider of relief, overshadowing local capacities and further establishing the dependency of these territories. In this context, the U.S. maintains control over both the crisis and the narrative, displaying its actions as humanitarian aid while perpetuating colonial structures that limit autonomy and self-determination
This pattern of extraction is not unique to Guam. U.S. territories such as Puerto Rico, American Samoa, the U.S. Virgin Islands, and the Northern Mariana Islands have long been used for their strategic or economic value, only to be neglected or manipulated in the wake of disaster. American Samoa, for example, faced critical delays and limitations in its COVID-19 disaster response due to its geographic isolation and colonial relationship with the United States. Early in the pandemic, the region did not have a certified laboratory capable of processing COVID-19 tests. As a result, all samples had to be shipped over 2,300 miles to Hawai’i, a state with its own testing criteria, timelines, and priorities, many of which American Samoa’s tests did not qualify for. By forcing Hawai’i, a state that has been fighting for its own sovereignty and still grapples with the dependency culture imposed by U.S. colonialism, to use its limited resources for this task, the U.S. further entrenches a cycle of dependency across the geography of control. This not only delayed testing results but also complicated American Samoa’s ability to contain potential outbreaks in real time.
While geographic isolation is often blamed for these delays, the real issue lies in systemic underdevelopment shaped by colonial governance. The inability to process tests locally reflects a long-standing refusal to invest in self-sufficiency, which left American Samoa vulnerable to widespread disease and mortality. This intentional underdevelopment is further exacerbated by the absence of a robust public health infrastructure, as health services in the territory are largely shaped by the priorities of a colonial power rather than the actual needs of the local population. The lack of investment in local resources and infrastructure highlights how public health is continually mediated by the U.S.’s colonial interests, leaving American Samoa dependent on outside intervention during crises.
During the early stages of the pandemic, American Samoa’s leadership recognized the vulnerability of their population. Fearing a collapse of their already fragile healthcare system, officials sent urgent requests for assistance to the U.S. Department of the Interior, then-Vice President Mike Pence, and other federal authorities. However, bureaucratic delays and a lack of tailored federal support once again revealed how disaster response for U.S. territories is deeply entangled with their political status as non-sovereign entities.
This structural neglect impacts every U.S. territory, where communities face impossible decisions. In the Northern Mariana Islands (CNMI), for example, tourism has become a lifeline for survival, filling the gap left by limited investment and inaccessible global markets from U.S.-based companies. With few alternatives to generate revenue and facing economic despair during the COVID-19 pandemic, CNMI leaders established a “travel bubble” agreement with South Korea, allowing tourists to enter Saipan under controlled quarantine conditions. This decision to prioritize tourism, even amid a public health crisis, demonstrates how colonialism forces territories into sacrificing lives for economic survival.
The cases of Guam, American Samoa, and CNMI during the COVID-19 pandemic reveal the deeply entrenched systems of power that shape disaster response in the U.S. territories. Whether through militarized increase of disease risk in Guam or the infrastructural dependency in CNMI, these responses are not isolated missteps or a lack of preparation. They are predictable outcomes of a colonial system that values strategic control over protecting lives.
Disaster colonialism operates both through neglect and selective intervention. It forces territories into cycles of dependency by underfunding local health systems and centralizing decision-making power in the federal government. These actions not only deny communities the ability to respond to crises on their own terms but also strip them of the ability to prevent crises in the first place. Colonialism itself is a crisis as it creates disaster by limiting economic opportunities, underinvesting in critical infrastructure, and dismantling local capacities for self-sufficiency. Moreover, natural disasters are often intensified or even caused by larger systems of power like capitalism, colonialism, and imperialism, which drive climate change, force people into hazardous living conditions, and cause the spread of pathogens leading to pandemics.
Ultimately, examining disaster responses through an anti-colonial lens helps us to better understand how crises are leveraged to maintain political hierarchies and suppress independence. The territories are entitled to determine their own futures, whether that be full sovereignty as independent nations or a different political status of their choosing. However, regardless of political direction, the U.S. military must withdraw from its occupations of all territories, as its presence serves only to advance U.S. imperial interests, not the well-being of local populations. If the U.S. insists on maintaining these colonial relationships, it must be held accountable to provide territories with equitable access to federal resources, funding, and disaster support, comparable to that given to states. Anything less is a continuation of colonial domination under the pretense of governance.
Authored by Brook Lyn Mercado
Brook Lyn Mercado’s interest in disaster colonialism began as a researcher studying vaccination and mortality rates in the U.S. territories. The exploratory project revealed long-standing patterns of systemic neglect and underinvestment, exposing how gaps in public health infrastructure have left these modern-day colonies especially vulnerable during the COVID-19 pandemic. Brook Lyn investigates agroecology through a disaster colonialist lens to better understand how communities resist and rebuild amidst structural abandonment.
