Mitigation Challenges on the Florida Gulf Coast

Hillsborough County is a dense metropolitan area, anchored by the city of Tampa. Tampa and nearby St. Petersburg, in Pinellas County, sit on opposite shores of Tampa Bay, a 400-square-mile expanse of water connected to the Gulf of Mexico. Across that gap sits the Sunshine Skyway Bridge, a magnificent and scenic section of I-275. On a sunny day, it displays coastal Florida in all its glory.

Eugene Henry, like anyone else, enjoys those sunny days, but he also worries about what may happen when the region suffers inclement weather. As Hillsborough County’s Hazard Mitigation Program Manager, it is his job to think about how well the area will fare under the impact of natural and other disasters, which can include hurricanes, floods, tornadoes, sinkholes, and wildfires. At least the first two are complicated by sea level rise, and one can easily argue that climate change in a broader sense may well influence the damage from wildfires. For those uninitiated in the particulars of Florida’s natural environment, wildfires are a recurring feature. In what is ordinarily such a lush environment fostered by rain and abundant sunshine, it takes only one drought year amid high heat to turn dense vegetation into a tinderbox. It has happened before, repeatedly.

But the biggest concern, by far, is the arrival of the Big One, the high-intensity hurricane that the county readily admits it has escaped in recent decades. In its Post-Disaster Redevelopment Plan (PDRP), the county states forthrightly that this is merely a matter of good fortune and that planners fully understand that the day will surely come—and that they had best be ready for it. Disaster resilience in the face of hurricanes is not a matter to be taken lightly with 158 miles of shoreline along Tampa Bay, numerous rivers and streams, and numerous vulnerable, low-lying areas. Absent serious attention to mitigation, damages from a Category 4 or 5 hurricane, or one like Harvey that stalls and dumps voluminous rain on an urban area, could become catastrophic.

But Tampa and Hillsborough County have been very fortunate. The last Category 3 hurricane struck the area in 1921. What may have been a Category 4 struck in 1848, though wind speed measurements were primitive at the time, and the U.S. had no official records yet. According to the county’s Local Mitigation Strategy, that storm “reshaped parts of the coast and destroyed much of what few human works and habitation were then in the Tampa Bay area.” Tides rose 14 feet. Tampa was still a small city then, and Gene Henry wonders about the staggering losses that might occur with a comparable event today.

I had long wanted to visit the area to see in person how these issues are being addressed. I have known Gene for a long time, and I have read the county’s PDRP, an extensive document laying out the county’s preparations for recovery from disasters. But I had never been to Tampa. As the result, however, of a personal invitation from a high school classmate, David Taylor, who now lives in Sarasota, my wife and I flew to Tampa February 20 and stayed with Dave and his wife, Linda, for five days. Sarasota is about one hour’s drive south of Tampa. As part of the trip, I arranged to meet with Gene the day after we arrived and tour the county to see the hazard mitigation projects underway there. I also delivered a one-hour lecture the following afternoon in West Palm Beach, on behalf of Florida Atlantic University, as part of a two-hour program that included a panel discussion following my talk on “Recovery and Resilience: Facing the Disasters of the Future.” Not one to skip a learning opportunity, Gene drove four hours from Tampa to attend the program.

But back to Hillsborough. My wife and I met Gene at the county’s Emergency Operations Center (EOC) around mid-morning, hopped in his county truck, and took off. Our first stop was the Florida Center for Design + Research, housed in the School of Architecture + Design at the University of South Florida (USF), Gene’s graduate alma mater. The school features an urban planning program where he wanted us to meet Professor Brian Cook. Planning students often take studio classes, which involve design or research work on real-life community problems. Students learn to define a community design or policy issue, work with clients, and try to produce solutions that will be of some practical value to the community they are serving. They typically work in teams. In this case, students were applying geographic information system (GIS), or mapping, skills to determine areas of high vulnerability to flooding and sea level rise in less affluent neighborhoods. Gene’s county office collaborates with USF instructors to identify areas of practical concern for the students’ work. The photos show some of the design work the students have done, the best of which is often displayed in poster sessions at state and national professional planning conferences.

Posters (above and below) from the USF design studio

The most encouraging aspect of that visit was, for me, the mere fact that the students are engaging with such a pressing problem. I have researched the issue of hazards and climate change in the planning curriculum for both undergraduate and graduate degree programs in urban planning, and most such programs are lacking in this respect, a situation that is disserving the planners of tomorrow who must be well trained to come to grips with these challenges in whatever communities they end up serving. But a growing number of students are getting such training—I have myself been teaching such a course at the University of Iowa since 2008—and southern Florida is as good a laboratory as they could wish for. To see collaboration between a county agency and USF graduate students and faculty is a most welcome note.

But Gene had other places to take us in the afternoon, besides, that is, the Cuban-themed La Teresita restaurant where we ate lunch—a place I am willing to recommend if you ever visit Tampa.

First up in the afternoon was the University Mall area north of downtown Tampa and just east of I-275. This involves a stormwater management and flood-mitigation project in an area subject to a certain amount of repetitive loss, meaning that the same properties continue to suffer periodic flood losses. The project removed structures while creating additional areas for stormwater storage and reshaping a natural area known as Duck Pond, thus creating a system for stormwater conveyance. This includes a large stormwater pump that transfers slow-moving stormwater to areas further downstream and, in due course, to a reservoir owned by the City of Tampa. Before this project was initiated, storms used to inundate multifamily apartment buildings, Gene says, as well as a nearby assisted living facility. How does the county pay for all this? He credits a combination of local funds, which is certainly not unusual, and federal money in the form of Hazard Mitigation Grant Program (HMGP) funds. The latter are available as part of an overall recovery package after a Presidential Disaster Declaration, but require that purchased properties, once cleared, remain in perpetual open space. The point is to ensure that a vulnerable area is not redeveloped, thus perpetuating the problem.

At 132nd Street, also in Tampa, another flood-mitigation and stormwater management project presents a very different appearance. This too was subject to repetitive loss and required protection from urban flooding, which is typically the result of poor stormwater drainage in developed areas. The problems can include poor water conveyance from one area to the next—the nearby highway provided an impediment to drainage—and high levels of impervious surface, meaning coverage with concrete and structures that limit percolation of water into the soil. In this case, a small subdivision suffered repetitive flooding even with small storms. Here also, the county acquired homes with HMGP funds, which are dispensed by the Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA). The streets were removed, and stormwater ponds were added.

This was a location where the county’s partnership with USF paid dividends. Researchers analyzed which plants were best at removing nitrogen and other chemicals common in stormwater runoff in order to clean up the water before it reaches Tampa Bay. Henry says this project was made possible through a combination of local and HMGP funds in combination with federal Community Development Block Grant entitlement money.

I included the chain link in my photo to show that the solution may not be complete. After all, chain link fences are intended to limit access. What consideration, I asked, had been given to eventually converting this cleared area to some sort of public park and thus facilitating a public benefit? There can be challenges in part because of pollution cleanup and other public safety factors. Gene readily admitted he would love that solution, but it may take time. The adjoining neighborhood must be comfortable with that use, which can involve solving various site-related problems. A nearby church might be a potential ally, serving as a patron and watchdog, but reaching agreement about solutions and responsibilities, including ongoing maintenance and supervision, takes time. And only time will tell whether such a solution materializes with the support of local public officials.

Some projects assist a single homeowner with a stubborn problem. This is often the case with homes that are elevated, a common site in parts of the Southeast, where coastal and riverine flooding can wreak havoc with homes in vulnerable locations that do not necessarily require buyouts and relocation. That was the case near Rocky Creek, where a homeowner rebuilt a structure elevated three feet above base flood elevation (BFE) using a combination of private funds and a Flood Mitigation Assistance (FMA) grant from FEMA. The result is living space that is better protected when flood waters surround the lower level.

The same story occurred at a home near the Alafia River, where another homeowner was elevated three feet above BFE, using the same combination of funds.

Gene also shared with us an interesting strategy at a frequently flooded and highly vulnerable modular home park, where an area had been cleared of its former homes to allow repopulation with recreational vehicles (RVs). The logic is that, when flood warnings arrive, RV owners will be able, unlike those with more stationary modular homes, to simply drive off the site to safer areas until the emergency subsides. The initiative, Gene says, was taken by the park’s new owner (which owns other parks nationwide), which identified no more permanent structures in the floodway as part of its compliance strategy after the most recent flooding event in the area.

This area is slated for RV occupancy only.

Finally, we returned to learn a little about the EOC. We visited what is often known in such centers as the “war room,” where designated officials meet to discuss and establish strategies for dealing with an emergency of any sort that activates the emergency operations plan. In the photo, each chair is designated for a specific official, with groups of people with related tasks seated in color-coded sections of the room. Many such EOCs are much smaller, but Hillsborough County is very urban and populated, and the needs are complex and interrelated. It is expected that those involved will arrive with authority to respond to the disaster, to indicate what they are and are not capable of doing as part of the overall response to disaster. It is not a place where one expresses a need to go back to another office and “find out.”

Hillsborough County Emergency Operations Center “war room”

Ready to relax and enjoy a drink and a snack, we followed Gene down the highway to the Sunset Grill at Little Harbor, which has a beautiful view of the bay. At dusk, numerous people followed a daily ritual of photographing the sunset over the water. Tourist attraction it may be, as well as a local watering hole, but the surrounding area has a significant mangrove forest and salt-bed areas that were preserved as open space using Environmental Land Acquisition Funds from what Gene describes as a “locally instigated preservation program.”

Hillsborough County’s Hazard Mitigation Program Manager, Eugene Henry, at rest at Sunset Grill at the end of our day-long tour.

And so, with the sun declining in the west, we sat at an outdoor table and hashed over the world’s problems, and sometimes our own. One point that seems clear to me is that Hillsborough County has a great deal to offer to other jurisdictions, just as it has undoubtedly learned a great deal as well—one reason both he and a resident scholar and Japanese graduate student from the University of Illinois, Kensuke Otsuyama, planned to drive to West Palm Beach the next day to hear my presentation. Although there is sometimes a tendency for local governments to become more insular, to allow fewer opportunities for employees like Gene to share and exchange information in professional forums and conferences, this, I think, is always a mistake. The growth in the value of what someone like Gene does lies in this fruitful sharing of experience and perspectives that such opportunities allow, and I hope that will continue, for certainly Gene made my day by sharing his time to allow me to learn and to share with the growing readership that follows this blog.

Supplemental Comment:

Although the hearing was held today, making live streaming a moot point, significant written and recorded testimony on hazard mitigation and climate resilience issues occurred before the U.S. House Appropriations Subcommittee on Transportation, Housing, and Urban Development. Yesterday, the following link was made available from several sources including the American Planning Association (APA) to provide access to this testimony and information:

Representatives from APA, PEW, Houston Public Works, Rutgers University, and the Town of Arlington, MA are delivering testimony to the Transportation and Housing and Urban Development (THUD) congressional subcommittee tomorrow, March 13th at 10:00 a.m. EST. THUD, a part of the House Committee on Appropriations, writes laws that fund the federal government’s important responsibilities. The testimony is available for streaming here:

https://appropriations.house.gov/legislation/hearings/stakeholder-perspectives-building-resilient-communities

APA will submit written testimony that will be put into the Congressional record. The testimony will be available on APA’s website tomorrow.

Jim Schwab

Gratitude on Parade #7


GRATITUDE ON PARADE
#gratitudeonparade

The size of the American Planning Association‘s loss when Stuart Meck departed can be measured easily by the size of Rutgers University‘s gain when he joined their staff, a fact immortalized by the Rutgers decision to name a lecture series after him. Marya Morris, who probably worked most closely with him at APA, got the opportunity recently to present the eulogy at the opening of that series. She shared some memorable stories, including his near death in the early 2000s when he was struck with an intestinal infection while they both were in Prague. It seems the Czech government felt it could learn a great deal about planning law reform by having Stuart Meck lead a 12-session workshop on the subject for high government officials. Pretty heady stuff.

I also worked with Stuart, though not as much as Marya. But we teamed up on hazard mitigation content for his pet project, funded by seven federal agencies and a few foundations, on statutory reform of state planning laws, known as Growing Smart. We also teamed up on a PAS Report, Planning for Wildfires. That may have been more in my wheelhouse, but trust me, Stuart was no slouch in mastering new topics and contributed very substantially to the final product.

Between all these major efforts, he found time incessantly to mentor the younger research staff at APA and was an indefatigable cheerleader for his profession. Did I mention he also co-authored a tome on Ohio Planning and Zoning Law? His productivity was a miracle to behold, as was his willingness to defend what he believed in. He died sooner than most of us who knew him would have liked, but he still deserves his day in the sun. The photos below, of various phases of his life, were provided by his daughter, Lindsay Meck. Thanks, Lindsay, for your help in this regard.

Stuart was also a jazz fan.

Posted to Facebook 2/10/2019

GRATITUDE ON PARADE
#gratitudeonparade
It’s been a couple of weeks, and I’ve been busy, but I have a great one today. I visited with Eugene Henry last Thursday and Friday while in Florida. On Friday, February 22, Gene’s dedication drove him across the state to West Palm Beach to hear my lecture for Florida Atlantic University on “Recovery and Resilience,” followed by a panel discussion and reception. Mind you, it’s a four-hour drive from Tampa.

But the day before, he hosted my wife and me on a personal day-long tour of Hillsborough County to show me the work they have done on hazard mitigation to reduce risks from hurricanes and floods. In a day or two, I plan to post a blog article on this subject, but Gene for some time has been the hazard mitigation program manager for Hillsborough County, a large urban area that includes Tampa. Gene is, as my friend Lincoln Walther, one of the panelists in West Palm Beach, said, “one of the best.” He has pushed the program forward, and he was a force behind the development of a very progressive Post-Disaster Redevelopment Plan that Hillsborough County pioneered several years ago. Gene is looking forward to retirement in a few years, but his contributions have been outstanding and deserve serious recognition. He is a true leader in the mitigation field. Let this tribute be a beginning, followed by the upcoming blog post.

Posted to Facebook 2/26/2019

GRATITUDE ON PARADE
#gratitudeonparade
Today, I’d like to thank my long-time friend and high school classmate, David Taylor, and his wife, Linda, for their hospitality in sharing their home and time with us during our recent visit to Florida. David is the person who spurred me to come to Sarasota in the first place. He is also a photographer who used his resources, time, and energy, to film the entire two-hour program that I keynoted in West Palm Beach for Florida Atlantic University on February 22.

A Purple Heart Vietnam veteran, Dave is passionate about some subjects, including respect for veterans, and shared his stories with me and others about fighting his way back from serious injuries. He’s generous to the core but wise in his years. He was the emcee for our 50-year reunion last June in Brecksville, Ohio, for the Class of 1968. There is a lot I can say. He is currently taking film and history classes at State College of Florida with both students and professors younger than us, and enjoying it thoroughly because he has so much to share.

Most importantly, perhaps, he has gotten so excited about what he heard from listening to me that he wants to take all that talent and use it to help document disasters photographically, even as he gorges his brain on all that I have produced. Here’s to a good friend still finding his energy and a new mission in life as he nears 70.

The photo below? I cropped it to show him and Linda more closely, but the larger version, well, they’re standing under the Kissing Sailor statue in downtown Sarasota, which replicates that iconic photo from the end of WWII.

Posted to Facebook 2/27/2019

GRATITUDE ON PARADE
#gratitudeonparade
In the year after Hurricane Katrina, I met a young professor at University of New Orleans who was teaching transportation planning–John Renne. Soon, he had invited me to provide a closing keynote at a conference with a distinct theme: Carless Evacuation. Using a federal DOT grant, John was focusing attention on the central question of emergency management in the Big Easy: How do we move those people to safety who are the most vulnerable and lack independent transportation to just get out of town?

John has continued to raise vital questions like that ever since, even after moving in recent years to Florida Atlantic University. Florida faces plenty of its own questions concerning hurricane safety, and at 44, it would seem we can expect his contributions to keep coming. Recently, he and FAU hosted me to keynote a program on “Resilience and Recovery: Facing Disasters of the Future,” and I appreciated the chance to interact with planning professionals on what is known in Florida as the Treasure Coast. Bringing a hazards focus to transportation planning has been John’s unique and valuable asset not only regionally but nationally. FAU should be, and probably is, glad to have him.

In the photo below: Hank Savitch, Alka Sapat, myself, Lincoln Walther, John Renne. Hank, Alka, and Link joined me on the discussion panel that followed my talk in West Palm Beach a week ago. John was the moderator.

Posted to Facebook 3/2/2019

Building Codes Matter

Ask Anchorage after last Friday’s 7.0 earthquake. Admittedly, this is not the biggest earthquake the area could have suffered. The famous 1964 earthquake registered at 9.2, triggered a tsunami, and killed an estimated 130 people. Still, by and large, things seemed to work as planned.

Ask the mayor. And the governor. Mayor Ethan Berkowitz says building codes and good preparation minimized structural damages. No one died. Berkowitz even stated to PBS that other cities would want to emulate Anchorage “because Anchorage did this right.” Alaska Governor Bill Walker admitted to sometimes grousing about strict building codes but conceded, “Building codes mean something,” stating that his own home suffered only minor water damage.

What worked? According to the same PBS report, “Sterling Strait, a member of the Alaska Seismic Hazards Safety Commission, said the states [Alaska and California] use the International Building Code,” which he deemed the “best available standard for seismic safety.”

This good news comes while some states and jurisdictions, in some parts of the country, still resist more stringent building codes, and when some voters still resent what they view as an imposition, sometimes even after the damage from a hurricane, flood, wildfire, or earthquake. But the higher standards matter in saving lives and preventing building collapse, which also prevents injuries. Tellingly, Anchorage hospitals reported a normal day, with no dramatic upsurge in injuries from the earthquake.

Collapse of Fourth Avenue near C Street in 1964 earthquake in Anchorage. USGS photo.

One factor working in Anchorage’s favor is its relative newness as a big city, now about 300,000 population. A city of only 3,000 as late as 1940, Anchorage grew rapidly during and after World War II, still claiming only about 100,000 at the time of the 1964 earthquake. The salient result is that, between its late start as an urban center and the destruction of many older buildings in 1964, Anchorage has far fewer legacy buildings predating modern seismic construction standards than some other cities in states like California. Many California cities, including Los Angeles and Berkeley, have spent considerable sums to subsidize seismic retrofits for older structures including highly vulnerable unreinforced masonry buildings.

As an urban planner, my own expertise lies with land use and not structural engineering, so I will not elaborate on the details of building codes as if I were an expert, but the evidence is compelling. I will note one handout I found on the Anchorage city website, however, on geotechnical investigations. It concerns a requirement for a report from a geotechnical expert and inspection requirements for structures in what are known as Hazard Zones 4 and 5, which define high levels of geological susceptibility to ground failure as result of seismic shaking. The applicable handout dates to 2006, and references a June 1989 report by Shannon & Wilson, a Seattle-based engineering firm. Those dates indicate that Anchorage has been steadily at work on this problem ever since the 1964 earthquake, not wishing to repeat or continue the vulnerabilities exposed by that event.

Without delving into technical details, the bottom line is that, in the designated areas, a civil engineer with experience in geotechnical engineering must perform an investigation of the potential extent of ground movements and soil loadings on the structure proposed, and must prepare and sign a written report showing calculations, conclusions, and recommendations for how the building will be able to withstand seismic displacements without collapsing. The work must then be performed in accordance with those recommendations, and the engineer must ensure compliance through special inspections and a signed statement that his design was followed.

This approach is hardly new but is also far from universal. I learned a good deal about it in the context of municipal requirements in Utah cities around 2005 in the process of completing production of a Planning Advisory Service Report, Landslide Hazards and Planning, by the American Planning Association, with support from the U.S. Geological Survey. Such surveys cost money, but so does wanton damage from a failure to comply.

Alaska did experience problems, but not primarily with buildings. It is still far too early for a complete survey of the damage suffered by the transportation system, and the city and state need to assess the losses due to highway collapses, structural stresses on bridges, and the like. Currently, a railroad between Anchorage and Fairbanks is not functioning. There are always challenges, and every disaster is an opportunity for reassessments and lessons learned. But one clear lesson has already emerged: Building codes matter.

Jim Schwab

Sobering Portrait of a Fiery Future

 

Summarizing the major points from a densely factual book like Firestorm: How Wildfire Will Shape Our Future, by Edward Struzik (Island Press, 2018), is about as challenging as understanding precisely what is happening in the midst of a rapidly moving massive wildfire. While California is not the focus of Struzik’s book, I might note that confronting such fires in November, such as we have seen on the news in recent weeks, ought to prod more interest in the recent National Climate Assessment and similar climate change science. The wildfire season most decidedly used to be shorter in California, a point Gov. Jerry Brown has made repeatedly. Put more bluntly, it is time to drop the political knee-jerk reactions and study the findings.

Horse Fire at Fort McMurray, Alberta, 2016. Photo from Wikipedia

In Firestorm, Struzik takes us north, much farther north. He starts his story by focusing on the utterly hellish nightmare of the May 2016 scene surrounding Fort McMurray, Alberta, during what became known as the Horse Fire, or among firefighters simply as “The Beast.” People with moderately long news memories may recall following this fire for several days and nights on television, as the fire swept through an area dominated by oil sands development, the heart of Canada’s energy sector. As Struzik notes, megafires (defined as exceeding 100,000 acres in size) are nothing new or unusual in the boreal forests of Canada and Alaska. Three fires bigger than The Beast had occurred in Canada since 1950.

Not so long ago in human history, however, the consequences would have seemed less catastrophic because of the lack of large human settlements in the area, which is not to say that such fires would not have affected native villages and smaller towns. But energy development has brought urban development, and Fort McMurray in 2016 was a city of 88,000 people. As the wildfire attacked and surged through the area, generating massive confusion, it destroyed an estimated 2,800 homes and buildings, burned nearly 1.5 million acres, and produced nearly $9 billion in total losses, including predicted insurance losses of $3.77 billion. The book does not state whether these are U.S. or Canadian dollars (worth about 10 percent less), but I am assuming U.S. given its publication in the states. Either way, it is a massive impact. It is certainly a staggering economic impact on a province like Alberta, home to such facilities as the Imperial Oil plant, which according to Struzik produces 220,000 barrels per day of the bitumen that helps fuel Canadian energy exports.

Much of Struzik’s book, which often starts chapters with quotes from Dante’s Inferno, tours us through the ground-level experience of the fire in and around Fort McMurray in early May 2016. We follow police who worry about family members evacuating, police who work door to door warning people to evacuate, hospital workers preparing for incoming casualties, and highways filled with bumper-to-bumper traffic including people in SUVs abandoning their vehicles in ditches after running out of gas, with the Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP) ensuring that such people found alternative rides to safe destinations. Air tankers fly low over the fire to drop their loads of retardant, and helicopters scoop water from nearby lakes in 180-gallon buckets to disperse as strategically as possible. Wildfire response is no less sophisticated or expensive than in the U.S., although Struzik notes some Canadian pride in protecting firefighter safety and eschewing the “hotshot” approach that can lead to heroic but tragic deaths. He paints a realistic but deeply troubling portrait of the human elements of confronting a massive wildfire.

RCMP responding to wildfire in northern British Columbia. Photo from RCMP website

If such fires in the far north are not new, then what, if anything, is the impact of climate change? As has been pointed out many times, it is folly to link any one event directly to climate change, tempting though it may be for many people. The reality is more profound and concerning. Since the 1970s, in Canada, the area burned has doubled, with the prediction that it may double again by mid-century and possibly triple by 2100. In short, the connection to climate change is not any one fire, a natural phenomenon in a fire-adapted environment, but in increased frequency.

Ashes and devastation after the fire at Fort McMurray. From RCMP website

As California has learned, that frequency can also be abetted by a longer fire season, itself a product of climate change. Struzik explains the fire triangle, a combination of heat, dryness or low humidity, and oxygen. On May 3, 2016, the temperature around Fort McMurray was 91°F. The humidity was only 13 percent. For those unfamiliar with the boreal forest, it may be surprising to learn that such temperatures are not entirely unusual in the summer, even in Alaska, with much longer days than in southern latitudes, just as winter brings deeper freezes and very short days. It is a climate of extremes. But climate change is warming the far north faster than almost anywhere else, producing the loss of polar ice caps and the melting of glaciers. Montana, Struzik says, may see average temperatures rise by 5° F., and Montana has major wildfire issues already. Melting ice caps and glaciers are factors in sea level rise, which in turn affects major cities like New York and Miami much farther south, but Struzik notes that we are all connected in other ways to the fate of the northern forest. In a major wildfire like that in Alberta, air quality has been shown to suffer in places like Chicago because of the upper atmospheric drift of ashes and pollution. Northern Alberta may seem a world away, but it will never be distant enough to have no impact below the border.

Personally, I find the science behind all this intriguing, at all levels. Most people, for instance, may not know the origin of the term “firestorm,” which grew out of the cataclysmic 1871 wildfire in Peshtigo, Wisconsin, which took more than 1,500 lives, the deadliest in American history. The term refers to the behavior of lightning storms in pyrocumulonimbus clouds (aka pyroCBs), which involve an updraft “that sucks smoke, ash, burning materials, and water vapor” high into the sky. As these cool, they perform like classic thunder clouds. But a chemical reaction forestalls any rainfall, allowing the lightning strikes to stoke and expand the fire. The phenomenon remains a mystery and subject of intense study for meteorologists. It is also obviously terrifying and deadly for those beneath it.

Ultimately, in such a book, the question is what we are going to do about the problem. Both the U.S. and Canada have struggled to find appropriate ways to fund wildfire response and suppression, although it is clear also that more money needs to be directed to mitigation and preparation. Firefighting by itself is a completely futile approach. Struzik emphasizes a need in both nations to invest more in scientific research and in developing a “holistic plan” to deal with wildfires when they occur. The price of not developing a better approach, he says, includes the loss of clean water, of birds and animals who will lose their habitat as the problem intensifies, and the loss of jobs afforded by the forest environment. That research must inevitably account for the impacts of humanly generated climate change in coming decades, a task that should never be underestimated because, as one scientist notes in Struzik’s last chapter, keeping up with climate literature is like “drinking from a fire hose,” a curious metaphor in light of the problem. We must also be realistic. Nature has always provided for natural recovery because fire is a natural phenomenon, but it is the pattern of recovery that may change significantly in a changing natural environment.

Jim Schwab

Aligning Planning and Public Health

Just nine days ago, on November 15, I stood in front of two successive audiences of long-term health care practitioners to present workshops at a conference in Wisconsin Dells discussing, of all things, “Fundamentals of Planning for Post-Disaster Recovery.” Where, some might ask, is the nexus between these two subjects?

Patients who survived evacuations from New York City area hospitals, six in the city itself and one just outside, during Hurricane Sandy would know. People with disabilities, the elderly, the ill are especially vulnerable during disasters, and moving them out of harm’s way is no picnic. They cannot just grab the keys to their cars and drive out of town ahead of the storm. Evacuating them is a major undertaking that must be well-planned.

And so, our fields of expertise converged. I discussed what I knew from urban planning, but I invited input from their experiences in handling such situations. Some had not yet experienced a disaster, but others had, and their numbers in the health care field are growing, as doctors and nurses find clinics and hospitals impacted by wildfires in California, and hurricanes, floods, and tornadoes elsewhere. Mine was not the only presentation related to such concerns. The keynote by Desiree Matel-Anderson, founder of the Field Innovation Team and a Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA) advisor, detailed personal interactions with disasters. Others focused on emergency management. The audience needed to know about new regulations and laws, such as those promulgated in 2016 by the Centers for Medicare and Medicaid Services (CMS) or the Disaster Recovery Reform Act (DRRA), passed in October as a

Photo by Kristina Peterson

rider on the FAA Reauthorization Act. DRRA outlines new responsibilities for the FEMA administrator in providing training to local officials and utility providers in planning for emergencies for nursing homes, clinics, and hospitals, and for the Federal Highway Administration regarding evacuations for these facilities, prisons, and certain classes ofdisadvantaged persons. I told the nurses and administrators in my audience they needed to prepare for these new responsibilities. There seems to be a growing conviction in Congress and federal agencies that health care institutions need to be better prepared to protect their patients during disasters. In the light of events dating back to Hurricane Katrina, that does not seem unreasonable.

To some extent, I believe it is the growing engagement of the urban planning profession with natural hazards that is facilitating a re-engagement of the profession with public health practitioners. I say “re-engagement” because the two fields grew up together, at least in North America. In the late 1800s and early 1900s, industrializing, rapidly growing American cities were often festering incubators for diseases because of pollution, overcrowding, and fire and other hazards. The Great Chicago Fire of 1871 laid the groundwork for major reforms related to building codes, helping to create the largely masonry-based architecture now predominant in the city. Activists like Jane Addams inveighed against oppressive health conditions for the working class. There was an urgent need for both better planning and public health measures that would prevent the spread of disease, and the two professions matured accordingly. At the same time, civil engineers took growing responsibility for developing the sanitary infrastructure cities needed, such as sewer treatment systems and effective drainage, a topic I addressed in a keynote in September 2015 in Boston for the American Society of Civil Engineers’ Coasts, Oceans, Ports and Rivers Institute (COPRI) annual conference. All three professions grew up in the same cradle, addressing urgent societal needs for health care, better urban design, and public sanitation.

Scene on the Jersey Shore after Hurricane Sandy.

All of this is a long, but I think crucial, introduction to a book by Michael R. Greenberg and Dona Schneider, Urban Planning & Public Health: A Critical Partnership, published by APHA Press. I had planned to review it earlier, but recent events expanded the context for its importance. Greenberg, a long-time planning colleague and professor at Rutgers University in New Jersey, previously authored Protecting Seniors Against Environmental Disasters (Routledge, 2014), a book inspired in part by his own experience with elderly parents during Hurricane Sandy. He is certainly familiar with the territory. Schneider, also at Rutgers, brings the perspective of a public health expert.

The book reads mostly like a textbook and thus may be of most valuable to instructors willing to acquaint students in both fields with their organic relationship to each other and why the partnership is important today. Admittedly, the problems are not the same. We no longer face the scourge of tuberculosis, and smokestacks no longer belch particulates as freely as they once did. The water is less polluted. But our society is creating other problems of a momentous nature, including climate change and the resulting increased severity of weather-related disasters. Under the Trump administration and various less environmentally friendly state administrations, there have been concerted efforts to retreat from previous initiatives aimed to clear the skies and foster environmental justice. It is thus imperative that we have trained, knowledgeable, and articulate professionals who can advocate for the public interest when powerful political forces push in other directions.

The book makes powerful arguments in this context for the salience of a collaborative assault on the threats posed to our communities by natural hazards, using the tools of both public health and planning to analyze the threats and identify meaningful solutions. Not everything needs to happen at a macro level, either; in fact, planners and public health officials often are at their best in examining trends at the neighborhood and community level to find very geographically specific solutions to localized but persistent problems.

The authors are methodical, laying a groundwork in the first three chapters for understanding the building blocks of the two professions and their integral relationships. One can easily detect the influence of Greenberg’s long and distinguished career on both a practical and theoretical level as he discusses the impacts of various approaches to zoning, such as the use of downzoning to protect open lands and natural resources and the use of special districts, as in Austin, Texas, to protect the environmentally sensitive Edwards Aquifer through measures such as integrated pest management practices, which reduce the use of toxic chemicals that can enter the water supply. And the connection to natural disasters? Even recent history has revealed the vulnerability of Texas to prolonged drought, making the protection of water supplies essential to public health and welfare.

Recognizing the modern context for their focus on this “critical partnership,” the authors have included significant material on the role of risk and hazard mitigation analysis in planning, with a whole chapter on “Keeping People Out of Harm’s Way.” As with much of the book, it leads students on a path through the critical minutiae of planning and public health analysis, including case studies at various levels of analysis—for example, a brief but close look at the Galveston City Hazard Mitigation Plan.

Other sections address critical current issues such as the availability of healthy foods in poor communities, and how that can be addressed through laws, community organizations, and better resources; how to redevelop safe community assets from former brownfield sites; and potentially evaluating the benefits and drawbacks of major regional development proposals. In short, this is not bedtime reading for most laypeople, but it is solid instructional material for aspiring young professionals and may be useful as well to community advocates who are willing to learn the nuts and bolts of using planning to achieve better public health results in their neighborhoods and communities. As such, it is a timely and needed addition to the literature.

Jim Schwab

Housing the Needy after Disaster

This post will be brief. Rather than ask you to read my thoughts, I want you to listen–hard. It has long been known among disaster recovery planners that lower-income citizens are considerably more vulnerable to disasters largely because of the marginal resilience of most low-income housing. The affluent can afford to build fortresses, some of which may still be lost to the elements, but those in second-rate housing, poorly maintained multifamily buildings, and most certainly the homeless, face life-or-death dilemmas when disaster strikes in any form. They live with mold without the resources to make expensive repairs. They face shortages of affordable housing. Federal programs designed to help them often fall short.

Few people have worked harder to remedy these problems than John Henneberger, a 2014 MacArthur Fellow and the executive director of Texas Housers, a nonprofit advocacy organization that has been working with low-income communities in tracking recovery from Hurricane Harvey. This link will take you directly to a podcast page on the American Planning Association website to hear a 46-minute interview with Henneberger about this experience.

The podcast, the first in a series called Resilience Roundtable, is the product of collaboration between the APA technical staff in Chicago and the Professional Development Committee (PDC) of the APA Hazard Mitigation and Disaster Recovery Planning Division, of which I am currently chair-elect. In that capacity, I organized and have led the PDC. More such podcasts will be released in coming weeks, but this is the first, and we are very proud to introduce John Henneberger to a new audience. His message is detailed, highly informed, and eloquent. Please check it out.

Before I leave the soapbox, I wish also to provide you to a link to a recent study detailing why minorities are more vulnerable to the impacts of wildfires, a subject that has not been explored widely in the past. “The Unequal Vulnerability of Communities of Color to Wildfire,” available online as linked, was printed in the journal Plos One, and enriches our awareness of equity issues in disaster.

Jim Schwab

Fatal Attraction

Explaining the frustrations of first responders in searching Mexico Beach, Florida, for survivors after Hurricane Michael, Brock Long, administrator of the Federal Emergency Management Agency, told Associated Press, “Very few people live to tell what it’s like to experience storm surge, and unfortunately in this country we seem not to learn the lesson.” Mexico Beach was ground zero for landfall of the hurricane a few days ago.

But then Long was much more direct: “When state and local officials tell you to get out, dang it, do it. Get out.”

The desire or willingness to “ride it out” among people who think the storm will never be as bad as they are told is unquestionably one of the most troubling facets of disaster response, especially when there is adequate warning.

There are disasters, of course, where adequate warning is either extremely difficult or nearly impossible. I still vividly recall one evening in 1979, when, living in Ames, Iowa, I was awakened from a second-story bedroom at about 3 a.m. by the loudest roar I had ever heard. I turned to the window to see total darkness, and aside from the howling winds, no clue of what was unfolding. When it finally passed, I went back to sleep. The next morning, I learned from the newspaper that a small tornado had struck about a mile away, lifting the roofs from seven homes before skipping off into the sky again. On the other hand, we had no cell phones and no reverse 911 in 1979.

Wildfires often give but a few minutes of warning, and earthquakes generally none at all. Hurricanes are different, at least today. In 1900, when more than 6,000 residents of Galveston were swept to sea in the deadliest storm in American history, they had no meaningful warning. In 2018, we have the best satellites the federal government and private money can buy, and we typically know at least 48 hours in advance that a coastal storm is coming, although its strength can change quickly. What we surely know in any case is that, if you live on the Gulf Coast or the Atlantic Coast in the U.S., you can expect hurricanes. Only the frequency and severity vary, and they are not always predictable. But people generally have plenty of time to learn what to do when the time comes. The rest is a matter of cooperation.

There is, of course, the question of why people choose to live in the most vulnerable locations. Early in my quarter-century of involvement in hazards planning, I borrowed

No question about it. The seashore can be a profoundly attractive place in calm weather. The question is both how we build and where we build, and, in the process, what burdens we place on first responders.

the title of a 1987 mystery thriller, The Fatal Attraction, to describe the psychology of our very human attraction to seashores, wooded mountains, and beautiful sunrises. Living on the seashore can be indescribably beautiful under blue skies and balmy breezes. There is nothing wrong with enjoying all that under the right circumstances, but it is critical that we begin to learn our own limitations in adapting to such environments, the need to build appropriately in such locations, and when it is time to simply “get out,” as Long suggested. If we don’t do these things, we are often placing inexcusable burdens on first responders who must dig our dead or injured bodies from the wreckage or save our homes from raging wildfires.

In short, there are times in life when we must be willing to think about more than ourselves. Saving our own skin in the face of oncoming natural disaster is not only not selfish; it is downright thoughtful with regard to the burdens otherwise placed on police, firefighters, and emergency medical personnel.

I am aware that the issue is bigger than I have just described. In another month, I will be speaking about post-disaster recovery to an audience of long-term care health professionals. As a society, we also have obligations to ensure that the elderly live in homes that are removed from floodplains and other hazards, that children attend schools that are as safely located as possible, and that we do not force the poor and disadvantaged into neighborhoods that are at risk and where no one else would wish to live. In New Orleans during Hurricane Katrina, the system failed thousands of poor people who did not own cars by failing to provide means for carless evacuation. The sheer number of such people was never a secret to officials in Louisiana, but good planning never happened before it was too late. All that said, those who have the means should have the willingness to consider both where they choose to live or build and to evacuate when told to do so.

We can all hope that the body count from Hurricane Michael remains low. As of the moment I am writing this, authorities have counted 17 deaths, but it may rise.

Long-term recovery awaits communities affected by either Florence or Michael. As always, serious questions can be posed about where and how to rebuild, whether we can make communities more resilient against future disasters, and what vision states and communities should have as they move forward. In its Influencers series, the Charlotte Observer asked what leaders thought North Carolina could do for coastal and inland communities affected by flooding from coastal storms. Interestingly, many cited setbacks from the coast, accounting for climate change (something the Republican-dominated legislature has explicitly chosen not to do), and keeping new development out of floodplains. All these efforts would make it easier to plan evacuations in the first place. The issue is whether North Carolina, or any other state in the path of such storms, can muster the political will to do what is right.

And whether people who live in highly vulnerable locations can heed the call when told to evacuate.

Jim Schwab

 

Taking Stock of Recent Disasters

Photo by Jeff Clevenger

We learn from disasters as we recover from them, but each disaster teaches slightly different things. Sometimes the lessons are significant and historic; in others, one community is learning what others already know or should have learned from their own past events. Some years are relatively quiescent, as 2018 so far seems to be. And some become relentless slogs, like 2017.

Adam Smith, lead scientist for the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration’s National Centers for Environmental Information, noted in a plenary panel in July for the 2018 Natural Hazards Workshop, in Broomfield, Colorado, that the tally for 2017 disasters had exceeded $200 billion. This is more than 40 percent of the tally so far of billion-dollar disasters for the entire decade beginning in 2010. Simply put, with three major hurricanes—Harvey, Irma, and Maria—striking parts of the southern U.S., followed in short order by some of the most expensive wildfires in California history, it was a wild, taxing year in the world of emergency management.

But our attention fades quickly. Right now, there are no equivalent disasters seizing our attention, but in time there will be. The people who remain painfully aware that recovery is a long, slow process are those directly affected, and even many of them will not fully grasp the ways in which past location choices and patterns of development have brought them to this pass. Many had no choice anyway. Our communities are frequently full of social inequities that compromise the life choices of the poor and disabled. In other cases, the losses inflicted on neighborhoods are the result of hubris on the part of developers, city officials, and homeowners themselves. It does not hurt, approximately one year after these combined events, to look at what we know so far about the recovery following them.

Apparently, the U.S. General Accountability Office (GAO), an arm of Congress, agreed that the time was ripe for review because it has released a study, 2017 Hurricanes and Wildfires: Initial Observations on the Federal Response and Key Recovery Challenges. Because of the severity of challenges in Puerto Rico, one may note from the graph below, reproduced from the report, that Hurricane Maria by far entailed the largest federal expenditures.

In spite of that level of effort, Puerto Rico has engendered the most significant criticism of the performance of the Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA). Maria struck Puerto Rico and the U.S. Virgin Islands (USVI) after Harvey had already drenched and flooded coastal Texas, and Irma had swept through much of Florida.

FEMA teams managing the distribution of water, and meals for hundreds of semi-trucks at an incident Support Base in Seguin, Texas. Photo by Dominick Del Vecchio – Aug 29, 2017

The report notes that, as a result, FEMA resources were severely stretched by then, only to have wildfires in California add to the pressure, though the personnel assigned in the last case were small compared to the hurricanes (as is typically the case). Adding to the challenge, Puerto Rico and USVI are offshore and were also poorly prepared for a Category 4 hurricane. Puerto Rico had already suffered years of neglect of crucial infrastructure, was burdened with oppressive debts, and was by far the least prosperous target of the 2017 storms. All this, combined with some incredibly inept public relations from the White House, led to a perfect storm in which nearly 3,000 people have died directly or indirectly as a result of the disaster. To my knowledge, that is a number exceeded in U.S. history only by the 1900 hurricane in Galveston, which killed more than twice as many people. The difference is that, in Puerto Rico, most people died because of blocked transportation, loss of electricity, and similar problems with critical facilities that prevented adequate transportation or medical attention in many isolated communities in the interior of the mountainous island.

Exactly what we learn from Puerto Rico remains to be seen. It is worth noting, in my view, that far more prosperous Hawaii has coped well with admittedly less-challenging disasters in recent years, in large part because state government has practiced response and committed resources to the problem. I say this despite being aware of gaps in Hawaii recovery planning that merit further attention. But if Puerto Rico is a logistical challenge for mainland responders, Hawaii is even more remote but better prepared. The difference in economic circumstances, however, is a dramatic and powerful variable in this comparison, as is Hawaii’s statehood. It is also worth noting that Hawaii is a long chain of islands, and storms (or volcanoes) never affect all at the same time. Effectively, that has always meant that emergency resources in Hawaii have been able to be moved from one or more islands to another that has been hit by a storm. All of Puerto Rico was devastated almost on the same day, with internal transportation, communications, and electric power nearly brought to a standstill, making access to many villages nearly impossible.

If Puerto Rico, followed closely by USVI, is the direst case for long-term recovery, there nonetheless remain serious challenges in Texas, not only in Houston but in dozens of other counties along the Gulf Coast. A recent Washington Post article used the term “Harvey homeless” to describe thousands of Texas families living in whatever parts of their flooded homes they have salvaged while struggling to accumulate the resources to repair the rest. They live with mold, dust, and any other environmental contaminants that endure in essentially unusable parts of their homes. In all, according to the Texas Department of Public Safety, at least 175,000 Texas homes were “badly damaged” by Hurricane Harvey, and 80 percent lacked flood insurance, thus relying on much smaller federal disaster payments (averaging $4,203) than flood insurance would have afforded. If there is one powerful lesson in Texas, it concerns public education on the value of flood insurance, particularly in the many areas outside the 100-year floodplain. Unfortunately, much of the public retains the illusion that flood insurance is either unnecessary or unavailable outside the legally defined floodplain. Yet Harvey’s 60 inches of rain in some parts of metropolitan Houston left vast areas beyond the regulatory flood boundaries under water because water does not care about such artificial boundaries. It goes where gravity compels it to go. Moreover, years of loose land-use regulation over the past half-century of rapid growth have expanded the floodplain and put numerous neighborhoods in greater danger than they faced in the past.

Moreover, as John Henneberger, executive director of the nonprofit advocacy group Texas Housers, noted in his keynote at the Natural Hazards Workshop, Texas does not have a noteworthy history of attention to social equity in disaster recovery. Henneberger called for a new model of disaster recovery in which we seek to use recovery planning to overcome racial and economic inequities, stating that “the legal framework already exists” in federal programs like Community Development Block Grant—Disaster Recovery (CDBG-DR) to “overcome inequalities,” but the rules are not always followed. Thus, his top recommendation for reform was simply to “obey the law” regarding the conditions that apply to state and local use of CDBG-DR funds.

Finally, Bloomberg Business Week chose recently to examine the questions surrounding rebuilding after the California wildfires. With a population already approaching 40 million, the state is under intense pressure to build adequate housing amid rising housing costs. California has repeatedly toughened its building codes in response to wildfire threats but faces a legacy problem of homes built under earlier standards. Not often known outside wildfire research circles is the fact that the average home contains seven to eight times the density of combustible materials as the surrounding forest in the wildland-urban interface. That means that every home that catches fire or explodes is a huge matchstick endangering every other home in its immediate vicinity. When one considers that California is unquestionably the most progressive state in tackling wildfire problems, one understands that the problem of retrofitting older homes built to lower building code standards—or none at all in some other western states—is a lingering and potentially very expensive problem. The dilemma serves to illuminate the value of pre-planning for recovery, learning how to seize the “teachable moment” for reform, to reduce the scope of the problem. The article also notes that, if California is to reduce pressure to build in the forest, its cities must be prepared to allow greater density to relieve the housing crisis in a state where a shortage of affordable housing has yielded a concomitant problem of growing homelessness. And so, we see why urban planning needs both to be holistic in its approach to social problems and guided by wise state policy with supporting resources. We all still have a long way to go.

This blog post can never be long enough to explore all these issues in depth. But in coming weeks and months, I hope to delve into specific issues more deeply, share interviews with individual experts, and explore what needs to be done. I am also watching intently for new books that will shed light on new solutions. One just arrived today. Stay tuned.

Jim Schwab

Why the Nation Should Invest in Mitigation

Cover of NIBS Interim Study from Marathon, Florida. “These modern, mitigated homes withstood Hurricane Irma. They are elevated to withstand high water and their roofs are constructed to withstand up to 220 mph winds. Good mitigation learns from mistakes to build more resilient communities.” Photo by Howard Greenblatt, FEMA,, November 22, 2017.

I should have written this blog post six months ago, but better late than never. Last December, the National Institute of Building Sciences (NIBS), Multihazard Mitigation Council, issued Natural Hazard Mitigation Saves: 2017 Interim Report, a welcome update of its highly regarded, widely quoted, 2004 report, Natural Hazard Mitigation Saves: An Independent Study to Assess the Future Savings from Mitigation Activities. Why is this new report still relevant for blog discussion eight months after its release? Because it is having a significant, if not yet profound, effect on public and congressional thinking about the investment of federal dollars in hazard mitigation. That shift is long overdue.

The original report was a landmark in hazard mitigation research in its own right, finding that the nation eventually saved $4 in costs from disaster losses for every dollar of federal money invested in hazard mitigation, a remarkable return on investment by any standard. That report also differentiated specific savings related to specific disaster types ranging from $1.50 per dollar for earthquake mitigation efforts to $9 for flood-related mitigation investments. In short, presuming that specific projects merited investment based on cost-benefit comparisons, the U.S. could prevent a world of pain with timely and effective investments in mitigation projects to reduce such losses.

Still, over the years, the federal government has provided far more money after disasters to support mitigation against future disasters by more generously funding post-disaster programs, primarily the Hazard Mitigation Grant Program (HMGP), than pre-disaster programs such as the Pre-Disaster Mitigation (PDM) program, authorized under the Disaster Mitigation Act (DMA) of 2000 (Sec. 203 of the Stafford Act, 42 U.S.C. 5133). Pilot funding actually began in 1997 under the Federal Emergency Management Agency’s (FEMA) Project Impact, which was terminated by the George W. Bush administration, but by then the DMA was law, and so was PDM. However, secure funding is another matter, and over the years, PDM has been subjected to a roller coaster ride of erratic congressional appropriations. Disregarding the Project Impact years through FY2002, appropriations have ranged from a peak of $150 million when the fund was established in FY2003, to $35.5 million in FY2012, to $25 million in FY2014 following an attempt by the U.S. Department of Homeland Security to zero out the fund and merge it into a single mitigation account, a ploy that did not succeed in Congress. Now the trend is in the opposite direction, with $90 million allocated in FY2017, and dramatically more under consideration for FY2019. In June, the Senate was looking at a proposed allocation of $246 million (House version), according to Meredith Inderfurth, Washington liaison of the Association of State Floodplain Managers. That is the same amount allocated the previous year, so one can hope PDM is stabilizing at a higher level. One must realize, also, that what is proposed from the administration of the moment is not necessarily what is disposed by Congress, where appropriations committees may act under significantly different influences from those affecting the White House.

What is the difference between PDM and HMGP? Most simply, PDM provides funding under a competitive grant system to communities for proposed projects to implement hazard mitigation before disaster strikes, under what some call “blue skies.” By contrast, HMGP funding is a percentage of overall disaster assistance following a presidentially declared disaster. That percentage has varied over time and among states; those with enhanced state hazard mitigation plans, which must meet higher standards and show a deeper state commitment to mitigation, receive a higher percentage of overall disaster assistance in HMGP funds. Currently, for states with enhanced plans, that amounts to 20 percent of overall assistance, in other words, $200 million in HMGP for every billion dollars of disaster aid. The amounts are smaller, beginning with 15 percent for the first $2 billion of aid, and shrinking as percentages of higher levels, for states without enhanced plans. The states then distribute this money to local jurisdictions for specific projects. But no HMGP money exists without a declared disaster.

However, at least the recent revived congressional interest in funding PDM suggests that the emphasis is changing, and it is no accident that this is happening after the release of the NIBS interim report. The $4 savings calculation from the 2004 report has been widely disseminated and quoted in disaster management circles. The new report accentuates that good news with increased savings estimates based on complex studies that have dug much more deeply into the logic of how those savings should be calculated. To be honest, I will not confess to following all the detail in 344 pages of text and appendices in the new report. Economics is not my field. My trust in the numbers, however, grows out of both admiration for the stellar collection of scholars involved in the study and an ability to at least follow the logic of their arguments, if not the details of every calculation. I can at least follow the logic of the methodology, which appears very sound.

What did they find? The report established a new, higher overall savings ratio of $6 for every federal dollar invested in hazard mitigation by “select federal agencies.” It did this by establishing methodology for including new but relevant factors into the cost-benefit calculations the study used. The new study goes farther by also examining investments “to exceed select provisions of the 2015 model building codes,” for which it found a 4-1 benefit-cost ratio. In the latter case, this meant that the analysis focused on those mitigation efforts that used stricter standards for building resilience than those in the model codes. It should be noted here that neither model codes, propagated by nonprofit code development organizations that research the effectiveness of various building standards and promulgate such codes for use by local governments, nor federal mitigation requirements, such as those in the National Flood Insurance Program, prohibit local governments from “going the extra mile” to strengthen protection against various potential disasters.

Like the 2004 study, this one also sought to establish more specific benefit-cost ratios for particular disaster types, for which the efficacy of mitigation investments can vary. Nevertheless, all proved positive to differing degrees. Flood mitigation led the pack, as it did in the earlier study, with a 7-1 ratio for federal investments and 5-1 for exceeding 2015 model code requirements. Investments for exceeding codes for hurricane storm surge bore a 5-1 benefit, but an inadequate sample for federal investments prevented the study from producing a ratio for federal investments. Wind mitigation was 5-1 for both analyses; earthquake and wildland-urban interface yielded 3-1 advantages for federal investments and 4-1 for code exceedance. Overall, however, the dominant area of U.S. losses in disasters has always come from flooding, generally by a very wide margin.

As I noted, a good deal of the refinement materialized from the study’s ability to quantify some aspects of future cost savings that were often left out of the equation in past analyses and in traditional benefit-cost analyses. Rather than paraphrase, I will simply offer the study’s own summary from page 9:

The Interim Study quantified a number of benefits from mitigation, including reductions in:

  • Future deaths, nonfatal injuries, and PTSD
  • Repair costs for damaged buildings and contents
  • Sheltering costs for displaced households
  • Loss of revenue and other business-interruption costs to businesses whose property is damaged
  • Loss of economic activity in the broader community
  • Loss of service to the community when fire stations, hospitals, and other public buildings are damaged
  • Insurance costs other than insurance claims
  • Costs for urban search and rescue

All these are important facets of the overall costs of disasters, many of which have been hard to quantify in the past. That is what makes this update so significant. What will make it more valuable is for advocates of effective hazard mitigation, whether experts or ordinary citizens, to learn the basic facts of these findings and share them with policy makers at local, state, and federal levels of government, so that it becomes clear that simply rebuilding the same structures in the same hazardous locations after each disaster constitutes a massive lost opportunity. The staggering losses last year from Hurricanes Harvey, Irma, and Maria, combined with the wildfires in California, should be a wake-up call. We can avoid a great deal of tragedy with smart investments in mitigation at all levels of government. Download or scan this study, at least read the summary, and be prepared to make the basic case. It is the fiscally conservative thing to do, in view of the hundreds of billions of dollars that have been poured into disaster recovery.

Jim Schwab

Before and After and a Disaster Course Online

In two weeks, I will deliver my first online course with the Sustainable City Network (SCN), an organization I’ve become familiar with in recent years. Last October, I blogged about a keynote presentation by Kristin Baja at their annual conference in Dubuque. More recently, I signed an agreement with SCN to become an online instructor, starting August 21 with a course on planning for post-disaster recovery. The note below is theirs, transplanted from the Projects page of my business website at www.jimschwabconsulting.com. If you’d like to learn a lot in a hurry and want me to teach it, I encourage you to follow the link and check it out. I’m working overtime right now to put it all together.

Jim Schwab Signs on as Instructor for SCN

POST-DISASTER RECOVERY PLANNING BEFORE & AFTER – 4-Hour Online Course – Aug. 21 & 22, 2018

Sustainable City Network will host a 4-hour online course Aug. 21 and 22 for anyone responsible for initiatives related to resilience and disaster recovery planning. In the first 2-hour session, we’ll review the overall concept of recovery planning and the need for widespread involvement by various sectors of the community. The second segment will walk participants through information gathering, assessing the scale and spectrum of the disaster, and how to involve the public in meaningful long-term recovery planning. Instructor James Schwab, FAICP, is a planning consultant, public speaker and author who has taught since 2008 as adjunct assistant professor in the University of Iowa School of Urban and Regional Planning, with a master’s course on “Planning for Disaster Mitigation and Recovery.” Attend live or via on-demand video. Cost is $286 when purchased by Aug. 3.

Register now at https://www.eventbrite.com/e/post-disaster-recovery-webinar-series-registration-47309610318

Jim Schwab