Category Archives: Floodplain management

Mitigation Challenges on the Florida Gulf Coast

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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 #3

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GRATITUDE ON PARADE
#gratitudeonparade
[Partners of] the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration‘s Digital Coast program are hosting a meeting in Washington, D.C., today of the Digital Coast Partnership, an assortment of eight national nonprofit organizations willing to support geotechnical services to coastal communities across the U.S. The Digital Coast staff have been leading this effort for more than a decade, and the result is better decision making on coastal land use and resource management among the communities using Digital Coast tools and resources.

I attended these meetings and participated in Digital Coast projects until I left the American Planning Association, one of those partners, in 2017. But as of 2010, when APA joined the partnership, I found the entire enterprise a magnificent example of positive federal engagement with local governments and user communities in need of better data and easier ways to access data. And I made some fast friends because of the quality of the staff.

Leading that effort was one remarkable human being, Miki Schmidt, who has been with NOAA that entire time. Miki has a positive, can-do attitude, and helped me learn a great deal about what positive federal outreach could look like. We had numerous valuable conversations about how to move forward, and Miki repeatedly expressed his gratitude to APA for becoming part of the entire effort. But he deserves recognition for doing a top-notch job year after year, and empowering a staff that couldn’t be better. Near the end of my era, also, as depicted in the photo below, he organized a retirement “roast” at a restaurant during a NOAA Coastal GeoTools Conference. I could not have asked for a nicer tribute.

James Schwab CORRECTION: I did not realize that NOAA was caught up in the federal government shutdown and NOAA staff are not present at the meeting mentioned in the first sentence. it is a tribute to the success of the partnership, however, that the National Association of Counties, one of the partners, is hosting and the partners are proceeding with the meeting on their own. I just did not realize that was the case. Let us all hope that, one day, these shutdowns will be a thing of the past that is no longer an acceptable practice.

Miki, at right, prior to dinner that included a retirement roast.

Posted on Facebook 1/15/2019

GRATITUDE ON PARADE
#gratitudeonparade
I am not done singing the praises of Digital Coast nor of expressing my gratitude to outstanding staff of that program. If I had an opportunity to nominate someone for Liaison of the Year, someone with an outstanding sense of customer relations, it would surely be Susan Fox, who actually works with the Baldwin Group on behalf of NOAA, and has served for several years as a Digital Coast liaison with the American Planning Association. I had the honor to work with her while managing APA’s Hazards Planning Center into 2017. She is enthusiastic, positive, very well-organized, and incredibly supportive. Just like Miki Schmidt, about whom I wrote yesterday, she is a pillar of the Digital Coast program. Thank you, Susan, for all you do.

Susan in Manhattan for dinner during APA National Planning Conference, 2017.

Posted on Facebook 1/16/2019

GRATITUDE ON PARADE

#gratitudeonparade

Continuing with my tributes to Digital Coast staff, I must now know mention the invaluable Josh Murphy, who works from NOAA’s headquarters in Silver Spring, Maryland. Josh was the creative soul who helped negotiate a HUD-funded, NOAA-sponsored project led by AECOM but involving Digital Coast partners (APA, NACo, ASFPM) to work with two pilot communities (Brevard County, FL, and San Luis Obispo County, CA) to help operationalize concepts for integrating resilience and hazard mitigation priorities into the local planning process. This is rather advanced stuff and requires some real skill to manage, but we all did it together, advancing the frontiers of planning. And we had Josh to thank for making it all possible. He is one of NOAA’s truly valuable assets.

Courtesy of Shannon Burke

Posted on Facebook 1/17/2019

GRATITUDE ON PARADE
#gratitudeonparade
As I complete this round of gratitude to Digital Coast staff, I wish to make clear that there are many others at NOAA for whom we should all be grateful beyond those I have highlighted. But I do want to close by mentioning the remarkable Lori Cary-Kothera, whose consistent demonstrations of enthusiasm, high intelligence, and dedication have also helped the partners to succeed in their efforts both to support the Digital Coast program and to advance their own respective projects and services to coastal communities. Lori is one of those rare people you can count on for positive advice and support. She is also a welcome beacon of warmth and humanity.

Courtesy of Shannon Burke

Posted on Facebook 1/18/2019

Jim Schwab

Fatal Attraction

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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

 

The Predictable Impact of Florence

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Flooding in Rosewood in Horry County, SC, September 24, 2018 (All photos by Allison Hardin with exceptions of FEMA photo from Hurricane Floyd and Charlotte image.)

It has been a few weeks of drought on this blog, but just the opposite in North Carolina, where Hurricane Florence dropped up to 30 inches of rain in some locations, and floods migrated downstream via numerous rivers to swamp cities both inland and near the coast. Now, Hurricane Michael threatens to compound the damage as it migrates northeast from its powerful Category 4 assault on the Florida Panhandle, with storm surges up to 14 feet in areas just east of the eye, which made landfall near Panama City.

The blog drought was the result of both a bit of writer’s block, mostly induced by a busy schedule that included two conference trips over the past three weeks, combined with a bit of fatigue and a few significant diversions of my personal time. But that may be okay. My intent was to write about the recent hurricane along the East Coast, and sometimes letting the subject ferment in the mind results in a more thorough and insightful perspective. I hope that is the result here.

Storms never happen in a vacuum. In a world with relatively few uninhabited places, their impact is the result more of patterns of human development and the legacy of past choices in land use and building practices than of the storm itself, which is, after all, simply a natural and very predictable event. Hurricanes were part of the natural cycle on this earth long before humans took over the planet (or thought they did).

Hurricane wind warning at bridge in Socastee, South Carolina

But they appear to be getting worse, and climate change, most of it almost surely attributable to human activity, is an increasingly evident factor. Meteorologist Ken Kunkel, affiliated both with the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration and North Carolina State University, stated that Florence produced more rain than any other storm in the last 70 years except for Hurricane Harvey last year. According to Kunkel, five weather stations over an area of 14,000 square miles in the Carolinas recorded an average of 17.5 inches. Harvey’s average was 25.6 inches. By comparison, Chicago averages about 37 inches for an entire year. Such heightened precipitation levels are in line with expected impacts of climate change.

What became obvious to me early on was that Florence would rehash a certain amount of unfortunate North Carolina history regarding feedlot agriculture. I am familiar with that history because 20 years ago I authored a Planning Advisory Service Report (#482) for the American Planning Association, titled Planning and Zoning for Concentrated Animal Feeding Operations. (In that same year, APA also published PAS 483/484, Planning for Post-Disaster Recovery and Reconstruction, for which I was the lead author and project manager.) I want to emphasize that what happened in North Carolina was not unusual. Nationwide, many states have laws dating to the 1950s that exempt all or most agricultural operations from county zoning ordinances. Most of these were intended to create a friendly regulatory environment for family farms, and they were often followed by other “right-to-farm” laws designed to shield farmers using conventional farming methods from nuisance lawsuits. Only later, as the large feedlots known also by the acronym “CAFO” became widespread, did it become clear that such exemptions, by then fiercely defended by industry groups, became giant loopholes for the detrimental environmental impacts of such operations. This story has been repeated in Iowa, Missouri, Utah, and numerous other states.

In North Carolina in 1991, State Senator Wendell Murphy, who owned a direct interest in the growing Murphy Family Farms, engineered passage of a law widening the state’s exemptions to include CAFOs. Within two years, as I noted in the report, North Carolina’s hog population shot up from 2.8 million to 4.6 million. Today, the number is at least 9 million. A public backlash at the impacts of CAFOs resulted in a new law in 1997 that included a moratorium on new waste lagoons, but by then, although the hogs were firmly ensconced in a growing number of feedlots, the figurative horse was out of the barn. Many counties in eastern North Carolina, where the industry was concentrated, were slow or reluctant to use their newly regained powers. In any case, various large operators were effectively already grandfathered into continued existence. Today, consolidation within the industry has left Smithfield Foods in possession of most of the business in North Carolina, yet Smithfield itself was acquired by the Chinese-owned WH Group several years ago.

Grenville, NC, September 24, 1999 — The livestock loss and potential health hazard to Eastern North Carolina is huge. Here volunteers have towed in dead and floating cattle from a nearby ranch at Pactolus, NC (just North of Greenville), trying to remove them as fast as possible to lower the potential health hazards associated.
Photo by Dave Gatley/ FEMA News Photo

Along came Hurricane Floyd in 1999. The low-lying plains of eastern North Carolina, always vulnerable to flooding, were deeply awash, but worse, filled with millions of pigs and poultry and their excrement in manure lagoons. Hurricane Dennis just weeks earlier had dumped 15 inches of rain on the region, and Floyd dumped even more in some areas. The Tar and Neuse Rivers, among others, badly overflowed their banks and inundated numerous farms. More than 110,000 hog carcasses, and more than 1 million chicken and turkey carcasses, floated downriver while waste lagoons were breached, creating a stench-filled public health disaster only partly solved when the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency brought in huge incinerators to burn carcasses, though most animals were buried. It was a fiasco that did not have to happen at the scale on which it occurred.

Fast forward to this year and Hurricane Florence, presuming a surfeit of lessons to be learned from the 1999 disaster as well as later storms. As Emily Moon notes in the Pacific Standard, North Carolina has had opportunities over the past 20 years to introduce serious regulatory change, but various factors foiled those chances, and North Carolina remains the nation’s second-largest hog producer, having pushed aside every state but Iowa. The industry has evolved, but the problem remains. The state has bought out 46 operations since 1999 and shut down their lagoons, but the vast majority remain in operation. The numbers changed in Florence—more than 3 million chickens and 5,500 hogs dead and afloat in the flood waters—but the devastation rooted in CAFO practices continued. Coal ash landfills associated with power stations added to the environmental impacts. And the beat goes on, in a part of the state heavily populated by African-Americans, many too poor and powerless to challenge the system effectively without outside help.

I mention all this aside from the obvious human tragedies of lost lives, ruined homes, and prolonged power outages affecting some 740,000 homes and businesses.

Flooding at Arrowhead Development in Myrtle Beach, SC, September 26, 2018

Still, there are significant lessons available from Hurricane Florence outside the realm of mass production of poultry and hogs, and I want to offer a positive note. One is that, while only about 35 percent of properties at risk of flooding in North Carolina have flood insurance, which is available from the National Flood Insurance Program, neighboring South Carolina ranked second in the nation with 65 percent coverage. While I do not know all the details behind that sizable difference, it seems to me there is surely something to be learned from a comparison of these results and how they were achieved. They come in the context of a “moonshot” by the Federal Emergency Management Agency to double flood insurance coverage nationally by 2022. That will happen when South Carolina becomes the norm rather than the exception. Sometimes we can use these events to push in the right direction. Texas, for instance, has added 145,000 new flood insurance policies in effect since Hurricane Harvey; the question will be whether the new awareness wears off as memory of Harvey fades, or whether the state can solidify those gains. For that matter, can the states in the Southeast—the Carolinas, Georgia, and Florida—leverage the lessons of Florence and Michael to push in the same direction?

Hidden Valley drainage restoration project, Charlotte, NC. Image courtesy of Tim Trautman.

Recently, Bloomberg Business News offered an example within North Carolina of how differently floodplains could be managed by highlighting the case of Charlotte and Mecklenburg County. I worked for several years in a series of training workshops on flood resilience with Tim Trautman, the manager for the engineering and mitigation program for Mecklenburg Storm Water Services, so I am familiar with their intriguing story. The county for many years has used a stormwater utility fee on property owners to fund its own hazard mitigation program, using the money to buy out flood-prone properties and increase open space in its floodplains. The result has been a significant reduction in flood-prone land and buildings. The question is not whether Charlotte is successful, but what state and federal programs and authorities can do to encourage and support such efforts and make them more commonplace.

Every serious disaster offers lessons and opportunities, and I am not attempting here to pick on North Carolina alone. Other states face their own challenges; Iowa, for one, is undergoing a somewhat muted debate about the impact of its own farm practices on downstream flooding and water quality, in part as an outgrowth of the 2008 floods. What is important is that we use these windows of opportunity, the “teachable moments,” as they are sometimes known, to initiate the changes that are surely needed for the long term in creating more resilient, environmentally healthy communities. What we do not need is a natural disaster version of Groundhog Day.

Jim Schwab

Taking Stock of Recent Disasters

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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

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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

When Denial Is Not an Option

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Wildlife in the Louisiana wetlands. All images in this post by and courtesy of Kristina Peterson.

It has always amazed me how much time and energy has been wasted, particularly in the U.S., on the denial of climate change in the face of so much scientific evidence. Sea level rise is a directly measurable phenomenon. So are changes in precipitation patterns over time. The fallback denial position, once the data are made clear, is that we do not know what is causing the change that we see, and therefore it is pointless to point to human influence on the environment. This, too, is of course nonsense because the theory behind the impact of greenhouse gases on warming temperatures has been with us for more than a century and has been validated for several decades. Yet, in the world of politics, the silliness goes on. And on.

One intriguing aspect of this denial is that distance from the problem seems to lend itself to a greater disposition toward denial. It is easier to ignore a problem that does not confront you visibly and directly. This distance need not be geographic; it can also be social and economic. Those near the seacoast with greater wealth and the ability to protect their property may not feel the pain of increased flooding and sea level rise nearly as much as poor homeowners who have fewer options to move or rebuild. For the same reason, if one can avoid loaded political language and discuss practicalities, it is possible to get many farmers to observe that growing seasons have grown longer, droughts have grown drier, and that something has surely changed in recent decades. As the saying goes, it is what it is.

Elizabeth Rush will not let us forget what is. In Rising: Dispatches from the New American Shore, she gently but firmly seizes our attention to lead us through coastal communities that are already experiencing the ravages of sea level rise. She does not focus on projected damages or what may happen in three generations. She speaks powerfully, poetically, lyrically about what happens to people in communities that have depended on coastal ecosystems for generations but now must face the prospect of relocating or abandoning the places to which they belong, of which they have been an organic part. We visit communities in Florida, Louisiana, San Francisco Bay, and New England that are witnessing permanent change in their shorelines and the loss of neighborhoods and towns that are no longer viable. She takes us on hikes through forests and wetlands that are already changing or have changed permanently, where scientists are documenting the adaptation of plant and animal species to changing weather and higher water.

Albert Naquin (in Santa Claus pose)

Rush is not a scientist but a scientifically literate environmental journalist with poetry in her bones and empathy in her manner. She sits down with Isle de Jean Charles Indians in the Louisiana bayou to discuss their removal from a once robust island that has shrunk from 55 square miles to less than one square mile in the past century, a place where few can still live and many have left already. Albert Naquin talks in poignant terms about his tribe’s struggle to reassemble a homeland further inland on higher ground in the face of numerous bureaucratic obstacles at both the federal and state level. Rush allows many other actors, in places from Maine to Staten Island to Pensacola, to speak in their own voices and tell us firsthand of the wrenching experience of loss and relocation. This is not a book about those with the means to choose their homesite. This is about people who have known and adapted to one place for a long time and have no options left. The book reminds us vividly that the issue of climate change is as much about people as it is about abstract scientific concepts.

Members of the Isle de Jean Charles community.

Over the years, with the hurricanes and the land loss and flooding, many people have been displaced. It got to the point that if something wasn’t done eventually there would be no Native community, no more people of the Isle de Jean Charles. Many of those that left, it looks like they’re going to be included too, and I think for them especially this relocation can do some good. The island is already a skeleton of its former self and that’s what’s happening inside the community as well. When we relocate to higher ground we will at least be able to hold on to each other. I mean if we can stay together, then we haven’t lost as much.

. . . . I mean really we are talking about having to choose to move away from our ancestral home. I know a lot of people figure we would be celebrating, to be moving to firmer ground and all. But it’s not like I threw a party when I heard about the relocation. I’ll be leaving a place that has been home to my family for right under two hundred years.

Chris Brunet

Of course, many others have experienced the pain and mixed feelings of forced relocation. Coastal storms and inland flooding have led to the buyouts and relocations of thousands of Americans in recent decades, and the toll climbs with every Hurricane Katrina, Harvey, Irma, or Maria. The toll will continue and grow.

Nolia Naquin, Albert’s sister.

Still, Rush’s book is not the typical call to action of a climate change activist. Rush is engaged more clearly and subtly in attempting to adjust our mindset, showing us in real terms the impacts of a history of environmental racism in which the least fortunate live in the most vulnerable neighborhoods, less by choice than because of a historic lack of options. She is raising our awareness of our historic ignorance about the ecological value of wetlands, which has caused us to compromise their protective functions and make shorelines more vulnerable. She is introducing us to the powerful sense of place of traditional communities, a sense that is generally lacking in affluent vacation homes by the sea. She is sensitizing us to a sense of doom in some communities and the lost opportunity felt by the departing residents. In short, she wants us not just to know but to feel the immediate loss produced by sea level rise today.

There are many volumes of studies and reports where one can acquire detailed scientific data about climate change. I have cited many for readers of this blog, and they are important. But it is also important to understand this crisis on its most human level. Helping us do that is Rush’s forte. Rising is a great introduction to the human cost of our global environmental neglect.

Jim Schwab

Knock Me Over

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From left: Larry Larson; Maria Cox-Lamm, ASFPM Chair; myself; Ingrid Wadsworth, ASFPM Deputy Director

I confess: I was taken totally by surprise. Most of us, if we have a level head on our shoulders, do not do our work with the thought that we will some day be presented with a major award because of it. Especially those of us in the world of public service and nonprofits, where dedication to the greater good is a primary motive, even though we are not immune to thinking about raises and promotions, which, after all, may enable us to be more effective in what we do.

Consequently, when the Association of State Floodplain Managers (ASFPM) asked me to attend the annual ASFPM conference in Phoenix last week (June 17-21), I naively accepted the rationale that, since they had recently contracted with me as an independent consultant to lead the production of a Planning Advisory Service Report on climate resilience and capital improvements planning, under a Regional Coastal Resilience grant from the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA), they needed me there to discuss the project. I had helped write the grant three years ago while still leading the Hazards Planning Center at the American Planning Association (APA), which became the major partner to ASFPM in conducting the three-year project. Although I retired from that position a little more than a year ago, there was a great deal of logic in bringing me back to see at least that part of the project to a successful conclusion.

There was only one problem in Phoenix. No one seemed all that concerned about spending time talking to me about the NOAA project. I was certainly learning a great deal by listening to presentations, and I certainly enjoyed networking with colleagues at receptions and in hallways at the Phoenix Convention Center, but the question was bugging me: Why did they really want me out here?

On Thursday morning, June 21, before the morning plenary began in the Ballroom, I approached David Conrad and Larry Larson at a front table after initially parking my belongings at another table further back. David Conrad was once with the National Wildlife Federation and wrote a path-breaking report following the 1993 Midwest floods. Larry is the former executive director of ASFPM and now a policy advisor working with current executive director Chad Berginnis. Both are prominent in the field of floodplain management.

I patted David on the shoulder and with self-effacing humor said, “I used to sit at the front table before I retired from APA, but now I’m nobody anymore.” They chuckled, and ASFPM’s public information officer, Michele Mihalovich, said from across the table, “Jim, you’ll never be nobody.” We all laughed, David invited me to join them, and I moved to the front table for the plenary. All good for a laugh. Afterwards, Larry made a point of asking me to find him at a front table, off to the side, for the awards luncheon at noon. Still clueless, I assumed he was simply being friendly but honored his request when the time came.

Lunch was served, and Doug Plasencia, president of the ASFPM Foundation, and Diane Brown, retiring from her post as outreach and events manager at ASFPM after 35 years of excellent service, introduced award recipients and their achievements one at a time, with images on the screen, and each winner stood with presenters for a photo. Interesting, I thought, in considering the various prizes, but routine. I was happy for the winners, some of whom I knew. Almost every national professional organization does such things. Meanwhile, I ate my salad, the roast beef entrée, and the dessert. In a little while, it would all be over, and we would move on to an afternoon of presentations and discussions in a variety of concurrent sessions. I flipped through the program to see what looked interesting.

Finally, Diane Brown began to describe the winner of the highest honor ASFPM bestows, the Goddard-White Award, described thus on the website:

“The Goddard-White Award is named in honor of the contributions made to floodplain management by Gilbert White (1911- 2006) and Jim Goddard (1906-1994). This award is given by ASFPM to individuals who have had a national impact carrying forward the goals and objectives of floodplain management. It is an indication of the level of esteem the association holds for the two namesakes as well as the recipients and is ASFPM’s highest award. It is not necessarily presented every year.”

I’m not sure because one does not time such things. I believe it took about 30 seconds of Diane’s narration of the story behind this year’s award before it suddenly dawned on me that I was the person they were talking about. I had never spent one minute before that contemplating this specific award or how I might have anything to do with it. The revelation that I was a recipient struck me like a lightning bolt. Larry was looking toward me, and I pointed to myself silently as if so say, “Moi?” He kept his Cheshire cat smile and waited for the emcees to invite me forward. Larry, by the way, was in 1985 the very first recipient of this honor. He had known all along precisely what was coming. Diane invited me to the podium to say a few words. A few tears started to run down my cheeks, so I struggled to get them under control. At the podium, Diane asked, “Are you okay to talk?” I nodded yes.

I cannot repeat verbatim what I said because it was all spontaneous, but I know that I began by saying that we in the hazards world are “supposed to be prepared. I am not. You caught me off guard.” I took the crowd on a two-minute tour of what we had achieved together in the partnership of recent years that I helped construct between ASFPM and APA, and said, “Eventually, you look back and ask, ‘Did we do all that?’” I then explained that it was not just me. I had learned a great deal over the years from many other people, that big achievements require collective effort. And I thanked everyone for this high honor before stepping over to the curtain for a photograph that you see above.

I checked later and found that only 24 people have received this award, including former NOAA Coastal Services Center administrator Margaret Davidson, a truly memorable individual, U.S. Rep. Earl Blumenauer of Oregon, a perennial warrior for better disaster legislation, and French Wetmore, who helped create the Federal Emergency Management Agency’s Community Rating System for the National Flood Insurance Program. All I can say is, Wow. What a band of high achievers and visionaries I have apparently joined.

It is hard to top such an honor, except in one way: It is important not to rest on these laurels, but to continue to contribute, to encourage others to find their passion, and to remain an effective voice for positive change. I hope I am doing that and can remain part of the action for many years to come. Thanks, ASFPM. I hope I can prove you right.

Jim Schwab

FEMA Needs to Think about This One

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Flooded property in Lyons, Colorado, after the St. Vrain River flooded in September 2013.

There is that old saying that, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. To that, one might add that, if you’re thinking about fixing it anyway, you may want to clarify exactly how you wish to improve things and why you think the improvement will be better.

In a February 27 notice in the Federal Register, the Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA) proposed a major change in long-standing hazard mitigation rules regarding grants for acquisitions of flooded properties that made almost no effort to meet that test. I wish I had noticed it earlier because the deadline for comments was April 30. I submitted a brief comment on that date and tried to rally others on Facebook, but the truth is that this one got away from me. I was busy on other fronts. I have subsequently spent a few days gathering background information.

I am very glad that a few national organizations like the Association of State Floodplain Managers (ASFPM), American Rivers, and the Natural Resources Defense Council (NRDC) found time to file substantial objections to FEMA’s notice on Property Acquisitions and Relocation for Open Space (Docket ID: FEMA-2018-0006). Their objections raise profound questions about both the process and the substance of FEMA’s proposed changes. Others have also submitted comments.

Here’s the bottom line: For 30 years since the passage of the Stafford Act, which provides the basic framework of most federal disaster law, federal hazard mitigation grant programs have required that lands being acquired from property owners whose homes have been flooded must be placed into perpetual open space following demolition of the structures. The clear intent is to reduce the ongoing exposure of the federal government and the National Flood Insurance Program to repeated losses by precluding further development in those flood-prone areas. By and large, those grants go through state and local governments, which then maintain those open spaces and must periodically certify to FEMA that the lands remain in that status. Today, those grant programs include not only the Hazard Mitigation Grant Program (HMGP), a sometimes-substantial source of mitigation funding that is available after a presidentially declared disaster; the Pre-Disaster Mitigation (PDM) program, created as part of the Disaster Mitigation Act of 2000, which amended the Stafford Act; and Flood Mitigation Assistance (FMA), part of which deals with Severe Repetitive Loss properties, which make up a disproportionate share of overall flood claims.

In the notice, FEMA has announced a new option to allow owners of flooded properties to retain the underlying land while being paid to demolish the structures, thereby permitting them to eventually rebuild on that same flood-prone land. Because mitigation grants have gone from FEMA through states to local governments, those governments have been responsible for the open space programs that result. This new approach would allow the property owner the option of taking the grant directly from FEMA. In its comments on the proposal, ASFPM noted that, in the 2004 NFIP reform legislation, it supported providing FEMA the option to deal directly with property owners, mostly because some local governments have lacked the capacity to monitor the open space requirements, but it still expected that FEMA would consult with those governments before using that option as a means of maintaining consistency with state and local hazard mitigation policy. The current notice makes no mention of such coordination.

Elevation of flooded properties remains a viable option in many cases.

It is not as if these owners do not have other options for mitigating future flood damage, including elevation of residential structures above the 100-year base flood elevation established on FEMA flood insurance rate maps, or floodproofing the structure. But, the thinking seems to be, some owners will be more willing to demolish if they can retain the land. One possibility for some might be to retain the land, rebuild in due course, and flip the improved property while leaving the NFIP with continued flood loss exposures. How that helps federal taxpayers or other flood insurance rate payers is not especially clear.

The Federal Register announcement does nothing to make that clear. If you follow the link and read the notice, you are likely to experience my reaction, which was that I felt left in the dark regarding the rationale for making this move, which is not explained. Nor does FEMA provide any data to support the idea that this initiative would do anything to reduce flood losses. The opposite could easily prove true.

In an April 26 article in Insurance Journal, former FEMA administrator Craig Fugate offers some support for the new option by noting that placing land in permanent open space through a buyout is often a “hard sell.” That may well be, but it is partly because the solution is meant to be effective and lasting. It is also not as if the approach has lacked success. As NRDC notes in its comments, citing ASFPM case studies, more than 30,000 floodplain properties have been removed from development since 1993, many of them following major cataclysms such as the 1993 and 2008 Midwest floods and various hurricanes.

Perhaps more telling is the question of homeowners’ motivation in making the difficult decision to sell and relocate. The idea that people would necessarily prefer to be able to rebuild in the same location is not as clear or straightforward as some might assume, though there are, no doubt, advocates of property rights who would prefer to create the new option. But this emotional decision contains some factors that should not be ignored. Perhaps straight to the point is this comment from American Rivers:

Our experience working with floodplain managers has taught us that convincing property owners to accept a buyout is an emotional and difficult decision, and many are only willing to accept the buyout offer after they are assured that the property will be preserved as open space for the good of the public. Offering direct grants that allow new construction where a structure was demolished could be at odds with local hazard mitigation plans and efforts to acquire flood prone properties for open space. FEMA should instead be working to support the implementation of open space goals in local and state hazard mitigation grants.

In other words, many of those choosing a buyout, having suffered the damages of severe and repetitive losses from flooding, and aware of the larger issues concerning the public good in these situations, would rather ensure that nothing like this happens again, at least in their community. But what happens to the motivation undergirding their willingness to sell if they become acutely aware that their neighbors now have the option of prolonging the pain by not placing the land in permanent open space? Will they still feel that they are accomplishing anything by pursuing the traditional option? In any event, are these not the people whose choices we most want to honor for the greater good of the community?

City-acquired open space in Cedar Falls, Iowa, near the Cedar River.

The essential reason all this is important is that we have learned much over the years about the natural and beneficial functions of floodplains, which include soil enrichment, wildlife habitat, reduced flood severity, and reductions in erosion and stormwater runoff, to name a few, in addition to the potential recreational functions of waterfront parks and open space. All this is in addition to the fiscal benefits of reducing future floodplain losses in the areas affected. If all that is not reason enough for FEMA to pause, rethink the question, and at least offer some solid scientific and economic documentation of the benefits of the proposed new approach, then I am not sure what is. Otherwise, count me a serious skeptic.

Jim Schwab

On Enacting False Economies

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Claiming to protect the public’s purse is always great politics, at least in some quarters. Actually doing so requires considerable thought and homework, but grandstanding is cheap and makes for great sound bites in an election season. And thus, it is often silly season not only in Congress, but in many of America’s state legislatures.

I say this because a legislative alert from the Illinois chapter of the American Planning Association (APA), of which I have been a member for decades, turned my attention to an attempt in three pending bills to prohibit (HB4246) the use of local government funds “for expenses connected with attendance by an employee or contractor of the unit of local government at a convention or gathering of personnel.” HB4247 disallows spending on “access to physical space for booths, hospitality suites, or other physical space” at such events. All three bills, HB4246, 4247, and 4248, create the Local Government Convention Expense Control Act, sponsored by Rep. David McSweeney, a Republican conservative from the collar counties north of Chicago. A quick check on McSweeney in Wikipedia illustrates a history of such initiatives, some of which may make sense, but this one is clearly a case of tossing out the baby with the bath water. That said, he has a number of co-sponsors including some Democrats.

I have no problem with appropriate limits on the ways in which public funds are used for conventions and conferences. Public money clearly should be used for sensible and responsible purposes at such events. But I have attended and presented at dozens of professional conferences involving local and state government professionals all across the United States, and I have yet to see anything highly or even mildly inappropriate. When such outrages do occur, they tend to find their way into mass media coverage that goes viral, and heads roll, but such incidents are extremely rare, which raises the question of the necessity of the proposed legislation.

There is a reason for professional conferences that involves an intelligent use of public money. If we can at least accept the notion that we want our professional public servants—planners, financial officers, civil engineers, transit officials, and others—to be well informed and up to date on best practices in their fields—then there is a solid argument for affording them the opportunity to attend professional conferences at which they can attend sessions and workshops and learn. What they bring back to their jobs enhances the service they provide on their jobs.

In my own role, I was usually speaking or attending as an employee of a national nonprofit professional association, APA, most of whose members work in the public sector. Many of the rest are consultants, professors, or land-use attorneys, but there are numerous special niches in which people find useful employment. I did not attend state or regional conferences for urban planners, floodplain mangers, and other professional groups for the social opportunities. I can think of much better forums for enhancing that aspect of my life. I was typically either trying to learn something that would make me a better manager for the research and training projects I was leading, or because I was presenting information in a session or as a keynote speaker. Urban planning, for example, is a rapidly evolving field of practice. Being denied access to the networking and learning opportunities afforded by such gatherings is a blow to the professionalism of the dedicated public servants who work for local government. The alternative—to say that they must spend their own money to attend, which some do anyway—is to drive the best of them away from the public sector to firms that offer such opportunities as a means of maintaining a top-flight staff. It is as much a question in job interviews as compensation or prospects for advancement.

Let me offer a couple of minor examples to make my point. Just three years ago, I attended the Illinois APA conference to present findings from a national study APA’s Hazards Planning Center had completed with support from the Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA) on planning for post-disaster recovery. Sharing the podium for the session was Jon Oliphant, the planning director of Washington, Illinois, a Peoria suburb, which was struck by an EF-4 tornado in November 2013. He complimented my presentation with real-life details of the rebuilding experience in Washington since that event. For the people in that room, many of whom had not experienced a similar disaster in their own communities, but worried about the day they might, it would be hard to replicate the value of being able to hear all this first-hand and to “kick the tires” by asking questions of the panel. The modest expense of attending that two-day conference, within driving distance for many registrants, must be weighed against the considerable value of the knowledge and insights they gained from not only that session but many others they undoubtedly attended while there. The same could largely be said whether the topic is stormwater drainage, public finance, or economic development. If many people later exchanged business cards over drinks and snacks at a reception (typically sponsored by exhibitors), so what? In most cases, in my experience, it was an opportunity to chew over and compare impressions of what they had heard and discussed throughout the day.

In another example, Chad Berginnis, the executive director of the Association of State Floodplain Managers, and I tag-teamed an opening keynote for the Illinois Association for Floodplain and Stormwater Management. Our topic was a forthcoming report, also supported by FEMA, on subdivision design and flood hazard areas. How do we better design and review new developments to minimize or avoid damage from floods? The annual losses from poor handling of this issue can easily exceed any costs associated with anyone’s attendance at that event. It is important that our planners, engineers, and floodplain managers be aware of current best practices in this field. Impoverishing access of such public employees to professional education simply weakens the expertise and knowledge base of the people a city employees.

Simply put, if we are going to insist that public employees do their jobs well, we need to do two things. One, which is the diametrical opposite of what bills like these would achieve (and such proposed legislation is hardly limited to Illinois), is to ensure that our public servants have meaningful opportunities to improve their skills, to say nothing of meeting continuing education requirements for professional certification in their fields. The other is to insist that legislators do their own jobs by making an honest effort to determine whether their proposed legislation helps enrich the quality of service these employees can offer or is a simplistic smoke screen for being too intellectually lazy to undertake an honest evaluation of the true impact of their proposals. I repeat: This is yet another case of throwing the baby out with the bath water. It offers false economies that undermine the value of public service. Taxpayers do not gain; they lose.

Jim Schwab