Disaster Mitigation Act at Twenty

When a law makes a powerful impact over time, it is sometimes hard to remember what life was like before it was enacted. In U.S. history, for example, both Social Security and, later, Medicare, created a new reality for the elderly that makes it almost impossible for most people to imagine what old age meant before they took effect. They are so much a part of the fabric of American life that some people even forget (or never learn) the social and political debates that produced them. That sort of obtuse amnesia was in evidence as Tea Party protests materialized in response to the Affordable Care Act, aka Obamacare, in which some carried signs that read, “Keep Your Government Hands Off My Medicare.” Ponder that conundrum for a while.

Few laws match the scale of impact of those two examples, but many have significant impacts that receive less attention, at least among the general public. One that is reaching its twentieth anniversary is the Disaster Mitigation Act (DMA), signed into law by President Clinton on October 30, 2000. After a decade of expensive disasters in the 1990s—Hurricane Andrew (1992), the Midwest floods (1993), the Northridge earthquake (1994), and Hurricanes Fran (1996) and Floyd (1997)—Congress realized that the nation needed greater accountability from states and local governments in addressing hazard mitigation challenges before disasters occurred. The carrot and the stick were combined in this instance in a requirement that states (including territories and the District of Columbia) and local and tribal governments prepare and adopt hazard mitigation plans that won the approval of the Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA) as meeting the standards of the act and its accompanying regulations as a condition of eligibility for FEMA hazard mitigation grants. Put simply, no plan, no money. Few state and local officials wish to find themselves in that position after a major disaster.

Congress went one step further. Previously, most such grants came through the Hazard Mitigation Grant Program (HMGP), created under the Stafford Act in 1988, the basic law structuring the federal disaster response system, under which every state has some sort of parallel emergency management agency. The problem with HMGP has always been that the money is made available as part of a presidential disaster declaration, using a percentage of overall disaster assistance to determine the amount available. That money goes to the affected states, which are responsible for local allocations. But that means that a state must experience a natural disaster to be eligible for such money. Admittedly, it then becomes useful for mitigating future disasters, but it did nothing to avert the most recent event. In fact, communities that had become adept at mitigating hazards with their own resources often complained that they got no federal assistance because they were doing too good a job of preventing losses. Davenport, Iowa, for example, long ago refused Army Corps offers to build levees along the Mississippi River and opted for a riverfront park that allowed the water to flow without damaging buildings in its downtown. Davenport has not always avoided flood impacts, but it has certainly minimized them.

In DMA, Congress added a new Pre-Disaster Mitigation (PDM) grant program. Instead of being triggered by disaster declarations, it was an annual grant competition, in which state and local governments submitted proposals for projects that would reduce losses of life and property in future events. Its major flaw was that PDM relied on annual congressional appropriations, which predictably ebbed and flowed and often was grossly underfunded. In 2018, in the Disaster Recovery Reform Act, Congress finally opted to stabilize funding by creating a formula by which six percent of total annual disaster relief outlays would be swept into a single pot by FEMA for grants under a new program that FEMA has labeled Building Resilient Infrastructure and Communities (BRIC), which I discussed in a post here in early August. The resulting 2020 grant funds total roughly $500 million, a far cry from years past when the total congressional allocation was often as little as $25 million, which barely put a dent in the mitigation needs of a nation as vast as the U.S.

But the real question after two decades is, How has DMA changed the landscape of American planning and disaster management? Clearly, we have not solved all problems. For one thing, climate change has accelerated and complicated matters significantly. While Congress unquestionably has dithered a great deal on climate issues, DMA was never aimed directly at climate change. Instead, it aimed to create a climate of state, tribal and local responsibility and accountability for planning for hazard mitigation while making federal funding available to support such planning. In fact, federal assistance for such planning is built into the law. Have governments responded?

DMA timeline produced by FEMA, reused from FEMA website. To expand, click here.

The unequivocal answer is yes. By 2002, once FEMA had finalized its guidance for the mitigation planning process, Clackamas County, Oregon, became the first local jurisdiction to win approval for its plan. Within a few years, every state and territory had an approved plan in place. Winning compliance from most local jurisdictions understandably took longer, but today FEMA can claim that more than 23,000 local units of government have approved plans, as do 239 tribal governments, which together cover more than 84 percent of the U.S. population. The gaps in coverage are primarily in rural areas, many of which suffer from low governmental capacity—a subject that can still be addressed in future outreach by FEMA—and some of which simply choose not to plan, presumably not seeing the consequences as outweighing the burden of the work involved.

In the meantime, many professional and intergovernmental associations have done considerable outreach to their own members to explain the benefits of hazard mitigation planning beyond simple eligibility for grants. For example, during my tenure at the American Planning Association, we used a FEMA contract to produce a Planning Advisory Service Report on the benefits of integrating such planning throughout the local planning process, including comprehensive plans, capital improvements programming, and the land-use regulations that implement mitigation intentions, such as zoning, floodplain management, and subdivision ordinances. We published Hazard Mitigation: Integrating Best Practices into Planning in 2010. The concept of integrated planning has enjoyed significant increased attention throughout the second decade of DMA and has become a staple of FEMA guidance for local hazard mitigation planning.

There are many ways to review this history, which may even be worth an entire book. As for what we have achieved, the Natural Hazards Center, based at the University of Colorado, asked me to moderate a webinar on October 13. “The Disaster Mitigation Act of 2000: Twenty Years of Promise, Pitfalls, and Progress from a Planning Perspective,” in which I was joined by three experienced and insightful panelists from state, county, and federal government, provides a fast-paced, one-hour summary of the successes, shortcomings, and future challenges of DMA as part of the Center’s Making Mitigation Work webinar series, and the recorded version is available at the link above. I thank NHC Director Lori Peek for having invited me to lead this discussion.

Make it your DMA anniversary experience. Trust me, it will be worth your time.

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