Start with some context. Sea level rise is forecast to shrink the land area of Florida by some 1-10% by the end of the century. Much of this land is in Florida’s south. The area affected includes the Everglades and Miami, but obviously other strips of coastline are vulnerable as well. The property value of the associated real estate is an estimated 2-3 trillion dollars. To protect it will require engineering works roughly comparable to those protecting the southwest low country of the Netherlands. The need is for hazard-mitigation investments amounting to billions of dollars each year. (You can find cost estimates for the Dutch case here). These are not yet evident at the necessary scale in Florida- or federal budgets.
Nothing new here! Easy to read this in few seconds and move on to more urgent matters – for example, the implications of the latest national election results for the national economy in general and Florida property values in particular. But Hurricane Milton’s impacts are prompting some to rethink Florida’s long-term future and the full costs of getting from here to there. A few examples:
A New York Times article sums up the options in three easy-to-understand phrases: fight the water (build sea walls, convert Florida into Holland, or, more likely, its less-successful analog, Venice); live with it (put Florida homes on stilts; leave it to residents to formulate their own evacuation strategies); pack your bags (retreat; easier said than done, because current Floridians loathe the thought of leaving).
A recent British experience with giving the land back to the sea suggests a range of outside-the-box possibilities. It is possible to reimagine Florida as a paradise – not one where large numbers of people live for decades under highly vulnerable circumstances and great expense and risk, but rather a sparsely occupied, more open, more natural site that an entire nation could visit, for restoration and renewal. (Not implying that the American psyche finds such social engineering at all appealing, or that this is even a good idea – just saying.)
A Washington Post article on Florida housing markets reveals a growing gap separating the value of Florida homes deemed at greater climate risk from those on presumably safer ground. Some realtors, buyers, and speciulators are beginning to take note.
Along those latter lines, another Washington Post article interviews two investors who are making these climate risks an integral part of their long-term investment strategy (emulating those who shorted the fishy financial instruments involved when they saw the subprime mortgage crisis of 2007-2010 coming).
Susan Crawford, in a piece on Substack, argues that hazard risks have triggered political responses at state and local levels that put insurance and municipal bonds on shaky financial ground.
This brief list is by no means exhaustive; the fuller literature on these topics must by now be running in the hundreds.
Shining a spotlight on these issues builds awareness, which is by itself a huge step. The publicity makes it harder for savvy but unscrupulous investors to take advantage of the naivete of the elderly seeking escape from harsh winters in their retirement years. Individuals and institutions are left free to explore a wide range of options for their own decisions and actions. The larger society can gauge the success or failure of the myriad efforts and foster those showing the greatest potential.
Florida will not be attempting to meet the challenge on its own. It is and will continue to seek national help. Per se, the Florida problem is not just a statewide dilemma – it’s national. But the national vulnerability to natural hazards is more than a simple question of spreading the risk posed by hurricanes to a single state over the full nation. The other 49 states face risks and vulnerabilities of their own. These include extreme floods and drought, severe warm- and cold-season storms, earthquakes, disease outbreaks and much more. Across our nation, living among the larger population, are the survivors of Katrina, Ian, Helene, the California wildfires, the Loma Prieta- and Northridge earthquakes, and many other named and unnamed disasters. Many of this subpopulation have lost everything (including loved ones) and still decades later are struggling with debt and governmental red tape, trying to rebuild. Theirs is an unending but almost invisible nightmare hidden amidst a land of carefree plenty. Out of respect for them, and to avoid adding to their number, we need to be more intentional (and more effective) in disaster risk identification, reduction, and recovery.