Today, the two year anniversary of Hurricane Katrina's landfall, my hometown of New Orleans is getting some much needed attention. And rightly so: It's a scandal that in the years since the disaster, all too little has changed. Time magazine recently blazoned the word "pathetic" on its cover to describe the lagging efforts to re-defend the city. Residents are reoccupying and rebuilding willy-nilly, including in the most vulnerable, flood-prone areas. Meanwhile, the agency whose failures drowned the city to begin with, the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, lurches into a series of projects that still won't protect against the deadliest hurricanes the Gulf of Mexico can spawn--at least not at any time in the foreseeable future.
In this context, who could do anything but predict another disaster eventually if we simply carry on as we've been doing? In fact, one can easily imagine scenarios for New Orleans that would be considerably worse than Katrina--a storm that, it is too often forgotten, both weakened and swerved aside, failing to deliver its full force to the city. The outlook only gets more worrisome when you consider that continuing land subsidence, coupled with sea level rise, keep bringing the Gulf in closer. Meanwhile, hurricanes are only expected to grow more intense on average in the future. Indeed, although debate persists over the precise relationship between hurricanes and climate change, the Atlantic's recent hyperactivity suggests that intensification may already have begun.
All of these trends look grim for New Orleans--but from the perspective of national policy, it gets even worse. What much of the Katrina anniversary discussion seems to have missed is that New Orleans is hardly our only exposed area. The really scary question is this: If we can't do better when it comes to defending New Orleans, how will we protect other coastal cities subject to dire hurricane risks--risks that have received far less national media attention than those facing the Crescent City? Consider a few scenarios that have long been predicted:
* A Category 4 or stronger hurricane strikes the Tampa Bay/St. Petersburg, Florida, area, driving a tremendous storm surge that knocks out bridges, floods downtown Tampa 20 feet deep, and temporarily turns St. Petersburg into an island.
*A mega-hurricane strikes Galveston/Houston, Texas, flooding the homes of 600,000 Harris County residents--resulting in damages approaching $50 billion.*We see a repeat of the 1926 Category 4 Miami Hurricane, but the storm strikes a massively wealthier and more populous coast than existed the last time around. Damages exceed $ 100 billion and Katrina ceases to be the most costly hurricane in U.S. history.
* And most alarming of all: Decades from now, with sea level a foot higher, a Category 3 storm makes its way to New York City. Areas submerged include parts of southern Brooklyn, Queens, and Long Island City, Astoria, and (that's right) lower Manhattan.
And these are just some of the worst case scenarios. Many other U.S. cities are also highly exposed to hurricanes, all along the Gulf Coast and up and down the Eastern Seaboard.
Without a doubt, we haven't done nearly enough for New Orleans--and for that, our leaders ought to be ashamed. Having grown up in the city myself, and watched my mother lose her home in Katrina, I'm as outraged as anyone about the continuing failure to learn from that painful lesson.
But as we look to the future, I think we have to remember that this is bigger than New Orleans. I don't know where the next intense hurricane will hit, but I can think of a lot of places that won't be ready.
[This post is adapted from a recent op-ed syndicated by Blue Ridge Press.]
I lost my home in 1989 to the Loma Prieta earthquake and have yet to receive dime one from the feds, and could afford earthquake insurance. I got food and a blanket from the red cross, and a demolition bill from the county. 18 years later and I still haven't recovered.
I feel for the victims of katrina, but if we are going to protect one group from natual disasters, we should protect us all.
1. Settlement density dictates neighborhood & metro transportation;
2. Neighborhood & metro tranportation needs to tie in with the regional grids.
Pedestrian/Mass Transit friendly NH's make more sense when there's enough of them in a metro to support bus and in-city rail between those NH's and core high-density job areas. And those cities will make more sense when they can link up by rail with enough cities built similiarly.
Since the 1930s, we've built metros with suburban density NHs, linked with interstaes and airports. Practical rebuilding to pedestrian standards need to build strings of such NHs along rail/ bus routes, linking up with downtowns and current airports. But this will really only make sense when regional clusters of metros do this, then link these ped-friendly parts of their metros with each other, via inter-city rail. This will irritate suburbanites, but most of them have no idea how much pre-WW2 NHs were drained of capital to build their auto-based infrastructure, which was the greatest experiment in central-planning and socialist-engineering the world has ever seen.
Do you get it?
Whether you agree with that or not, it will be interesting to see how the expectation plays out in future disasters. If a large storm hits a major urban center in Florida (a large, rich state) should the federal government act as uber-insurer? If so, there is certainly no money or structural systems to make that happen.
Given the difficulty of this issue, I am sure that elected officials will not want to address it until it is too late. However, if I lived on the coast I would be very careful about expecting much federal help.
One twist gets me: there is no reason for Louisiana to be poor. It's one of the largest oil states & New Orleans is the natural shipping hub for the central US. If La was an independent country who's local elite were responsible for developing its economy, it should be as rich as, say, the Netherlands.
Unfortunately, La has been stuck with the curse of plantation-based crops as its first boom industry, and its elite has been stuck in a colonial (party now, invest never) mentality ever since.
The oil boom only exacerbated tendencies that were already there, and most of that wealth went into out-of-state pockets. Local capital investment for the oil industry made things worse, by canalizing water channels so hurricane surges came even further inland.
The Army Corps' previous work in flood control redirected the normal Mississippi sediment load away from the bayous, which is a major contributor to the sinking of modern South Louisiana.
Given these historical realities, I'm OK with "Fed help", for reconstruction, relocation, you name it. We couldn't afford to pay back all the money that's been sucked out of Louisiana.
Unfortunately, the more we pay attention to global warming, the more we have to question how much it will pay to invest in any of these coastal areas. We're probably OK for the next generation - most investment made now will wear out before it floods - but helping the poor in NOLA relocate out of the Delta may be the most humane thing we could do for them. Let New Orleans shrink to half-size, stop building high-rises on any ocean beach, and while we're at it, isn't the NYC World Trade Center site practically sea-level beachfront property as well? Do we really need a big tower like that on the New York coast?
george bush is a threat to the United States.
When I lived in San Francisco right after the quake, a loved one who worked for the SF Water Department made me swear to him that I would never consider living in the Marina.
His job was to survey the structural damage of an area completely built on liquefaction in a situation so ravaged it was sealed off for months.
Some of my clients lost everything in the fires. Some stood before crumbled homes.
Fast forward a decade.
The dotcom boom hits and guess what turned into the hottest area to live for the dotcommon?
The Marina.
The rest of San Francisco just sat back and watched in wonderment as the boors most responsible for ruining what had once been such a gloriously livable city drove up property costs in the diciest part of town. Amazed Marina dwellers thanked the Internet for their golden parachutes and rapidly moved to safer ground.
Apparently no one who buys in the Marina ever read the 3 Little Pigs.
This time when it happens, there’s going to be a lot of the deluded suddenly seeing the light.
Through where their walls used to be.
gala
gandolina@hotmail.com