One evening this spring, I was out to dinner when a curious thing caught my attention.
The Weather Channel was on TV in the background, and every few minutes the camera cut to a radar shot of Fort Lauderdale, where a lone storm cell sat stationary over the city. There it continued to sit, refusing to move inland to dissipate or blow out to sea.
I had never seen anything like it. Neither had Fort Lauderdale, where on that day, April 12, nearly 26 inches of rain fell in approximately 12 hours.
Fort Lauderdale is not a one-off. In too many places throughout the country, we’re seeing unprecedented climate impacts: intense summer storms flooding communities across the Northeast, rapid melting of this winter’s record snowpack in Utah, historic rains on the heels of a historic drought in California, nearly 600 tornados reported through the first four months of 2023, with record or near-record numbers in January, February and March, and longer and more widespread forest fires.
These stories keep repeating themselves because we now live in an age where the unprecedented has become precedent — endangering lives, leaving communities at risk, damaging homes and businesses and disrupting local economies. These unprecedented times call for unprecedented action in response to our new climate reality.
Although the threat of flooding has been in the public consciousness since at least as far back as the Johnstown, Pa., flood of 1889, floods and other natural disasters are more repetitive and severe than in the past. Research from The Pew Charitable Trusts shows that there’s a flood somewhere in the country on average eight out of every 10 days of the year — with landlocked states almost as likely as coastal ones to experience a flood-related disaster. Severe flooding is taking a heavy toll on the nation’s fiscal health, causing more than $119 billion in damage and economic losses in 2022 alone.
And it’s not just flooding. Recent Pew research also found that wildfires are increasingly putting state budgets under strain. For example, the state of Washington spent an annual average of $83 million on wildfire suppression from 2015 to 2019 — more than three times the $24 million the state spent annually between 2010 and 2014.
Even how we talk about disasters is changing, with ordinary citizens now bandying about terms such as “atmospheric river.” Coined in the 1990s to describe the elongated bands of concentrated moisture in the atmosphere, the phrase remained relatively obscure outside of the meteorological world until earlier this year when California was battered by a relentless series of heavy rain and snowstorms. Now the term is heard on most local weather reports, where it’s used to explain why the Golden State went from a multiyear drought condition to widespread flooding nearly overnight — and why San Francisco experienced its wettest 22-day period since 1862.
The growing costs and risks of disasters have triggered action at the local, state and federal levels, including new funding and resilience planning for more intense natural disasters. But with climate impacts changing, we need to do more to prepare for the future. Long-term success in increasing resilience to future storms, wildfires and other disasters will hinge on effective collaboration between all levels of government and an engaged, informed public. Up to now, there have been significant gaps in resilience planning, including low-income communities missing out on needed funding and assistance because of inadequate local resources or knowledge of the complex processes needed to apply for funds.
Fortunately, conversations are taking place to improve this reality, including bipartisan legislation in Congress that would create a White House-level chief resilience officer and require the development of the nation’s first comprehensive resilience strategy. This type of national framework and leadership would be a big step forward in streamlining how the federal government funds and supports state and local disaster resilience programs and projects and improving how different levels of government collaborate.
Without strong collaboration and communication, efforts to increase resilience and local planning and development decisions could become disjointed and ineffective, and in some cases, might even result in increased risk and vulnerability. It’s a risk many of us face: According to the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, the El Nino weather phenomenon that emerged last month could lead to flooding from southern California to the Gulf Coast, and drought conditions from the Pacific Northwest to as far east to the Ohio Valley.
We’re only halfway through 2023, but we’ve already seen numerous weather records fall throughout the country. And, if the past decade is any indication, the Atlantic hurricane season — which kicked off on June 1 — could bring more trouble.
Our communities can’t afford slow action in response to changing realities, which is why we need action at all levels of government to plan for future climate resilience — and strong leadership to help guide us into what will likely be a more destructive, less predictable future.
Mathew Sanders leads state resilience efforts for the Pew Charitable Trusts.