As it turned out, we got lucky. Although the South took $8 billion in damages, that’s nothing compared with what could have been if the hurricane had stayed a category 5. Instead, the eye expanded before Opal made landfall, slowing her down to a category 3. My house and those of my close friends remained unscathed, but if Opal had stayed a 5, I doubt I would be here to write this.
“Lucky,” in this context, still hurts. Okaloosa County alone took more than $50 million in damages. The Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA) and other government agencies promptly set up local headquarters and began paying out relief: money to rebuild and repair homes, unemployment insurance for those whose jobs were gone (and couldn’t receive state payments), payouts for those who participate in the state’s wind-damage-insurance and the federal flood-insurance program, low-interest loans for businesses without operating funds.
Is this really such a good idea? We residents of northwest Florida – and the rest of the Gulf Coast – made a conscious decision to live in a hazardous location. Hurricanes happen here (Opal was my second this year) as surely as earthquakes in Los Angeles, or crime in New York and Miami. Ft. Walton Beach, Destin and the other local cities offer beautiful weather, gorgeous beaches and opportunities to fish. But as 1995 reminded us, hurricanes come with the package, sooner or later. Guaranteed.
If we choose to take the risk of living here, why should the government bail us out when the inevitable happens? Should a government that talks about ending welfare as we know it compensate people for putting themselves in the path of a hurricane?
It’s not that I like the idea of my neighbors’ being unable to rebuild, or of businesses unable to reopen. Lord knows, if I lost my personal property or my home, I’d be right there asking for help. But that’s true of many government programs. If you cut off the money, someone has to go without something, whether it’s medicine, prenatal care, a lovely home on a barrier island – or a cinderblock home further inland.
For that reason, I’m almost surprised (but not quite) that so many local homeowners have taken advantage of disaster relief. This is a very conservative community. People talk loudly and a lot about government taking from hardworking Americans to support welfare mothers. Apparently, it’s OK for the government to take from hardworking voters living inland to support people who want to live near the beach.
I also hear a lot of angry talk about property rights, and how government has no business placing restrictions on someone, just because he or she owns wetlands, or an endangered species lives on the property. Many of the same grumbling landowners see no contradiction between denying government any say over their land and expecting government to pay so that they can afford to live on it.
The urge to have it both ways isn’t unique to northwest Florida. People in Los Angeles know they’re going to face the Big One someday; people along the Mississippi know they can expect floods. We’re all taking risks and expecting someone else to cover it. Some of us don’t even try to minimize the cost.
If you decide to save money by not buying storm shutters, which shield windows from windborne debris, and your house is demolished as a result, you can still collect federal aid. If you choose not to buy flood insurance, FEMA will bail you out one time. After that, you buy or lose future relief. Homeowners save money; taxpayers pick up the tab.
And it’s only going to get worse. Florida’s a growth state, drawing thousands of new residents every year, as does Los Angeles. The more people move in, the more will want aid next time a disaster strikes.
Am I suggesting cutting off FEMA money, federal flood insurance and Small Business Administration disaster-relief loans completely to all disaster-prone areas? Let those who want to live with the danger take the consequences? I don’t have the heart to go that far. Thousands of struggling homeowners would wake up and find their property devalued overnight. Even if they wanted to move, they might not be able to afford it. Military families attached to the nearby base don’t move here by choice; should they pay for being stationed in harm’s way?
The government is hardly likely to demand that much hardship from millions of voters. I wouldn’t, if I called the shots. I’ve seen hurricane damage up close. I couldn’t see people lose homes, property and everything else without using my power to help those in need.
What I am suggesting is that we bite the bullet harder than we have been. Living in Florida (or Los Angeles, or along the Mississippi) shouldn’t be financially painless. I’ve read that Hawaii’s homeowner-insurance rates have tripled since 1992’s Hurricane Iniki, while the steepest home-insurance hike in Florida since Hurricane Andrew has been 68 percent. If rates rise, private insurers can handle more of the damage – though it’s unlikely insurers could cover it all, and they do not cover flood damage.
Some homeowners and developers will have to live with risk. I don’t think any workable system will be able to cover everyone in a state like mine. There are flood plains along the gulf where the risk is too high even for federal flood insurance, but some developers who’ve built there want flood insurance anyway. Sorry, guys – you knew the job was dangerous when you took it.
Opal hurt. So did Erin and Andrew; so will the next one. But there’s a limit to what government should do to ease the pain.
