Why should even rich areas be turned into ‘sacrificial grounds’ and returned to nature

This week there were three wildfires burning within 100 miles of Los Angeles. Sadly, this is not the headlines; the opening salvo of California’s new reality. Each year, wildfires cause a predictable sequence of events: Fires burn, homeowners flee, firefighters battle the flames often to the point of disaster, and, once the ash settles, people rush to rebuild large homes, often in the same places and often directly. or indirectly funded by taxpayer dollars.

Despite the increasing frequency and severity of wildfires and other natural disasters, people continue to be drawn to high-risk areas. Some of the most dangerous wildfires, heat waves, floods, and droughts are found in some of the fastest-growing housing markets: About 446,000 more people moved out of US states at high risk of wildfires in the past two years—a 51% increase from 2019 and 2020. Regions at high heat risk registered a net increase of 629,000, up 17%. Flood-prone regions saw an influx of 400,000 people, up 100% from the two years before 2021.

We’ve been here before, and we’ll be here again. The same places will burn, the same places will flood. It is time to acknowledge the universal truth. Through fires, floods, extreme heat, and other disasters, nature tells us in no uncertain terms: “You shouldn’t live here.” It is time for us to listen.

For the sake of public safety and financial responsibility, building or rebuilding should be prohibited in areas that are no longer suitable for human habitation. To break this costly and dangerous cycle, we must designate certain disaster-prone areas as no-go areas—areas to be “given” back to nature.

In disaster-prone areas where human development has not yet taken place, state or local governments should set limits on development. In places where people already live but experience catastrophic loss repeatedly after multiple disasters strike, state and local governments must step in and prevent rebuilding—no matter how good the idea.

Places of sacrifice are not an abstract concept. Many state and local governments are already taking a similar approach to regulation for conservation or housing purposes.

“Urban growth boundaries” in Pitkin, Colorado, and Washington states are designed to control urban sprawl and protect natural resources by separating urban areas of more than 50,000 people from rural and agricultural areas. “Conservation areas” in Hartford, Connecticut, and Shreveport, Louisiana, protect natural areas, preserve open space, and limit development to areas of significant environmental impact. Following the catastrophic flooding in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, the city launched a buyout program targeting 1,300 damaged properties. By 2014, they had purchased 1,356 properties for just under $100 million. These areas have been redesigned to create a multi-layered defense in the city’s residential areas, starting with a natural barrier to reduce future flood risks.

Designating sacrifice sites through local zoning laws can limit development in disaster-prone areas while avoiding a “takings” challenge under the Fifth Amendment. Property owners may argue that the ordinance deprives them of or “takes away” value, but it may also be argued that property value is preserved by preventing future destruction from floods, wildfires, or other disasters. By using concessions, governments protect communities from catastrophic losses, while ensuring that property values ​​do not decline due to repeated vandalism.

In areas where development has already occurred, such as Los Angeles, state and local governments can use eminent domain to buy out homeowners in high-risk areas. Will this be less expensive and safer than the current disaster cycle of firefighting and rebuilding? In short: Yes.

A quick financial inquiry is essential here. The annual costs of fighting wildfires, rebuilding homes, providing long-term health care from wildfire smoke pollution and providing disaster relief are huge. California, for example, spent more than $1.3 billion on firefighting efforts in 2020 alone. It’s not just homes that are affected; critical infrastructure such as power lines and roads are subject to similar repeated damage. The costs become astronomical when we factor in recovery costs, rebuilding infrastructure, government disaster relief, and rising insurance premiums.

One study estimated that the annual short-term national costs associated with premature death and hospitalization from wildfire smoke—just smoke!—were between $11 billion and $20 billion in 2010, with a 2018 figure of $63 billion. Long-term costs were between $76 and $130 billion, with a 2018 estimate of $450 billion. A 2020 report from the nonpartisan California Science and Technology Council found that “the immediate and long-term economic impacts from the effects of wildfire smoke are estimated at $100 billion annually nationally.”

In contrast, the one-time cost of using a prominent domain to create permanent sacrificial sites will pale in comparison. Firefighters wouldn’t have to risk their lives, and we wouldn’t be stuck in an endless cycle of rebuilding, burning, and rebuilding.

But this is a strategy that must be taken with caution. The dominant domain has a dark, troubling legacy, marked by injustice and government exploitation, particularly affecting marginalized communities. Historically, it has been used to displace people of color and those without resources to compete and be taken over, as seen in urban renewal projects that demolished black neighborhoods in cities like St. Louis, Atlanta, Chicago, Detroit, and many more.

In California, examples like Belmar Park and the Fillmore District show how the dominant background destroyed thriving African American communities under the guise of progress. Freeway construction across the country has disproportionately targeted minority communities, such as Russell City and Sugar Hill. The arrests of World War II and the continued confiscation of Native American lands further underscore the systematic abuse of this practice.

The scars of this injustice are everywhere, and it is important to avoid repeating history. The use of a prominent site this time is different, I would argue, because the places we are talking about pretending to be places of sacrifice are not poor places. In fact, many of them are affluent areas where homeowners can afford second homes or vacation rentals.

Another important difference is in motivation. We are not neighborhoods for segregation, discrimination, profit, or development; we aim to save lives, protect communities, and save billions of taxpayer dollars, all by preventing future disasters.

The truth is that no amount of money or modern technology can prevent a home from burning in an area that is not safe for human life. As wildfires and other natural disasters become more common with climate change, it’s time to stop pretending we can outdo nature with bigger houses, fire suppression systems and more money. We need a new strategy.

And to be clear, adventure sites are only one part of the puzzle. Dealing with a future of increasingly frequent disasters will require major policy changes. Local laws such as unprotected zoning laws and zoning standards for the rural-urban interface, as well as measures such as controlled burning are important measures. They should be combined with the general effect.

As we continue to see fires, floods, droughts, hurricanes and other storms devastate communities across the country, let’s remember that some places were not meant to be homes. Let’s stop rebuilding and go to nature, where they are not alone.

This story first appeared in Next City and is republished with permission.