Local View: Scott must help build resilient communities.
Florida epitomizes the potential of modern life. The forces of genius transformed an uninhabitable wilderness into an air-conditioned version of the American dream. While modern engineering techniques made Florida livable, the countless developments resting over drained wetlands and filled bays are neither safe nor sustainable.
Although “unscrupulous” developers are often blamed for building a fabricated Eden, we all share the guilt. Developers are wedded to the bottom line — and the bottom line is people want to live in the Sunshine State. Sadly, long-ago plans to mitigate disasters like Hurricane Irma were ignored by a blithely unaware people willing to live in places shaped and reshaped by natural disasters.
In 1848, a 14.3-foot storm surge from a hurricane on the scale of Irma carved up barrier islands from Captiva to Honeymoon Island. Two-thirds of the Pinellas Peninsula flooded, an apocalyptic event that went unnoticed in the unpopulated backwater wilderness.
In 1923, eminent city planner John Nolen sought to prevent such a disaster when he drew a plan to make St. Petersburg the centerpiece of an American Riviera. A system of nature preserves incorporating barrier islands and low-lying coastal areas — the most hurricane-prone land forms —ringed the bottom third of the peninsula. A recent hurricane had destroyed the only bridge to an uninhabited milelong barrier island (present day St. Petersburg Beach), which Nolen saw as a priceless tourist lure. He proposed building a tram to connect the scenic isle to mainland tourist districts designed on the model of Nice, France.
Nolen’s plan was ignored, and today the barrier islands are the most densely developed areas in Florida’s most densely developed county. These fragile lands are the first to evacuate and the last to insure, and a direct hit by Irma could have replicated Houston in spades.
Gov. Rick Scott is a champion of the Houston development model. Reducing environmental regulations may lower housing prices, but the cost of a catastrophic hurricane is catastrophic. The governor’s leadership must entail more than warning Floridians to flee their dangerous environs. He must address government’s role in building resilient communities because neither the state nor federal government can afford to subsidize the folly of building in hurricane zones.
Fortunately, Seaside is an unmatched model. Nolen inspired Miami architects Andres Duany and Elizabeth Plater-Zyberk’s plan to harmonize the built and natural environment. When Hurricane Opal ripped through the Panhandle in October 1995, Seaside, which sits behind the beach dune system, came through unscathed. Its construction costs were higher, but no roofs were lost or buildings compromised. Finally, the town’s native landscape buffered the Category 3 winds, and its sandy soil allowed stormwater to drain at a faster rate than the typical pavementladen subdivision.
Within days of the hurricane, the town was operating at a normal pace. It was the only place for miles to escape the clutter of destruction. Seaside also weathered Hurricane David in 2005, giving Scott a homegrown exemplar to turn Florida into a resilient vision of the American dream.
Can he do it?