Keep listening: Legacy Museum and addressing structural evil in America
No graver threat faces the future of South Florida than the accelerating pace of sea-level rise. In the past century, the sea has risen 9 inches. In the past 23 years, it’s risen 3 inches. By 2060, it’s predicted to rise another 2 feet, with no sign of slowing down.
Think about that. Water levels could easily be 2 feet higher in 40 years. And scientists say that’s a conservative estimate. Because of melting ice sheets and how oceans circulate, there’s a chance South Florida’s sea level could be 3 feet higher by 2060 and as much as 8 feet by 2100, according to the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration.
It’s not just a matter of how much land we’re going to lose, though the barrier islands and low-lying communities will be largely uninhabitable once the ocean rises by 3 feet. It’s a matter of what can be saved. And elsewhere, how we’re going to manage the retreat.
You see the evidence several times a year in Miami Beach, the finger isles of Fort Lauderdale and along the Intracoastal Waterway in Delray Beach. During king tides on sunny days, seawater bubbles up through storm drains and over seawalls into lawns, streets and storefronts. That didn’t happen 20 years ago, but it’s going to happen more and more.
Of the 25 American cities most vulnerable to sea-level rise, 22 are in Florida, according to the nonprofit research group Climate Central. They’re not all along the coast, either. Along with New York City and Miami, the inland cities of Pembroke Pines, Coral Springs and Miramar round out the top five.
Flooding also is increasing in South Florida’s western communities — like Miami-Dade’s Sweetwater and The Acreage in Palm Beach County — because seawater is pushing inward through our porous limestone foundation and upward into our aged flood control systems, diminishing capacity. Sawgrass Mills in western Broward closed for three days last year because the region’s stormwater system couldn’t handle a heavy afternoon thunderstorm. You’ve never seen that before.
The encroaching sea is bringing sea critters, too. Catfish were spotted swimming through floodwater at a Pompano Beach apartment complex west of I-95 last year. And don’t forget the octopus that bubbled up through a stormwater drain in a Miami parking garage.
More than the rest of the country, South Floridians get it. The Yale Climate Opinion Maps show 75 percent of us believe global warming is happening, even if we don’t all agree on the cause. We understand that when water gets hotter, it expands. And warmer waters are melting the ice sheets in Greenland and Antarctica. If all of Greenland’s ice were to melt — and make no mistake, it’s melting at an increasing clip — scientists say ocean waters could rise 20 feet.
The problem is, we’re not convinced sea-level rise will harm us in our lifetimes. We’ve got to change that mindset because it already is. Like most of us, Doris Edelman of Hollywood hadn’t heard of king tides five years ago. Now she can’t leave her house those autumn days when king tides lift the Intracoastal Waterway over its banks, over her street and halfway up her driveway. Hers is not an isolated case.
One of the reasons sea-level rise feels like a distant threat is because construction cranes still dot our skylines, the population keeps growing and politicians keep approving new developments.
Yet government officials see the danger ahead. South Florida’s four counties have created a climate compact that, among many things, requires new construction to anticipate that minimal 2-foot rise in water levels by 2060.
However, sea-level rise is not yet on the short-term horizons of the mortgage and insurance industries. Perhaps that’s because lenders generally recoup their money within 10 years and insurers can cancel your policy year to year.
But government officials well know their successors will be stuck with abandoned properties when the water rises. And part of their responsibility will be to clean the debris to ensure pristine ocean water for future generations.
Perhaps you think you’re safe because the flood map shows your home is on high ground. But you still need infrastructure — things like roads, power plants, water treatment facilities, airports and drinking-water wellfields. So while your house may be high and dry, good luck getting to the grocery store, the doctor’s office or out of town.
It’s tricky to trumpet the threat headed our way. Scientists like Harold Wanless, a noted University of Miami coastal geologist, have the freedom to be blunt. He says the local projection understates the accelerating rate of rise. “By the end of the century and just after,” Wanless says, “South Florida will be a greatly diminished place and sea level will be rising at a foot or more per decade.”
But local leaders fear scaring people and damaging our economy. Though our region is certain to be reshaped, they express confidence that we can adapt if we start planning now to raise roads, elevate buildings, update the region’s 70-year-old flood control system, buy out flood-prone properties and make smart choices about what to save and where to invest.
At the federal level, little leadership is being shown on the threat of sea-level rise. President Trump recently rolled back the Obama-era order that requires infrastructure projects, like roads and bridges, be designed to survive rising sea levels. And though membership is growing in Congress’ Climate Solutions Caucus, too many Republican members still deny the reality of climate change and sea-level rise, perhaps fearing political retribution by right-wing deniers. U.S. Sen. Marco Rubio resides in that camp.
In Tallahassee, after years of silence on sea-level rise, Gov. Rick Scott this year finally requested $3.6 million — a pittance, really — to help local governments plan. But despite the efforts of some South Florida lawmakers, the issue wasn’t on the Legislature’s agenda, partly because of the politics of climate change and partly because term limits create a revolving door of lawmakers who focus on today’s hot buttons, not tomorrow’s existential threats.
“It’s not something we’ve taken a position on,” Cragin Mosteller, communications director for the Florida Association of Counties, said in December when asked about sea-level rise. “We represent 67 counties who have differing opinions … So for us, we’re trying to focus on the things counties need to manage water.”
Mark Wilson, president of the Florida Chamber of Commerce, says that to get Tallahassee’s attention, we must first raise public awareness. Then, people need to make their voices heard.
“I travel the state more than anybody but the governor. I promise you that people are not demanding that their local House member and their local senator drop what they’re doing and do something about sea-level rise,” Wilson said. “The solution is to raise awareness to it.”
Sea-level rise is the defining issue of the 21st Century for South Florida. Some of us might not live long enough to see its full effects, but our children and grandchildren will. To prepare for a future that will look far different, we’ve got to start planning and adapting today.
My last few columns have focused on listening. Particularly, listening to the victims of gun violence, one written before and one after the shooting at Parkland. Last month, I offered a Paschal reflection on loving and giving sacrificially for the forgotten and marginalized. I want to continue this theme, with a focus on structural evil (that is, systemic evil, which is the evil that arises out of the institutions of society rather than from the wickedness of individual persons). The philosophical problem of evil, especially as theodicy, has long been an interest of mine in my formal and independent study, particularly as it relates to structural evil, that pernicious injustice that exists not necessarily because of any one individual, but because of an institution that has over time been built in such a way that it acts with partiality. I think it’s something worth understanding in modern society and addressing, and I’m glad to offer my small contribution to that grand dialogue.
Today, I want to focus on the quintessential example of structural evil, that of slavery. We have found ourselves as a nation once again caught up in a dialogue over this issue with the opening of the Equal Justice Initiative’s Legacy Museum in Montgomery, Alabama. No doubt many of you are already aware of this memorial to the injustice of slavery, segregation and now mass incarceration that plagues the African-American community. Let me be clear at this point that I’m in no way attempting to speak in their place, and certainly not to speak with their pain. I cannot do that. Instead, I recognize my position in society as a straight, white male and see that on the whole society is kind to me and those like me. It was built by people like me. It favors people like me. That is why I feel like I have to say something about this. To champion the cause of the EJI and this new memorial as one who, for no reason I can control, is able to speak with a certain privilege in society, I feel it is my responsibility to address the plight of those who are ignored, who are marginalized and who often in their daily lives cannot get people who don’t look like
Email letters to the editor to romenewstribune@RN-T.com or submit them to the Rome News-Tribune, 305 E. Sixth Ave., Rome, GA 30162. them to understand or at least acknowledge this problem.
But we have to acknowledge it. We, as a society, have to confront together the systemic evils that have disadvantaged minorities and women in this nation and across the globe. We have to see that, while racism and xenophobia are certainly alive and well today, that many of the problems in our society are structural. They have been long established and discriminate not necessarily out of the malice of anyone today, but just because that’s how they were built, and it’s now time to tear it down and rethink it. This is a time of new societal innovators. Of champions and heroes and visionaries. The Legacy Museum makes us confront this evil in our history, and how it persists today in our society. It can be a focal point for our dialogue. As I’ve urged in prior columns: just listen. Don’t think about what you’re going to say about it. Don’t think about how to answer or how to explain it. Just listen. Immerse yourself in this history and come to know and understand what it means for us today and the problems still facing the African-American community, because they exist and ignoring them won’t make it go away. It will only further the injustice built into our society that most people who aren’t affected by it never even think about because it’s foreign to your experience. Learn to walk in someone else’s shoes. Someone who looks different from you. Someone whose opportunities and experiences are different from yours just because they look different from you.
After you’ve done that, after you’ve ruminated and absorbed this radically different experience and understanding of our society, then get involved. When you see something, say something. Talk about it. Make it visible to people who, like you, aren’t affected everyday by this reality. Growing a collective consciousness about these problems is the only way truly lasting change and racial justice will come to our nation. And that’s the least we can do. BEN AMIS