"I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practice resignation, unless it was quite necessary. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartanlike as to put to rout all that was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms, and, if it proved to be mean, why then to get the whole and genuine meanness of it, and publish its meanness to the world; or if it were sublime, to know it by experience, and be able to give a true account of it in my next excursion." from Henry David Thoreau's Walden

Thursday, November 8, 2012

Instead of Preventing Floods, We Should Simply Control Where They Happen


The following is an Op-Ed I wrote for a class assignment, and subsequently revised with feedback from my professor. 
            It seems odd in this period of drought to discuss the state of our flood management policies. Drought, however, is just another natural state of the hydrology of our water systems. Water levels rise and fall with the seasons, and though there is a natural equilibrium to the ebb and flow, impending climate change will only cause the differences to be more drastic.[1] Current flood management policies try to prevent floods, but if we let the rivers “do their thing,” but control the location, we would save the government (and our citizens) money and improve the ecological conditions of our rivers.
            The more we channel and our rivers and build up our levees, the worst flooding will get. In light of this, it’s important to address the way our government manages these inundations. Through a complex system of dams and levees, the Army Corps of Engineers channels our rivers such that they cannot spread into the vast majority of their flood plains. Ideally, these walls would keep the river contained, bur realistically, the higher we build the walls all along the river, the higher the water levels rise. Levees, then, can only be seen as temporary. They are destined to be overtopped or breached.[2]
            In acknowledging that there will be great floods that spite our best efforts, the Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA) put in place the National Flood Insurance Program (NFIP). Residents in participating areas (ones that have been mapped appropriately) can purchase flood insurance coverage. Such policies can grant them up to $250,000 worth of building damage coverage. Residents that live in the base level floodplain—what’s known as the 100 year flood plain—are required to purchase the coverage if they have a loan that’s backed by the federal mortgage system.[3]
            The problems with this system are numerous. First of all, not everyone in the flood plain opts into the insurance program, even if they are in the 100 year flood plain. When the areas inevitably flood, an increased amount of disaster relief is required. As a result, the NFIP has borrowed over $19 billion from the U.S. Treasury. Floods are the most expensive disasters in the world. [4]
            Why do so few people opt into flood insurance, even though they are warned of the risk? Because the risk isn’t always apparent. The Corps of Engineers builds a system of levees that should not fail, and then FEMA uses terms like “100 year flood” which imply a lower risk than exists in actuality. Residents simply think that the likelihood of a flood is so improbable, that the insurance is superfluous.[5]
            Since our system currently assumes that people living or developing in the 100 year flood plain will purchase flood insurance policies, building codes intended to mitigate flood damage are tied to them. But many of the buildings within the flood plain are not flood proofed. Old buildings that were built in the flood plains before the NFIP was put into place can be grandfathered in and, despite their higher risk, pay the same rate for their flood insurance policies as new constructions that follow code.[6]
            Thus, we have an inappropriately dense concentration of development ill suited to withstand floods. This results in significant payouts from the government, such that buildings are rebuilt in the same way, only to be paid for again at the next flood. Even if these buildings were constructed properly, it is the development itself that is problematic. When we build in the floodplains, we’re not just putting ourselves at risk, but we’re causing an exponentially greater rate of damage to water ecosystems than we would otherwise. The more we build in the flood fringe, the more displaced the flood waters are when they come, and the higher the waters will rise.[7]
            The root of our flooding problem is that we see it as a problem. In fact, flooding is only a problem when it intersects with human development. With this perspective, levees are not just built for urban areas, they are also built for rural areas. The whole river system becomes channeled, which raises the water level and increases the velocity of the water, so that when the waters get loose, and they do every year, the damage is far greater than it ever would have been if we had never meddled at all.[8]
            At this point, to shift from a system of flood prevention to flood management seems like a daunting, expensive task. In light of the high costs of flooding and levee construction, however, it is certainly financially prudent to consider a more long term, sustainable fix. Instead of viewing floods as problematic, we should see them as what they are: natural processes that rejuvenate soil nutrients, water tables, and create critical habitats for endangered species.[9]
            If our government bought up the land that floods the most frequently, particularly upstream and downstream from major urban developments, and then restored it as closely as possible to natural riparian systems, we could prevent urban flooding while allowing rural flooding. Natural systems, especially wetlands, have unique ecological benefits and flood water retention capabilities. If we allow the river to flood, particularly upstream, it will decrease the flood pulse, slow down the velocity of the waters, and lower the risk of downstream flooding.[10]
            By ensuring that floods will happen, but managing the location, we decrease the likelihood that our developed flood plains will be at risk. This alters the necessity of flood insurance and levees. The inevitability of floods will also force residents of flood plains to accept that floods can happen, that they should happen, and, ideally, would discourage more intense development of the floodplain that is allowed by our current system.


[1] N Poff, “The Natural Flow Regime,” BioScience. 47, no. 11 (1997): 771.
[2] Ibid., 774.
[3] E Michel-Kerjan, “Redesigning Flood Insurance,” Science 333, no. 6041 (2011): 408.
[4] Ibid.
[5] Ibid., 409.
[6] Ibid., 408.
[7] Raymond J. Burby, “Flood Insurance and Floodplain Management: the US Experience,” Environmental Hazards 3, no. 3-4 (2001): 112.
[8] Thomas Birkland et al., “River Ecology and Flood Hazard Mitigation,” Natural Hazards Review 4, no. 1 (2003): 48.
[9] R. A Haeuber and W. K Michener, “Natural Flood Control: To Control Flooding, We Need to Work With the Forces of Nature Instead of Simply Trying to Eliminate Them,” Issues in Science and Technology 15, no. 1 (1998): 74.
[10] Birkland et al., “River Ecology and Flood Hazard Mitigation,” 52.

Wednesday, May 16, 2012

What happens when you no longer live in the EcoHouse

I started this blog out of a desire to keep track of my lifestyle in the Macalester EcoHouse, during the academic year of 2010 - 2011.

Then I moved out.

Needless to say (due to the OVERWHELMING gap of time where I didn't write anything), I didn't keep up this blog. (for my attempt at a study abroad blog, see megabroadinparis.blogspot.com)
I also didn't really keep up with living sustainably.
Over the summer I lived with housemates who were not accustomed to my way of life, and so in an effort to avoid conflict, I gave up a lot of my new habits.
I went abroad to Paris, and lived as a Parisian would, but I'm not sure that I put much thought into my efforts to be sustainable.
Then I returned to the United States, lived with the same people as I had in the EcoHouse (plus one more person) and found that without the structure provided to us by the house, we were no longer sustainable residents. We had no worms, no energy efficient appliances, no kill-a-watt guilting us into remembering to turn off lights, no compost bin, no paper stone, no solar panels. We were just ordinary.

As the months went by, I felt the guilt for not keeping up with sustainable living. I was so busy with my classes and internship, that I could barely take the time to do laundry, let alone make sure I was being efficient in my use of water. Sophomore year I had tried to think about every one of my actions, to consider their impacts, and to be deliberate in my life.
Junior year, I just tried to stay on top of things.

I'm now in a position of privilege where I can give this blog, and life, another shot.

This is no longer a blog about a student given the tools to live sustainably, but about someone trying to do the right thing, with a limited budget, and with few resources available. I hope to provide food for thought, whether literally (through recipes) or figuratively (through issues I've faced), and generally just be an interesting writer.

Here are my goals for the next few months:
To enter the bike commuter world
To start an herb garden at work
To jump start the box of worms I'm taking care of
To visit the farmer's market every other week

Thank you for being a reader, and for following along in this quest.

Contact me with questions, articles, recipes, suggestions, and jokes.