Why must we rethink urban growth to combat climate threats?

As extreme weather events and climate-related risks increasingly threaten American communities, the safety and well-being of residents are deeply affected by where and how we build our homes.

Our homes should be a sanctuary, offering a sense of security and stability amidst a turbulent world, Caliber.Az reports, citing foreign media.

They are supposed to be places where we can let our guard down and feel safe. Yet, many Americans are finding their homes increasingly unsafe—not due to rising crime rates, which are actually falling in most areas, but because of environmental and geographic factors.

Unlike much of the country, many American cities are better equipped to handle the climate crisis due to their density, which makes them more energy-efficient. City residents tend to drive less, and apartments are easier to keep cool compared to single-family homes. Additionally, cities generally have better emergency services and are less vulnerable to wildfires compared to rural regions.

However, strict zoning laws and local opposition have made it nearly impossible to develop new housing in these safer urban areas. As a result, many potential residents are pushed into higher-risk regions, where affordable housing is often located in areas prone to natural disasters. This situation deprives people of the security that should come with having a home. The failure to build more housing in safer areas means millions are left facing increased climate risks.

Until changes are made, more people will face the devastating consequences of losing their homes—or worse.

The heat is on

Extreme heat has increasingly become a regular occurrence across much of the United States this summer. Phoenix, for instance, recorded a daily high of 118 degrees in June, setting a new record that had stood for 40 years. In Texas, a severe heat wave in July caused widespread power outages and overwhelmed hospitals with patients unable to return to homes lacking air conditioning. The deadly impact of these heat waves is stark: Extreme heat claimed 2,302 American lives in 2023 alone.

While high temperatures have been widespread, the danger has not been evenly distributed. In my area, just across the bay from San Francisco, temperatures reached the mid-80s—a discomforting but manageable heat for someone like me. However, regions further inland, such as California's rapidly expanding Central Valley, have been subjected to far more extreme heat. On the West Coast, proximity to the Pacific Ocean offers a natural respite from heat waves. Yet, this is not where the population is growing. San Francisco, with a relatively mild average high of 66 degrees in July, has seen stagnant growth and soaring home prices due to limited new housing. In contrast, cities like Fresno, Sacramento, and Bakersfield, which experience much hotter temperatures, have seen faster and more consistent growth. This pattern in California is exacerbating the risk for middle-class and working-class families, who are increasingly exposed to extreme and potentially deadly heat.

This trend mirrors a broader national pattern: Migration is pushing more people into higher-risk areas. The fastest-growing states are in the Sun Belt—Texas, Florida, Georgia, and the Carolinas—regions that are increasingly vulnerable to extreme heat due to climate change. Last year, Texas alone recorded over 300 heat-related deaths. Additionally, Gulf states face heightened risks from hurricanes, further intensified by climate change.

The trend toward relocating to the Sun Belt isn't driven by a subconscious desire for extreme weather or testing the durability of modern sunscreen. The primary motivation is straightforward: people are moving where they can afford housing. For example, in 2021, Houston had about three times the number of new housing starts per capita compared to San Francisco. Even during periods when Houston's housing starts dipped, they remained significantly higher than those in San Francisco. Consequently, a one-bedroom apartment in Houston costs half as much as one in San Francisco, despite Houston's population growth of over 200,000 since 2010. This disparity stems from the differences in housing regulations between the two cities. Houston's absence of a zoning code makes it an extreme example, but generally, Sun Belt cities have much looser zoning and permitting rules compared to high-cost California cities.

In many states, new housing is often built in areas that are most vulnerable to climate-related disasters. For instance, in California, the resistance to new housing in San Francisco and other coastal towns has pushed much of the state's new construction into extremely hot, inland areas or the wildland-urban interface—zones where forest fires frequently threaten human settlements. Ironically, some of this development occurs under the guise of environmental protection. The California Environmental Quality Act (CEQA) imposes a complex review process for new projects. Although recent legislative changes have expanded exemptions from this law, it remains a powerful tool for blocking development, particularly in affluent, exclusive communities. The risk of CEQA litigation is highest in wealthy neighborhoods and lowest in sparsely populated areas, inadvertently encouraging development in more hazardous zones.

While income and climate risk are not perfectly aligned—since some wealthy areas face coastal erosion and high-value properties are found in high-risk areas like the wildland-urban interface—America's housing shortage often exacerbates climate-related vulnerabilities along class lines.

Even if individuals manage to avoid immediate disasters, those pushed to the urban periphery may still face significant long-term consequences. Living in areas prone to wildfires not only poses a direct risk of loss or injury but also increases exposure to harmful smoke, which can lead to severe respiratory and cardiovascular issues. Additionally, being geographically distant from metropolitan centers brings its own set of challenges. In 2010, nearly 10% of Americans lived in places where it would take over an hour to reach a trauma-care center in an emergency. Long commutes from these peripheral areas can also be hazardous. Extended car journeys are linked to higher blood pressure and greater risk of traffic accidents, contributing to the 40,000+ traffic fatalities each year in the U.S. Even if climate risks were eliminated, the detrimental effects of sprawl on public health would persist.

In his book on Hurricane Katrina, historian Andy Horowitz notes that "disasters are less discrete events than they are contingent processes." The real impact of a disaster depends on how it interacts with societal, political, and infrastructural factors. For instance, the severity of a hurricane's effects can vary greatly depending on whether it strikes an uninhabited area, a well-prepared city, or a city with inadequate defenses and emergency systems.

Similarly, the safety of our communities is closely linked to our decisions on where and how to build. While measures like controlled burns, expanded air conditioning, and improved evacuation routes can mitigate some risks, there is a moral imperative to allow more housing development in areas already equipped to handle growth. Although environmental concerns are often cited by NIMBYs to block such developments, enabling more people to live in well-prepared regions is crucial for sustainable and safe expansion.