New York may be the most recent coastal city to become the victim of a
climate-torqued natural disaster, but it is hardly the only metropolis in danger.
A 2007 report by the Organization for Economic Co-operation and Development
found that 40 million people—and $3 trillion in assets—live in cities that could be exposed to major 1-in-100-year coastal-flood events, in metropolises like
Shanghai, Miami and Mumbai. As these cities boom, so does their
vulnerability—the same report estimates that by 2070, 150 million people and
$35 trillion in assets could be exposed to major coastal floods. Even if global
warming turns out to be less threatening than most climate scientists fear, there
will be more people and more expensive property in harm’s way of coastal floods over the years to come. Worse, most of that growth will take place in developing
nations that may lack the resources to adapt to climate change.
That sets the stage not just for a human disaster but also potentially for an
economic one that could be felt well beyond the site of the catastrophe. Severe
floods struck the Thai capital of Bangkok in 2011, inundating the factories that
churn out as much as a quarter of the world’s disk drives. The floods cost
Thailand nearly $50 billion, but the disaster also disrupted global supply chains,
leading to a worldwide shortage. “As global corporations expand into emerging
growth markets, their operations and supply chains will become exposed to a
complex set of climate risks,” said Helen Hodge, head of maps and indices at the
risk-research firm Maplecroft, which recently published an urban climate
vulnerability index. The lesson for cities and corporations is clear: prepare for
climate change or risk turning a natural disaster into man-made catastrophe.
Dutch cities like Amsterdam and Rotterdam aren’t the only examples of urban areas that have taken real—if expensive—steps to shore up against the effects of
global warming. Like many old cities, London was built on a floodplain and was
victimized by storm surges repeatedly throughout its history—including the 1953 Watersnoodramp. That flood persuaded British officials to begin building the
great Thames Barrier, the second largest movable seawall in the world after the
Delta Works. Finally completed in 1984 at the cost of more than $2 billion in
today’s figures, the Thames Barrier is usually open to allow maritime traffic
down one of the world’s busiest rivers. But the gates swing shut to protect
London from a rising storm surge—a maneuver that has been required more than 100 times since the barrier was completed. The half-drowned Italian city of
Venice—which has to contend with rising sea levels even as it sinks at the rate of nearly 4 cm a century—is building the multibillion-dollar MOSE project, a network of seawalls meant to close off the city from surging tides.
In the weeks since Sandy, New York officials have been debating the wisdom of
installing similar seawalls to protect Manhattan. (While New York City has more
than 800 km of coastline, it has few physical defenses against flooding.) But most of the plans being considered would cost more than $10 billion, take years to
complete and leave people and property beyond the seawalls at even greater risk of flooding. As the failure of the levees in New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina
showed, physical barriers don’t guarantee safety—especially as climate change
raises sea levels beyond what cities had prepared for. (The Thames Barrier will
likely be outpaced by rising seas as soon as 2050.) “I don’t think there’s a
practical way to build barriers in the ocean,” New York Mayor Michael Bloomberg
said after Sandy hit. “If you spent a fortune, it’s not clear to me that you would
get much value for it.”