Abstract
Coastal climate adaptation public works, such as storm surge barriers
and levees, are central elements of many strategies to limit damages
from coastal storms and sea-level rise. Academic analysis of such public
works projects is dominated by technocratic and engineering-driven
frameworks. However, social conflict and politics have been crucial in
the conception, design, and implementation of other public
infrastructure and natural hazard preparedness projects. In this review,
we highlight the role of interest mobilization, political motivations,
siting opposition, and flexible/adaptive decision-making in both
creating and overcoming political obstacles. Better understanding the
social and political factors that enable or hinder the implementation of
adaptation works could encourage strategies and policies that are less
likely to result in deadlocks, delays, or failure, thus saving valuable
time and planning resources.
Introduction
Climate adaptation public works (hereafter, adaptation works) are
engineered, structural infrastructure projects, initiated, designed, and
implemented by governments, with the intention of reducing the economic
and social burden of climate change. For example, rising sea levels
(Sweet et al., 2017), expanding coastal development (Crossett et al.,
2013; Neumann et al., 2015; Titus et al., 2009), and recent hurricane
disasters have encouraged several U.S. cities to investigate strategies
for managing coastal floods. Among these strategies are adaptation works
such as storm surge barriers (Douglas Hill et al., 2012; Kirshen et al.,
2020; Merrell et al., 2011; USACE, 2016, 2019). Storm surge barriers
have proven to be technically viable options for densely populated areas
to manage sea-level rise and coastal flooding (e.g., the Fox Point
Hurricane Barrier in Providence, Rhode Island; Fig. 1) (Aerts et al.,
2014; Jonkman et al., 2013; Mooyaart & Jonkman, 2017; Morang, 2016; US
National Research Council, 2014). Densely populated regions often lack
the space to take advantage of nature-based strategies (e.g., wetland
restoration) and other coastal adaptation options (e.g., managed
retreat, informed land-use planning, building codes, and insurance) can
conflict with goals for local development. While contemporary and
historical plans for storm surge barriers, sea walls, and levees in the
U.S. are numerous (City and County of San Francisco, 2016; City of New
York, 2013; GCCPRD, 2018; Secretary of the Army, 1965, 1966; Sustainable
Solutions Lab, 2018a; USACE, 2016, 2018a, 2018b, 2019, 2020), few have
broken ground, even when technoeconomic analyses by entities such as the
U.S. Army Corps of Engineers (USACE) indicate that they are technically
feasible and economically beneficial. A better understanding of the
political factors that determine whether adaptation works succeed or
fail could allow projects to be designed and executed in a more
efficacious and less costly manner.
Existing research on why plans for adaptation works ultimately do or do
not break ground focuses on identifying complex processes and
interactions and classifying them into various adaptation barriers or
enablers. Moser & Ekstrom (2010) define adaptation barriers as
“…impediments that can stop, delay, or divert the adaptation
process” (Biesbroek et al., 2014; Eisenack et al., 2014; Klein et al.,
2014). These barriers have been identified at stages related to project
conception, design, and implementation (Fig. 2) (S. C. Moser & Ekstrom,
2010). Among these hinderances is social conflict resulting from
interactions between diverse groups, organizations, and communities with
heterogenous values, beliefs, interests, and influence (Adger et al.,
2009; Dolšak & Prakash, 2018; Eakin et al., 2017; Eriksen et al., 2015;
Leiserowitz, 2006; Sovacool & Linnér, 2016). In addition to barriers
that can hinder adaptation works, enablers have been put forward as a
way to overcome some of these challenges (Dutra et al., 2015; Dyckman et
al., 2014). Examples include stakeholder participation and improving
coordination between government agencies (Few et al., 2007; Rabe, 1995).
While assessments that identify conceptual barriers and enablers are
important, remaining key challenge include 1) determining which barriers
are likely to manifest and under what contexts and 2) ascertaining which
enablers would effectively address them. Specificity matters, because
the objective and physical size of an adaptation works project is likely
to 1) influence which barriers are encountered in the policy process and
2) determine the ways to overcome them (S. C. Moser & Ekstrom, 2010).
For this reason, empirically informed literature reviews are needed.
While many exist for different adaptation arenas (Biesbroek et al.,
2014, 2015; Bisaro & Hinkel, 2016; Hinkel et al., 2018; Measham et al.,
2011; Sieber et al., 2018; A. Wellstead et al., 2014), none are specific
to coastal adaptation megaprojects like storm surge barriers. This is in
part because implementation of adaptation works in the U.S. has been
slow, and so existing cases are few (Bierbaum et al., 2013; Lesnikowski
et al., 2013; Woodruff & Stults, 2016).
Coastal adaptation strategies – especially storm surge barriers and
other engineered coastal defenses (US National Research Council, 2014)
– are largely extensions of existing practices to manage flooding
outside of a climate change context (Sovacool & Linnér, 2016). Thus,
several decades of empirical research in the natural hazards literature
can inform how and why adaptation works initially get placed on
government agendas (Thomalla et al., 2006), and existing studies on
public works can inform the design and implementation stages and also
help understand why projects sometimes fail to break ground. Examples of
related areas include the politics of “megaprojects” (Altshuler &
Luberoff, 2003; Buzbee, 2014; B Flyvbjerg et al., 2003), opposition to
harbor dredging and filling (Buzbee, 2014; Kagan, 1991), and the design
and implementation of flood protection outside of a climate change
context (Bligh, 2006; Disco, 2002; Morang, 2016).
The division of political power within a country plays a fundamental
role in assessing how politics adds complexity to an adaptation works
project. For example, federal systems like the U.S. that divide planning
authority in a manner that protects the sovereignty of sub-national
states differ from unitary governments, where planning is the sole
responsibility of a central governing body (Austin et al., 2018; Elazar,
1987). In the U.S., the division of powers can complicate coordination
and intergovernmental relations, especially when states and
municipalities rely on financial and technical resources from the
federal government (Glicksman, 2010). We specifically focus on the U.S.,
but our findings are relevant to adaptation works in other democracies
in which the responsibility for managing natural hazards is split
between a central governing body and constituent units (e.g.,
states/providences or municipalities).
The following review, while not comprehensive in nature, gives examples
– primarily from the natural hazard preparedness and infrastructure
literatures – of where politics plays a role in the conception (Section
2), design (Section 3), and implementation (Section 4) stages of coastal
adaptation projects. These stages are chosen for organizational purposes
only. They are loosely based off those used by Moser and Ekstrom (2010)
to delineate adaptation implementation and those devised by (Kingdon,
2011) to describe the policy process. In reality, the stages of an
adaptation works project may not occur in this order or be as clearly
defined. Following our review, we give suggestions for how future
adaptation works could deal with political complexities and recommend
future research directions (Section 5).
The decision to pursue adaptation works
All adaptation works projects begin when the decision to initially
explore options appears on a government agenda (a range of problems to
which government officials are paying serious attention to at a given
time). There are many possible ways in which an adaptation works project
can appear on an agenda. For example, the state or local government may
simply require action, the federal government may offer financial
incentives, an extreme weather event may highlight a need for adaption
works, or groups and/or prominent leaders may advocate for action. On
the other hand, political incentives can also discourage adaption works
from landing on an agenda or advancing to subsequent stages of planning.
How adaptation works can
arrive on the government agenda
In the U.S., the federal government does not have the authority to
coerce states and local communities to meet coastal flood safety
standards (US National Research Council, 2014); this is in contrast to
other environmental domains with federal standards, such as water and
ambient air quality (Downing & Kimball, 1982). However, Congress has
created various federal programs to incentivize local preparedness by 1)
making grants available to states and local communities to finance
projects they would otherwise not be able to afford through local tax
revenues and debt issuances alone and 2) reducing premiums for
government-sponsored insurance programs if communities undertake
risk-reduction measures (for example, through the National Flood
Insurance Program’s Community Ratings System) (Carter, N. T. et al.,
2019). Federal grants are available either following a natural disaster
[e.g., Federal Emergency Management Agency’s (FEMA) Hazard Mitigation
Program and the Department of Housing and Urban Development’s (HUD)
Community Development Block Grant (CDBG) Program] or ex ante[e.g., FEMA’s Mitigation Assistance Program and Building Resilient
Infrastructure and Communities (BRIC) – formerly the Pre-Disaster
Mitigation Program]. In both cases, recipients are required to have a
standing FEMA-approved hazard mitigation plan in order to be eligible.
While meager annual budgets (appropriations < $250
million/yr) restrict FEMA support for adaptation works (Carter, N. T. et
al., 2019), grants through HUD can be larger. For example, HUD awarded
New York City over $300 million through the Rebuild by Design
competition to assist with funding the $1.45 billion East Side Coastal
Resiliency Project (City of New York, 2020). But overall, federal
funding is 1) often tied to specific disasters, making it inaccessible
to communities not impacted, 2) is contingent on annual congressional
appropriations, leading to fluctuations in the levels of support, and 3)
is minuscule compared to that needed to fund storm surge barriers and
other large public works. For these projects, substantial federal
assistance is needed from either Energy and Water Development
appropriations acts or emergency appropriations acts following disasters
(Carter, 2018; Knopman et al., 2017; Sustainable Solutions Lab, 2018b;
US National Research Council, 2014).
A perennial challenge for natural hazard preparedness has been
mobilizing support for action. Historically, local governments have
tended to view extreme weather events (e.g., floods, hurricanes,
tornados) and other rare hazards (e.g., earthquakes, wildfires,
pandemics) as minor problems that take a backseat to more frequent and
visible issues like unemployment, crime, housing, and education
(Birkland, 1996; Burby, 2006; May, 1985; Rossi et al., 1981, 1982),
despite acknowledgement of risks (White et al., 2001). However, evidence
has shown the salience—or level of perceived importance—of
preparedness rises through the occurrence of a disaster and by those who
advocate for action (Birkland, 1996). As the salience of risks increase,
so does the likelihood of efforts to address them. Indeed, more frequent
coastal floods and other extreme weather events attributed to climate
change are increasing the salience of responses (Demski et al., 2017).
In one model of the policy process, floods, hurricanes, and other
extreme weather events have been viewed as “focusing events”, whereby
they refocus the attention of elected officials and publics on an
existing problem (Birkland, 1996; Kingdon, 2011). During a focusing
event, a “policy window” of opportunity opens for a short period, and
advocates race to push their preferred solutions through before the
window closes (Birkland, 1996; Christoplos, 2006; Kingdon, 2011). If no
viable solutions reach government officials while the window is opened,
changes are unlikely (Kingdon, 2011). Sometimes, multiple disasters are
needed to increase issue salience enough to push a solution through
(Birkland, 1996; Kingdon, 2011). Cumulative learning helps reinforce
lessons (Sadowski & Sutter, 2008). For example, despite destructive
hurricanes in 1938 and 1944, New England did not begin to address
coastal flooding with public works until Hurricane Carol in 1954. This
was in part due to exogenous economic and geopolitical events, such as
the Great Depression and World War II (Morang, 2016). Hurricanes and
other focusing events also encourage the emergence of advocates who
stimulate policy change (Olson, 1971).
Advocacy coalitions are groups whose goal is to increase the perceived
importance of a particular policy issue and to encourage the adoption of
strategies in order to meet their policy objectives (Sabatier, 1988).
Advocacy coalitions for natural hazard risk management have been slow to
emerge in part due to the technical nature of the hazards themselves,
which has limited their study largely to scientific communities in
government and academia (Birkland, 1997; May, 1991b). For instance, few
public interest groups focused on hurricanes particularly exist in the
U.S. (Birkland, 1997). Such “policies without publics” (May, 1991a)
constrain the response following future extreme weather events, or lead
to inefficient policies (Birkland, 1997). In the absence of sufficient
citizen attention, the federal government has formed and supported
groups that promote natural hazard preparedness in the public’s interest
(e.g., the U.S. National Earthquake Hazards Reduction Program11https://www.nehrp.gov/(Birkland, 1997)). However, creating federal advocacy groups has proven
to be challenging; an attempt to create a government-sponsored technical
group for hurricanes was made but ultimately failed due to a lack of
congressional support (the National Hurricane Research Initiative;
(National Science Board, 2007).
In additional to organized groups, the emergence of high-profile
individuals as “policy entrepreneurs” can raise the salience of an
issue or sustain interest. Policy entrepreneurs who are government
executives can push their own agendas to address issues that they
believe to be important (Kingdon, 2011; Susanne C. Moser et al., 2019;
Renner & Meijerink, 2018; J. B. Smith et al., 2009). For example, in
the wake of Hurricane Sandy, New York City Mayor Michael Bloomberg
championed natural hazard preparedness efforts, such as the Special
Initiative on Rebuilding and Resiliency and the creation of the Mayor’s
Office of Resiliency and Recovery22https://www1.nyc.gov/site/sirr/report/report.page.
However, subsequent leadership must continue to value climate adaptation
in order to sustain implementation, which can sometimes take decades
(Section 4). Policy entrepreneurs that advocate for adaptation works may
leave office and then new leaders might scrap the plans of the previous
leadership because the projects do not align with their goals (Kingdon,
2011). While focusing events, advocacy coalitions, and policy
entrepreneurs can all add adaptation works to an agenda, countervailing
political incentives can discourage it.
2.2. Political incentives can hinder efforts to create adaptation
works
Political incentives can discourage elected officials from reducing
exposure to coastal hazards and also from promoting protective measures.
For instance, the short time scales of election cycles can encourage
politicians to focus on contemporary societal welfare at the expense of
the future (Jacobs, 2016). If the primary goal of an elected official is
to get re-elected (Mayhew, 1974), then it is rational for them to
address problems with benefits that are visible to their constituents
during their time in office. This includes favoring disaster relief over
preparedness (Gasper & Reeves, 2011; Healy & Malhotra, 2009; Posner,
2006). Disaster relief can be distributed in the weeks to months
following a disaster, while adaptation projects can take years to plan
and implement and may only positively impact a small fraction of the
voting population. An electorate may only come to appreciate the
preparedness measures after they successfully mitigate a disaster, which
could be years—if ever—long after the incumbent vacates office. For
example, the villagers of Fudai, Japan praised a tsunami protection
structure following the Tōhoku Earthquake in 2011 after previously
labeling it a boondoggle and ridiculing the mayor who championed its
construction (Daily Mail, 2011). Ultimately, without the willpower from
elected officials to pay upfront political costs in order for publics to
receive net returns in the future, the status quo is likely to endure.
The U.S. faces a preparedness dilemma that can inhibit adaptation works:
while the federal government seeks to protect citizens from natural
disasters, it has limited control over efforts to do so. Both the
vulnerability to and consequences of a coastal hazard are largely shaped
by state and local land use and building codes (Simmons et al., 2018; US
National Research Council, 2014). For instance, local jurisdictions may
be incentivized by the potential benefits from economic growth to
develop lands exposed to hazards (e.g., coastlines) (Burby, 2001;
Knowles & Kunreuther, 2014; Peterson, 1981; Stone, 1989). At the same
time, local jurisdictions bear reduced responsibility for protecting
vulnerable and exposed developments, in part due to the expectation of
federal aid (e.g., disaster relief), which takes pressure off local
officials to set aside surplus revenue for unexpected events (Rossi et
al., 1982). In essence, the rewards of high-risk development accrue to
property developers and local and state governments in the form of
employment, contracts, profits, and tax revenue, while the federal
government is largely responsible for disaster aid. This misalignment of
risks, rewards, and responsibility between federal and local governments
can suppress local interest in pursuing adaptation and remains an
enduring challenge to overcome (Burby, 2006; US National Research
Council, 2014). In the U.S., some efforts have been made to discourage
development on coastal lands (e.g., the Coastal Barrier Resources Act
and the Coastal Zone Management Act), but new construction continues in
these areas (Climate Central and Zillow, 2018; Lazarus et al., 2018; US
National Research Council, 2014).
Designing adaptation
works
Once governments have decided to address a physical climate hazard
(Section 2), they must determine how to do so. Multiple solutions are
usually possible. In addition to building surge barriers and other
defense measures, options to adapt to coastal floods and sea-level rise
include elevating structures to accommodate extreme water levels and
moving populations and the built environment away from the coastline (M.
Oppenheimer et al., in press). Either a single strategy or combination
of strategies could be chosen. In the U.S., the National Environmental
Policy Act (NEPA) requires that government agencies consider more than
one proposed solution if a proposed project poses significant harms to
the quality of the natural environment (Luther, 2008). Ultimately,
selecting a proposal can be broken into two steps: 1) producing
alternative strategies and 2) choosing among them. Creating a viable
project is not simply a matter of skillful engineering and a favorable
benefit-cost ratio. Experience with infrastructure and harbor projects
suggest that social conflict is likely to be a factor (Buzbee, 2014;
Disco, 2002; Fukuyama, 2017; Howard, 2015; Kagan, 1991; Sovacool &
Linnér, 2016).
Creating alternatives
Proposed adaptation solutions are likely to be based on aims that
reflect their designers’ values and beliefs about what constitutes
“good” options, not necessarily specific technical objectives
(Sovacool & Linnér, 2016). Examples of the latter include protecting
the greatest amount of assets or the largest number of people while
minimizing the net present value of the coastal defense structure. It is
generally impossible to accommodate the values, beliefs, and desires of
all stakeholders involved in determining what solution to employ (Few et
al., 2007). Disagreements are likely. For example, experience with storm
surge barriers has shown that these projects address some risks (e.g.,
harm from coastal floods) by way of disregarding others (e.g., harm to
the natural environment; (Bijker, 2002; Disco, 2002; Providence Journal,
1965)). Adaptation choices inherently involve difficult tradeoffs
between the present and the future; success in the near-term may be
maladaptive in the long-run, and vice-versa (Barnett & O’Neill, 2010).
Pareto optimal solutions that benefit all stakeholders are often
unobtainable; while projects may be forecast to create net positive
social welfare gains, underneath there are likely “winners” and
“losers” (Sovacool & Linnér, 2016).
Choosing among alternatives
Decision analysis methods are formal approaches designed to help
identify project alternatives that perform best with respect to given
objectives. Examples include benefit-cost analysis (Chambwera et al.,
2014) and robust (Lempert et al., 2003) and flexible/adaptive (Haasnoot
et al., 2013, 2019; Ranger et al., 2013) decision-making. The
appropriateness of each method depends on policy goals, available
information, planning resources, and technical capabilities (Kleindorfer
et al., 1993).
While decision analysis methods appear to facilitate a rational approach
for choosing among project alternatives, they inherently involve
normative choices that can greatly influence outcomes. For example, the
selection of the decision-making objective reflects the decision-maker’s
view of how strategies are to be evaluated. The US federal government
mandates the use of benefit-cost analysis (BCA), which considers the
objective of maximizing the expected net present value (NPV). BCA has
many well-known limitations (Chambwera et al., 2014), including strong
sensitivity to chosen discount or interest rates, limited ability to
account for uncertainty and for equity and other distributional effects,
and limited or no inclusion of hard-to-monetize benefits and costs
(e.g., to ecology or culture). Choices about how these limitations are
handled can be manipulated to obtain desired outcomes (Bent Flyvbjerg,
1998; Bent Flyvbjerg et al., 2002; D. A. Mazmanian & Nienaber, 1979;
Wachs, 1989, 1990). Scarcity of funding (e.g., grants) can encourage
such “strategic misrepresentation” (Bent Flyvbjerg, 2007).
Instead of selecting projects that maximize expected NPV, robust
decision-making (Lempert et al., 2003) and flexible/adaptive
decision-making (Haasnoot et al., 2013, 2019; Ranger et al., 2013)
identify strategies that perform well under uncertainty. For example,
robust decision-making identifies alternatives that perform well under a
wide range of parameter assumptions and plausible future
states-of-the-world (i.e., “are robust”). However, differences in
costs, values, beliefs, and interests could all lead to disagreements
between stakeholders over what is the “best” strategy. Even if the
same outcome is agreed upon (e.g., protection from a 100-yr flood),
robust decision-making and flexible/adaptive decision-making do not
necessarily encourage consensus for choosing a course of action.
Ultimately, they are dependent on value judgements by analysts,
policymakers, and stakeholders.
Certain laws, regulations, and arrangements of governing bodies can also
influence choices among presented alternatives. For instance, besides
being cheaper, small-scale adaptation projects that could be implemented
quickly may be favored over larger adaptation works that could take
decades to complete, in part due to lengthy government approval and
appropriations processes and long construction times. Large, engineered
projects like levees and surge barriers require multiple acts of
Congress before construction can begin (Carter & Normand, 2019). On the
other hand, simple, small-scale adaptation projects can be undertaken at
the discretion of the USACE, without the need for both approval and
appropriations from Congress (Carter & Normand, 2019; Normand, Anna E.,
2019). Projects like dune building, beach nourishment, and aquatic
ecosystem restoration also have local-federal cost sharing schemes that
are more favorable to local jurisdictions (Mullin et al., 2018;
USACE-IWR, 2003) and may be preferred in decision-making frameworks that
aim to keep future options open (e.g., Haasnoot et al., 2013, 2019).
Shore- and nature-based alternatives can challenge the use of storm
surge barriers as strategies, especially if no specific protection level
is mandated. For example, advocating instead for shore-based resilience
measures such as floodable waterfront parks and temporary flood barriers
in Boston and New York City that have co-benefits that address social
justice and other issues (Elizabeth Royte, 2019; Kirshen et al., 2020).
Implementing an
adaptation works project
The design and selection of any adaptation project (Section 3) is not
itself sufficient to assure its implementation. Based on past
experiences with public works, implementation is likely to be challenged
by environmental protection laws, public opposition, institutional
complexity (e.g., permitting), and leadership continuity (Fukuyama,
2017; Kingdon, 2011; S. C. Moser & Ekstrom, 2010; Susanne C. Moser et
al., 2019; Pressman & Wildavsky, 1984). Compared to smaller-scale
adaptation options that are cheaper, reversible, or more
flexible/adaptable (Haasnoot et al., 2013; Ranger et al., 2013),
implementation is more difficult for infrastructure-based adaptation
because of high, upfront costs to taxpayers and because infrastructure
decisions are long lived and largely irreversible. For these reasons,
adaptation works require substantial confidence in forecasted benefits
before implementation becomes politically feasible. In the coastal
domain, such confidence is challenged in part by uncertainties in
projected ecological impacts of coastal infrastructure (Orton et al.,
2019; Swanson et al., 2012) and projections of future sea-level rise
characterized by “deep uncertainty” (Kopp et al., 2019). Despite these
and other implementation challenges, storm surge barriers have been
built in the U.S., including at Fox Point (completed in 1966;
Providence, Rhode Island), New Bedford (completed in 1966; New Bedford,
Massachusetts), Stamford, Connecticut (completed in 1969), Lake Borgne
(completed in 2013; New Orleans, Louisiana), and additional smaller
structures (for a complete U.S. list, see Morang, 2016). The projects
completed in the 1960s benefited from preceding contemporary
environmental laws that elevate oppositional viewpoints (Luther, 2008;
D. A. Mazmanian & Nienaber, 1979). The Fox Point project additionally
received strong, sustained support from both the public and elected
officials (Providence Journal, 1958, 1959, 1960). In the Lake Borgne
case, some environmental policy procedures were exempted as a result of
Hurricane Katrina (CRS, 2006; Luther, 2006).
Environmental protection
laws
Experience with public works suggests that laws related to environmental
protection provide opportunities to challenge the implementation of
coastal adaptation works (Biesbroek et al., 2011; Bijker, 2002; Bligh,
2006; Disco, 2002; Luther, 2006; Scarano, 2013). Prior to the passage of
contemporary environmental laws in the U.S., by and large the only legal
question that proponents of a flood protection project usually needed to
answer was if it would impede maritime navigation (Scarano, 2013).
Today, mandatory consideration of environmental impacts has made
infrastructure implementation a more complex legal process (D. A.
Mazmanian & Nienaber, 1979). Under NEPA, all federally funded projects
that pose significant harms to the quality of the natural environment
must analyze and publicly disclose a proposal’s environmental impacts
through an environmental impact statement (EIS) and receive public
comment on the proposal and its alternatives (Luther, 2008). While this
process is not a direct legal barrier to project implementation per se,
the transparency of potential ecological harms it provides can trigger
public opposition (Buzbee, 2014). On the other hand, some environmental
laws could block projects altogether. Under the Clean Water Act,
projects cannot be built in coastal waterways unless 1) the sponsoring
agency proves they need to be built in the water or 2) the underlying
project will not cause “significant degradation” to important aquatic
habitats (Copeland, 2016).
By expanding standing for litigation, NEPA has been wielded to secure
significant litigation powers by citizens and environmental
organizations that otherwise have no direct influence over the fate of
projects. This includes the filing of lawsuits by such groups if they
believe the submitted EIS does not sufficiently account for
environmental impacts (Luther, 2008). These powers have threatened or
derailed public works implementation on the grounds that they could harm
water quality, fisheries, and recreation (e.g., (Kagan, 1991, 2001;
Murchison, 2007)). For example, in New York City, the Sierra Club
successfully sued and blocked an effort to issue an landfill permit as
part of the Westway Project, a planned Manhattan superhighway (Buzbee,
2014). While there is little doubt that the emergence of the
environmental protection movement greatly reduced air and water
pollution, it has led to a number of new laws, regulations and lengthy,
formalized processes that have the potential to challenge the
implementation of adaptation works, much in the same way it has
challenged the deployment of public works in general (Fukuyama, 2017;
Luther, 2008).
Infrastructure siting
Despite the well-intentioned benefits of adaptation works, the siting of
some projects is likely to raise public opposition [e.g.,
not-in-my-backyard (NIMBY) syndrome (McAvoy, 1999)]. NIMBY syndrome
can present problems for governments trying to construct public works
that aim to increase the welfare of its citizens broadly, but also
imposes direct net costs on some groups given their geographic
proximity. These projects are perceived by local citizens to bring few,
if any, direct benefits while imposing large immediate costs via eminent
domain, decreases in property value, deterioration of the natural
environment, and loss of amenities (Aldrich, 2008; McAdam & Boudet,
2012; Quah & Tan, 2002). As such, projects are often sited near
communities with less political and economic power, raising
environmental justice concerns (Aldrich, 2008). Examples of
controversial projects that are meant to address broad societal welfare
are hazardous waste facilities, airports, and renewable energy projects,
such as dams and wind farms (Aldrich, 2008; Devine‐Wright, 2011; McAvoy,
1999; E. Smith & Klick, 2007). While there is some flexibility in the
siting of most projects that stimulate NIMBY responses, coastal
adaptation works are tied to specific geographic areas for technical
reasons. For example, the siting of storm surge barriers is largely
limited to entrances to tidally influenced rivers or estuaries (Mooyaart
& Jonkman, 2017), although bolder options have been proposed, such as
an 8-km barrier from Sandy Hook, New Jersey to Breezy Point, New York
(USACE, 2019). Siting in coastal regions is difficult in part because
they are often either already developed due to high land values (e.g.,
New York City; (USACE, 2019)), have heavy maritime traffic, or are
preserved ecological areas (e.g., the Eastern Scheldt in the
Netherlands; (Disco, 2002)). NIMBY opposition to public works projects
is expected to increase over time due to less available undeveloped
lands, rising educational levels that lead to greater access to
technical information and legal resources, increased environmental
awareness, and declining confidence in government (Aldrich, 2008). Other
siting-related environmental justice dilemmas can manifest when
determining who is afforded protection from adaptation works and who is
left out (Adger et al., 2006) and who may be subject to floodwater
redistribution (e.g., giving consideration to traditionally marginalized
groups and those of lower economic standing; Liao et al., 2019).
Incorporating stakeholder values and beliefs can resolve some siting
opposition issues (Few et al., 2007; Gregory & Keeney, 1994; Kraft &
Clary, 1991; D. A. Mazmanian & Nienaber, 1979). In the Netherlands, the
original Delta Works plan to close off the Eastern Scheldt Estuary with
an impermeable dam invoked strong public opposition from yachters, the
shellfish industry, and environmental groups (Disco, 2002). In response,
engineers and environmental scientists worked together to design an
alternative that simultaneously served the interests of safety, economy,
and ecology. The result was a storm surge barrier across the Eastern
Scheldt with closeable gates wide enough to not significantly impede the
natural tidal flow and therefore minimize the environmental impact
(Bijker, 2002; Disco, 2002).
Governance structures: fragmented decision-making and prospects
for flexible/adaptive approaches
Fragmented arrangements of government agencies and institutions hinder
the implementation of adaptation works by complicating coordination,
blurring responsibility (thus discourage accountability), and
encouraging the production of sometimes contradictory sets of hazard
information (Den Uyl & Russel, 2018; Fukuyama, 2017; Lubell, 2017). For
example, in the U.S. there are at least nine federal agencies with
responsibilities for managing coastal storm risks and 16 congressional
subcommittees that can authorize projects or appropriate funds (USACE,
2015). Each agency has different geographic jurisdiction, regulatory
authority, and capacity. Authority is additionally duplicated at the
state and local levels and requires that projects pass review not only
on the national stage, but also at the state and local level (e.g., the
California Environmental Quality Act, the California equivalent of
NEPA). This structure produces fragmented decision-making and a lack of
coordination, potentially leading to a “vetocracy” if many diverse
interests are involved (Fukuyama, 2017) with strongly held, divergent
views. When considering coastal adaptation works in the San Francisco
Bay Area, surveyed stakeholders almost unanimously favored more central
coordination and integrated planning but disagreed on the preferred
arrangement of governing authorities (Lubell, 2017). A key question is
how to achieve cooperation within complex, multi-level systems. Possible
approaches include integration and consolidation of permits (Rabe, 1995)
and agencies, creating new agencies with extensive authority over
coastal adaptation issues, and physical climate data centers to minimize
duplication in the production of estimates of coastal flood hazards
(Lubell, 2017).
When forced to adapt to a changing climate, some long-standing
bureaucracies may no longer operate effectively. Without fundamental
changes and restructuring, these legacy institutions will hinder
society’s ability to adapt to climate change (Libecap, 2011; Lubell,
2017). Potential reforms include restructuring institutions and their
funding streams to accommodate flexible/adaptive designs (Haasnoot et
al., 2013, 2019; Ranger et al., 2013). By facilitating short-term
commitments to adaptive and flexible measures, such approaches address
the issue of how to design coastal flood protection that maintains a
given level of safety under uncertain projections of future flood risk
(Haasnoot et al., 2013, 2019; Ranger et al., 2013). They can also avoid
lock-in and reduce near-term costs while keeping future options open for
adjustments that improve project performance (de Neufville & Scholtes,
2011). In England, the Thames Estuary 2100 project is addressing
uncertainty in future flood risk using an iterative learning process
that manages contemporary risks while avoiding strategies that limit
future risk management options (Environment Agency, 2012; Ranger et al.,
2013). But while similar flexible/adaptive approaches have appeared in
some climate action strategies in the U.S. (Rosenzweig & Solecki,
2014), they have not been widely implemented (Woodruff & Stults,
2016).Obstacles include availability of financing for preparedness only
following a disaster (Healy & Malhotra, 2009; Sustainable Solutions
Lab, 2018b; US National Research Council, 2014) and inadequacy of
current flood protection revenue streams for supporting either new
construction or regular upgrades that would occur with a
flexible/adaptive approach (Carter & Normand, 2019; Knopman et al.,
2017; Sustainable Solutions Lab, 2018b). Flexible/adaptive approaches
that involve sequences of decision and implementation over time may also
be more expensive than single-decision design, particularly in the near
term, and their successful execution depends upon the longevity of
appropriately empowered institutions (Fankhauser et al., 1999; Haasnoot
et al., 2019). On the other hand, avoiding early, fixed investments when
they turn out to be needed can also prove costly (Fankhauser et al.,
1999).
Potential remedies and ways forward
The prospects for breaking ground on storm surge barriers, levees, and
other coastal adaptation megaproject in the U.S. are not solely a
function of technically feasible and economically justifiable plans.
Projects are deeply embedded in politics – struggles between diverse
groups, organizations, and communities with heterogenous values,
beliefs, interests, and influence (Adger et al., 2009; Dolšak &
Prakash, 2018; Eakin et al., 2017; Eriksen et al., 2015; Leiserowitz,
2006; Sovacool & Linnér, 2016). Decisions over adaptation works are
likely to involve difficult trade-offs between groups that may be
impossible to reconcile equitably or arrive at a Pareto-optimal outcome.
We use the natural hazard preparedness and infrastructure literature to
provide examples of how political challenges may arise during the phases
of conception (Section 2), design (Section 3), and implementation
(Section 4) before breaking ground on a project. Our analysis also
highlights past experiences in which these political obstacles have been
overcome and projects have gotten built (Section 4). We suggest four
ways in which future adaptation works could deal with existing political
complexities in the U.S.:
- Prepare adaptation plans in advance of extreme weather events.Natural disasters can highlight existing policy problems. This can
increase attention from elected officials and trigger generous funding
from central governments. Having carefully thought out plans for
adaptation works in advance can increase the likelihood of
implementing solutions when a window of opportunity opens (Kingdon,
2011). Analogous to advocacy coalitions for natural hazards (Birkland,
1997), climate adaptation advocacy groups could aid in the effort to
produce such plans by identifying and empowering groups who may
benefit from adaptation projects (e.g., populations in harm’s way, the
construction industry and unions).
- Address political incentives that discourage adaptation works.The federal government must work to align risks, rewards, financing,
and responsibility between central governing authorities and states
and municipalities by 1) creating policies that respect state and
municipal autonomy while enhancing accountability in use of federal
funding, 2) continuing to provide disaster relief, and 3) promoting
local commitments to proactive risk reduction (May, 1991a). Elected
officials may be more likely to support adaptation projects if voters
perceive a potential risk-reducing project as responsible government
action, such as when there is clear and visible potential for disaster
(Neumayer et al., 2014). Boundary organizations (e.g., academic
institutions and extension networks, NGOs) could also educate voters
or potential policy entrepreneurs on viable options to protect their
communities from climate change (Gavazzi & Gee, 2018; Kopp, 2019).
This would encourage elected officials to raise the importance of
adaptation on their political agendas. Additionally, increasing
federal grant opportunities should, in theory, incentivize planning,
with the level of encouragement scaling with 1) the amount of
financial assistance offered and 2) in the case of grants, the
perceived competitiveness of a jurisdiction’s application.
- Reform institutions to accommodate flexible/adaptable
infrastructure approaches. Flexible/adaptive approaches to adaptation
works can help address design and planning challenges related to
future uncertainties (Haasnoot et al., 2013, 2019). While governments
should incorporate flexible/adaptable decision-making approaches into
adaptation guidance (Environment Agency, 2012; Lawrence et al., 2018;
Rosenzweig & Solecki, 2014), past decisions, infrastructure, and
legacy institutions may not be well-suited to support these
techniques. For instance, adaptation works can costs billions of US
dollars, yet local jurisdictions often have limited access to the
revenue-raising power of central governments, except following a major
disaster (Healy & Malhotra, 2009; Sustainable Solutions Lab, 2018b).
This complicates efforts to fund flexible/adaptable projects that
require scheduled adjustments over time. Numerous local
revenue-raising options have been proposed (Sustainable Solutions Lab,
2018b), including increases in property taxes that are proportional to
project benefits. Learning opportunities are available from financing
water resource projects (Barrow & Hogan, 1996; Gerlak, 2006; Mullin
& Daley, 2018; Wojtenko et al., 2003). Additionally, establishing
standing agencies to carry out flexible/adaptable decision-making
approaches could overcome the transient nature of political
administrations (e.g., New York City’s Office of Recovery and
Resiliency).
- Engage the public when designing and siting infrastructure
projects. Public opinion should be taken seriously if “regulatory
wars” are to be avoided and adaptation works are to break ground on
schedule (Buzbee, 2014). Environmental laws can elevate the power of
citizens and NGOs who may view projects as threats to natural
resources or have narrower NIMBY concerns (Buzbee, 2014; Luther,
2008). Rather than top-down, state-directed approaches for the siting
of controversial facilities, relevant stakeholders could be given
opportunities to develop, discuss, and promote alternative options
(Few et al., 2007). Pursuing a more deliberate process, with broader
stakeholder engagement, could help identify potential “losers” from
proposed projects and then work to ameliorate actual or perceived
grievances (Gregory & Keeney, 1994; Kraft & Clary, 1991; D.
Mazmanian & Morell, 1994; McAvoy, 1999; Munton, 1996).
Flexible/adaptable decision-making could also be used to resolve
stakeholder disagreements by outlining and visualizing multiple
pathways that could lead to a mutually desired future (Haasnoot et
al., 2013, 2019).
Breaking ground on a project that is judged by technocratic agencies to
be feasible and economically beneficial may not always be desirable.
Coastal adaptation works will not solve all problems and they are just
one option from a spectrum of possible responses (e.g., protection,
accommodation, retreat, advance; M. Oppenheimer et al., in press).
Coastal adaptation works may lead to undesirable outcomes not recognized
in their analyses such as being maladaptive (Barnett & O’Neill, 2010),
inflexible (Arthur, 1989; Corvellec et al., 2013; Markolf et al., 2018;
Payo et al., 2016), environmentally harmful (Orton et al., 2019; Swanson
et al., 2012), or causing environmental injustices (Adger et al., 2006;
Liao et al., 2019; Shi et al., 2016). For these reasons, knowing why
projects fail is also useful for those who wish for a particular project
to fail. Rather than thinking of protection strategies that focus on a
single, critical threshold (e.g., 100-yr flood; Rasmussen et al., 2020),
a more diverse suite could be used, such as those that are redundant,
“safe-to-fail” (Kim et al., 2017), more affordable, combine natural
and built infrastructure (Sutton-Grier et al., 2015), and more
modular/flexible. These characteristics are the foundation of
“resilience”-based approaches (Linkov et al., 2014; National Research
Council, 2012; Park et al., 2013; Woods, 2015).
While our review emphasizes the importance of considering political
complexities when pursuing adaptation works, it stops short of detailing
specific mechanisms that may be necessary to generate effective policy
recommendations. Future research could uncover these. For example,
examining historical case studies of controversial public works
proposals could further open up the “black box” of politics and allow
for identification of causal processes (Biesbroek et al., 2014; Elmore,
1979; A. M. Wellstead et al., 2013). Such an approach may be more likely
to yield practical advice to policy makers on how to intervene, overcome
implementation barriers, and obtain favorable outcomes and could also
contribute to building political theory. This includes examining how
political forces affect decisions (i.e., political economy). Examples of
potential case studies include storm surge barriers and other public
works that address societal risks (e.g., renewable energy, drinking
water availability, and public transit), earthquake building codes and
warning systems, and pandemic planning and response (e.g., COVID-19).