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Climate Dispatch

Infrastructure for Not Dying

By Seth D. Carrington— November 7, 2025

Feature image for article: Infrastructure for Not Dying

The Burton Barr Central Library cooling center closes briefly each morning for cleaning. Last October, people waited outside during that hour, sitting on concrete in the darkness. Not because they had nowhere else to go—some of them had homes. They waited because going home meant turning on air conditioning they couldn't afford to run.

Jaqueline Lopez had been sleeping there for two weeks. She'd known about the cooling centers for months but only started using them in October. Not because she was newly homeless. Because she'd finally done the math on what it costs to exist in Phoenix.

Climate Dispatch

Infrastructure for Not Dying

The Burton Barr Central Library cooling center closes briefly each morning for cleaning. Last October, people waited outside during that hour, sitting on concrete in the darkness. Not because they had nowhere else to go—some of them had homes. They waited because going home meant turning on air conditioning they couldn't afford to run.

Jaqueline Lopez had been sleeping there for two weeks. She'd known about the cooling centers for months but only started using them in October. Not because she was newly homeless. Because she'd finally done the math on what it costs to exist in Phoenix.

Seth D. Carrington

Former merchant seaman and labor journalist who spent decades watching working communities navigate crises while elites offered empty promises. Writes with dark humor about the gap between climate rhetoric and lived reality.

Choosing Different Futures

Parallel Choices

Borrowed Against the Rain

Three in the morning and you're running the numbers again. $130,000 borrowed for center pivots across 130 acres. $20,000 every year to keep them turning. The loan payment comes due in October whether it rained in July or not. In 2012 the irrigation paid for itself in one year. That was thirteen years ago. The weather's different now. The debt's the same. You're betting on water that might not be there, carrying a note that definitely is.

Parallel Choices

The Farmer Who Said No

The banker had spreadsheets showing irrigation pays for itself in seven years. The equipment dealer had financing for $100,000 worth of pivots. The extension agent had research about climate resilience. You've got 200 acres in central Iowa and you looked at all of it and said no. Your father lost the farm in '86 taking on debt the experts promised would save him. You remember. Your neighbors think you're being foolish. You think they're walking into a trap.

Choosing Different Futures

Parallel Choices

Borrowed Against the Rain

Three in the morning and you're running the numbers again. $130,000 borrowed for center pivots across 130 acres. $20,000 every year to keep them turning. The loan payment comes due in October whether it rained in July or not. In 2012 the irrigation paid for itself in one year. That was thirteen years ago. The weather's different now. The debt's the same. You're betting on water that might not be there, carrying a note that definitely is.

Parallel Choices

The Farmer Who Said No

The banker had spreadsheets showing irrigation pays for itself in seven years. The equipment dealer had financing for $100,000 worth of pivots. The extension agent had research about climate resilience. You've got 200 acres in central Iowa and you looked at all of it and said no. Your father lost the farm in '86 taking on debt the experts promised would save him. You remember. Your neighbors think you're being foolish. You think they're walking into a trap.

Choosing Different Futures

Parallel Choices

Borrowed Against the Rain

Three in the morning and you're running the numbers again. $130,000 borrowed for center pivots across 130 acres. $20,000 every year to keep them turning. The loan payment comes due in October whether it rained in July or not. In 2012 the irrigation paid for itself in one year. That was thirteen years ago. The weather's different now. The debt's the same. You're betting on water that might not be there, carrying a note that definitely is.

Parallel Choices

The Farmer Who Said No

The banker had spreadsheets showing irrigation pays for itself in seven years. The equipment dealer had financing for $100,000 worth of pivots. The extension agent had research about climate resilience. You've got 200 acres in central Iowa and you looked at all of it and said no. Your father lost the farm in '86 taking on debt the experts promised would save him. You remember. Your neighbors think you're being foolish. You think they're walking into a trap.

This Week Climate Reality

Dropped by State Farm Months Before the Fire

Branislav Kecman's cancellation letter from State Farm arrived in July 2024. Twelve years of premiums, then nothing. The insurer was pulling out of Pacific Palisades, citing wildfire risk. Kecman moved to California's FAIR Plan—the state's insurer of last resort—which cost more and covered less.

Six months later, the Eaton Fire burned his house down.

State Farm dropped 1,600 Palisades policies that summer, part of 30,000 statewide cancellations. Kecman's options were FAIR's expensive limited coverage or going bare. He paid for coverage.

Now he's learning that insuring a rebuild in a just-burned area may be harder than insuring the original structure. Some property owners can't find coverage at any price.

This Week Climate Reality

Dropped by State Farm Months Before the Fire

Branislav Kecman's cancellation letter from State Farm arrived in July 2024. Twelve years of premiums, then nothing. The insurer was pulling out of Pacific Palisades, citing wildfire risk. Kecman moved to California's FAIR Plan—the state's insurer of last resort—which cost more and covered less.

Six months later, the Eaton Fire burned his house down.

State Farm dropped 1,600 Palisades policies that summer, part of 30,000 statewide cancellations. Kecman's options were FAIR's expensive limited coverage or going bare. He paid for coverage.

Now he's learning that insuring a rebuild in a just-burned area may be harder than insuring the original structure. Some property owners can't find coverage at any price.

TAKE NOTE

Market exodus: One in seven Pacific Palisades homes carried FAIR Plan coverage by September 2024, up 85% from the previous year as major insurers withdrew from high-risk areas.

Premium shock: FAIR Plan policies average $3,200 annually—more than double standard rates—pushing some lower-income homeowners to drop coverage rather than pay the difference.

Timing window: Cancellation letters citing "substantial wildfire hazards" arrived in areas that would burn within months, giving homeowners minimal time to secure alternative coverage before fire season.

Rebuild paradox: Property owners whose buildings burned report that securing insurance for reconstruction is proving harder than insuring original structures, with some unable to find any carrier willing to write policies.

Regulatory trade: California's insurance commissioner negotiated rules allowing cancellations in exchange for future rate hikes, but consumer advocates say loopholes mean expanded coverage may never actually materialize.

Six Adaptation Experiments

Norfolk is building an 8-mile seawall. Winthrop, Massachusetts is holding meetings about who wants to leave. Los Angeles is planting marsh grass on beaches that see 70 million visitors a year. All three cities face rising water. None of them are doing the same thing about it.

There's no universal answer here because there's no universal context. A small Massachusetts town weighing retreat faces different constraints than Norfolk, which experiences the fastest sea level rise on the East Coast and has the budget to build massive infrastructure. What works for urbanized LA beaches won't work for North Carolina's Roanoke Sound. The question isn't which approach is right. It's which approach fits the specific combination of geography, money, politics, and time that each community is working with.

Six Adaptation Experiments

Norfolk is building an 8-mile seawall. Winthrop, Massachusetts is holding meetings about who wants to leave. Los Angeles is planting marsh grass on beaches that see 70 million visitors a year. All three cities face rising water. None of them are doing the same thing about it.

There's no universal answer here because there's no universal context. A small Massachusetts town weighing retreat faces different constraints than Norfolk, which experiences the fastest sea level rise on the East Coast and has the budget to build massive infrastructure. What works for urbanized LA beaches won't work for North Carolina's Roanoke Sound. The question isn't which approach is right. It's which approach fits the specific combination of geography, money, politics, and time that each community is working with.

Managed Retreat

Winthrop Residents Actually Show Up

Twenty-five people came to community meetings in May 2025 specifically to discuss property buyouts and leaving. Not to fight the idea. To plan for it. This Massachusetts coastal town is now positioned as one of the most accepting communities for managed retreat in the state's draft 50-year resilience strategy. Acceptance doesn't mean enthusiasm, but it beats denial.

Hard Infrastructure

Norfolk Bets $2.6 Billion on Walls

The East Coast city with the fastest sea level rise is building an 8-mile seawall, home elevations, pump stations, massive surge barriers. Construction starts in 2025. It'll stop hurricane storm surge. It won't stop the daily tidal flooding that already swamps streets during high tides, or fix the antiquated stormwater system that fails during regular rainstorms.

Living Shorelines

LA Tests Nature on Tourist Beaches

Los Angeles County received $5.1 million in August 2025 for living shoreline projects at Dockweiler, Zuma, and Redondo beaches. Restoring natural buffers sounds straightforward until you're doing it on beaches that see 70 million visitors annually. Can oyster reefs and marsh grass coexist with volleyball nets and lifeguard towers? LA is about to find out.

Post-Disaster Buyouts

Florida Buys Homes After Hurricanes

Volusia County is using federal recovery funds from Hurricane Milton to purchase flood-prone homes and turn them into flood-control areas. Escambia County is targeting 49 homes Hurricane Sally damaged in 2020. The logic is sound: quit rebuilding houses in places where storms keep destroying them. The funding is uncertain: federal disaster money arrives inconsistently.