When I was eight, a tornado hit my home. I remember getting dragged out of bed in the middle of the night, my parents saying something about the attic door almost hovering. It must’ve been right on top of us. It downed trees everywhere, including our backyard. It stripped some of our shingles off. It bent my neighbor’s basketball pole upside down. We spent weeks cleaning up the damage.
That was a fairly weak one.
Decades later, a tornado hit my family again. It was an F3. Then my in-laws got flooded in Asheville. Clearly, those of us touched by storm disasters have a very, very good reason for wanting a safer, sturdier home.
You don’t need a bunker.
Nobody does.
And yet, I’ve always wondered why Americans don’t demand better, stronger houses that can stand up to the increasingly violent, chaotic forces of nature that fossil fuel companies have unleashed upon us. And yet, not only have we failed as a society to halt or even slow the climate crisis, we’ve also completely failed to prepare for it. The worst part? It wouldn’t have been that hard.
Countless articles and videos offer up various, individualized solutions for storm-proofing homes. You can pay thousands of dollars to install a safe room. Even if you survive a climate disaster, though, you’ll spend years fighting with insurance companies and FEMA to rebuild your life.
Meanwhile, other cultures have been building homes for centuries that do far better during these kinds of disasters. They don’t indulge survivalist fantasies about living in underground missile silos.
They just build tougher structures.
So, what gives?