The fable of the three little pigs and the big, bad wolf can serve as a metaphor to help us to understand how better to mitigate climate risks.
In most of its many iterations, each of three little pigs make themselves homes, one of straw, one of sticks, and one of bricks. The big, bad wolf huffs, puffs, and blows the first two down but he cannot destroy the third.
Most Americans today follow the example of the second pig, building their homes with 2 by 4 “sticks.” They ain’t cheap but prove no match for the big, bad national disaster wolf, who sometimes blows the houses down (derechos, hurricanes, tornadoes), sometimes burns them down (wildfires), sometimes floods them out (avalanches, floods, mudslides), and sometimes swallows them whole (earthquakes, sinkholes).
Time was, many Americans who lived in areas frequented by natural disaster wolves followed the example of the first pig, living light and cheap in trailers or “shacks.” They often suffered complete losses but if the wolf didn’t kill them, they recovered because they hadn’t invested much.
The third pig seems like the smart one but not every little pig can afford to make its house impervious to the entire pack of natural disaster wolves. And if a wolf doesn’t appear, pig three looks foolish because it could have consumed more or invested in something else instead of those under used bricks.
In a perfect, fairytale world, the little pigs would be able to buy wolf insurance at a price representing the risk that a particular wolf would appear. They could still self-insure by building with straw or brick if they wanted, but they could also build with sticks and, most importantly, get price signals on what type of stick house to build.
If the flood wolf is the biggest threat, the insurance premium would be lowest for a stick house on stilts not too close to any body of water. If the fire wolf is likely to come around, the premium would be highest for a stick house built like a cub scout tinder bundle (as many in southern California are). In the territory of the huff and puff wolf, a house with a robust roof tied to structural footers would have a lower premium than a house with an asphalt shingle roof near the end of its service life.
To ensure that the little pigs paid sufficient attention to the state of their stick homes, insurance contracts in fairytale land would say they have to pay some of the costs of any damage the wolf might cause.
America never had a perfect fairytale insurance system, but it long had one where premiums pretty closely reflected risks, and insureds and insurers both suffered when the big, bad wolf came around. The availability of actuarially fair insurance explains why so many Americans built stick homes.
The problem is that America’s insurance system degraded into a nightmare for insurers and homeowners, especially those in low-risk areas. Due to regulations, premiums on houses in many risky areas are too low. Because regulated premiums often subsidize risk-taking, few build with straw or brick anymore. Worse, many build stick houses of the wrong type, in the wrong places, and do nothing to mitigate risks. They know that if the wolf does its worst, regulators will either force insurers to make them whole or public or private assistance will do so.
Meanwhile, the little pigs who built out of sticks correctly or who live where wolves seldom roam suffer. Their risks remain the same but their premiums increase faster than inflation, or their day-to-day claims face unexpected scrutiny, because their insurers have big bills due to California’s wildfires or Florida’s hurricanes.
Because of the problems in the insurance market, some Americans can no longer afford a mortgage and the mandatory insurance that goes along with it. Insurance costs are also reflected in rents so there can be no American Dream or affordable housing without property insurance reforms.