More closely relevant to climate, the New York (City) Panel on Climate Change (NPCC 2010) employed tolerable risk to frame both its evaluation and management of climate change risks to public and private infrastructure.
NPCC communicated this concept to planners and decisionmakers by pointing out that building codes imposed across the city did not try to guarantee that a building would never fall down. Instead, they were designed to produce an environment in which the likelihood of a collapse was acceptable given the cost and feasibility of doing more to prevent collapse. However, if climate change or another stressor pushed a particular risk profile closer to the thresholds of social tolerability by increasing likelihoods of harm, investments in risk-reducing adaptations would be expected to increase.
Achieving broad acceptance for any tolerable risk threshold across a population is a huge task. For one, risk tolerance varies widely across societies and individuals. For another, policymakers confronting a pandemic or extreme climate change are often navigating between different, and perhaps strongly contradictory, risk management priorities.
Individuals, communities, and institutions can meet such challenges by agreeing on a common set of facts about the likelihood and possible consequences of an event. They can then explore together how much risk is acceptable and why. During the second wave of the COVID-19 pandemic, for example, New York State relied on science to frame its strategies to avoid overwhelming its hospital system after what had been a relatively successful initial response. New York implemented two forward-looking criteria: (1) hold the transmission rate of the virus below 1.0 and (2) keep vacancies of hospital beds and ICU beds across the state above 30% of total bed capacity. These criteria represented thresholds of tolerable risk that could be monitored and projected into the future using results from integrated epidemiological-economic models.
E. Insuring Against Risks
One way of managing risks is through insurance. Sometimes, insurance comes in the form of hedging against a bad event by being careful to lower the likelihood of an event. Other times, insurance means taking actions to mitigate the consequences of an event. In either case, insurance is a form of investment in which money spent now yields future benefits.
More formally, insurance is the product of a formal business transaction between an individual customer who is, to some degree, averse to risk and a regulated industry that sells policies that protect against financial harm at a premium (price per dollar of coverage). These financial arrangements get quite complicated. They depend, for example, on differences in customers’ risk-accepting or risk-reducing behaviors, on the one hand, and the sorts of incentives, services, or deductibles that companies might use to compete for clients, on the other. These complications can be critical considerations in using insurance to cope with the risks of climate change.
The general principles for optimizing insurance are simple. Risk-averse people are willing to pay up to a maximum acceptable risk premium to eliminate uncertainty about the future. In this optimal world, risk premiums are by definition the maximum amount that individuals would be willing to pay to avoid completely a quantifiable risk situation. Because most jurisdictions require them to be actuarially fair, insurance premiums become the smallest amount that insurance companies would be willing to accept to guarantee that outcome. This situation can also be characterized by insurance companies charging a premium per dollar of coverage that is equal to the probability that the customer will suffer a loss and file a claim.
Insurance companies are regulated to be actuarially fair (on average) in their coverage of risk categories—i.e., the risks facing collections of actuarially similar people. Regulation prevents insurance companies from pricing their products to extract the maximum available risk premiums from their potential clients. Some argue that the global scope of climate risk is so enormous that this observation does not apply. That assumption depends upon analysts and opinion-makers ignoring the existence of reinsurance, an industry which diversifies insurance claims around the world with respect to climate and socio-political-economic environments.
So, how do insurance companies make any money? They invest the premiums that they collect at the beginning of the coverage period while they wait to pay whatever portion of a qualified loss they are legally required to cover.
This model can be used to understand how insurance can minimize financial harm caused by climate change. Consider, for example, coastal residents’ insurance-based responses to increased flooding risks caused by human-induced sea-level rise. Suppose that the residents, the demand side of a flood insurance market, think that the premium offered by the insurer and certified by a regulator is too high—that is, they think that the quoted premium is greater than any credible estimate of the probability of loss from flooding. Perhaps their subjective confidence in climate science or in the connection between flooding impacts and socioeconomic consequences is low. Or perhaps they have grown accustomed to premiums that were calculated on the basis of historical losses and not on the basis of projected future losses—losses that science now projects to become larger and more frequent. They may also think that they are entitled to the subsidized system in which the Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA) covers any and all extreme damages at a minimal participation fee under the National Flood Insurance Program (NFIP).
In some cases, these subjective or cognitive aspects have the most explanatory power, especially since they can be actively manipulated by industry, politicians, and climate deniers. Insurance companies have the responsibility to convince individuals otherwise, but that can be an uphill battle. Starting with a neutral, economics-based discussion intended to explain baseline principles of rational market behavior makes sense in setting an efficiency benchmark for assessing how effectively insurance is limiting financial harm from climate change. But surely perceptions of climate risk—beyond general risk tolerance or risk aversion—are strong components of the problem of underinsurance.
The practical point, here, is essential. Perceptions of climate risk (beyond general risk tolerance or risk aversion) are a component of the problem. They have been documented by the social sciences, and some judges will be familiar with the concept from fraud cases that they have heard. Relying on past data is not necessarily fraud, except when it is clear (or should have been clear) with regard to distributions of specific impacts that the past is neither a credible characterization of the present nor demonstrably a harbinger of the future. People who claim otherwise are distorting the truth. For the climate, the past is no longer a prologue of the future.
For any or all of these reasons, a resident could underinsure, meaning that those residents would not be paying at a rate that will be sufficient to cover actual future damage. This leaves damage to repair and no source of funds to pay for it. The question arises of who should bear the cost.
Since, in conventional economics terms, rational individuals would take advantage of properly priced insurance opportunities in their own best interest, society should not pay for losses that could have been covered by individuals. This general observation can be applied beyond the specific context of insurance to climate change as well.
Applying this insurance perspective to estimating the total economic costs climate change imposes on people, communities, or other economic actors for whom insurance coverage or other risk-spreading mechanisms are available has several immediate implications. First, for calculations of personal financial harm, residual damages above the optimal coverage should be included, as well as any additional insurance costs required to reach that optimum. Costs that could have been avoided should not be included. For example, deductibles should be excluded because they reflect harms against which the injured party was willing to self-insure. Secondly, when estimating the economic costs of climate risks to society, insurance costs and residual damages should be included but, again, not deductibles.
Of course, insurance companies need information about the likelihoods and consequences of climate-related events if they are to write policies to cover potential damages. In some cases, insurance coverage is not feasible because the risks are not known or, if they are known, have not been made public by the experts who have investigated them. In the latter case, exemplified by the behavior of many oil and gas companies, residual damages are in fact total damages.
Recent experiences in the United States have underscored this point.
The 2020 hurricanes and California wildfires illustrate how extreme events are increasing in intensity and frequency and can combine to amplify one another in specific places. In California, out of the state’s largest 20 fires in acres burned, only three occurred prior to 2000, and nine of the biggest 10 began after 2012. Indeed, 9,270 fires burned a record 1.5 million acres in 2017. The next year, the Mendocino Complex fire became the then-largest wildfire in California history. Historic drought and unprecedented heat marked 2022, even despite never-before-seen rain and associated flooding throughout the state.
The decade finished with a less noteworthy year in 2019, but then came 2020. The Complex fire became the new largest fire in California history in August 2020. Soon thereafter came the third, fourth, fifth, and sixth largest wildfires in the state’s history. By October 3, 2020, these five conflagrations and nearly 8,000 other more “ordinary” wildfires had killed 31 people and burned more than four million acres. Incredibly, on that day, all five of those major fires were still burning.
Human actions are, of course, the major factor that has increased fire risk. On the consequences side of the risk calculation, catastrophic damage to life and property has increased markedly as more people have moved into vulnerable forested areas, putting their lives and property at risk and setting more inadvertent blazes. Changes in forest management have also contributed because fire suppression policies reduced the frequency of blazes that could burn off fuel reserves built up in forests. However, these non-climate contributors to increased fire danger have not increased sufficiently to fully account for the recent devastation.
The change in the various individual factors that create wildfire threats cannot explain the devastation if taken one at a time. A record number of dry lightning strikes caused many of the 2020 fires. This lightning was not solely the result of climate change, but it fed into a witches’ brew of conditions that are all linked to global warming. The lightning strikes and other points of ignition hit in the midst of a record drought and heat wave that had lasted for weeks on end. Decades of gradual warming had extended the western fire season by some 75 days and increased springtime bark-beetle populations, and years of beetle infestations had produced large stands of dead trees. Taken together, these contemporaneous influences reveal that the issue is not just what sparks the fires. The larger problem is the context in which they start and how quickly they spread once started.
A similar story can be told about damage from tropical storms. Hurricanes Harvey in 2017 and Florence in 2018 dropped historic amounts of rain after making landfall and then stalling over Houston and North Carolina, respectively. In the summer of 2020, Hurricanes Laura and Beta followed suit, causing extreme rainfall totals and substantial damage from storm surges. Their behaviors mimicked Dorian over the Bahamas in 2019. Finally, in 2017, Hurricane Mike traveled more than 100 miles inland from landfall along the Florida panhandle only to stall over Albany, Georgia, long enough to deposit in excess of five feet of rain in some locations and around four feet across half of the state.
Near-record warm ocean and gulf temperatures have allowed more tropical depressions and non-tropical low pressure systems to develop into dangerous hurricanes. At the same time, the decrease in the summer temperature difference between the Arctic and the tropics has weakened steering currents in the atmosphere, causing storms to move more slowly. In addition, sea-level rise, one of the most obvious results of decades of rising temperatures, has compounded risks posed by storm surges.
The expanding consequences of compound fire and flood events are also having negative effects. Many of the worst fires and hurricanes have exploded so quickly and have spread so erratically that human evacuations have become “moment’s notice” emergencies. People across the United States—from the Southeast and Gulf Coasts to California and Oregon—have been forced to retreat from harm’s way as quickly as possible.
New information from the ongoing scientific process can open new doors of inquiry, to be sure. More usually, and as noted above, new evidence hardly ever suggests either dismissing conventional wisdom entirely or reversing its content. In any case, it is critical that some protocol like what has become standard in IPCC assessments be followed in bringing the new science into existing assessments. Only then will new reports affecting the confidence with which a piece of conventional wisdom is held have credibility.
III. The Damages From Climate Change
Creating and updating damage estimates for the ranges of possible future temperatures requires an understanding of the roles played by uncertainties. The IPCC has created potential pathways for greenhouse gas emissions to compare scenarios of how human society might develop socially, politically, and economically in the future. The left panel of Figure 4 displays three of these scenarios, which are known as representative concentration pathways (RCPs). The right panel of Figure 4 displays estimates of direct damages, calibrated in percentage of U.S. GDP, from the global mean temperature associated with each of these scenarios.
The highest emissions scenario (RCP8.5), which projects emissions that will have failed to reach their maximum by 2100 even at nearly triple 2020 levels, supports damage estimates ranging from just above 2% of GDP all the way up to more than 10%. The middle scenario (RCP4.5), which has emissions peaking around 2045 and stabilizing around 2080, supports damage estimates ranging from 0.5% of GDP to more than 2% in 2100. Emissions along the aspirational RCP2.6 scenario, which peak almost immediately and certainly before 2030, show damage estimates staying below 1% of GDP throughout the century.
While Figure 4 provides a summary portrait of projected damages for the United States along alternative global socioeconomic scenarios, it should be noted that new damage projections like this are always emerging. For example, Franziska Piontek et al. provide a synthesized discussion of the connections between global emissions pathways that support calculating the economic damages of biophysical impacts such that equity concerns and adaptation programs can be explored.
The WGII report from the recent IPCC AR6 also summarizes this literature; it is the product of a process that has produced a series of assessments of damages across North America (in one chapter) and around the world (across all of the regional chapters). The process also produces Synthesis Reports that describe findings in language designed for decisionmakers, heads of state, negotiators, and their staff.