Reassigning Risk
Moves are being made to drastically reduce the size of the federal government, shifting disaster preparedness and response to states, local governments and individuals
President Trump’s plans to drastically cut federal funding for disaster preparedness and response—targeting programs like FEMA and eliminating the Office of Community Planning and Development—could shift the burden of disaster management from the federal government to states, localities, and individuals. Critics warn that these measures, aligned with conservative efforts to reduce federal cost-shares, could leave vulnerable communities in disaster-prone areas with inadequate support and risk repeating historical failures in disaster management.
WASHINGTON, D.C.—President Donald Trump is swiftly moving to cut or significantly reduce federal funding for disaster preparedness, emergency response initiatives, and climate resilience programs. The 2025 proposals encompass significant funding shifts for the Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA), the removal of emergency preparedness grants, and the rollback of federal flood protection standards—modifications that could redefine the country’s strategy for disaster management and response, transferring risk from the federal government to states, local governments, and individuals.
Just last week, The New York Times reported that the Trump administration announced plans to all but eliminate the Office of Community Planning and Development. This office, part of the Department of Housing and Urban Development, oversees America’s recovery from the largest disasters made worse by climate change. The move raises questions about how the United States will rebuild from natural disasters and who will foot the bill for those efforts.
"The Trump orders undermine regulation that helps us combat climate change in a lot of different ways,” according to Abrahm Lustgarten, author of On the Move: The Overheating Earth and the Uprooting of America. “The regulations we have now improve efficiency for consumer products, like fuel economy standards for cars or energy ratings for your appliances, and so one effect is that consumers won’t have availability of products that are actually cheaper for them to run, right? It will cost more to drive your car. It will cost more to dry your clothes … None of these things are very quick or immediate changes. But they will trickle out over time and have a significant impact on people’s resiliency in the face of the changes that are happening."
The administration’s stance aligns with recommendations from Project 2025, a policy blueprint from the conservative Heritage Foundation that advocates shifting disaster costs from the federal government to the states. In addition to pulling back regulations, one key proposal in the plan suggests reducing the federal cost-share for disasters from the current 75% to just 25% for smaller-scale disasters while capping federal contributions for larger catastrophes. Such a move would leave state and local governments and individuals shouldering a greater share of the costs.
"I think, frankly, FEMA's not good," Trump said. "I think when you have a problem like this, I think you want to go, and whether it's a Democrat or Republican governor, you want to use your state to fix it and not waste time calling FEMA."
These proposed cuts are expected to disproportionately impact lower-income people living in disaster-prone areas along the Atlantic and Gulf coasts and fire-prone regions of the Western United States. However, as Hurricane Helene illustrated in 2024, even areas deemed relatively immune from climate disasters are now in nature’s crosshairs.
Repeating Disasters
America’s long history of managing climate disasters has been uneven, and the current iteration, known broadly as FEMA, is relatively new, launched by President Jimmy Carter in 1979. Gutting FEMA and its related programs could take us back to a time nearly 100 years ago, outside of almost every living American’s memory, when the federal government took a hands-off approach to disaster management and recovery. The results could be disastrous.
On April 15, 1927, the Great Mississippi Flood—one of the most destructive in U.S. history—occurred when the Mississippi River and its tributaries breached levee systems in multiple locations. The disaster inundated more than 27,000 square miles across Arkansas, Mississippi, and Louisiana—an area roughly the size of New England—killing up to 1,000 people and displacing 700,000, most of them Black sharecroppers. At a time when the federal government’s entire budget was just $3 billion, the flood caused an estimated $1 billion in damage.
In its aftermath, President Calvin Coolidge appointed Commerce Secretary Herbert Hoover to lead the federal disaster response, primarily coordinating private relief efforts. The Red Cross provided food and shelter to hundreds of thousands in temporary camps, while Hoover made public appeals for donations. He later praised the response, saying, “No other Main Street in the world could have done what the American Main Street did in the Mississippi flood … The safety of the United States is its multitudinous mass leadership.”
Historians widely disagree with Hoover’s rosy assessment and concur that the 1927 flood exposed major flaws in disaster response, particularly the federal government’s reluctance to take direct responsibility and the racial inequities in relief efforts—Blacks were forced to labor in the recovery efforts, for instance. It ultimately spurred reforms in disaster management but also deepened racial and economic divides, accelerating the Great Migration as many displaced Black Southerners sought better opportunities in the North.
There was also political fallout. Hoover’s lack of direct action for displaced Black communities contributed to a shift of Black voters away from the Republican Party to the Democrats in the following years.
“The '27 flood was really the first time we began to really think about, what does it mean to be in this particular space that's vulnerable? What does it mean to be in this particular space where you are vulnerable as a citizen? And what do people try to do after a disaster to better their situation? And I think that's one of the lasting legacies of the 1927 flood,” said Richard M. Mizelle Jr., Associate Professor of History at the University of Houston and Co-Editor of the Environmental History's Futures Series in an interview with NPR’s “Throughline.”
Blue State, Red State, Rich State, Poor State
The proposed cuts have drawn sharp criticism from disaster experts, emergency responders, and lawmakers—some of them Republicans from disaster-prone states. And for a good reason, since so-called red states receive more federal dollars than they pay via taxes for nearly everything, including disaster relief.
“From 2018 to 2022, individuals and organizations from blue states contributed nearly 60% of all federal tax receipts but only received 53% of all federal contributions to states in the form of either direct payments, grants, contracts, or wages,” according to reporting from Time Magazine earlier this year. “Meanwhile, red states were only responsible for 40% of federal tax receipts but received 47% of all federal contributions to states. A 7% differential that in effect equates to a more than $1 trillion transfer payment from blue states to red states, amounting to $4,300 per capita, compared to the instance where their respective fair shares were paid.”
Red states have also disproportionately benefited from President Joe Biden’s signature legislation, like the Inflation Reduction Act, by as much as fivefold.
Shifting risk away from the federal government and onto the states would mean that every jurisdiction across the U.S. would have to fend for itself when wildfires, hurricanes, and floods occur. Some states would shift the risk again, but this time onto local governments and individuals, while others would create their own FEMA-like entities and regulatory frameworks. Regardless, Trump’s approach would likely establish a very uneven patchwork of regulations where most blue states could shoulder the financial burden while many red states would struggle. Rich Americans would be able to weather the worst, while poor Americans would be left behind.
“States prone to frequent disasters, such as Louisiana and Florida, would face expensive recurring challenges that would likely exacerbate recovery delays and reduce their overall resilience,” wrote Ming Xie Assistant Professor of Emergency Management and Public Health, University of Maryland, Baltimore County earlier this year. “Smaller, more rural and less wealthy states that lack the financial resources and logistical capabilities to respond effectively would be disproportionately affected.”
Congress has historically resisted deep cuts to disaster preparedness and relief, often restoring funds despite Trump’s earlier budget proposals. The 2025 budget battle will likely see bipartisan pushback against the most severe reductions, especially from lawmakers representing disaster-prone regions. However, with Trump prioritizing spending cuts and deregulation, disaster policy is once again a battleground issue with high stakes for millions of Americans.
“FEMA can’t go away,” said Senator John Kennedy (R-La.), who just last week reintroduced the bipartisan Helping Eliminate Limitations for Prompt (HELP) Response and Recovery Act with Senator Gary Peters (D-Mich.), which would enable FEMA to respond to disasters and other emergencies “effectively and promptly.” “The first job of the federal government is to protect people and property.”
As extreme weather events grow more frequent and costly, the question remains: Will the nation be ready when the next disaster strikes, and who should pay for it? Let us know your thoughts by leaving a comment.
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