Surfside, Florida – the name of the city is the most obvious clue, but the name of the state is the reason no one is able to declare it. Why did the building fall? Apply Occam's razor: it's built on a sinking barrier island within a rising sea. Which implies that all of Miami's trillion-dollar 'surf-side' real estate economy is at risk. But Florida state officials are required to refer to "sea level rise" as "nuisance flooding". And I wonder, how did everyone think climate change would look? the sea would gently rise, like water in a bath? buildings would remain whole and happily submerge, like Bikini Bottom?
As a trained architect listening to the reports in the news, it seems strange to me that everyone is focused on cracked and spalling concrete, and improper waterproofing on the pool deck. Those may be contributing factors, but they are not the kinds of failures that would cause a catastrophic collapse. On the other hand, hearing reports from building staff and residents that the garage regularly flooded with salt water, that gives me intense concern. Instances of corroded rebar and roof leaks seem minor compared to the effects of the sea's cyclical soaking of the foundations and tidal forces on the subsoils – in my humble opinion.
Several witness statements underscore this concern. Minutes before the collapse, the building's valet reported a 'rush of water' into the building, and residents were unable to park because the garage was 'filling with water'. After the collapse, residents escaping the building stated they 'waded through water', and others reported being blocked from escape by the flooding in the lower levels.
It is telling that these are the first thoughts of the building super from 1995 to 2000 (more than twenty years ago!), William Espinoza, after witnessing the collapse:
Anytime they would have high tides, away from the ordinary, any king-tide or anything like that, we would have a lot of salt water come in through the bottom of the foundation. And we had a huge pit in the garage that would handle two pumps in there to suck that water out. But it was so much water all the time that the pumps never could keep up with it. So we always had to be replacing pumps. And the water would just basically sit there and then it would just seep downward. It would just go away after a while. And I would think, where does that water go? Because it had to go in through somewhere. I'm talking about a foot, sometimes two feet of water in the bottom of the parking lot – the whole parking lot. … [T]he cars would float, that's how much water was in there, they would be floating around in the parking lot.
Salt water, yeah sure, it was coming from the ocean. I mean, I don't know, how deep does that go, but it had to go to somewhere after the fact cause we couldn't get it pumped out. … But I go, 'You know that it's endless. Every month we had a problem with this again, water and water.' And I go, 'This is just not normal. I mean, this is just too much water.'
Also telling that when the reporter mentions the cracks and patches, Espinoza essentially dismisses that ("nothing like real big cracks or anything like that"), and emphasizes the water. So, the person responsible for the building's upkeep was almost entirely concerned about underground salt water intrusion.
Also-also telling is that the portions of the building that fell were those closest to the beach.
There will be an investigation, and we will learn more. Of course, it's all so sad and shocking. But at present, it sure seems like many in the media are focusing on engineer reports, delayed repairs, and condo boards, with quite a few hinting that there is blame. I'm sure this language is making many a lawyer's heart beat fast. They are ignoring the most compelling culprit: the ocean. As the name says, it's right there.
We are vaccinated; we have certificates and everything.
cases: 181,854,027 global • 34,494,677 USA • 874,547 Portugal
deaths: 3,939,093 global • 619,424 USA • 17,084 Portugal
UPDATE (July 1): Unlike June, July starts comfortably warm and breezy; great walking weather. But, Lisbon is going back into a partial 'lockdown', with early closings and limited occupancies. It feels like a pandemic-pendulum – open a little, close a little.
Today, the Washington Post reports that members of the condo board at Champlain South resigned en-masse in 2019, after a year-long attempt to raise the funds to address issues raised by the 2018 engineer's assessment. This feels like a failure of American democracy in miniature, a metaphor for the country's failure – infrastructure crumbling but cannot pass a comprehensive bill, virus variants spreading but cannot administer a vaccination program, 'the world's greatest democracy' but cannot hold a proper election or even believe it when we do. It's a little republic where, lacking an overwhelming consensus, decisions cannot be made.
This is from board president Anette Goldstien's resignation letter (September 2019):
We work for months to go in one direction and at the very last minute objections are raised that should have been discussed and resolved right in the beginning. This pattern has repeated itself over and over, ego battles, undermining the roles of fellow board members, circulation of gossip and mistruths. I am not presenting a very pretty picture of the functioning of our board and many before us, but it describes a board that works very hard but cannot for the reasons above accomplish the goals we set out to accomplish.
Meanwhile, temperatures in the Pacific Northwest set stunning new records last week. On Sunday and again on Monday, the Canadian village of Lytton set national, all-time, high-temperature records. Two days ago, the village completed the trifecta. But by yesterday, Lytton was gone – burned to the ground in a matter of minutes by a wildfire. Today is Canada Day.
How do we prevent a Lytton? or a Surfside? How we do organize ourselves to fix things? manage things? as a community, or a nation, or a species? We exhaust our energy pointing fingers. We elect people to stand in circular firing squads. We leave Lytton to punch their fists at the sun, and Surfside to roar their sorrow at the sea. Nothing gets done.
