To Weather the Growing Costs of Climate Disasters, Some States Are Getting Creative

Illustration: Beatrix Hatcher

By Maddie Burakoff
Associate Editor, Audubon magazine

In 2023, a deadly wildfire fueled by powerful winds and drought swept Maui, leaving vibrant communities and coastal habitat in ruin. As Hawaiʻi rebuilds at a cost of more than $12 billion, officials are preparing for a future of more extreme events. In May, the state enacted a first-in-the-nation “green fee”: a tax on tourists to fund climate preparedness efforts like uprooting invasive plants to reduce fire risk, hardening homes against hurricanes, and restoring reefs to buffer storm surges. “Hawaiʻi cannot wait for the next disaster to hit before taking action,” said Governor Josh Green. “We must build resiliency now.”

As climate change arrives at the doorsteps of many Americans, residents have been saddled with the costs of more frequent and intense disasters, with a record number of extreme weather events exceeding $1 billion in damage. At the same time, insurance companies are raising rates or fleeing disaster-prone areas entirely. What’s more, this year the Trump administration rolled back federal funding intended to prepare for disasters and aid recovery after they hit—cutting FEMA’s relief capacity and slashing grant programs across agencies that supported flood prevention, extreme heat planning, and coastal resilience.

All of that has left state governments to foot increasing bills for climate adaptation work. “States are now the first line of defense for a lot of that,” says Ava Gallo, climate and energy program manager for the National Caucus of Environmental Legislators. As funding gaps grow, some state legislatures are testing out new models for raising money to face a warming world. “We’ve seen a lot of people get creative,” Gallo says.

In Hawaiʻi, the green fee—which is expected to raise $100 million a year—makes sense given that tourists strain the same natural environments that bring them to the islands, says Chris Benjamin, chair of the Hawaiʻi Climate Advisory Team. 

Other lawmakers are looking to raise funds from those with a bigger climate responsibility. Last year, Vermont and New York became the first states to pass so-called climate Superfund laws. Inspired by a 1980 law that requires polluters to pay for major environmental cleanups, these policies aim to charge large oil and gas companies for climate change costs. Thanks to recent advances in modeling, scientists can now more precisely estimate the financial damage from specific emitters—tallying up, for example, how much Chevron's carbon emissions have set a state back in extreme weather damages. Lawmakers in 11 more states have introduced similar bills. 

"We know that if we don’t act now, there’s going to be more significant costs down the road."

“It ultimately comes back to a kindergarten-level principle,” says Elena Mihaly, the Conservation Law Foundation’s vice president for Vermont. “If you make a mess, you help clean it up.” Still, these laws likely won’t offer quick relief, says Martin Lockman, a William & Mary Law School environmental law professor: Republican-led states, fossil fuel industry groups, and, as of May, the Department of Justice are suing to block them, challenging states’ power to regulate carbon emissions.

Other new funding streams are flowing more swiftly. In 2023 Washington launched a “cap-and-invest” program that auctions a limited number of carbon emissions allowances to companies, similar to longer-running models in California and Québec. Washington’s version is already channeling more than $3 billion to projects like reconnecting rivers on tribal lands and electrifying buses, says Caitlin Krenn, climate and clean energy director for Washington Conservation Action.

Fast cash may come at a premium, however. For example, California voters last year approved a $10 billion climate bond to protect places that people and wildlife rely on, from the San Francisco Bay shoreline to green pockets on the Los Angeles River. Such bonds cost around $2 to pay back every $1, but the cash injection ensures that essential projects can happen quickly, says Mike Lynes, public policy director for Audubon California, which supported the measure. “On issues like climate and biodiversity, we know that if we don’t act now, there’s going to be more significant costs down the road,” Lynes says—both in dollars and in suffering of people, birds, and ecosystems. 

To have a chance at weathering future storms, the hope and challenge is to scale up these efforts and bring them to more states, advocates say. Still, while new funding measures can boost urgent adaptation work amid uncertain times for federal action, they fall short of addressing the snowballing costs of a warming planet. In the long run, states acting alone can’t do enough. All levels of government need to act. “It’s a matter for the whole country to pick up,” Lynes says. “It’s ultimately a matter for the whole world to pick up.”

This story ran in the Fall 2025 issue as “Weather Proofing.” To receive our print magazine, become a member by making a donation today.