Los Angeles, a Cautionary Tale for Re-Building after Disaster

As media attention shifts from reporting on the wildfires to reminiscing on what was, Plan Architecture‘s founder, Dan D'Agostino, AIA shares his thoughts on redevelopment of a disaster zone. Sage advice based on New Jersey’s missteps following Superstorm Sandy.

Reflecting on Rebuilding After Disaster

 I was six years out of college and two years into my career as a licensed architect when Superstorm Sandy struck New Jersey in 2012. Its power and destruction were something I had only read about or seen on television—until it became alarmingly real. The days immediately following the storm blurred together. My wife and I, then newlyweds, spent two nights without power before relocating to my parents’ home, which had a portable generator. Like so many others in New Jersey at the time, we huddled together, navigating this strange, shared reality of darkness and uncertainty.

 Sandy left behind unparalleled devastation—360,000 homes along the Jersey Shore were damaged or destroyed. Entire neighborhoods were unrecognizable. Life as we knew it had been overturned, and everyone I spoke with seemed to face an impossible decision on how to move forward.

It wasn’t even three months later that I received my first commission related to the aftermath of Sandy—I would rebuild a home in Ortley Beach. The area was still reeling. Entire streets had vanished under debris. When I was granted permission to survey the site, I couldn’t tell where the roads ended and sidewalks began. At one point, I realized I was walking on someone’s roof, partially buried in sand and rubble, with a ceiling fan still intact just beneath my feet. A refrigerator stood upright six blocks from its original location, magnets from local restaurants still fastened to its door.

 The sheer scale of destruction was humbling—a stark reminder that nature doesn’t discriminate. It wasn’t just homes that had been lost; the sense of community, normalcy, and identity were swept away too.

 Lessons from Rebuilding in New Jersey

 When I reflect on that time, I see decisions that were made in the heat of urgency. People approached the aftermath of Sandy in different ways. Some were eager to rebuild their homes as quickly as possible, determined to restore their lives to some sense of normalcy. Others left altogether, opting to build a new future elsewhere, their abandonment creating opportunities for developers who rapidly bought up land and constructed towering, cheaply made homes void of character.

 Amid the chaos came the weight of bureaucracy and the influence of profit-driven entities. Building codes were implemented and revised again and again, largely shaped by insurance companies and government regulations. Federal disaster guidelines became a challenge to interpret and comply with. Some builders found ways to bypass them entirely.

 The result? A coastline that, while functional and more prepared for potential disasters, lacked its original soul. The “sense of place” that gave the Jersey Shore its charm and character felt diminished. The influx of money, while vital, shaped the area into something unrecognizable—a patchwork of ambition and survival, yet missing the deeper threads of community and authenticity.

 Echoes of Familiar Disasters in LA

 A decade later, as I watch the devastation of the Los Angeles fires unfold from 3,000 miles away, the scenes feel hauntingly familiar. Communities now confront similar dilemmas—whether to rebuild, start anew, or reshape the very foundation of what their neighborhood represents.

 Having lived through the rebuilding efforts in New Jersey, I see patterns that will inevitably emerge. Some residents will push to re-establish their homes as quickly as possible, driven by a deep desire for stability and routine. Others will decide to walk away. Developers will likely swoop in, redrafting the landscape to prioritize square footage and resale value over heritage or sustainability. Simultaneously, regulatory agencies, motivated by caution, will introduce layers of guidelines designed to mitigate future risks—guidelines that might unintentionally make things harder for those most in need of help.

 For Los Angeles, the opportunity lies in learning from the mistakes we made in New Jersey. This is not just about replacing what was lost. It’s about re-imagining what a community can be while honoring the soul of the place—the culture, history, and identity that were there before disaster struck.

 A Call to Build with Purpose

 The challenges ahead are many. How can insurance, government regulations, and local developers strike a balance between enabling swift recovery and sustaining the character of a community? How do we make homes safer and more resilient without making affordability an afterthought? And, perhaps most importantly, how do we re-establish a sense of place without eroding its very essence?

 Our efforts after Sandy focused heavily on flood mitigation—raising houses on stilts to withstand future flooding and curbing coverage to reduce vulnerability. While practical, these measures didn’t create communities that “felt” like home. Something was missing. Practicality clashed with identity. I hope Los Angeles doesn’t fall into the same trap. Venice will always be Venice because it embraces its waterways as part of its DNA. Jersey wasn’t ready to redefine itself and lost something vital in trying.

 For Los Angeles, the answers may not yet be clear. But it’s not too early to ask the right questions. What will it mean to rebuild a grieving community that ensures resilience in its structures while nurturing the soul of its neighborhoods? How can this rebuilding process harness the sense of togetherness disasters often evoke and channel it into meaningful solutions that honor the past while preparing for the future?

 The Importance of the Soul in Rebuilding

 Natural disasters challenge us to rethink and rebuild, testing not just our physical structures but the foundations of our communities. The task before Los Angeles is one that demands reflection and action, balancing the urgency of recovery with the patience required for thoughtful reinvention.

 Rebuilding isn’t just about steel, concrete, and wood. It’s about people, shared stories, and a commitment to preserving the soul of a place. It’s about creating spaces that invite connection, ignite creativity, and strengthen bonds between neighbors.

 To the architects, urban planners, policymakers, and homeowners tasked with envisioning the “new” Los Angeles—focus not only on what was lost but what can be gained. Build homes that protect, spaces that foster resilience, and systems that ensure inclusivity. If done well, the result won’t just be a rebuilt Los Angeles, but a reimagined one—where safety, sustainability, and soul coexist.

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