Water Moves Faster Than Blame
Amid Texas floods, finding fault in government overstates its agency and brings no clarity.
Author’s Note: Please consider donating to Austin Disaster Relief Network to help Central Texans recover from recent and ongoing flooding. Donate here.
Years ago, I had the chance to visit Antelope Canyon out in Page, Arizona which are these gorgeous curved, soft-grain slotted chasms of Navajo sandstone that one can walk through. Over the course of million years rushing water carved these canyons into the site they are today. The guide shared that despite clear skies above, staff stay alert of weather forecasts as much as 50 miles out to determine whether to open the canyon up to visitors. Otherwise, flash floods can rush through wiping out everything in its path. The Central Texas floods happening in my backyard reminded me of Antelope Canyon and how observers of this crisis — including myself — hadn’t grasped exactly how quickly water can move.
When floodwaters tore through on the weekend of Independence Day, the postmortem began before the water receded. Coverage framed preparation and response as failure. The warnings hadn’t come because of federal executive’s cuts to the National Weather Service, some said. Or when federal aid came, it hadn’t come fast enough. But the instinct to treat natural disasters as political failures — the L.A. fires earlier this year and now these Texas floods — is now so baked into the American news cycle that few stop to ask whether it’s correct to lay disaster at the feet of government. What gets lost is not only the reality of the disaster itself but a clear view of what governments can and cannot assure.
This isn’t new. During the L.A. wildfires, the story quickly zeroed in on reservoirs—as if water storage, rather than heat, wind, and geography, was the defining factor. During the early part of COVID, it was ventilators. And in Texas last week, it was sirens delayed local-level warnings. Post-disaster commentary is known for seeking out a “silver bullet” mitigator. “If only X had been in place, then Y would or would not have happened.” Nobody don’t know that. As Texas enters into its special legislative session, it remains to be seen how and if lawmakers will address the matter. The Lt. Governor Dan Patrick supports the idea of sirens in Kerr County. And it’s also the case that the opt-in alert systems local authorities chose to warn residents might need to reviewed. But the belief in a “silver bullet” gives the appearance of accountability for journalists yet winds up oversimplifying uncertainties of deeply physical events.
Despite widespread suggestions to the contrary from the mainstream press and Democrats, The National Weather Service and National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration had adequate staffing and technology according to figures like Greg Waller, a Fort Worth-based Service Coordination Hydrologist and Tom Fahy, the NWS Employees Organization Legislative Director. Still, much has been laid at the feet of not just President Trump but figures like Governor Greg Abbott’s administration whose response to a question about who to blame prompted a football analogy of perseverance derided by his critics.
The NWS issued multiple alerts ahead of the worst flooding. Forecasts were timely and escalated appropriately—from flood watches on July 3 to full flash flood emergencies by early morning July 4. The alerts went out across cell networks, radios, and public broadcasts. What happened next depended on things the NWS doesn’t control: whether sirens worked, whether people were awake, whether cell coverage held up. And yet the coverage shifted almost immediately into what-went-wrong mode, pointing toward institutions rather than conditions.
Much has also been made of the three-day delay in the federal deployment of search-and-rescue teams, with critical coverage at CNN chalking it up to Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem’s decision to not renew certain FEMA grants and contracts until five days after the initial floods. The Texas Tribune observed that the two-thirds of disaster assistance calls that were not answered because of expired contracts in an article questioning the pace of the Trump administration’s response. The Washington Post highlighted similar budget constraints and bureaucratic snags within DHS as contributing factors to the lag.
What these critiques overlook is that local emergency crews, regional responders, and mutual aid agreements were already active in the interim — just because the feds aren’t yet involved doesn’t mean no robust recovery efforts have begun. Further, federal disaster declarations and FEMA mobilization followed a timeline consistent with past disasters like Hurricane Ian and the Kentucky floods in 2022, the Maui fires in 2023, and Hurricane Harvey in 2017—within two days for funding, and fully staffed recovery operations within a week. The perception of absence stemmed less from any actual void of response and more from inflated expectations about what the federal government is supposed to do and how quickly. When critics point to federal timelines as proof of failure, they often ignore the overlapping and already-functioning systems that act first. It’s a clear example of how overstating the agency of government—especially at the federal level—turns a functioning, layered response into a false narrative of abandonment.
A similar rush to assign blame directed at L.A. mayor Karen Bass and Governor Gavin Newsom following the California wildfires earlier this year. As fires spread through the hills of Ventura and northern Los Angeles counties, commentary quickly turned accusatory. Some blamed state officials for failing to thin brush or expand controlled burns. Others pointed to PG&E and other utilities, claiming downed power lines were the cause. Fault over whether insufficient water in local reservoirs left firefighters helpless also spread. Still others faulted local governments for development policies that placed homes in the wildland-urban interface. But while each of these factors might have played a marginal role, the fires were fundamentally driven by a combination of high winds, dry conditions, and bad luck—natural variables that no level of government can fully control. That didn’t stop headlines from framing the event as a policy failure.
This isn’t a defense of any particular government but a challenge to the premise that someone must always be at fault when the focus should be determining if and how relevant constituencies can be better served. The truth is, the agency of government—federal, state, or local—is often exaggerated in the post-crisis narrative. Floods become the fault of whoever didn’t install sirens. Fires become the fault of whoever didn’t clear brush. A virus becomes the fault of whoever didn’t order enough ventilators — all of it with the gift of hindsight having never witnessed record-breaking weather events.
These misplaced expectations wind up displacing public understanding. When every natural disaster operates on the pretense of government failure, people come to believe someone chose not to prevent it. That belief, compounded over time, doesn’t strengthen democracy. It feeds distrust, often centralizes blame, and ultimately invites the kind of power consolidation and overreach that leaves American government more brittle. The blame allows journalists and partisans alike to tell their audience that power is being held to account. But in reality, much of the time, preparedness cannot always prevent loss — and even when it does, the loss prevented is ever acknowledged.
In the case of the Texas floods, the federal government wasn’t the problem nor will it be decisive in future preparedness. A lack of failure doesn’t mean there aren’t solutions. After facing both delays and rejection in funding, on one hand, while aiming to represent constituents who didn’t want emergency sirens spoiling nature, Texans will be faced with a renewed demand to figure out how to adapt and mitigate disaster in the future.
We don’t need to assign blame to recognize loss. Finding fault doesn't mean ignoring solutions. In many respects, perhaps the understated challenge of more extreme weather will mean that such weather will overwhelm our ability to convincingly lay blame. Along with the riverbanks what may also erode is that when things go wrong, and horribly so, is who we can hang it on. Recognizing that doesn’t weaken accountability — it clarifies it.
Please consider donating to Austin Disaster Relief Network to help Central Texans recover from recent and ongoing flooding. Donate here.
