Beyond counting roofs: Why disaster recovery metrics shape the wrong outcomes

In August 2025, PreventionWeb published a compelling commentary by Olivia Nielsen and Emma Harwood exposing a global blind spot: after disasters, we rarely know how many homes are destroyed. Without this data, they argue, we cannot measure the true scale of loss or track whether we are closing the housing gap. The call for systematic data on homes destroyed is both logical and necessary—we cannot rebuild blind. 

But having worked in post-disaster reconstruction in Haiti and Puerto Rico, I believe there's an equally dangerous risk: rebuilding with the wrong vision. As Jamaica continues recovery from Hurricane Melissa, which struck in October 2025, this concern has become urgently relevant. And it reveals a deeper dilemma: if we make destroyed homes the global measure of disaster impact, we risk channelling resources toward the most visible part of recovery while neglecting the systems that make four walls and a roof actually livable. 

Counting roofs gives us tidy numbers. But recovery is messy. 

When counting can undercount need

The original commentary correctly identifies that disasters disproportionately destroy affordable housing and that monetary loss estimates can mask impacts on vulnerable populations. But counting destroyed homes as the primary metric risks the same distortion—just in a different direction.

As Jamaica assesses Melissa's damage — with satellite analysis showing 66% of buildings being damaged in Black River — the challenge isn't just counting destroyed structures. It's capturing how families actually live. In the fishing villages along Saint Elizabeth's coast and the agricultural communities inland, multiple generations often share one titled property, with extended family units in separate dwellings on the same lot. Moreover, renters in informal arrangements, tenants without written leases, and families occupying land through customary arrangements rather than formal title will not show up in a simple structure count.

In Puerto Rico after Hurricane María, I saw firsthand how "one lot, one house" metrics erased lived realities. Families living on inherited or informally subdivided plots were initially denied assistance because they lacked formal title documents. An estimated 77,000 households were initially denied assistance by the Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA) for "ownership not verified." FEMA later reformed its rules in 2021 to accept broader proofs of residence and even self-certification—evidence of how deeply flawed the old metrics were. But the lesson stands: if we only measure by structures rather than households affected, we risk the same undercounting that Nielsen and Harwood rightly critique in loss models based on gross domestic product (GDP).

Measuring destroyed homes alone can perpetuate invisibility for the most vulnerable—those whose living arrangements don't fit into neat categories.

When metrics misdirect resources

Housing metrics raise another question: what kind of recovery are we planning?

The 2010 Haiti earthquake offers a cautionary example. A ProPublica/NPR investigation reported that the American Red Cross raised nearly $500 million but built only six permanent homes. The figure went viral precisely because it was simple, countable, and devastating. The Red Cross wasn't lying—they argued much of the funding went to rental subsidies, retrofits, water, sanitation and hygiene (WASH) systems, and health facilities. All true. All important. All invisible when the only metric the world cared about was houses built. They got crucified in the media not because they failed, but because they succeeded at the wrong things.

This is the incentive structure we're about to recreate globally. If destroyed homes become the flagship indicator, agencies will optimize for what gets measured. And what gets measured will be roofs, not resilience. Donors will fund structure reconstruction. Media will count buildings. And the invisible backbone of recovery—the systems that make those structures livable—will remain a footnote.

In Jamaica's recovery from Hurricane Melissa the same risk exists. What is needed is infrastructure that makes settlements actually function: drainage systems that can handle intensifying rainfall, water management infrastructure that works when the next storm hits, and coastal protection for communities facing their second major hurricane in two years.

Simply counting reconstructed homes won't capture whether communities have actually recovered—or whether we're setting them up for the same losses next time. 

What we should measure together

The original commentary identified a critical blind spot, and counting destroyed homes is indeed necessary. But it's not sufficient. Let's measure what we need to truly recover—not just what's easiest to count.

So what should we measure instead? Here's the uncomfortable truth: we can't measure everything. Assessment budgets are limited. Teams are finite. Time is short.

Which means we have to choose. And if we choose to make destroyed homes the flagship metric—the number that drives donor decisions and shapes media narratives—we're choosing not to prioritize other measures that might matter more.

Here's what we risk missing:

• Households displaced vs. households supported. Pakistan's post-flood cash grants to displaced families, not property owners, showed how counting households rather than structures drives more equitable aid distribution. 
• Critical services restored. Nepal's emphasis on rebuilding WASH systems after the 2015 earthquake proved as essential as reconstructing homes. 
• Risk reduction accomplished. For Jamaica's coastal communities repeatedly hit by hurricanes, this means measuring whether rebuilt homes incorporate storm-resistant design, whether settlements have improved drainage, and whether high-risk areas are being safely relocated.
• Livelihood continuity. Puerto Rico's post-María recovery stalled where jobs disappeared, regardless of housing reconstruction progress.

These are harder to capture than destroyed homes. But recovery itself is hard. Tidy numbers that mislead are worse than messy numbers that matter. 

From roofs to resilience

Nielsen and Harwood end with a powerful call: 

"It is time to treat housing loss as a core disaster metric—not a footnote. If we do not count what we lose, we cannot plan for what we need to rebuild."

They're right. We must count what we lose. But we must be equally rigorous about choosing which metrics drive decisions.

As Jamaica continues recovery from Hurricane Melissa, I hope we're asking not just "how many homes were destroyed?" but:

"What will it actually take for these families and communities to recover and build back stronger?"

That second question won't produce a tidy number. But it's the only question that matters. 

Counting roofs gives us tidy numbers. Recovery is messy. And it's in that mess where true resilience is built. 

Adriana Navarro-Sertich is the founder of urbanSEED, specializing in climate-resilient urban planning, nature-based solutions, participatory processes, community development, and post-disaster reconstruction. An architect and urban planner, her work bridges disaster reconstruction with long-term resilience planning, focusing on equitable recovery that strengthens built environments, systems, and communities. 

Her career spans the private sector, academia, and international development, including her roles as Global Advisor in Housing and Urban Planning for UNOPS and as Principal with Miyamoto International. Her reconstruction experience includes reconstruction work in Haiti and post-Hurricane María recovery in Puerto Rico. She has experience working in over 20 countries in Africa, Asia, Latin America, and the Caribbean. 

Adriana holds Master's degrees in Architecture and City and Regional Planning from UC Berkeley, where she was a John K. Branner Fellow, a Bachelor of Science in Architecture with honors from the University of Virginia, and a certificate in Organizational Leadership from Harvard Business School.