Imagine stumbling upon your ideal home, only to learn it's perched on the edge of a climate disaster waiting to happen – that's the startling reality Zillow aimed to bring to light for millions of homebuyers. But here's where it gets controversial: real estate agents cried foul, claiming these climate risk scores were tanking their sales, leading Zillow to yank the feature from over a million listings just over a year after introducing it. Buckle up, because this story dives into the clash between transparency, profit, and our planet's future – and it's far from settled.
Let's break it down for clarity, especially if you're new to this. Climate risk scores are essentially ratings that assess how vulnerable a property is to events like flooding, wildfires, or extreme heat, based on data from scientific models. Zillow rolled these out on its site back in September 2024, partnering with a startup called First Street to provide what they called comprehensive insights. According to Zillow's own announcements, a whopping 80% of homebuyers factor in these climate risks when making what could be the biggest financial choice of their lives. It seemed like a game-changer, giving everyday folks the tools to avoid homes that might become liabilities as our weather patterns grow increasingly unpredictable due to climate change.
But fast-forward to just last month, and the plot thickened. After pushback from the California Regional Multiple Listing Service (CRMLS), a major player in real estate listings, Zillow pulled the climate scores from the listings themselves. Instead, they've tucked them away behind a subtle link to First Street's records. It's a move that keeps the data accessible but makes it less prominent – almost like hiding the elephant in the room. First Street's spokesperson, Matthew Eby, passionately argued in an email to TechCrunch that without clear access to this info, buyers are essentially gambling blindly on their homes. 'The risk doesn’t go away; it just moves from a pre-purchase decision into a post-purchase liability,' Eby emphasized, painting a picture of future regrets and unforeseen costs.
And this is the part most people miss: First Street's scores aren't new to the real estate world. They debuted on Realtor.com back in 2020 and are still live there today, along with on platforms like Redfin and Homes.com. The New York-based company, which has secured over $50 million in funding from investors such as General Catalyst, Congruent Ventures, and Galvanize Climate Solutions, stands by its methodology as grounded in peer-reviewed science that's regularly checked against real events.
So, why the uproar from agents? CRMLS CEO Art Carter voiced concerns to The New York Times, pointing out that flashing probabilities – like the chance of a home flooding this year or in the next five years – can sharply dent a property's appeal in buyers' eyes. He even questioned the data's reliability, suggesting that areas untouched by floods for the past 40 to 50 years aren't suddenly likely to be underwater soon. It's a fair point that sparks debate: Are these scores based on solid evidence, or are they speculative predictions that unfairly stigmatize certain neighborhoods? For beginners, think of it like this – official hazard maps from agencies like the Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA) have long been criticized for being outdated or too conservative. A recent study from Louisiana State University revealed that nearly twice as many properties face a 1% annual flood risk (often called a '100-year flood,' meaning a 1% chance each year) than what's shown on FEMA's maps, which dictate flood insurance requirements. That's a significant gap, potentially leaving homeowners uninsured against real threats.
This isn't an isolated incident either. Last year, when Zillow first unveiled the feature, a Massachusetts agent told the Boston Globe that the scores were 'putting thoughts in people’s minds about my listing that normally wouldn’t be there' – essentially planting seeds of doubt that could scare off deals. Yet First Street pushes back hard, citing their track record: During the 2025 Los Angeles wildfires, their maps correctly flagged over 90% of homes that burned as severe or extreme risk, and 100% as having at least some risk, outperforming California's official state hazard maps from CalFire.
To make this clearer for everyone, let's consider a quick example. Picture a coastal home in Florida – under First Street's models, it might score high for flood risk due to rising sea levels and more frequent storms. An agent selling it could argue that historical data shows it's been safe for decades, but critics say ignoring future projections is like ignoring a ticking clock. This tension highlights a broader industry scramble: Real estate and insurance sectors are scrambling to adapt as climate change intensifies weather extremes. As Peter Gajdoš from Fifth Wall Ventures noted in a TechCrunch piece four years ago, 'If buildings are on fire or underwater, they don’t have much value.' Insurers and investors are increasingly turning to data from firms like First Street to gauge risks, and by sharing this with buyers, Zillow was trying to democratize access – leveling the playing field so consumers could make informed choices.
But thanks to the agents' objections, buyers now face an extra step to access this crucial info, creating what feels like an unnecessary barrier. It's a classic tug-of-war: Should agents prioritize sales over full disclosure, or does transparency trump potential short-term losses? And here's where controversy really heats up – some might argue that hiding risks protects the market from panic-selling, but others see it as deceptive, potentially stranding buyers with costly surprises down the line. What about you? Do agents have a right to shield listings from climate truths, or should buyers always get the full picture upfront? Is First Street's data the gold standard, or just one side of a complex story? Share your take in the comments – I'd love to hear agreements, disagreements, or any fresh perspectives on balancing property values with planetary realities!
Tim De Chant serves as a senior climate reporter at TechCrunch, bringing his expertise from a diverse background in journalism. His work has graced outlets like Wired magazine, the Chicago Tribune, Ars Technica, The Wire China, and NOVA Next, where he founded the editorial team. Beyond writing, he's a lecturer in MIT’s Graduate Program in Science Writing and held a prestigious Knight Science Journalism Fellowship at MIT in 2018, diving deep into climate technologies and innovative journalism models. Tim holds a PhD in environmental science, policy, and management from the University of California, Berkeley, along with a BA in environmental studies, English, and biology from St. Olaf College. Reach out or verify any outreach from him at tim.dechant@techcrunch.com. You can also check out his full bio here.
