Raleigh

Near the end of the 19th century, Diamond City was the largest community on the Outer Banks.

Never heard of it? That's because it's not there today.

The village of 500 people was located on Shackelford Banks, not far from Cape Lookout.

A series of storms in the late 1800s marked the end of Diamond City. Two storms in 1896 began the exodus. A hurricane in 1899 finished the community, washing away homes, killing livestock and uncovering graves.

In the wake of Hurricane Irene, it's worth remembering Diamond City and its implications.

Life along the barrier islands and waterside communities of North Carolina has always been precarious. The rewards - whether from the once-lucrative whaling industry, commercial fishing or the tourism dollars of today - have always been a strong lure to some.

Some places have stood the test of time, withstanding the winds and waves of terrible storms. Others, like Diamond City, haven't fared so well.

What the residents of Diamond City discovered is that strips of sand without much vegetation don't offer much protection when the big one blows through. Those strips of sand are constantly changing and shifting.

Hatteras Inlet didn't exist until an 1846 storm created it. The northern part of Hatteras Island is called Pea Island for a reason. It was once an island separated by an inlet from Hatteras Island.

Irene apparently wanted to restore Pea Island's former status, carving an inlet or two north of Rodanthe. Before Irene, Hurricane Isabel in 1993 tried to do the same north of Hatteras Village.

State officials don't like the word "inlet." It sounds too permanent, perhaps implying that they shouldn't fill them, or worse, that building shouldn't be allowed in some places on these strips of sand.

So they use the word "breach."

Regardless of what word you use, every time a new one forms - and the strip of asphalt running along the Outer Banks known as N.C. 12 is broken, buckled and submerged - some critics question the road's rebuilding.

They apparently believe that state leaders might suffer some bizarre epiphany, deciding to leave hundreds of millions of dollars in tax base stranded from the rest of the world. That pony left the pony pen 60 years ago.

What makes more sense is promoting development in areas where storms are less likely to wash it away, and curbing policies that encourage development on spits of sand that just aren't made to withstand strong storms.

That doesn't mean that coastal development needs to end.

It does mean that it should be smarter. It means that the owners of $80,000 houses in western Beaufort County shouldn't have their insurance premiums subsidizing 6,000-square-foot mansions built on vulnerable sections of barrier islands. It means that taxpayers in Greensboro shouldn't be subsidizing that building either.

It means that market forces, and not government manipulation propping up that market, ought to rule.

Scott Mooneyham writes for Capitol Press Association in Raleigh. Contact him at smooneyh@ncinsider.com.