Between absence and presence 103
the insurance itself. Ultimately, Jenny and Frank experienced insurance as
a form of emotional, as well as financial support. Their insurance payout
was certainly significant to their ability to rebuild and recover, but it was far
from the only criteria through which they assessed the value of insurance.
This more than monetary assessment of insurance was equally highlighted by the negative experiences of some participants, who found that
difficult and even hostile interactions with insurance providers carried significant emotional costs. Kenneth (Blue Mountains (BMs), 50s) lost his onsite holiday accommodation in the 2013 bushfires. His subsequent attempts
to claim on insurance became extremely complicated and his relationship
to assessors – who he described as ‘bossy’ and ‘arrogant’ – was more antagonistic than supportive. Similarly, Margaret (KV, 60s) was involved in a
difficult series of disputes with her insurers and stated, ‘But the insurance
company’s being an insurance company, they like to, you know, make you
suffer.’ This suggests an understanding of insurance as a deliberately hostile
or antagonistic process, the potential financial benefit of which came at a
significant emotional cost.
The above examples reveal differing ways in which insurance became
present in the lives of the bushfire survivors. For some, it was a reassuring
presence, which made itself felt through acts of concern and kindness. In
such circumstances, insurance was valued as a counterbalance to the negative impacts of the bushfire – a beneficial support towards a post-fire life.
For other participants, insurance was entwined with the multiple negative,
stressful, and anxiety-producing objects produced by the bushfire. Rather
than being an element of disaster recovery, it was an enduring element of
the disaster itself, and one more obstacle to negotiate in the struggle for a
post-fire life.
Absence, presence, and material belongings
A core promise of contents insurance is that destroyed material belongings
are never entirely lost, but can instead be replaced post-fire. Within fireprone landscapes, insurance thus provides at least some reassurance that
objects will be ‘safe,’ while simultaneously positioning uninsured objects
as ‘unsafe’ (Booth 2020). This promise rests on three assumptions – that
destroyed belongings are: i) insurable to a value at which an equally valued replacement can be found; ii) will be considered worthy of replacement by survivors post-fire; and iii) are of purely monetary value to their
owner. However, in both case studies survivors described relationships to
lost belongings that complicated, or even subverted, these assumptions.
Survivors described changed relationships to material belongings, while
at times rejecting the idea that particular objects were replaceable at all –
materially and emotionally.
Several participants described how the bushfire had prompted them to
reconsider their need or desire to re-fill their homes with material objects in
the insurance itself. Ultimately, Jenny and Frank experienced insurance as
a form of emotional, as well as financial support. Their insurance payout
was certainly significant to their ability to rebuild and recover, but it was far
from the only criteria through which they assessed the value of insurance.
This more than monetary assessment of insurance was equally highlighted by the negative experiences of some participants, who found that
difficult and even hostile interactions with insurance providers carried significant emotional costs. Kenneth (Blue Mountains (BMs), 50s) lost his onsite holiday accommodation in the 2013 bushfires. His subsequent attempts
to claim on insurance became extremely complicated and his relationship
to assessors – who he described as ‘bossy’ and ‘arrogant’ – was more antagonistic than supportive. Similarly, Margaret (KV, 60s) was involved in a
difficult series of disputes with her insurers and stated, ‘But the insurance
company’s being an insurance company, they like to, you know, make you
suffer.’ This suggests an understanding of insurance as a deliberately hostile
or antagonistic process, the potential financial benefit of which came at a
significant emotional cost.
The above examples reveal differing ways in which insurance became
present in the lives of the bushfire survivors. For some, it was a reassuring
presence, which made itself felt through acts of concern and kindness. In
such circumstances, insurance was valued as a counterbalance to the negative impacts of the bushfire – a beneficial support towards a post-fire life.
For other participants, insurance was entwined with the multiple negative,
stressful, and anxiety-producing objects produced by the bushfire. Rather
than being an element of disaster recovery, it was an enduring element of
the disaster itself, and one more obstacle to negotiate in the struggle for a
post-fire life.
Absence, presence, and material belongings
A core promise of contents insurance is that destroyed material belongings
are never entirely lost, but can instead be replaced post-fire. Within fireprone landscapes, insurance thus provides at least some reassurance that
objects will be ‘safe,’ while simultaneously positioning uninsured objects
as ‘unsafe’ (Booth 2020). This promise rests on three assumptions – that
destroyed belongings are: i) insurable to a value at which an equally valued replacement can be found; ii) will be considered worthy of replacement by survivors post-fire; and iii) are of purely monetary value to their
owner. However, in both case studies survivors described relationships to
lost belongings that complicated, or even subverted, these assumptions.
Survivors described changed relationships to material belongings, while
at times rejecting the idea that particular objects were replaceable at all –
materially and emotionally.
Several participants described how the bushfire had prompted them to
reconsider their need or desire to re-fill their homes with material objects in