Between absence and presence 105
To Helen, contents insurance was unnecessary because her ‘treasures’
were irreplaceable and could not be assigned a monetary value. From this
point of view, no level of insurance could be considered adequate. Although
the fire caused Helen to imagine the possible absence of treasured belongings, and to feel frequent relief about their continued presence as elements
of her home, she nonetheless rejected the idea that insurance would have
made them in any sense safer. For Helen and Joe, the value of insurance was
only in its ability to ‘build another building.’ It offered no value in protecting the belongings that made the building feel like home.
Part of the process of obtaining contents insurance is a stocktake of
household belongings, and an assessment of their monetary value should
they be destroyed and need to be replaced. The accounts of bushfire survivors complicate this seemingly logical and linear financialised process –
both by questioning whether there is value in replacing lost things, and by
rejecting the idea that particular belongings can be assigned a monetary
value. By prioritising emotional values over financial costs, participants in
both case studies challenge ideas of insurable value, particularly as it relates
to how bushfire and insurance variously affect the absence and presence of
home.
Intangible objects
While home takes material form through objects and built structures,
equally significant to the making of home are the time, skill, and labour
that go into its construction and maintenance. Homemaking incorporates a
range of (often highly gendered) activities including daily routines, DIY and
other forms of construction, gardening, decorating, and cleaning (Blunt &
Dowling 2006; Baxter & Brickell 2014). Attentiveness to these acts reveals the
home as an ongoing process of everyday practices (Blunt 2005). In both case
studies, participants highlighted ‘the emotional intensity of the post-disaster
environment’ (Morrice 2013, p. 34), and contemplated how intangible and
non-financial objects, such as the time and labour involved in processes of
homemaking, sat outside – and even conflicted with – insurable values.
Concern for the value of intangible objects, such as time, was also linked
to the emotional costs of losing a home. Insurance might financially compensate for the time of architects, builders and others hired to rebuild a
burnt-out home. Yet, insurance cannot replace or compensate for the years
of effort invested by householders in creating, maintaining and, in some
cases, literally building their now lost home. While mourning this lost time
and effort, participants also had to come to terms with a future where more
time and labour would be required simply to re-establish what they had
already achieved before the fire struck.
Tony (KV, 50s), for example, stayed and defended his home from the
Currowan fire – a traumatic experience that had affected his mental
health. Although the house was saved, the extensive native gardens he had
To Helen, contents insurance was unnecessary because her ‘treasures’
were irreplaceable and could not be assigned a monetary value. From this
point of view, no level of insurance could be considered adequate. Although
the fire caused Helen to imagine the possible absence of treasured belongings, and to feel frequent relief about their continued presence as elements
of her home, she nonetheless rejected the idea that insurance would have
made them in any sense safer. For Helen and Joe, the value of insurance was
only in its ability to ‘build another building.’ It offered no value in protecting the belongings that made the building feel like home.
Part of the process of obtaining contents insurance is a stocktake of
household belongings, and an assessment of their monetary value should
they be destroyed and need to be replaced. The accounts of bushfire survivors complicate this seemingly logical and linear financialised process –
both by questioning whether there is value in replacing lost things, and by
rejecting the idea that particular belongings can be assigned a monetary
value. By prioritising emotional values over financial costs, participants in
both case studies challenge ideas of insurable value, particularly as it relates
to how bushfire and insurance variously affect the absence and presence of
home.
Intangible objects
While home takes material form through objects and built structures,
equally significant to the making of home are the time, skill, and labour
that go into its construction and maintenance. Homemaking incorporates a
range of (often highly gendered) activities including daily routines, DIY and
other forms of construction, gardening, decorating, and cleaning (Blunt &
Dowling 2006; Baxter & Brickell 2014). Attentiveness to these acts reveals the
home as an ongoing process of everyday practices (Blunt 2005). In both case
studies, participants highlighted ‘the emotional intensity of the post-disaster
environment’ (Morrice 2013, p. 34), and contemplated how intangible and
non-financial objects, such as the time and labour involved in processes of
homemaking, sat outside – and even conflicted with – insurable values.
Concern for the value of intangible objects, such as time, was also linked
to the emotional costs of losing a home. Insurance might financially compensate for the time of architects, builders and others hired to rebuild a
burnt-out home. Yet, insurance cannot replace or compensate for the years
of effort invested by householders in creating, maintaining and, in some
cases, literally building their now lost home. While mourning this lost time
and effort, participants also had to come to terms with a future where more
time and labour would be required simply to re-establish what they had
already achieved before the fire struck.
Tony (KV, 50s), for example, stayed and defended his home from the
Currowan fire – a traumatic experience that had affected his mental
health. Although the house was saved, the extensive native gardens he had