The LA Fires
As of this writing, the fires that have swept across Los Angeles neighborhoods have entered their second week. While the direct death toll is relatively small, at twenty seven, the overall impact, as you can likely predict, has been enormous. The estimated economic toll of the fires is set at $57 billion and counting, nearly 200,000 have been evacuated, and 50,000 without power. To complicate things further, and to remind us all that we live in end-stage capitalism, landlords across LA have jacked the cost of rent by 15-20%.
It's always a little weird to discuss a disaster in its aftermath–one should want to talk about nothing but the human cost–but these fires are a remarkable example of the intersection of human and governmental bungling, climate escalation, and the simple precarity of our lives. It's worth talking about that intersection in order to, hopefully, mitigate the next round.
The Setup
Los Angeles was in a paradoxical predicament with these fires. Last year, LA saw some pretty tremendous rains thanks to a series of atmospheric rivers. These storms aren't anything new, but they are rather clearly exacerbated by climate change. You'd laugh if it weren't worth crying over, but these atmospheric rivers, rather than dampening the landscape and preventing fire, merely grew the vegetation that helped make these fires such conflagrations. The down-home phrase that comes to mind is "you can't win for losing." Once those rivers finished dropping heavy rains, the freshly-grown grasses dried up, and LA was pushed into a drought through 2024. When you combine those conditions with the seasonal Santa Anas, well.
There's a lot of talk about fire management programs having been undercut in lieu of funding the cops (or whomever)–and I'm all about pushing this in general, as it's generally true–but the story here is not quite so straightforward. There was a windfall from a previous budget surplus that, following a subsequent deficit, showed a lot of cuts across these programs. However, most of these were minimal. It's not that I don't want to blame the government–because they're definitely responsible regardless–but this doesn't seem to be the crux of the issue.
While, yes, hydrants ran dry, and a reservoir was empty due to maintenance, and the budget complications notwithstanding, the truth of the matter is the same as the problem facing people living in all climate-impacted regions: we have been living in places that have always been, or now are, inhospitable to our ways of life. In areas like the Palisades, it's not wild, dry vegetation that's the primary combustible fuel–it's houses.
The Intersection
While Los Angeles, and California altogether, could probably do a better job with fire management, the heart of the problem when it comes to fires in urban settings isn't forest upkeep or fire department staffing. Now, I don't blame people for living where they live–a lot of folks seem to think that up and leaving your home, sometimes in the family for generations, is the easy solution to this particular climate problem, and they're wrong. But that doesn't change the fact that where we live is a huge part of that problem.
Then there's the fact that people in Los Angeles are already having a hard time just living there. The cost is stratospheric, housing is scarce, and with the way the country is headed, that's not likely to change. Per the above link, LA County approved construction on a new community of half a hundred thousand people in a high-fire-risk region north of LA. You can hardly blame a government for trying to build housing because people (taxes) is how a government lives and dies–but it's that kind of thinking that's going to get a lot of people killed. And, ultimately, since this is When/If and we don't like the government, you can blame them.
You see, this pattern of boom-and-bust rainfall that set up prime conditions for fires this winter is not going away. Like with most places in the world, this is the direction rainfall is headed for the foreseeable future. The dangers of fires in California–and basically everywhere else–is only going to rise. While we want people to have places to live, and ideally we want folks to be able to live where they want to, we have got to admit that some regions are simply so dangerous that to build, and encourage building, in these areas is irresponsible bordering on criminal. Building towns in the middle of a tinderbox is just as bad as encouraging people to rebuild their homes in flood zones. Eventually, people who have lived in these areas all their lives–even rebuilt in these areas, recovered from such previous disasters, are going to be caught flat-footed. That's just a matter of time.
This doesn't have to be worst-case to be bad, either. Nearly two thousand policies were dropped in the Pacific Palisades last summer, leaving those policy-holders in the lurch. It is getting harder and harder to find insurers for homes in cities like LA, and eventually they will become virtually impossible for anyone but the ultra-rich. This goes for other cities and communities, too–like all those beachfront properties on the East Coast. We've had this, the most boring of climate talks, before.
How We Proceed
For folks who are just starting their lives and have the ability to do so away from the higher-risk climate areas, my recommendation would be to pick up and move. Staying on the coasts, or in a place that is at risk of fire, is only going to get harder on you. Knowing that not everyone can do that, there are steps that one can take to minimize your risk.
While you can't control all the crispy vegetation in your neighborhood, you can control the fire load on your own property. You can also ensure that your home is hardened against fires. Some of these tips are simple, and some aren't–nor are they cheap. But living in a region prone to fire, it's a good idea to look into some of them.
You should also be able to evacuate at the drop of a hat. During fire season (or, peak fire season, if fire season is most of the year where you live), keep a go-bag* near the door. Plan an evacuation route, and an alternate, if possible. Think about what routes are going to fill up, what routes might likely be blocked. Do you need to grab pets, kids, computers? Plan accordingly, and stage anything you can to speed your exit.
*A fire go-bag consists of important documents, like your deed, will, photos. Catalog all of your household belongings on your phone by picture or video once a year for insurance, if you're lucky enough to have it. You should also pack water, a little food, and N95 masks or better.
You shouldn't ignore this advice if you don't live in fire country. Nowhere is safe, not from fire, flood, wind, etc. Some of the specifics of how we should respond to these threats differ, but you should be cognizant of the risks. We live on a warming planet, and the place is only going to get more dangerous, not less. You can expect this to speed up thanks to Trump, and for any lifelines we have to become further underfunded or to disappear entirely.