Reflection on the LA Fires.

Let us move from a place of humility, generosity, and love.

The people and animals impacted by the devastation of the LA fires have been heavy on my heart for the last week. I’m generally a moderately-informed consumer of sociocultural media, but this disaster has bumped my intake up considerably. My awareness has sharpened, surely, in part due to the proximity of my location, a couple hours south in San Diego, and more broadly because of my California roots. Though I have never lived in a designated “high-risk” fire zone, I grew up seeing Smokey the Bear’s plaque on every hiking trail and with plenty of ash-stricken memories of fires tearing through nearby landscape. I vividly remember the 2018 Camp Fire, which killed 85 people in Paradise, CA, while burning down the entire Butte County town and its nearly 20,000 structures. That was, I believe, until now, considered the most destructive California fire in history.

On October 31 a few months ago, a bushfire burned 40 acres in the closest canyon to my apartment, and I went to sleep that night with my hair reeking of smoke. I drive to work every day past the still-standing melted road signs, toasted fences, and blackened hillside. That fire, especially compared to what’s happening now in Los Angeles, was minuscule in both proportion and destruction—there were no deaths, and the homes closest to the flames were spared, with minimal cosmetic damage. Still, when it occurred on Halloween night, its then unknown outcome scared me. All this to say—my bones understand the threat of fire. The likelihood of wildfire has always been a reality of being a Californian. In the words of Oakland journalist Leighton Woodhouse a few days ago, “the fundamental engine for these disasters is the simple, physical reality of California, which prevailed before any of us were born: We built a massive civilization in a place where fire is as much a part of the natural habitat as summer rains are in the east.” (Link to his article “L.A. Was Built To Burn”.)

This is not to indicate that the LA fires couldn’t have been mitigated better. Many people think it could have been handled differently: speculation across the internet and the nation cites land mismanagement, low-pressure, dry fire hydrants, and empty reservoirs as blameworthy (the latter as a major contributor has been somewhat debunked, due to the extent of the flames), as well as Gavin Newsom (he’s the governor, after all), LA mayor Karen Bass (who was in Ghana when the fires began) and Donald Trump (who denies climate change but apparently predicted this disaster on Joe Rogan’s podcast). Still others are blaming 2024 budget cuts of the LA Fire Department, or overall incompetence (though it has also been reported that the mayor had plans that allegedly would have increased the LAFD’s overall budget).

Dozens of theories regarding the origins and ‘reasons’ for the fire abound. Climate change is definitely an oft-mentioned one, but there is no seeming general consensus that climate change can shoulder all of the blame. Neither can what theoretically would be the most obvious reason: California’s dry season plus extremely strong Santa Ana winds, fueling the flames. As I am observing online, each of these reasons are being considered as part, but not all, of the problem.

In an era when diluted- and misinformation is as readily available as factually-based information, and in which people largely rely on social media to supply them with coverage of current events—it is hard to know or say with any real certainty which of the aforementioned factors, aside from the reality of California’s environment, have solid credibility. In short—there are a lot of players one could lay blame upon, and it’s likely a whole host of factors that contributed to the destruction. We do know that in a state where fire is, as Woodhouse wrote, part of the natural habitat, proper wildfire education and land management, as well as effective city policy, is essential.

All sociocultural aspects considered, we are undeniably faced, again, with the brutality and unpredictability of nature. We can acknowledge contributing factors to this disaster while also acknowledging that we are but mere inhabitants on this great earth, and that we are, in many ways, at the mercy of nature. We can do our part to take care of our land and promote practices and legislation that seek to protect us and the environment—and, we can do so while knowing that we are, at the most basic level, unable to control the world. While we may feel righteous by laying our blame at the feet of someone or something we feel is responsible, and while we may be correct about some of that responsibility, we mustn’t forget the natural forces that are greater than all of us small people, the ones that for all our efforts, are not subject to our control. We mustn’t forget to apprehend the earth we live on for what it is—wild.

It’s terrifying and humbling to confront desolation such as that of the LA and Altadena fires. The victims of these fires have experienced devastating loss: many are left only with a pile of rubble to sort through and a headache of an insurance claim policy. Seeing footage of whole neighborhoods burnt to the ground reaches the corners of my empathy—it’s really sad. The flames are a strange and awful reminder to all of us that our lives as we know them could change in an instant.

And, as I hope many of you are witnessing as well, above the cacophony of blaming and the empty chords of loss, an overwhelming surge of human support rings out. All over California, donations are being collected and driven to LA and Altadena for distribution. Surrounding communities are welcoming in people who’ve lost everything, opening up their stables for homeless horses, and gathering food and clothing for children and adults alike. Firefighters from Mexico and Texas have joined the force, and volunteers in LA are uniting to clear flammable debris in Pasadena and hand out supplies. There are countless GoFundMe pages raising money for displaced families, and the Red Cross and Mutual Aid LA Network is working to provide needed aid and resources for all affected. LA residents are posting about resilience and the dogged hard work the city was built upon, and plan to rebuild.

Alongside so much destruction and loss, one cannot deny the simultaneous presence of hope, love, and support. Loss and love tend to go together. I hope that this network of human support is what will continue to prevail as we move forward, and will serve to unite rather than divide us.

It does not feel like I can do a whole lot to help besides donate baby formula and volunteer for an afternoon—still, I know that caring matters. What I can do, in addition to my little bag of donations, is let it affect me appropriately. I can let the loss touch my heart; I can let it inform the way I move through this world, with compassion, with humility, with generosity.

There are atrocities and natural calamities and man-made catastrophes that occur all over the world, every day. It’s true that we cannot solve or respond to every one that occurs; it’s also true that some hit closer to home and thus often renders us more capable of taking action.

Even if we cannot take much action, or if our $20 donation feels paltry, we can still allow the pain of others to touch our hearts. We can face what is hard or sad, and let our empathy surface from wherever it lies within us. We can let it remind us to be kind, to be generous with what we have to offer. We can remember that we are but one small human on this vast, great earth, and that we are here together, with a lot of other small humans. We’re here to take care of each other, as much as we are here to take care of our own selves.

So let us take care of one another. Let us be touched, but not crippled, when tragedy occurs somewhere else. Let us move from a place of love, humility, and generosity as we strive to make necessary changes in our world. Let us remember that we live on a wild, uncontrollable planet, and we are here to take care of her, too.

All my love,

Maggie