Is Fire Our Friend or Foe? Understanding Its Role in Our Lives

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“What exactly is a fire? And what is it that appears in the blazes and smoke currently engulfing Los Angeles?

From the Enlightenment period onwards, fire has been characterized as a chemical reaction influenced by its immediate environment. Physics has enabled us to create torches and forges, while incorporating it into machinery opened up the possibility of burning fossil biomass. This has led us to perceive landscapes in terms of fuel sources, attempting to control the impact of fire on these landscapes using physical means such as water, retardants, and firefighting equipment. Humanity’s ability to manipulate fire has transformed the Earth significantly. However, it has not provided us with a blueprint for coexisting peacefully with fire.

From another angle, we can view fire as a biological process: Life provides the oxygen and fuel that fire needs. The chemistry of fire can be seen as biochemistry, as it breaks down what photosynthesis creates. For humans, fire is deeply ingrained in our genetic makeup: Cooking enabled us to develop large brains and small intestines. Since the emergence of terrestrial life, fire has been a constant companion for 420 million years. In human hands, life has been the primary source of ignitions throughout history.

Is it accurate to consider fire as if it were a living entity? It produces offspring (sparks), shows signs of respiration, consumes fuel for energy, moves in response to external stimuli, reproduces waste products, and eventually extinguishes. Many traditional beliefs and colloquial expressions view it as an active being. However, scientific consensus is more reserved: Whether fire can be classified as alive depends on the specific definition of life. Personally, I find it useful to compare fire to a virus – not inherently alive but reliant on the living world for its existence, and thus exhibiting many characteristics associated with life.

Similar to many newly emerged viruses, it becomes active in areas where damaged ecosystems can no longer maintain the shields and barriers that regulate its actions. Much like a virus, it propagates through infection. Potential strategies for addressing this could draw inspiration from public health approaches used to control epidemics, such as quarantines, vaccinations, and emergency responses. This is analogous to wearing masks, maintaining social distance, and reaching herd immunity in terms of preventing its spread by taking precautions within communities – building resilience, keeping surroundings clean, and adopting protective measures.

Instead of viewing fire primarily as a tool for processing hydrocarbons in landscapes, consider it as a method of ecological engineering. Swap out bulldozers and chain saws with beavers and goats when constructing fire barriers. Opt for cultivating fields and orchards instead of barren fuel breaks that have been stripped to mineral soil, or chaparral treated with petrochemicals. Rather than using fire as a destructive force, think of it as a transformative presence that many landscapes may naturally accommodate. This approach can help nurture the local ecosystem rather than simply obliterating it.

Consider fire as a creature born from biology rather than a tool we own and manipulate freely. Instead, it appears more like a companion, a domesticated species that offers mutual advantages and responsibilities – not as a Torch of Earth, but as a Watchdog. This perspective emphasizes the relationship between us and fire, one that spans back to our earliest days, a bond that is on the edge of symbiosis, yet can become destructive if mistreated, even dangerous. It encourages us to envision not only coexisting with fire but viewing it as an integral part of life itself.

As a fervent enthusiast, I can’t help but reflect on the transformative impact we’ve had by shifting to burning fossil fuels. It’s as if we’ve taken fire, this primal force, and turned it into a relentless engine of power. Gone are the old limitations: Fire burns round-the-clock, in all seasons, regardless of moisture or dryness. The byproducts of its combustion, polluting our skies, oceans, and lands, have no escape. They’re even helping to morph ordinary fires into megafires. In a sense, it’s as if we’ve unearthed a new Jurassic Park specimen – this raw biomass seems alien to our world. Most concerningly, the fire we’ve invented has broken the ancient bond between humanity and fire, a partnership that’s nurtured us for millennia. Now, it feels as though we’re unwittingly penning a tragic tale of slow-motion Ragnarok.

In situations where I must extinguish a spreading fire or construct a home resistant to flying embers and intense heat, I prefer using a physical model. However, when it comes to managing landscapes as part of our ecological network or healing the damaged bond between humanity and nature that has made our ally into an adversary, I require a biological model. Unfortunately, we currently lack such a model, one based on its own principles instead of being derived from physics.

In simpler terms, we’ve developed an effective model to predict how fires can spread in Pacific Palisades. However, we lack a suitable model for mending the damaged relationships that could have caused these fires. If we aim to coexist with fire, it would be beneficial to gain a deeper understanding of both fire and life as a starting point.

Stephen A. Pyne, who is now retired as a professor from Arizona State University, is the author of the book titled “The Pyrocene: Navigating the Era of Fire and Its Aftermath.

You can find this article in the January 17 edition of The Hollywood Reporter magazine. Consider subscribing for more updates.

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2025-01-18 20:55