Global Warming
The burning question
The California inferno has ignited the long-smoldering debate over whether we have brought Mother Nature's revenge upon ourselves.
The fires in Southern California this week raged through 500,000 acres, inspiring the largest-scale human evacuation in the state’s history. Some half-million residents were displaced from their homes over six days, and more than 1,800 homes went up in flames. Eighty people were injured, and the death toll stands at seven. All told, more than a billion dollars of property damage has been reported, leading President Bush to declare seven counties a major disaster.
In the wake of the destruction, another fire is raging — the debate over fire suppression, and what part it should play in national policy. Has 100 years of attempting to stop most wildfires backfired and caused more destructive infernos? Or is putting out as many fires as possible the only defense against massive devastation and loss of human life in combustible habitats home to millions of people? The Southern California inferno has given ammunition to impassioned scientists on both sides.
“We started fire suppression in 1900 and we started getting bigger fires by the 1920s — and they’ve gotten ever bigger since,” says Richard Minnich, a fire ecologist at the University of California, Riverside, speaking by phone from his office, where skies are gray from the wafting smoke of the still-burning fires. He argues that putting out small fires in wilderness areas, rather than letting them burn slowly, has created excess fuel for fires to ignite in dangerous weather conditions, such as the West’s dry Santa Ana winds. “We’re trying to conquer nature, and nature always wins out,” he says. “Fire is the primary way that we decompose organic material in California. Growth and decomposition must be equal over time. We’re trying to get rid of one-half of the equation.”
The policy of protecting the wild from fires took shape in the Teddy Roosevelt years, when lands were being designated for national parks, forests and preserves. The wilderness must be saved for future generations, the thinking went, even if fires were started by natural causes like lightning. As decades passed, ecologists grew more aware of the natural role of fire in ecosystems, of how it thinned vegetation and germinated new flora. Of course, at the same time, more people moved into or near flammable habitats like the chaparral communities and Western pine forests in Southern California. Today, as the Los Angeles Times reported, nearly 5 million California homes are at high to extreme risk from wildfires, and 84 percent of them are in urban areas abutting wild lands.
In California, the National Park Service allows some wildfires to burn in the high Sierra in California and the Forest Service monitors some wildfires, like the recent Zaca Wildland Fire, which was contained in early September after burning more than 200,000 acres over two months. Yet, in general, there’s an aggressive put-it-out policy that extinguishes most fires, because of potential danger to people and property. “There is zero tolerance for fire in Southern California, and that’s never going to change,” says Richard Halsey, a biologist who is also trained as a firefighter, who stayed home to successfully defend his house in Escondido last week. “It could kill somebody. The reason that they put fires out is that they kill people.”
The suspected ignitions of the many fires this week were human — downed power lines and arson — not natural. But the fires took off because weather conditions were ripe for a major conflagration. “The Santa Anas themselves are one of the worst fire weather types in the whole world,” says Max Moritz, a specialist in wild-land fire, and adjunct assistant professor at the University of California, Berkeley. The winds typically form when there’s a high pressure system over the Great Basin, and a low pressure system over the Pacific. The winds gain heat as they cascade down mountain slopes to sea level. “By the time they hit Southern California, you have some really strong, warm, dry winds, which from a fire point of view is extremely dangerous,” says Moritz.
In the midst of a longtime drought, Southern California had an unusually dry spring this year. By the fall, moisture in plants and trees has been greatly diminished, making them more flammable. Many of the areas that burned in Southern California this week were chaparral, a habitat that’s especially combustible. “Much of what’s happening is unfortunately inevitable, given these houses are built among chaparral plant communities,” says Malcolm North, a research forest ecologist with the USDA Forest Service, Pacific Southwest Research Station.
Fire is nature’s way in the chaparral, where plants, mostly shrubs, are adapted to warm, dry conditions. Some of them have seeds that do not germinate unless they’ve been heated through fire. Others are root sprouters, which means that when the entire aboveground part of the plant is burned off, it will simply sprout again from the roots below. “It’s a system made to burn,” says North. “When you build in chaparral communities, it’s not a question of keeping the fires out, it’s just a question of when it will burn, because fire is inevitable.”
Yet some scientists argue that the catastrophic blazes we saw this week are not inevitable. Minnich says that if small fires had been allowed to burn over the years, and not been suppressed, the area would not have suffered such devastation. A series of small fires would have maintained a natural balance and prevented one big blaze from getting out of hand.
“The actual course of a fire is influenced by previous fire history,” Minnich explains. Imagine a landscape where some patches have burned many decades ago, some 10 years ago, some three years ago, and some last year. When an older stand of chaparral catches fire and burns fiercely, given all that fuel, the fire would run into younger plants in areas that have more recently burned, slowing the fire down, and eventually allowing it to peter out. With frequent burning, a chaparral community would be like a mosaic or quilt, with different patches of varying ages, providing a kind of natural curb to prevent fires from burning out of control.
“Because we’ve had fire suppression all these years, all we have left is huge areas of equally old chaparral,” says Michael Barbour, a plant ecologist at the University of California, Davis, who advocates prescribed burns. “That’s why these fires are so big. There is no patch of recently burned chaparral to stop it.”
Attempts to stop fires then paradoxically encourages massive blazes. “We’re very good at putting out fires in good weather, but not in the worst weather,” says Minnich. “By suppressing little fires, we select for the big fires to occur in the worst weather. That, by far, is the cardinal sin of management. We generate high-intensity, large fires from which we can protect less property and resources.”
Jon Keeley, a research ecologist for the U.S. Geological Survey, an adjunct professor at UCLA, flatly disputes this analysis. “Over the last 100 years, there hasn’t been a change in the amount of fires in the shrubland in California,” he says. “On average, every decade through the 20th century has had about the same amount of area burn, despite fire-suppression policy. The big fires that we’re seeing are not an anomaly due to bad management of the fuels.” Keeley cites evidence of a large 1889 fire that ripped through Southern California, in the days before fire suppression. Minnich isn’t sold. The 19th century fire, he contends, wasn’t as big as the sensationalistic newspaper accounts made it out to be.
Halsey, a biologist who runs the California Chaparral Institute, an association concerned with the semi-arid shrub-dominated habitat common in Southern California, sides with Keeley. He argues that allowing small fires to burn often leads to invasive non-native grasses moving in, which are flammable and can burn every year. He goes on to say that those opposed to fire suppression are heading in the wrong direction, toward habitat destruction.”Their solution is grind up the landscape and do controlled burns, and all that’s going to end up doing is converting native habitats to weed lots, which ultimately provides enough vegetation for a fire anyway.” While Minnich argues that chaparral, its natural state, would experience frequent small fires, Halsey contends that without humans bringing their ignition sources, like power lines, into the mix, the chaparral would see fewer fires. “I don’t remember when the last lightning strike was in the lower elevation in San Diego County,” he says.
Minnich counters that ecologists need only look south to Baja to see what chaparral would look like if it frequently burned. He argues the area experiences many fires, but they burn smaller than those across the border in the United States. Halsey says the frequent Baja fires aren’t natural at all, but are set by ranchers to convert the chaparral into herbaceous habitat that their livestock can graze. By contrast, he says, “the four California national forests — San Bernardino, Los Padres, Cleveland and Angeles — were designated to prevent the ranchers from doing that anymore, and to protect the chaparral.”
Most scientists agree that fire suppression played a role in the blazes that consumed pine forests in Running Springs and Lake Arrowhead this week. In the past, Barbour argues, forests were much less dense because natural fires consumed the shrubs, needles, saplings and seedlings. The bigger trees survived because their upper branches and crowns remained untroubled by the blaze below. Now, such forests are so thick with trees and foliage lower down that even big trees go up in flames in the blazes. “Now you have more fuel and trees of all sizes and there’s what they call a fire ladder, which takes the flames naturally from the ground all the way up into the crowns,” says Barbour. And a denser forest also means a drier forest that’s more combustible. “There’s a lot of trees fighting for a very limited amount of moisture, and they duke it out,” says North. Beetles, adapted to sense trees under stress, move in and colonize trees, killing them, adding more potential fuel.
Moritz of U.C. Berkeley stakes a middle ground between the scientists on the burning ends of the debate. He says that in the face of such an extreme weather event, like the strong Santa Anas and the drought seen this year, the density of the foliage and the age of the chaparral is less of a factor than it would be in other fires. “Fire suppression has had some impact, but under these weather conditions, it probably hasn’t changed the probability of these events quite as much,” he says. Moritz notes that young, medium- and old-age trees alike have burned in fires fanned by extreme weather. What worries Moritz is that some of the same areas that ignited this week burned as recently as 2003. That suggests that extreme fires have wiped out important native species. “Invasive annual grasses and weeds now come in and take their place, and they can burn every year,” he says.
Are extreme weather conditions becoming more frequent? That’s the question Southern Californians must face in decades to come. Global warming, which will increase hot, dry conditions, scientists say, will likely make fire seasons longer in the coming years. And with California’s population projected to grow to 60 million by 2050, nearly 22 million more than today, there are likely to be more people living in the urban-wilderness interface. “Fire is going to be less and less likely to play its natural role,” says Mortiz, “and more and more homes are going to be at risk of burning.”
Katharine Mieszkowski is a senior writer for Salon. More Katharine Mieszkowski.
Republican climate folly
As temperatures break records, the GOP holds firm: The less we know about global warming, the better
Frank Gehrke, chief of snow surveys for the Department of Water Resources, stands in a snow-free meadow at Echo Summit, Calif. Warm spring weather, combined with lower then normal precipitation, caused the statewide snowpack water content to be only 40 percent of normal for this time of year. (Credit: AP/Rich Pedroncelli) Whatever adjective you choose — ironic? tragic? ludicrous? — the outcome of a series of budget votes held in the GOP-controlled House on Tuesday was definitely interesting. The chamber was wrangling over a series of amendments to an appropriations bill for the Departments of Commerce and Justice. The battle line was drawn between senior Republicans trying to resist further spending cuts, and young Turks looking to slash and burn.
In every case but one, the senior Republicans (with the help of Democrats) proved victorious. The lone exception? An amendment proposed by Maryland’s Andy Harris, cutting $542,000 in funding for a climate website at the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration.
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Andrew Leonard is a staff writer at Salon. On Twitter, @koxinga21. More Andrew Leonard.
Global warming hits home
After a year of freakish and destructive weather, Americans are finally waking up to the dangers of climate change
Houses were severely damaged after Hurricane Irene came through Bethel, Vt. on August 28, 2011 (Credit: U. S. Fish and Wildlife Service - Northeast Region / CC BY 2.0) The Williams River was so languid and lovely last Saturday morning that it was almost impossible to imagine the violence with which it must have been running on August 28, 2011. And yet the evidence was all around: sand piled high on its banks, trees still scattered as if by a giant’s fist, and most obvious of all, a utilitarian temporary bridge where for 140 years a graceful covered bridge had spanned the water.
The YouTube video of that bridge crashing into the raging river was Vermont’s iconic image from its worst disaster in memory, the record flooding that followed Hurricane Irene’s rampage through the state in August 2011. It claimed dozens of lives, as it cut more than a billion-dollar swath of destruction across the eastern United States.
Continue Reading CloseBill McKibben is the Schumann Distinguished Scholar at Middlebury College, and founder of the global climate campaign 350.org. His latest book is "Eaarth: Making a Life on a Tough New Planet.". More Bill McKibben.
Every country for itself
As American power wanes, we're being faced with a dangerous new power vacuum. An expert explains what's next
For the first time in nearly a century, the world doesn’t have a clear set of leaders. A generation ago, the G-7 – France, Germany, Italy, Japan, United Kingdom, United States and Canada – not only powered the global economy, they also, for better or worse, made the decisions that determined the outcome of the entire world. But over the last several years, the dynamic has changed.
According to a widely discussed 2010 report by London’s Standard Chartered Bank, the world has entered a new “‘super-cycle” in which traditional economic hierarchies are being upended. Ever since the financial crisis, the U.S. has lost the economic strength and force of will to be the world’s policeman. The number of Americans, for example, who believe the U.S. should “mind its own business internationally” has spiked to a level unseen since the 1950s. Meanwhile, new powers, like China, India and Brazil, have been unwilling to fill the power vacuum the U.S. has left behind. One could argue that this is a nice change from America’s aggressive past interventionism, but it has also helped create the global stalemate on everything from global warming to humanitarianism in Syria. And it’s a fact that has the potential to radically affect our future, both in positive and negative ways.
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Thomas Rogers is Salon's Arts Editor. More Thomas Rogers.
The Maldives’ ousted president on climate change and tyranny
Ousted in a February coup, Mohamed Nasheed talks global warming, Islamic radicals and "The Island President"
Mohamed Nasheed in "The Island President" It would be too optimistic to claim that the 2009 Copenhagen Summit represented a breakthrough or turning point in the battle against climate change. But it was the first moment when the United States, China and India — the world’s biggest polluters — all agreed in principle to reduce carbon emissions, and as symbolic statements go, that one was pretty big. Copenhagen also catapulted a most unlikely head of state to pop-star status, at least within the worldwide environmental movement. Mohamed Nasheed, who was then the president of the Maldives — Asia’s smallest country, both in area and population — emerged as the developing world’s most charismatic and dynamic spokesman on the causes, and the costs, of global warming.
Continue Reading CloseThe ugly delusions of the educated conservative
Better-educated Republicans are more likely to doubt global warming and believe Obama's a Muslim. Here's why
(Credit: AP Photo/Ross D. Franklin) I can still remember when I first realized how naïve I was in thinking—hoping—that laying out the “facts” would suffice to change politicized minds, and especially Republican ones. It was a typically wonkish, liberal revelation: One based on statistics and data. Only this time, the data were showing, rather awkwardly, that people ignore data and evidence—and often, knowledge and education only make the problem worse.
Someone had sent me a 2008 Pew report documenting the intense partisan divide in the U.S. over the reality of global warming.. It’s a divide that, maddeningly for scientists, has shown a paradoxical tendency to widen even as the basic facts about global warming have become more firmly established.
Chris Mooney is the author of four books, including "The Republican War on Science" (2005). His next book, "The Republican Brain: The Science of Why They Deny Science—and Reality," is due out in April. More Chris Mooney.
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