This is the second in a short series of photo essays about the California wildfires. It focuses on the response to the fire.
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In the Santa Cruz mountains of California’s central coast, where my partner and I have lived since 2016, you can still see homemade signs thanking the firefighters for saving us. The CZU Fire burned 86,000 acres and over 1,400 structures in the annus horribilis that was 2020. And it was just one of three massive California wildfires, and scores of smaller ones, touched off simultaneously by either an unusually strong and widespread electrical storm system or Jewish space lasers, depending on whom you ask.
We were evacuated for 17 days and, for the first week, were all but resigned to the loss of our home, given the insistent winds and the relentless progress of the fire line on the map. Twice a day we sat glued to the Cal Fire briefings, taking in the difficulties of weather and terrain, limitations of manpower, and the grim prognosis.
One morning we woke up to a report that the wind had shifted unexpectedly and crews were finally having some success at containment. A line was established and the two-county fire was stopped about 1,500 feet from our home.
I can hardly express the gratitude we felt, and I know we felt that gratitude before the effort succeeded. Our gratitude was for the effort itself as we grew to understand what it took, and realized that from a safe distance we were watching a war.
If there is one thing to celebrate in the fires that have consumed great swaths of Los Angeles, it is the commitment and courage of the firefighters and first responders. We cannot be proud in any general sense of our national response. Time was — and it was not so long ago — when such crises and disasters evoked national unity: compassion for the victims, appreciation for the responders and rescuers, commitment to aid, restoration, and future prevention.
Not so now, as we move into the second Trump presidency.
The instantaneous response from Donald Trump, Elon Musk, and MAGA World in general took the form of finger jabbing, seeking out targets for blame among Trump’s Democratic opponents, injecting mis- and disinformation into the media ecosystem in support of these cynical accusations, threatening to withhold federal assistance unless California abandoned its own land and water management practices to suit Trump’s ignorant whims. We may well look back on this response as the opening salvo in the coming war between the Trump regime and the blue states, likely led by California — a war that will range from protection of land and resources to protection of vulnerable populations and individuals, to protection of the Constitution itself and the rights it guarantees, against the onslaught of authoritarianism and a federal government under the sway of a very non-benevolent dictatorship.
For now, we can justly celebrate the heroism of those who are fighting the fires. Celebrate that political agendas play no role whatsoever in who or what they struggle to save and protect. Celebrate the (under)paid federal, state, and local crews, celebrate the volunteers, celebrate those who have come from other states and countries, and celebrate the prison inmates who have chosen to assist the response.
As these images reveal, the work of fighting fires varies greatly and calls for many different skills and abilities. Some of it is tedious, setting a fire line or picking through rubble; some of it death-defying, flying dousing copters close over rough and burning terrain in high winds. Most of it involves some element of danger or toxicity. Fires as intense as these can tax crews to the limit of human endurance.
If our neighborhood is any indication, look for homemade signs of gratitude to sprout up when the people of Los Angeles begin to rebuild.