Photo © Jim Peaco, National Park Service
There is a certain irony that the general public’s view of wildfire as destructive—and even murderous—is shaped by the domestic and kind Smokey Bear, who warns of the dangers of uncontrolled fires. It is further shaped by Bambi, another animal with human qualities, whom we remember from our child–hood as the wide–eyed fawn fleeing with his father from the terrifying forest fire. In sacred narratives from around the world, animals link humans to fire. According to numerous mythologies, fire is a gift to mankind, albeit a stolen one. Unlike Smokey and Bambi, the mythological Raven, Coyote, Rabbit and Spider all are tricksters, shapeshifters, sacred messengers of the gods and lewd deceivers of men. In addition to their role as tricksters, they function as “culture heroes” false assumptions that have shaped forest policy since the early 1900s. George Wuerthner explains these deceptive hypotheses in his introductory section, using the dichotomy of myth versus truth.
Technically, the term “myth” does not mean falsehood. Myths are the sacred narratives from which people derive their worldview. However, the use of the term myth here points out the deep problem Wuerthner and others face as they seek to persuade the reader of the ecological benefits of natural fire. The beliefs about fire Wuerthner refers to as myths range from the idea that fire destroys the forest and the wildlife, to the conceptions that salvage logging restores the forest, that grazing prevents fires and finally that fire is simply bad. These beliefs are deeply entrenched among the public and among lawmakers. They are so deeply rooted in the public’s psyche that they appear to function in the same way that sacred narratives do for believers—determining their worldview and their actions.
The dramatic photograph on the cover of Wildfire—of cow elk taking refuge from a raging fire in the east fork of the Bitterroot River—not only calls up the aforementioned Bambi, but points to the fascination we have for such fires. The photo, taken by John McColgan, a fire behavior analyst for the National Interagency Fire Center, has been widely dispersed on the Internet, resurfacing each time a new complex of fires receives media attention. The impact of this media attention upon forest policy is one of the themes Wildfire explores.
The cover photo hints at what the reader will find within—dramatic and beautiful photographs of the landscape of fire. Wildfire is an intriguing mix of a coffee–table photo collection, an anthology of scientific analyses of fire and a passionate plea to move from a fire–industrial complex to a “restoration of a natural fire regime.” A fire or forest policy aficionado may wish to read straight through, but anyone with an interest in forests and wildlands will find the book intriguing to pick up and read at random. The photographs alone make the volume worthwhile.
The book is divided into seven parts, which explore the main arguments. Part One lays out the historical relationship humans have with fire, covering topics from media to the language we use to discuss fire. The second section situates the discussion both historically and geographically, leading into Part Three, a look at landscapes of fire around the country. In addition to featuring the forests of the Rockies and the Cascades that the average reader tends to associate with wildfires, the photos and essays examine diverse regions such as the southern pines of Florida and the tundra of Alaska. The photographs in this section succinctly make the argument that fire does not destroy the land, but is intrinsic to it.
Part Four deals with failed public lands policies such as salvage logging and livestock grazing. Though the assessments of salvage logging are incisive, the discussion of livestock receives the least attention, and would benefit from an analysis of the effects of commercial livestock like cattle versus native and re–introduced native species such as bison and wild horses. The fifth section features critiques of the “fire–military–industrial complex” and furthers the arguments about the financial incentives behind fire policies. Part Six poses alternatives to current fire policies, and does what many volumes on controversial topics fail to do—offers proactive solutions rather than dwell on criticism. The final portion of the book pulls together the various arguments in the volume, while adeptly addressing the difficulties that lie ahead in changing the mind of the American public.
The control of fire seems to be intrinsic to our conception of what it is to be human. What this book seeks to overturn are the contemporary mythologies that allow us to believe that all fire can and must be suppressed, controlled and even turned to profit. Perhaps if one looks to the tales of the trickster giving fire to man, one might remember that a trickster is a deceiver as well as a giver, and man is a fool if he continues to believe that something as powerful in nature as fire could or should be controlled by mere humans.
Camilla Mortensen is a folklorist and a freelance writer who works on issues of conservation and cultural heritage.