An equal-opportunity fire

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The rains have barely stopped, and we are already on the second wildfire of the season. Some 20,000 dunam of forest and bush burned over the course of 30 hours before the fires were brought under control.

Despite the rapid spread of the flames – some so hot they left only white ash in their wake – no one was killed and very few were injured. That is due to the excellent preparedness of our local councils and fire marshals. On my own kibbutz, the safety team conducted a survey of the area, reported to us hourly.

We readied our bags, but did not pack them. We tried to stay indoors with all windows closed, but when we went out, we saw a thick wall of smoke to the east rising from the ground to block out the sun.

Our PM tried to make political hay out of the fires – a conflagration that caused the cancellation of numerous Independence Day celebrations. He claimed that 18 people had been arrested for arson, further stating that this is proof that we Jews love this land while “they” hate it so much they want to burn it down.

Within minutes, the truth came to light. Three had been arrested, and those near Jerusalem, not for the fires already burning. That does not mean that some Palestinians hadn’t called for lighting new fires to slow down the efforts of the fire-fighters. It means it did not happen.

Each and every one of us, Jew, Christian and Muslim, mourns the loss

Here is another inconvenient truth: Even though the land supposedly holds some mystical pull over we Jews, we Israelis of all stripes never hesitate to trash it. And if we loved it as much as Bibi claims, we would be investing in new fire-fighting equipment rather than giving more funds to the ultra-orthodox, many of whom reject the planting of forests that, for example, might entice people to drive and light fires to cook their food on Shabbat. And let’s face it, we’ve made tree planting a symbol of our Zionist state. So, on the one hand, burning trees could be seen as a way of fighting against Israel. On the other, there is some unavoidable symbolism in a khamsin-fueled fire sweeping across our central plain on Independence eve.

The fire affected nuns and monks from Emmaus and Latrun, Jews from Mesilat Zion, Palestinians and Jews from Neve Shalom. It was a non-discriminatory fire. A few lost their homes, more lost beloved groves. We lost animals and birds and wildflowers. Each and every one of us, Jew, Christian and Muslim, mourns the loss.

Everyone knows that within a year, the trees will be replanted. Within a decade, they’ll burn once again, unless a very different kind of planning is applied to both the planting and the fire-fighting services. The forests in the Shaar Hagai – Latrun area have burned down more than once in the years I’ve been living in the region. We tried different planting. But harsher weather means the result is the same.

It’s kind of like the war. We get taken by surprise, despite all the warning signs, but then we spring right into action. Citizens are evacuated, fighters – whether fire or military – battle bravely against the danger. We call up reserves, including airport firetrucks and police watercannon to put out the smaller fires, and crop dusters spray fire retardant that turns whole forests pink. We are long on ability and invention, but short on prevention.

The dust from the khamsin mixed with the smoke, and the air still smells of forest fire several days later. Some places are still smoldering, and we’ve already received notice that the breeze has caused flames to return in at least one. Until the winter rains start once more, most of the burnt land will remain black and white and fallow, the trees still hanging on in the edges will die in the summer sun. Restoring the land will not be a priority while we are fighting a war, while people are returning to destroyed homes.

At the same time that people were being evacuated just a few kilometers from my home, I watched from behind glass doors as a rogue wind – white with dust and ash – ripped the roof from my patio and sent it sailing over my house.

It was a reminder that nature is getting cranky, and we are in the way. It is a reminder that we are not exempt from global phenomena just because we planted some trees in the name of loving the land. Loving the land is not enough. We must love the Earth. It is not enough to put out the fires that will be more frequent and more destructive. We have to either figure out how to live with the fires or how to prevent them and keep them contained. We cannot stop the wind; we can plan how to keep it from burning our forests to ash.