The Fires We Keep Starting

Breaking the myth of “wildfire” and facing our roles in the flames.

The word wildfire sounds dramatic — raw, “natural,” something beyond our control. But there’s nothing natural about fires sparked by fireworks, power lines, or abandoned campfires.

These aren’t wilderness events. They are human-triggered disasters, made worse by failing infrastructure, reckless development, and negligence.

While wind, drought, and heat fuel fires once they ignite, even those conditions are increasingly shaped by us. Human-driven climate disruption makes extreme fire weather more common—amplifying the consequences when fires start, especially near where people live.

Studies show that 85 to 95 percent of all U.S. fires are caused by people. Whether accidental or intentional, human activity dominates fire ignition nationwide.

Most of these fires start within a quarter-mile of roads or developed areas. Roads increase wildfire risk by providing both access and ignition sources—from vehicle sparks to discarded cigarettes and careless waste.

Yet, wildfire remains the default term.

But what if it’s the wrong word?

We Need a Better Name for the Fires We Keep Starting

The words we use shape how we understand and respond. Calling them “wildfires” makes these fires sound natural and unstoppable, as if only nature is to blame. But many of today’s largest, most destructive fires are caused by human actions—and are often preventable.

If we want to take responsibility, media and agencies must stop using vague labels and be clear about what these fires truly are. When it’s proven a fire was human-caused, we should call it what it is: a manmade fire.

Manmade fires take many forms:

  • Powerline fires, like the 2024 Smokehouse Creek Fire in Texas or the 2018 Camp Fire in California
  • Arson fires, such as the deadly 2017 Thomas Fire in California
  • Equipment fires, like the 2018 Carr Fire sparked by a vehicle malfunction
  • Debris burn fires, like the 2021 Marshall Fire in Colorado
  • Recreation fires, including the 2020 El Dorado Fire ignited by pyrotechnics
  • Sprawl fires—disasters worsened by development in fire-prone areas

These fires aren’t “wild.” They’re ours. And it’s time we start calling them that.

These Aren’t Acts of Nature. They’re Failures of Planning and Policy.

The January 2025 Los Angeles fires blanketed the basin in smoke. Investigators are examining possible human-caused ignitions—including fireworks or abandoned campfires reigniting previous blazes. These were not lightning strikes in remote forests. They were human-caused ignitions unfolding in places made vulnerable by design.

In Maui, the destruction of Lahaina was fueled by downed power lines. As AP News reported, the smoke wasn’t just from “leaves and branches and trees.” It came from “buildings… gasoline stations… old houses with asbestos… automobiles.” This was not a natural fire—it was a built environment burning down.

Not all fires are misnamed. The Dragon Bravo Fire in Arizona, sparked by lightning in a remote area, is a true wildfire—a natural process shaping the landscape. But increasingly, the fires destroying communities are not these.

A Moment in Deep Time: Owning Our Role

For millions of years, fire has sustained ecosystems. But within a blink of human time, we’ve disrupted those cycles—not by fire itself, but by introducing volatile ignition sources and building in fire-forged places.

Fires that once moved through fire-adapted landscapes without consequence now threaten lives and homes because of where and how we build—and how we fail to prepare.

It’s easier to blame nature—to treat these disasters as inevitable. But that story lets us off the hook. Real safety begins with honest language and clear responsibility.

Only by acknowledging our role can we change course—and stop calling human-caused fires “wild.”

Language Shapes Responsibility

Calling these events “wildfires” isn’t just misleading. It’s convenient. It gives utilities, developers, and policymakers an easy out—shifting blame away from human systems and onto nature, as if this is just how things are.

It props up false solutions—like logging—as if removing trees will fix a crisis we engineered through infrastructure neglect, poor planning, and fossil-fueled instability.

Words like wildfire obscure the truth.

Clearer language brings us closer to accountability.

This isn’t about semantics. It’s about facing what we’ve built, mismanaged, and continue to ignore.

Let’s stop calling them wild—as if nature is to blame.

These fires may run through fire-adapted ecosystems, but they start—and escalate—in human hands.

Let’s start calling them what they are.

If we want to prevent the next disaster, it begins with owning our part—demanding better infrastructure, smarter planning, and real accountability from those responsible.

The first step is changing how we talk about the fires we keep starting.

Colorado, 2024