Thank you Don, as always, for a thoughtful, well researched commentary.
Just last night I came across a few lines worth quoting in Ian McEwan’s brilliant 2025 novel “What We Can Know”. Speaking from the post-apocalyptic, flooded future, told through the eyes of a teacher of history and literature, he thinks about his freshman students: “At this early stage, the students are not convinced. They cannot believe that pre-Inundation people of a mere century ago were like themselves. Those ancients were ignorant, squalid, destructive louts. As one of the brighter students pointed out, surely they could have done something other than grow their economies and wage wars. Behind this, but never stated, is the notion that they deserved the mega-deaths they brought upon themselves.”
Thanks Laura, for your comments and for sharing that passage by McEwan. It captures something I've been struggling to articulate.
I wonder if every generation looks back at the last one and asks, "How could they not have done something?" The uncomfortable possibility is that people a century from now will ask exactly the same question about us. If you get a chance to listen to the last 15 minutes of the Roy Scranton/Al Gore podcast, Gore frames this perfectly.
We know what's happening. The harder question is why knowing doesn't always translate into acting. That's where I found myself drawn into questions of denial, adaptation and the remarkable human capacity to normalize almost anything. Thanks again.
There is also a class element to preparedness. Those who rely on public transit or cycle are more reliant on others to help them evacuate. It is also expensive to make an emergency preparedness kit on a limited budget. Having extra food, bottled water, candles, camp stove, gas, clothing etc. in a bag ready to go or in one’s car is often considered a luxury.
Jennifer, I think that's a really important observation, and it's something the research consistently finds.
Preparedness isn't just about knowledge or motivation. It's also shaped by resources. If you don't own a vehicle, have limited income, live in rental housing, or are already juggling multiple financial pressures, preparing for an emergency can be much more difficult. A "72-hour kit" isn't free, and neither is having enough food, water, medication or fuel set aside.
That's one of the reasons I've become interested in preparedness as a social issue rather than simply an emergency management issue. The question isn't just, "Why aren't people prepared?" It's also, "What makes preparedness easier for some people than others?"
It suggests that resilience isn't only built through individual responsibility. It's also built through strong neighbourhoods, community networks, and policies that recognize that not everyone starts from the same place.
Thanks for raising this. I think it's a perspective we don't talk about nearly enough.
Another great post my man. No light at the end of the tunnel here my brother. The frog in boiling water is a falacy. Fun analogy though. Beautiful writing, horrible situation dear Don. The resilience of the American people might not be adequate to overcome mankind's inherent greed. The rod and the ax are in ascent.
Thanks, my friend. I appreciate that—and you're absolutely right about the frog. It's a myth, although still a useful metaphor for how we normalize gradual change.
Your comment also reminded me of two very different conversations that have stayed with me.
One was with Roy Scranton, who argues that we need to stop assuming we'll "solve" climate change and instead learn how to live ethically in a world that's already changing. It's a challenging, even unsettling perspective. You can find the link on this post.
The other is Al Gore from a Climate Reality training session I had with him who makes almost the opposite case. He argues that while the situation is serious, we have far more tools, knowledge, and technological capacity than we did even a decade ago, and that despair can become just as paralyzing as denial.
I find it helpful to hold both perspectives in tension. Scranton reminds us not to rely on false hope or technological salvation. Gore reminds us not to surrender to inevitability.
Maybe resilience lives somewhere between those two positions—not pretending everything will be fine, but refusing to believe that nothing we do matters.
That's why I keep coming back to preparedness. Whether we're talking about climate, wildfire, earthquake, or communities, it feels like one of the few responses that makes sense regardless of how optimistic or pessimistic we are. Thanks again for your friendship and support. I miss being able to hang out with you and chew on these topics for hours…
Another related story: A guy I knew in Kelowna (maybe you, too) lived further south than I down the lake. He was prepared for wildfire and when the 2003 OK Mtn fire came through he saved his house. Had multiple pumps, miles of hose and a plan... which he executed successfully with only one problem: at one point he had to fight (physically) with the BCWS guys who attempted to commandeer his gear and force him to leave. So I am even better prepared than he was. He and a bunch of others were subsequently barred from asking public questions at the Filmon Inquiry (WHITEWASH). Sequitur: tried to change something, got the brick wall so getting better at preparing/living with that knowledge.
Kevin, thanks for sharing this. I remember those days well as our family was evacuated.
I've heard a number of stories from 2003 about tensions between homeowners who wanted to stay and defend their properties and firefighters whose job was to protect lives in what had become an extraordinarily dangerous situation. I wasn't there for your friend's experience as we were looking after our own house, so I can't speak to the specifics, but I know it was an incredibly chaotic time.
One thing that seems clear looking back is that 2003 exposed just how unprepared many of us were—not only as homeowners, but as governments and emergency agencies trying to manage a wildfire of that scale. It forced some difficult conversations about evacuation, incident command, communication, and how different agencies work together. Many of the systems we now take for granted were strengthened because of what was learned during and after that fire.
That doesn't mean every decision was right, or that people didn't have frustrating or even painful experiences. But I do think it's worth recognizing both realities: there were legitimate criticisms, and there were also important lessons that have made communities better prepared today. Kelowna's FireSmart programs, regional emergency coordination, and inter-agency cooperation all owe something to what happened in 2003.
For me, that's one of the reasons I keep coming back to preparedness. We don't honour those experiences by pretending everything went well—or by pretending nothing has improved. We honour them by asking what we can still learn before the next fire. Thanks again,
I studied climatology and atmospheric dynamics in the late 70's (Florida Institute of Technology). I also studied shovelling my driveway through suburban Canadian winters. I have been pointing out to everybody for 50+ years how deep in the shit and deeper we are getting. Everyone who has shovelled knows that, even if it's cloudy and -5c, if you scrape at least 30-40% down to bare, dark asphalt before noon the rest of the driveway will melt clean in hours. The albedo effect illustrated up close, obvious. Why the disappearing glaciers and ice caps are a BIG problem. I often see the light go on... for an instant, then back to driving the kids to soccer or jetting off to wherever for the holiday. After 50 years I don't think we're ever going to change, fix it.
Thanks for sharing Kevin.
Well written Don. Very thought provoking indeed
Thanks Gary, much appreciated. It’s a work in progress.
Thank you Don, as always, for a thoughtful, well researched commentary.
Just last night I came across a few lines worth quoting in Ian McEwan’s brilliant 2025 novel “What We Can Know”. Speaking from the post-apocalyptic, flooded future, told through the eyes of a teacher of history and literature, he thinks about his freshman students: “At this early stage, the students are not convinced. They cannot believe that pre-Inundation people of a mere century ago were like themselves. Those ancients were ignorant, squalid, destructive louts. As one of the brighter students pointed out, surely they could have done something other than grow their economies and wage wars. Behind this, but never stated, is the notion that they deserved the mega-deaths they brought upon themselves.”
Thanks Laura, for your comments and for sharing that passage by McEwan. It captures something I've been struggling to articulate.
I wonder if every generation looks back at the last one and asks, "How could they not have done something?" The uncomfortable possibility is that people a century from now will ask exactly the same question about us. If you get a chance to listen to the last 15 minutes of the Roy Scranton/Al Gore podcast, Gore frames this perfectly.
We know what's happening. The harder question is why knowing doesn't always translate into acting. That's where I found myself drawn into questions of denial, adaptation and the remarkable human capacity to normalize almost anything. Thanks again.
There is also a class element to preparedness. Those who rely on public transit or cycle are more reliant on others to help them evacuate. It is also expensive to make an emergency preparedness kit on a limited budget. Having extra food, bottled water, candles, camp stove, gas, clothing etc. in a bag ready to go or in one’s car is often considered a luxury.
Jennifer, I think that's a really important observation, and it's something the research consistently finds.
Preparedness isn't just about knowledge or motivation. It's also shaped by resources. If you don't own a vehicle, have limited income, live in rental housing, or are already juggling multiple financial pressures, preparing for an emergency can be much more difficult. A "72-hour kit" isn't free, and neither is having enough food, water, medication or fuel set aside.
That's one of the reasons I've become interested in preparedness as a social issue rather than simply an emergency management issue. The question isn't just, "Why aren't people prepared?" It's also, "What makes preparedness easier for some people than others?"
It suggests that resilience isn't only built through individual responsibility. It's also built through strong neighbourhoods, community networks, and policies that recognize that not everyone starts from the same place.
Thanks for raising this. I think it's a perspective we don't talk about nearly enough.
Another great post my man. No light at the end of the tunnel here my brother. The frog in boiling water is a falacy. Fun analogy though. Beautiful writing, horrible situation dear Don. The resilience of the American people might not be adequate to overcome mankind's inherent greed. The rod and the ax are in ascent.
Thanks, my friend. I appreciate that—and you're absolutely right about the frog. It's a myth, although still a useful metaphor for how we normalize gradual change.
Your comment also reminded me of two very different conversations that have stayed with me.
One was with Roy Scranton, who argues that we need to stop assuming we'll "solve" climate change and instead learn how to live ethically in a world that's already changing. It's a challenging, even unsettling perspective. You can find the link on this post.
The other is Al Gore from a Climate Reality training session I had with him who makes almost the opposite case. He argues that while the situation is serious, we have far more tools, knowledge, and technological capacity than we did even a decade ago, and that despair can become just as paralyzing as denial.
I find it helpful to hold both perspectives in tension. Scranton reminds us not to rely on false hope or technological salvation. Gore reminds us not to surrender to inevitability.
Maybe resilience lives somewhere between those two positions—not pretending everything will be fine, but refusing to believe that nothing we do matters.
That's why I keep coming back to preparedness. Whether we're talking about climate, wildfire, earthquake, or communities, it feels like one of the few responses that makes sense regardless of how optimistic or pessimistic we are. Thanks again for your friendship and support. I miss being able to hang out with you and chew on these topics for hours…
Another related story: A guy I knew in Kelowna (maybe you, too) lived further south than I down the lake. He was prepared for wildfire and when the 2003 OK Mtn fire came through he saved his house. Had multiple pumps, miles of hose and a plan... which he executed successfully with only one problem: at one point he had to fight (physically) with the BCWS guys who attempted to commandeer his gear and force him to leave. So I am even better prepared than he was. He and a bunch of others were subsequently barred from asking public questions at the Filmon Inquiry (WHITEWASH). Sequitur: tried to change something, got the brick wall so getting better at preparing/living with that knowledge.
Kevin, thanks for sharing this. I remember those days well as our family was evacuated.
I've heard a number of stories from 2003 about tensions between homeowners who wanted to stay and defend their properties and firefighters whose job was to protect lives in what had become an extraordinarily dangerous situation. I wasn't there for your friend's experience as we were looking after our own house, so I can't speak to the specifics, but I know it was an incredibly chaotic time.
One thing that seems clear looking back is that 2003 exposed just how unprepared many of us were—not only as homeowners, but as governments and emergency agencies trying to manage a wildfire of that scale. It forced some difficult conversations about evacuation, incident command, communication, and how different agencies work together. Many of the systems we now take for granted were strengthened because of what was learned during and after that fire.
That doesn't mean every decision was right, or that people didn't have frustrating or even painful experiences. But I do think it's worth recognizing both realities: there were legitimate criticisms, and there were also important lessons that have made communities better prepared today. Kelowna's FireSmart programs, regional emergency coordination, and inter-agency cooperation all owe something to what happened in 2003.
For me, that's one of the reasons I keep coming back to preparedness. We don't honour those experiences by pretending everything went well—or by pretending nothing has improved. We honour them by asking what we can still learn before the next fire. Thanks again,
I studied climatology and atmospheric dynamics in the late 70's (Florida Institute of Technology). I also studied shovelling my driveway through suburban Canadian winters. I have been pointing out to everybody for 50+ years how deep in the shit and deeper we are getting. Everyone who has shovelled knows that, even if it's cloudy and -5c, if you scrape at least 30-40% down to bare, dark asphalt before noon the rest of the driveway will melt clean in hours. The albedo effect illustrated up close, obvious. Why the disappearing glaciers and ice caps are a BIG problem. I often see the light go on... for an instant, then back to driving the kids to soccer or jetting off to wherever for the holiday. After 50 years I don't think we're ever going to change, fix it.