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A conversation with Stephen Pyne, the world’s most prominent wildfire historian

The world's most prominent wildfire historian found his way into his life's work by accident. A few days after he graduated from high school, Stephen Pyne had been brought on as a laborer on the South Rim of the Grand Canyon and was signing his hiring papers when he was asked if he’d be interested in joining a forest fire crew on the North Rim instead.
“I said sure,” Pyne told me. “And it was transformative. Everything I’ve done since then dates from that time on the North Rim.”
Pyne spent fifteen seasons on the North Rim, including twelve as a crew boss, and went on to study fire for a living. He became a fire historian, practically the first of his kind, joined the faculty at Arizona State University, and wrote dozens of books about the history of fire around the world. He retired from teaching in 2018, but continues to work on books — he’s wrapping up one about Mexico at the moment.
I spoke with Pyne about the history of wildfires in the United States, and what the future could look like. Our interview has been edited for length and clarity.
How have we historically thought about fire in the United States?
Well, it depends what time in history you want to go back to. The attitudes we have now are pretty recent, probably less than 100 years. The native peoples used fire widely, for all kinds of things. Heating, lighting, entertainment, agriculture, hunting, foraging, and self-protection. It was all over the place.
Europeans also had fire in their background, but always embedded within an agricultural context of pastoralism or farming. Nobody was particularly putting fires out unless it immediately threatened some asset of theirs, like their house or town. It was just sort of spring clean, part of maintenance of the landscape. So people were always around fire, it was just a constant companion. And then that changes when we began going to industrial combustion, powered by fossil fuels. Suddenly, we don't have fire around us anymore.
Where did it go?
Well, it went into machines. The burning is done off-site and we get the fire through electricity. Processed fossil biomass gave us a lot of the petrochemicals we use for agriculture, so we don't burn the fields for fertilizing and fumigating. We found all these substitutes and then we use machines to deliver those things. So it's taken fire out of the built environment.
When did the American policy of fire suppression really come into being? Was there a turning point?
A couple of things happened. Part of it is we have a long run almost 50 years after the Civil War of very large and disastrous fires. They were associated with clearing settlement, widespread logging, and a lot of it was catalyzed by railroads, which were also a source of these large, disastrous fires that were probably an order of magnitude larger than what we've seen in recent years. Hundreds of people were killed.
And then in the summer of 1910, a series of large fires sort of amassed into what became known as the Big Blowup. This was about three and a quarter million acres burned in the Northern Rockies, killing 78 firefighters the Forest Service had hired in six different incidents all at the same time, during the afternoon and evening of August 20. Traumatized the US Forest Service, which at the time was five years old.
Its leaders determined they were never going to allow that to happen again, and the two guys who were in charge of the firefighting in the Northern Rockies became chief foresters during the 1920s and 1930s. So it was just one generation of leaders, mostly younger men, who were traumatized, and the easiest way to sell the message of what they were doing was to eliminate all fires. The urban elites understood that message, because that's how urban fire services work.
So we spent about 50 years trying to take all fires out of the landscape. And we've spent the last 50 years trying to put good fire back in.
How’s that been working?
It turns out fire is one of these things that’s easy to remove and hard to reinstate. It’s like a threatened species — if you want to reintroduce a species to a landscape, you often find that a lot of conditions have changed. That’s tough to work with.
What are the conditions that have changed that made reintroducing fires so hard?
Well, a lot of it is just the forest changed. And this was a result of overgrazing. selective logging, or outright clear cutting, which allowed stuff to grow back in ways that are outside the norm. Sheep and cattle have stripped away the grasses that made light [more manageable] fires possible, and other stuff grew up in their place. Now you've paved the landscape with dense layers of pine needles and shrubs, and they don’t burn the same way, so you've created a fire trap. All of this actually started with westward expansion, before the Forest Service entered the scene.
And so that 50 year period of suppression must’ve made it worse.
Yeah, that was really disastrous. By the ‘60s, we see pushback. We’d seen the consequences. And I'll point out that this is well before global climate change is on anybody’s agenda. These landscapes were messed up ecologically. Trees and other species weren’t regenerating.
So what starts happening in the ‘60s?
We saw civil society begin to create an alternative to state-sponsored fire suppression. There was a ranch north of Tallahassee that began hosting fire ecology conferences in 1962, they really introduced the term fire ecology. That same year, the Nature Conservancy conducted its first burn at a prairie because they couldn’t maintain the prairie without burning.
It was a real David versus Goliath story. Forestry was too dyed-in-the-wool hostile towards fire. They had sort of made their public identity as firefighters. But all kinds of things started coming together and there was the sentiment that fire should be restored just like wolves and grizzlies.
You mentioned burning had historically been done by the indigenous communities. How involved were those communities in these discussions? Were they involved at all?
Almost none. There were some people who was reintroducing fire to indigenous reservations, but they were foresters with the Bureau of Indian Affairs. But it’s only much more recently that [Native American communities] have sort of taken on cultural burning as a way of restoring their identities and their traditions and maybe even claiming back some of their lands.
We often say that colonialism suppressed indigenous knowledge. Well, that’s true. But something that gets lost, I think, all the time, is that there was a quarrel between the elites and traditional knowledge. Europe’s elites treated Europe’s peasants with disdain as well. Many of the white settlers who weren’t elites used fire as well, but the elites didn’t like that.
Obviously in the last couple of weeks Hawaii has been on everyone's mind. What’s the history of fire in Hawaii?
Before it was colonized, Hawaii was fairly immune to fire. The forests don’t seem to have been particularly responsive to it. You have lightning caused fires, you have volcanoes that set fires but then the lava was the bigger problem there.
Fire in Hawaii starts with human contact, when they begin clearing the forest and introducing exotics. This started with Polynesians before Europeans got into the act. There was a lot of extermination particularly of flightless birds and they introduced pigs and rats and other things. But then it really began accelerating with European contact, when they converted large areas to plantations for sugar and pineapples or grass pastures to raise cows, and so forth. So you have larger scale land clearing that goes on.
But Hawaii was not built to burn in the way California is. We created more combustible landscapes. Tropical grasses grow very well there and burn very well, and once they burn they create conditions that are more favorable to themselves. So it’s a positive feedback system.
We’ve seen a lot of coverage about how climate change is going to intensify wildfires. What do you, as a person who studies wildfires from around the world, think needs to happen going forward?
I mean, these really nasty megafires we've seen recently and that are doing a lot of damage to communities are really a pathology of the developed world. You don’t you don’t see these in the developing world. They have lots of burning, but they don’t have these massive fires.
I think we need to do three things, and we need to do them at the same time. The first is to protect our communities. It’s totally absurd that we have so many fires started by power lines. There’s no reason for towns to burn, and we know how to keep them from burning. So hardening our cities is the first step. The second is we need to recover the countryside. Not just wild lands, but the countryside. We have to put it into a shape that makes fire control easier and will probably also enhance the biology of the site. There are a lot of controversies around that, and there’s but we have got to have ways of negotiating all those values and perceptions. But that’s something that can be done.
The third thing we need to do is tame climate change. We can do a lot of mitigation but at some point unless the accelerating climate upheaval isn’t stopped and even reversed, it will override all the other stuff we do.
Do you think of fire as something to fear?
I think there’s bad fire. Bad fire kills people, it destroys towns, it can trash ecosystems. Fire can do a lot of damage, but it can also be absolutely essential. So it’s not either good or bad.
We have a species monopoly over fire. We made a mutual assistance pact with it a long time ago. You have to tend it, you have to feed it, you have to train it, you have to clean up after it. You have to integrate it into social activities. It’s not just a physical tool like a hammer or an axe that can be picked up and put down. It’s something we domesticated in a way. And we’ve lost control over what’s been a companion that we’ve had for all our existence as a species.
We are fire creatures. You know, we use fire in a way that no other creature does. We’ve abrogated that role. We’ve abused it. But it’s only in the last century or so that we have lost the capacity to manage fire. So this is just us reclaiming our heritage and taking responsibility for the power that our relationship with fire gave us. It’s not beyond our ability to deal with it.
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A new scientific report on the state of the industry shows a growing gap between what we can do and what we need to do.
The gap between the world’s current capacity to remove carbon dioxide from the atmosphere and the amount we’ll need to remove to materially address climate change is so large, it's hard to fathom crossing it. Now, a new report warns that the chasm is widening.
The third State of Carbon Dioxide Removal report, published on Tuesday, finds that while carbon removal research and deployment has advanced significantly in the past two years, it is still not growing quickly enough to reach the scale required to support the Paris Agreement temperature limits. Carbon emissions, meanwhile, have continued to rise globally, raising the amount of carbon removal required in turn.
“We’re seeing a lot of signs that there’s still growth happening,” Morgan Edwards, an assistant professor of public affairs at the University of Wisconsin, Madison, and one of the authors, told me. “But we need to see a step change in both early indicators like investment and also actual deployments” between now and 2030, in addition to serious emission reductions, she said.
The State of Carbon Dioxide Removal is a project between researchers at the University of Wisconsin, Madison, the University of Maryland, the University of Oxford, the Potsdam Institute for Climate Impact Research, and the German Institute for International and Security Affairs. The latest report collates a wide range of indicators to assemble a detailed portrait of progress in the sector, from the number of research papers and patents published, to project deployments, costs, and investment, to voluntary purchases and policies.
The world currently removes approximately 2.2 billion tons of carbon from the atmosphere each year through intentional human activity, the authors found, which is equivalent to about 5% of annual global carbon dioxide emissions. Nearly all of that carbon removal happens through what the authors deem “conventional” methods, which include planting trees, improved forest management, soil sequestration on farms and grasslands, and coastal wetland restoration.
Less than 1% of the 2.2 billion tons comes from “novel” methods such as direct air capture, bioenergy with carbon capture, enhanced weathering, and biochar, the most common method. Novel carbon removal increased from 1.4 million tons in 2023 to 2 million tons in 2025, with biochar responsible for most of that. In total, novel forms of carbon removal have to grow to 70 million by 2030 and 360 million by 2035 for the world to achieve net zero and begin to reverse warming back down to 1.5 degrees Celsius this century, the authors found. And that’s assuming the emissions curve starts to bend dramatically downward.
“The gap will continue to grow if we do not pursue immediate and ambitious emissions reductions today,” Edwards said. Though the Paris Agreement’s 1.5-degree goal looks to be receding further out of reach, she stressed that net-zero emissions implies significant carbon removal, regardless of what temperature target you’re aiming for.
No matter how you look at it, getting to 70 million tons by 2030 would require a major shift. Right now, the most optimistic expectation for how much the carbon removal industry will grow by that point, based on corporate announcements, is about 42 million tons per year by 2030, according to the report. The capacity in the pipeline from projects that are under construction, however, amounts to just 8.4 million by 2030. At the country level, only about a third of national climate strategies even mention novel carbon removal methods, and overall carbon removal ambition among countries would have to double to close the 2030 gap.
This isn’t impossible — other technologies have achieved comparable growth rates. The report’s authors estimate that carbon removal would have to scale at speeds similar to solar power and electric vehicles. Unlike those singular solutions, however, carbon removal consists of many different technologies that intersect with a range of industries — oil and gas drilling, farming, forestry, mining — and therefore may not scale as linearly. Also, unlike EVs and solar, carbon removal isn’t a useful product with an obvious market. It’s a public good, like waste management — and an expensive one, at that.
Carbon removal funding is also highly concentrated, the authors warn, making the industry vulnerable to sudden shifts in policy and investment appetite. For example, Microsoft alone has made more than 80% of carbon removal purchases to date; then in April it confirmed it was pausing procurements, leaving behind major uncertainty over who, if anyone, will fill its role in the market. Similarly, most government funding for pilot projects to date has concentrated in three countries — the U.S., Sweden, and Denmark — but more recently the U.S. has dismantled much of its support.
The industry is also concentrated in terms of deployment. Biochar and bioenergy with carbon capture account for almost all of the 2 million tons of novel removals the authors identified. Direct air capture facilities removed just 1,500 tons in 2025, according to the report. All of that came from Climeworks’ two facilities in Iceland — Orca and Mammoth — and it’s significantly less than the roughly 40,000 tons these facilities were designed to capture each year. (While there are a few other direct air capture plants operating, they have not yet had any removals certified by a third party, and so were not included in the estimate.)
There are some bright spots in the report. Research funding, scientific publications, demonstration projects, public policies, and private investment in carbon removal are all trending up. It’s just that the results of these efforts — in terms of patents, projects under construction, and the amount of carbon being removed — are uneven.
While the report is a valiant effort to assess how far carbon removal has come, the overall picture remains deeply uncertain. That word, “uncertain,” appears over and over, applying to such questions as:
The authors emphasize the need for more research, public policy, and funding to narrow these uncertainties — especially on the demand side of the equation.
“Both demand and supply side policies are important for innovation, but much of the policy we’ve seen for CDR today has been more supply-side focused,” said Edwards. “There’s a need for a strong signal to companies who are developing these technologies and implementing CDR on the ground that the demand will be there.”
On Anthropic’s IPO, home energy rebates, and French rare earths
Current conditions: The most powerful storm to hit Western Australia in 49 years has deluged the capital of Perth • Temperatures in the Arizonan metropolis of Phoenix are climbing to 103 degrees Fahrenheit today, and will stay around that level all week • South Georgia Island, a British overseas territory near Antarctica in the Atlantic, is bracing for heavy snow.
Anthropic, the artificial intelligence giant behind the chatbot Claude, filed the first documents to the Securities and Exchange Commission to make its stock market debut. The company submitted a confidential S-1, meaning that — unlike the recent SpaceX filing — the details aren’t yet publicly available. By doing so, Anthropic has “the option to go public after the SEC completes its review,” the company wrote Monday in a blog post. The number of shares to be offered and the price “have not yet been set.” The IPO could have big energy implications. Unlike some hyperscalers, who have pushed back against the public blowback to data centers, Anthropic vowed three months ago to pay to offset electricity price hikes from its server farms, as I previously wrote. Coupled with the news yesterday morning that Iran had broken off negotiations with the U.S. to end the conflict blocking the Strait of Hormuz, Monday offered clear evidence of what Heatmap’s Robinson Meyer described as the electricity economy “having its moment.”
Here are a couple more data points: Later on Monday, Berkshire Hathaway, the investment company formerly run by Warren Buffett, announced plans to invest $80 billion into Google owner Alphabet’s data center buildout. Meanwhile, Mike Schroepfer, the former chief technology officer of Facebook parent Meta Platforms, raised $250 million for his climate-tech venture capital firm Gigascale, Bloomberg reported.
On Monday, the Department of Energy released its long-awaited guidance on how to use the remaining home rebate programs left intact after Republicans repealed broad swaths of the Inflation Reduction Act. Unsurprisingly, the program — which had a complicated rollout — initially meant to support deployment of electric heating is now no longer available for homeowners hoping to switch from gas to electric.
“Make no mistake: This is part of a coordinated strategy to boost fossil fuel profits at the expense of working families,” Tony Sirna, the deputy policy director of buildings at the progressive climate group Evergreen Action, said in a statement. “These home electrification rebates were a lifeline for families who otherwise could not afford to upgrade their homes and escape rising energy costs. Gutting them ensures millions of households remain captive customers of greedy gas utilities now poised to saddle ratepayers with up to $1.4 trillion in costs for pipelines that will ultimately be underused or entirely unnecessary.”
Allow me to break with journalistic convention and lead with the dog-bites-man story: China, already the world leader in building its own nuclear reactors, just installed the containment dome on its latest reactor at the Lianjiang nuclear power plant in Guangdong province, World Nuclear News reported. This is a vital step toward completing construction, though not unusual in a country with a whopping three dozen commercial fission reactors underway.
And now for the man-bites-dog. The United Kingdom, whose nuclear industry has long suffered the same anemia as that in the United States, just reached a major milestone on its long-delayed Hinkley Point C nuclear site in southwest England. On Monday, NucNet reported that the second reactor pressure vessel had been lifted into place by the world’s largest crane.
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A federal judge in Denver halted the Trump administration’s effort to carve up Boulder’s National Center for Atmospheric Research by handing over a supercomputing center to the University of Wyoming. The 38-page injunction, detailed in the Colorado Sun, called the move by the National Science Foundation to divest from the supercomputing center “arbitrary, capricious, an abuse of discretion, or otherwise not in accordance with law.” Senior U.S. District Judge R. Brooke Jackson argued that his decision was necessary because a lawsuit filed in March by the University Corporation for Atmospheric Research was likely to succeed, and “too much damage had already been done to the supercomputing center’s operations.”
The U.S. wants to quit Chinese minerals. But mining all those metals domestically is virtually impossible. As a result, one of the two big rare earths champions in which the Trump administration took an equity stake is now looking to Europe. On Monday, USA Rare Earth announced plans to invest more than $204 million into producing rare earths and magnets made from them. The deal, per Mining.com, builds off a previous agreement to acquire a stake in the French rare-earth processor Carester for $47 million.
France isn’t the only country netting some green investment. On Monday, Italian oil giant Eni announced its own bet on battery manufacturing. The company reached a deal for a joint venture with Seri Industrial Group to develop an integrated industrial supply chain for lithium-iron-phosphate batteries. The deal will close by the end of this week. Eni said the deal “adds another piece to the puzzle of completing the supply chain from critical minerals to the production of energy storage.”
Rob gets into the latest state-level policy developments with Heatmap’s own Emily Pontecorvo.
When New York passed its first major climate law in 2019, climate advocates hailed the work as a milestone: The Empire State vowed to cut its carbon emissions by 40% by 2030, as compared to their 1990 levels, giving it some of the world’s most ambitious subnational climate policy. But last week, Governor Kathy Hochul and the state legislature moved to rewrite key provisions in that law, weakening deadlines and redefining its emissions math.
What happened? And would New York have ever been able to hit its 2030 goal? On this episode of Shift Key, Rob is joined by Emily Pontecorvo, a founding staff writer at Heatmap. They discuss how New York has changed its targets, why it has altered its approach to natural gas, and whether state-level climate goals can survive an age of affordability politics.
Shift Key is hosted by Robinson Meyer, the founding executive editor of Heatmap News.
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Here is an excerpt from their conversation:
Robinson Meyer: The other thing they did was this accounting change around how the state law considers methane. Can you talk a little bit about that?
Emily Pontecorvo: So, one of the things that made the New York climate law especially ambitious was they created in the law this rule that they were going to account for methane very differently than the way that almost any other state and most of the rest of the world does. And I’m sure listeners know, but methane is another greenhouse gas. It’s much more powerful than carbon dioxide, but it doesn’t stay in the atmosphere as long. It breaks down more quickly.
And so when you’re trying to kind of convert all greenhouse gases into one number, a carbon dioxide equivalent, there’s different ways to do that. You can measure methane on its effect on the atmosphere on warming over a 20-year period, which will make it look very, very strong because it’s strongest during that period. Or you can measure it over a 100-year period. These are the two common ways of doing it. And while much of the rest of the world uses the 100-year global warming potential of methane, New York was using the 20-year, which meant that all of New York’s methane emissions from landfills, from natural gas, those emissions had a much bigger effect on the state’s overall emissions. So it made the overall emissions seem higher on paper than if New York had used this other, 100-year global warming potential.
And there was actually a second thing that New York did that was unique, which is the state said, we’re not just going to account for the methane emissions that happen within our economy, within our borders. We’re also going to take ownership and take responsibility for methane from upstream from the natural gas that we use. So New York gets a lot of its natural gas from Pennsylvania, from West Virginia. And so New York is keeping on its own books the methane that’s leaks out of the drilling and pipelines and other infrastructure in those other states.
And so the big change in the budget deal was one, that New York was no longer going to include those emissions upstream in its own ledger. And two, that it’s going to switch to this 100-year accounting global warming potential. And so those two things combined, it really just takes a lot of carbon dioxide equivalent, or it takes a lot of methane off of New York’s books and makes the distance between now and the 2030 goal look a lot smaller.
Meyer: Stepping back, methane, as we’ve been saying, is a short-lived greenhouse gas. It’s extremely potent when it’s first released into the atmosphere, and then it quickly breaks down into carbon dioxide. And what’s interesting about it is that if you look at a molecule of methane, it is actually going to trap far more heat.
So methane, CH4, it will eventually oxidize down and break down into CO2. A singular molecule, the carbon in a molecule of methane, is going to trap more heat over its lifetime as an emission in the atmosphere in its CO2 form than in its CH4 form. And that’s because CO2 is extremely long-lived in the atmosphere. Basically, methane lasts 20 years in the atmosphere or so. It has this somewhat unstable and changing rate of decay in the atmosphere, but it’s not going to last longer than 100 years. And then CO2 will last roughly 1,000 years in the atmosphere. It essentially has a geological time scale in the atmosphere.
So methane’s going to matter way more later on as CO2. But as the U.S. energy system has come to rely more on natural gas, and therefore, as methane emissions have gone up, because methane is the largest component of natural gas, there was an effort to basically ... I don’t want to say make the methane emissions look worse, but like, try to capture — I think the counterargument here was that a lot of short-term warming seems to be coming from methane, and so therefore we should make methane look worse in the accounting than it might if we took a totally kind of apolitical, long-termist, geological accounting scale.
You can find a full transcript of the episode here.
Mentioned:
How New York Is Weakening Its Climate Law, by Emily Pontecorvo
LA Times: After heated debate, California updates key climate limit. Critics say it’s a retreat
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