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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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After a disappointing referendum in Maine, campaigners in New York are taking their arguments straight to lawmakers.
As electricity affordability has become the issue on every politician’s lips, a coalition of New York state lawmakers and organizations in the Hudson Valley have proposed a solution: Buy the utility and operate it publicly.
Assemblymember Sarahana Shrestha, whose district covers the mid-Hudson Valley, introduced a bill early last year to buy out the Hudson Valley’s investor-owned utility, Central Hudson Gas and Electric, and run it as a state entity. That bill hung around for a while before Shrestha reintroduced it to committee in January. It now has more than a dozen co-sponsors, a sign that the idea is gaining traction in Albany.
With politicians across the country in a frenzy to quell voters’ growing anxieties over their power bills, public power advocates are seizing the moment to make a renewed case that investor-owned utilities are to blame for rising prices. A victory for public power in the Hudson Valley would be the movement’s biggest win in decades — and could serve as a blueprint for other locales.
Shrestha’s proposal, while ambitious, draws on a long history of public power campaigns in the United States, stretching from the late 1800s to the New Deal 1930s to the present. Most recently, a 2023 referendum in Maine would have seen the state take over its two largest utilities; organizers argued the move would improve service and lower rates. But as Emily Pontecorvo covered for Heatmap, Maine voters rejected the referendum by a nearly 40-point margin. Public power advocates chalked up the loss to Maine’s investor-owned utilities outspending the proposition’s supporters by more than 30 to 1.
The current Hudson Valley campaign has a lot in common with Maine’s. In both, utilities rolled out faulty billing systems that overcharged customers, fueling resentment. Both targeted utilities owned by foreign corporations (Central Hudson is owned by Fortis, a Canadian company; Central Maine Power is owned by a subsidiary of Iberdrola, a Spanish company, while Versant, another utility in the state, is a subsidiary of Enmax, a Canadian corporation). And both took place amid rate hikes.
Shrestha has spent the past year working her district, holding town halls to sell the bill to her constituents. At each one she presents the same schpiel: “I gave people a little brief story of each of the different notable fights, from Long Island Power Authority to Massena to Maine to Rochester,” she told me, “because I also want people to understand that our fight is not happening in isolation.”
Public power advocates in the Hudson Valley are certainly applying lessons from the Maine defeat to their own campaign. For one, the venue is paramount. This time, public power campaigners are gearing up for a fight in the statehouse rather than the ballot box.
Unlike a ballot proposition, state legislation typically doesn’t attract millions of dollars in television and radio advertising from deep-pocketed utilities. Sandeep Vaheesan, a legal scholar and public power expert, told me that passing a law may be a more feasible route to victory for public power.
“Legislative fights are more winnable because referenda end up being messaging wars,” Vaheesan told Heatmap. “And more often than not, the side that has money can win that war.”
The message itself is also key. One lesson Maine organizers walked away with is that affordability is a winning strategy — an insight that has only gotten more robust over the past several months.
The Climate & Community Institute, a progressive climate think tank, released a report in November reflecting on the Maine referendum that put numbers to the campaigners’ intuition. “While climate change was an issue for many in our polling,” the report states, “it often took a backseat to problems Mainers continue to experience, like rising costs and power shutoff risks.” The group also pointed me to a survey it did in the fall of 2023 — years before data centers and energy demand became top-tier political issues — in which 69% of voters said they were worried about climate change, but 85% said they were worried about energy costs.
So how could public power lower costs for ratepayers?
“If you take shareholders out of the picture — if you replace private debt with cheaper public debt — you can lower rates pretty quickly and bring energy bills down,” Vaheesan argued.
The proposed Hudson Valley Power Authority wouldn’t have a profit motive; its return on equity, currently 9.5% for Central Hudson, would be reduced to zero. As a public entity, HVPA could also access capital at much lower interest rates than a private company and would be exempt from state and federal taxes.
Investor-owned utilities also inflate customers’ bills with unnecessary capital spending, Shrestha told me.
“The only way they can drive up their profits is by expanding their capital infrastructure, which is a very rare and unique characteristic of this industry,” she said, noting that a company like Walmart can’t make a profit by overspending. “So we’re stuck with a grid that is unnecessarily bloated and cumbersome and not at all efficient.”
A feasibility report commissioned by HVPA supporters and released in December estimates that ratepayers would see their bills go down by 2% in the first year after the public takeover — and result in 14% lower bills by 2055. A competing report, issued by opponents of the legislation, claimed the delivery portion of charges could increase by 36% under HVPA due to the cost of buying out Central Hudson, though advocates criticized the report for failing to publish any data.
Hudson Valley public power supporters can take another lesson from Maine to counter a combative utility. The two Maine utilities estimated the cost for the state to acquire them would be billions of dollars more than what public power advocates estimated — though in a televised debate, an anti-referendum representative refused to defend the stated numbers until the moderator instructed her to do so.
Lucy Hochschartner, the deputy campaign manager for Pine Tree Power (Maine’s proposed state-run utility), said she often assuaged voters’ concerns over the acquisition price by comparing it to buying a house.
“Right now we pay a really high rent to [Central Maine Power],” Hochschartner told us. “We pay them more than a billion dollars in revenue a year through our electric grid. And instead we could have moved to a low-cost mortgage.”
With a public acquisition, the cost of buying the electrical and gas systems would be funded through revenue bonds, paid off through customers’ bills over time. However a spokesperson for Central Hudson, Joe Jenkins, said the company would launch a legal battle rather than agree to sell its assets to New York State.
“Fortis has made no inclination that the company is for sale,” Jenkins told me. “So to take over a company by means of eminent domain, I believe that our parents would want to see this through a court.”
While a legal battle could be costly, public power advocates say the cost of inaction is also high. Winston Yau, an energy and industrial policy manager at the Climate & Community Institute, told me that publicly run utilities are better equipped to lead the transition to carbon-free power and adapt to a warming and more turbulent climate.
“Climate disasters and extreme weather events and heat waves are a major and increasing cause of rising utility bills,” Yau said. “In the coming decades, a significant amount of new investment will be needed.”
It’s an idea with bipartisan appeal, but AOC’s former policy adviser argues that the scale of the data center problem is too big for that.
Last night, between the trumpeting of fossil fuels and the lengthy honors awarded to both veterans and hockey players, President Trump devoted a portion of his State of the Union address to announcing a “ratepayer protection pledge,” under which big tech companies pay for their own power plants for data centers — a show of how central energy prices are becoming to today’s affordability debate.
Electricity in the United States is rapidly becoming expensive and unreliable. Vast swaths of the United States are at elevated risk of outages. January’s winter storms wiped out power for millions of Americans from Louisiana to Brooklyn. In 2025, utilities requested a record $31 billion in rate increases from captive customers. Gas and electricity prices are the two highest drivers of inflation.
The main driver of these new stressors on the grid: the expected $6.7 trillion to be deployed in data centers by 2030.
Policymakers at all levels of governments are coalescing on a strategy for dealing with rising data center demand that mirrors Trump’s ratepayer protection pledge: “bring your own generation,” or BYOG. Bipartisan bills introduced in Washington by Senators Chris Van Hollen, and Josh Hawley and Richard Blumenthal; and by Representatives Rob Menendez and Greg Casar, among others, would require hyperscalers like Meta, OpenAI, and Microsoft to pay for their own power plants and grid upgrades in order to plug in. Michigan, Oregon, Florida, Washington, Georgia, Illinois, and Delaware are all at various stages of enacting BYOG legislation for data centers.
BYOG would create something like a regulatory sandbox for data centers, insulating utilities and ratepayers from the risks of data center demand. But while efforts at consumer protection are important, these policies do not grapple with the scale of data center deployment.
A sandbox won’t withstand a tidal wave. Over the next five years, the equivalent of 17 to 32 New York Cities’ worth of electricity demand is expected to be added to the grid, more than half of which will come from data centers. This incredibly wide estimate means that generators risk overbuilding.
Amidst all this uncertainty, BYOG does not address who pays for new capacity in the event the AI bubble bursts and energy infrastructure is left stranded. Neither does BYOG address the drastically mismatched lifetimes of the chips powering AI (one to three years) and power plants (25 to 30 years). The Federal Energy Regulatory Commission expects 22 New York Cities’ worth of generation to be added to the grid by 2028. Who pays for all of this generation in a decade if even 5% of projected data center demand disappears?
AI is a promising technology, but that does not prevent it from being overvalued. Policymakers must consider the risks when data centers eventually disconnect from the grid, not just when they interconnect. This means ensuring that ratepayers and taxpayers are not left footing the bill for stranded energy infrastructure if data centers disconnect prematurely.
Rather than cordoning off data centers from the rest of the electricity market, policymakers should take a stronger hand in planning these deployments for social and economic benefit. Colocating datacenters with energy-intensive industries and requiring long-term commitments from hyperscalers are more efficient solutions that would also make new data centers more politically palatable.
Public sentiment has turned overwhelmingly against data center development. These vast facilities create relatively few jobs beyond their construction, but colocated with the manufacture of energy-intensive products like aluminum, steel, or fertilizer, suddenly they’re supporting employment. Colocation will also help diversify economic growth. Data center investment was responsible for a whopping 92% of GDP growth in the first half of 2025, creating a potentially dangerous dependency on continued expansion.
There are also simple legal guardrails that can provide a first line of defense against stranded costs. One is requiring long-term power purchase agreements between hyperscalers and generators. Thirteen bipartisan governors and the Trump administration recently urged the country’s largest grid operator, PJM Interconnection, to require 15-year generation contracts for hyperscalers. Notably, Van Hollen’s bill would only require states to “consider” the extension of “minimum utility contract lengths,” while the Hawley/Blumenthal and Menendez/Casar bills make no mention of contract length or stranded costs.
Hyperscalers can also curtail usage during peak demand, a policy that has seen bipartisan support in Texas. A now-famous study from Duke University last year found that if data centers were to curtail 1% of their usage during peak hours, they could avoid installing 126 gigawatts of new generation — that’s 21 New York Cities’ worth. Lawmakers have since taken to the idea. Several states are considering mandating so-called “demand response” programs, and Representatives Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez and Kathy Castor inserted a federal study on demand response into the appropriations bill Trump signed in January.
Regardless of how it’s done, ratepayers should not pay full freight for the tidal wave of infrastructure coming online, and most utility balance sheets should not be exposed to that risk. BYOG’s flaws have more to do with what it leaves out — namely that the planning of significant parts of our economy and electric system is left to tech companies, and little thought is given to the long-term ramifications of overbuilding. Rather than deal reactively with the nasty politics of a bailout, policymakers should make muscular interventions now to reduce risks for ratepayers and taxpayers.
Energy markets are not free markets. For the past century they have been heavily regulated at the state, regional, and federal level. Any discomfort with planning (or “statutory tools”) must be set aside if policymakers are going to efficiently manage the growth of data centers.
On Cybertruck deaths, Texas wind waste, and American aluminum
Current conditions: Yet more snow is dusting New York City with at least an inch fallen already, though that’s set to turn into rain later in the morning • Authorities in Saudi Arabia issued a red alert over a major sandstorm blasting broad swaths of the desert nation • Heavy snow blanketed Romania, halting transportation and taking down power lines.

In his State of the Union address Tuesday night, President Donald Trump unveiled what he called the new “ratepayer protection pledge.” Under the effort, the White House will tell “major tech companies that they have the obligation to provide for their own power needs.” By mandating the bring-your-own-generation approach, the Trump administration is endorsing a push that’s been ongoing for months. The North American Electric Reliability Corporation, the U.S. grid watchdog, called for data centers to build their own generators. An industry-backed proposal in the nation’s largest power grid would do something similar. “This is a unique strategy,” Trump said. “We have an old grid that could never handle the [amount] of electricity that’s needed.” With tech companies constructing new power plants, Trump said, towns should welcome data center projects that could end up lowering electricity rates by inviting more power onto the local grid.
The political blowback to data centers is gaining strength. It is, as my colleague Jael Holzman wrote recently, “swallowing American politics.” On the right, Senator Josh Hawley, the populist Republican from Missouri, introduced legislation this month to restrict data center construction. On the left, Senator Bernie Sanders, the democratic socialist from Vermont, reiterated his proposal this week to halt all data center projects. In the center, Pennsylvania Governor Josh Shapiro, a Democrat with unusually strong support among his state’s GOP voters, recently outlined plans for a more “selective” approach to data centers, as I reported in this newsletter.
Trump isn’t the only Republican pushing back against the data center blowback. On Tuesday, Mississippi Governor Tate Reeves delivered an impassioned defense of his state’s data center buildout. “I understand individuals who would rather not have any industrial project in their backyard. We all choose where to live, whether it’s urban, suburban, agrarian, or industrial. I do not understand the impulse to prevent our country from advancing technologically — except as civilizational suicide,” Reeves wrote in a post on X. “I don’t want to go gently. I love this country, and want her to rise. That’s why Mississippi has become the home of the world’s most impressive supercomputers. We are committed to America and American power. We know that being the hub of the world’s most awesome technology will inevitably bring prosperity and authority to our state. There is nobody better than Mississippians to wield it.”
Replying to Sanders’ proposal, Reeves said he’s “tempted to sit back and let other states fritter away the generational chance to build. To laugh at their short-sightedness. But the best path for all of us would be to see America dominate.”
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The subcompact Ford Pinto gained infamy in the 1970s for its tendency to explode when the gas tank ruptured in a crash. The Ford Motor Company sold just under 3.2 million Pintos. By the official death toll, 27 people died as a result of fires from the vehicles exploding. Tesla has sold more than 34,000 Cybertrucks; already, five people have died in fire fatalities.
That, according to a calculation by the automotive blog Fuel Arc, means the Tesla Cybertruck has 14.52 deaths per 100,000 units, compared to the Ford Pinto’s 0.85 deaths. “The Cybertruck is far more dangerous (by volume) than the historic poster child for corporate greed and grossly antagonistic design,” Fuel Arc’s Kay Leadfoot wrote. “I look forward to the Cybertruck being governmentally crash-tested by the NHTSA, which it has not been thus far. Until then, I can’t recommend sitting in one.” That is, however, based on the lower death toll figure for the Pinto. Back in 1977, Mother Jones published a blockbuster cover story under the headline “Pinto Madness” claiming that the number of deaths could be as high as 900.
Texas accused the recycling company Global Fiberglass Solutions of illegally dumping thousands of wind turbine blades near the central town of Sweetgrass. The company allegedly hired several subcontractors to break down, transport and recycle the blades, but failed to properly dispose of the waste and instead created what Windpower Monthly called a “stockpile” of more than 3,000 blades across two sites in the town. Attorney General Ken Paxton, a Republican candidate for U.S. Senate, seized on a Trumpian critique of the energy source, saying the dumps damage “beautiful Texas land and threaten surrounding communities.”
Off the Atlantic Coast, meanwhile, Orsted is at a transitional moment for two of its offshore wind projects. The Danish developer just brought the vessel Wind Scylla to port after completing the installation of turbines at its Revolution Wind project in New England. The boat is headed to New York next to start installing the first wind turbine at Sunrise Wind, according to OffshoreWIND.biz.
Last month, I told you that Century Aluminum inked a deal with Emirates Global Aluminum to build the first smelter in the U.S. in half a century in Oklahoma. On Tuesday, the U.S. Aluminum Company, a local firm in the state, joined the project, signing an agreement to “explore the development of an aluminum fabrication plant near the new smelter.” If completed, the project — already dubbed Oklahoma Primary Aluminum — would roughly double U.S. primary production of the metal.
The Biden administration had placed what Heatmap’s Matthew Zeitlin called “a big bet on aluminum” back in 2024. By spring of last year, our colleague Katie Brigham was chronicling the confusion over how Trump’s tariffs on aluminum would work. With the recent Supreme Court ruling upending Trump’s trade policies, that one may remain a headscratcher for a little while longer.
Another day, another landmark energy investment from Google. This time, the tech giant has made a deal with the long-duration energy storage startup Form Energy to deploy what Katie wrote “would be the largest battery in the world by energy capacity: an iron-air system capable of delivering 300 megawatts of power at once while storage 30 gigawatt-hours of energy, enabling continuous discharge for 100 hours straight.” The project will power a data center in Minnesota. “For all of 2025, I believe the installed capacity [added to the grid] in the entire U.S. was 57 gigawatt-hours. And in one project, we’re going to install 30 gigawatt-hours,” Form CEO Mateo Jaramillo told Katie. “What it highlights is, once you get to the 100-hour duration, you can really stop thinking about energy to some extent. “