How Will the Fires Shape California's Future?

Now that the fires are (mostly) put out, or at least the Palisades and Eaton fires are done, I start to think about their impact on the future of California. Brush fires are a fixture of life in Southern California, but these fires, one of the most expensive disasters in American history, are different.

I am muddling through my own feelings of grief and shock. It comes in waves as you hear each story of loss and see the footage of neighborhoods turned to ash. I felt it most clearly at church, when Sunday’s opening prayer included the names of 40 families in the congregation whose homes are gone.

Yet as I think about the future of California, shaped by my years in public policy, I keep wondering how these fires will impact California’s politics.

I see the possibility of political change because of the anger. You can feel people’s collective anger seething beneath the questions being asked. Why did the hydrants lose pressure in the Palisades? Why was the 117-million gallon Santa Ynez Reservoir empty? Is Fire Chief Crowley right that budget cuts hurt the response? Why do state leaders not do more to prevent fires?

These are the questions of a public in shock, reeling from the violation of that most sacred Southern California rights - the safety of one’s home. This is especially true in the Palisades, one of the wealthiest and idyllic neighborhoods in the world. A small-town perched on the bluffs, the chosen destination of people who can live wherever they want. The grief and pain of the wealthy is not more valuable than that of the poor, but the hard truth is that in our political system it carries more weight.

Politicians like Governor Newsom and Mayor Bass understand this. That’s why, from the moment these fires broke out, the race was on to avoid being burned alive in white-hot homeowner outrage. One of the most powerful forces in politics is a group of pissed-off rich people.

These big angry moments matter. For long periods of time, people will tolerate a dysfunctional status quo. They might grumble about high taxes and mismanagement, but they go about their lives and accept how things work. Until they don’t. Like the buildup of dry brush, political discontent accumulates quietly. Then one day, under the right conditions, a spark ignites.

California has seen voter anger drive changes before. Just ask Governor Gray Davis who was recalled in 2003. Why did he get the boot? White-hot anger over the state’s budget and an energy crisis that led to rolling blackouts. Were either his fault? Not really. He didn’t cause the dot-com bubble that tanked state tax revenue. He didn’t deregulate the energy markets that allowed Enron to screw with California’s grid. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t the root cause. Voters were angry, so he was responsible.

Here’s the hard truth about politics they didn’t teach me in grad school. The details matter less than the narrative. The facts around Gray Davis’s policies mattered less than the narrative that he was a weak leader unable to navigate troubled times. It will be the same with these fires. The narrative will matter more than the facts.

The idealist in me wants the facts to matter more. I want the countless news stories, investigations, and press conferences to emerge into a clear, objective set of lessons, but I know that won’t happen. The growing narrative is that the fires were the result of mismanagement by state and local leaders. Do the facts support it? Maybe. Maybe not. But what I do know is that in politics, it doesn’t matter.

Right now, all signs point to Mayor Bass being hung out to dry. Rick Caruso, who lost to Mayor Bass by single digits in 2022 despite a 3-1 Democrat majority, immediately took to local news as the fires started to blame city leadership. Just days later, Governor Newsom, in no doubt concerned about wealthy Palisades donors, launched an investigation into LA’s management of the hydrants and reservoirs before the fire was even contained. The next day, Fire Chief Crowley joined the chorus, directly blaming the city for failing firefighters. As I write this, Mayor Bass is in a shared press conference with President Trump getting told to speed up the process. Blood is in the water.

Students of LA political history know that Caruso sees this as his moment. Consider the parallels to the 1992 Rodney King riots. After a tragedy blamed on failed city leadership, Democratic LA voters elected Republican businessman Richard Riordan based on his promises to rebuild the city. He knows it could happen again.

History rarely repeats so clearly, but why not? The narrative is there. Bass was in Ghana when the fires started despite promising to not travel abroad once she became mayor. Meanwhile, Caruso’s Palisades shopping center was symbolically one of the only buildings left standing amid the devastation. I can already see the campaign commercials.

Again, the details matter less than the narrative. Would Bass’s physical presence have mattered in those early days? Probably not. Didn’t Caruso’s mall survive because he spent some of his billions on personal firefighters? Yes. But a compelling narrative is there. A distracted mayor was asleep at the helm while the builder, fighting for his property, watched it all burn.

Let’s zoom out beyond LA and think about all of California. Could the fires shift state politics? It’s more of a stretch, but it’s possible.

People are already asking questions placing blame on the state. Why didn’t Newsom do more? Why don’t we do controlled burns or more brush clearings? Or as Trump put it, is radical environmentalism blocking water to Southern California?

Politically speaking, here’s the answer - the details don’t matter as much as the narrative.

What matters is that mismanaged fires fit into a bigger narrative that California’s leaders are squandering the state’s rich inheritance.

This narrative makes California ripe for a political revolution.

Don’t believe me?

60% of voters believe California is heading in the wrong direction, and less than half approve of our state’s leaders.

We have an economy larger than France, yet we have the nation’s highest poverty rate.

We bring in over $200 billion in tax revenue, yet we have the nation’s largest homeless population.

Our high-speed rail was promised to open 4 years ago, yet the project has quadrupled in price and not yet carried a single passenger.

The crushing rents, the unaffordable homes, these are all accumulated frustrations that could catch fire under the right conditions. It just takes a spark.

I don’t pretend to know the future. A year from now, LA and California might return to politics as usual. But there’s a chance, always a chance, that the anger from these fires keeps growing, fueled by years of built-up resentment. We’ll see.