Thoughts from
San Diego on Law, Politics, and Culture

 
Meanwhile Back at the Ranch
By Gail Heriot

I've been trying to ready my house in case of fire for the past two days, clearing debris from my Spanish tile roof, clipping bushes and planning what to do if I am ordered to evacuate. It's somewhat disconcerting work, especially when I take the time to watch the ashes raining down into my yard. What used to be a picturesque canyon view along the back of my modest freehold has begun to look a little menacing in the smokey glow that is enveloping much of Southern California.

I feel useful when I'm clearing brush and debris (even though I have no particular talent for the work). I know that there isn't a lot that I can do to alter the odds in the immediate run, but like most games, this one is played at the margin. I do the best I can, given the cirumstances, to protect my property and the property of my neighbors. If that's only a little bit, that's okay; the stakes are certainly high enough to justify the effort. Those who moan that they want to be able to shift the odds more decisively in their favor frequently wind up doing nothing. When they repeatedly fail to do the little things that move the odds just a little bit, they usually end up worse off in the end. Little improvements are the stuff that real life is made of.

Here's what's bothering me. On television, civic leaders and media talking heads seem to agree that the fire storm is something that must be taken care of by professionals. Either you are a firefighter (or policeman, doctor, nurse, or relief worker) or you are a victim. There are no other categories. Professionals are praised for their heroism (both when they have earned it and when they have not). Victims, on the other hand, are praised for their docility--that is their willingness to evacuate their homes when ordered to do so and to place their trust entirely in the hands of professionals without complaining.

It would be nice to be able to rely on the professionals completely. But nothing is more obvious than the fact that our firefighters are stretched too thinly to control the 50-mile fire fronts that currently snake across San Diego County. To place one's trust entirely in their hands is foolish; despite their spirit and dedication, there just aren't enough of them. Last night, for example, television crews showed home after home aflame without a firefighter in sight. I am not at all certain that I will leave my house immediately in the unlikely event that I am commanded to leave. What if that order comes in too soon? Should I be required to abandon everything I own, taking only my purse and car keys, no matter how far away the fire is and no matter how much I might to able to accomplish by staying a while longer? What motivation do the authorities have to avoid ordering an evacuation prematurely?

California wildfires are just like the rest of real life. If you want to make sure that your interests are being attended to, it's best to attend to them yourself. That doesn't mean that a man ought to stand there like an imbecile defending his house from a 50-foot high wall of fire with a garden hose. But it does mean that he must occasionally employ his own judgment in determining whether or when to fight a little longer or turn and run. There's something to be said for the feisty homeowner (even the one with the garden hose) who refuses to abandon his home to be defended by the non-existent firefighter. He's like the law-abiding citizen who insists on the right to carry a gun to defend herself against street thugs or like the concerned parents who insist on home-schooling their children rather than to submit meekly to substandard public schools. I can't help feeling that we all benefit as a result of some of these feisty souls.

One of my favorite movies is the Seven Samarai. In it, seven samarai come to the rescue of a small Japanese village that is under attack by brigands. Good triumphs over evil; I can't help but love it. Still it has one fault. The villagers are not portrayed as idiots; they take some responsibility for recruiting the samarai to protect them and they cooperate with the samarai to help drive off the bad guys. But in general, theirs is a passive role; it is the samarai who save the day, just as it is the firefighters and policemen who are being set up as our sole protection this week. I prefer my peasants a bit more self-reliant.

The Seven Samarai was re-made into an American Western--the Magnificent Seven--starring Yul Brynner with excellent support by James Coburn, Charles Bronson and Robert Vaughan (in a wonderful role as a Southern dandy gunslinger who loses his nerve and then, briefly, gets it back again). But it was obvious from the beginning that this sort of story just didn't fit in well with the average American's concept of the American West. American farmers might benefit from leadership from some professional, but in popular memory they were full participants in their own protection, not passive peasants. So the Magnificant Seven was set in Mexico rather than in the United States. Evidently, Hollywood thought that American moviegoers would be more willing to tolerate the notion that a Mexican village would need seven deliverers. American frontiersmen were expected to be feisty.

Is California still home to self-reliant homeowners prepared to stand their ground sometimes even when the authorities tell them not to? I hope so. But you couldn't prove it by the television coverage of the last two days. Television's homeowners seem to be a dependent lot.
posted by Gail at 10/27/2003 06:31:00 PM