Maui is Burning

Wildfires and racial justice

Maui is burning. Wildfires are everywhere, made worse by strong winds from Hurricane Dora. Some residents have fled into the ocean, waiting for the Coast Guard to rescue them. The fires have caused severe and widespread damage. A unique 150-year-old tree, believed to be the largest of its kind in the U.S., has been left scorched. The Baldwin Home Museum, considered the oldest standing house on Maui, is wrecked. Flames have engulfed the hall of Waiola Church, which is Maui’s first Christian Church and celebrated its 200th anniversary recently. A 90-year-old temple belonging to the Hongwanji Shin Buddhist community faces severe damage.

Lahaina, the one-time capitol of the Hawaiian kingdom, has over 271 buildings damaged or destroyed. At least 36 people have died. The airport is packed with stranded travelers, and the Hawaii Convention Center is getting ready to help those who have lost their homes. We don’t know how the fires started, and the level of loss of life and property is still being assessed.

Prompted by the devastating news from Maui, and not having thought much about wildfires before (which I recognize is a privilege I enjoy), I decided to look into them today. I was not prepared for how relevant this investigation would turn out to be. Maui’s current catastrophe not only illustrates nature’s wrath but also shines a light on deeper, systemic inequalities embedded within our society.

Natural Disasters and Environmental Justice

The dual challenges of protecting our planet and ensuring fairness often converge. Environmental crises frequently spotlight ingrained societal imbalances-revealing which groups wield power and which bear the brunt. Delving into environmental issues unveils not only ecological distress but also tales of communities suffering unequal impacts.

If you are new to the the idea of environmental justice, consider the Flint, Michigan water crisis, which revealed how socio-economic disparities and racial discrimination can converge with environmental neglect, leaving an entire community exposed to toxic levels of lead. Another example is air pollution. Studies have repeatedly shown that economically disadvantaged neighborhoods, frequently with significant minority populations, are disproportionately located near polluters. This proximity results in elevated health risks for these residents.

Wildfires and Racial Disparity

What do wildfires have to do with disparate racial impact? Sadly, a lot.

1. Prevention and Preparedness: Historically, resources for fire prevention and response haven’t been fairly allocated. Economically challenged communities, often communities of color, grapple with outdated infrastructure and inadequate emergency resources.
2. Air Quality: Wildfires degrade air quality. While purifiers or masks are available, not all can afford them. Marginalized communities, already confronting compromised air, face amplified risks during wildfires.
3. Housing Post-Fire: After a wildfire, housing becomes a paramount concern. Wealthier individuals might relocate or rebuild, while marginalized populations confront displacement with limited support.
4. Labor Issues: In places like California, a significant portion of the firefighting workforce consists of incarcerated individuals. Paid meager wages for perilous tasks, the racial disparities in the prison system make this a poignant racial justice concern.

Wildfires cause personal tragedy and environmental catastrophe. Moreover, they serve as a litmus test, revealing the cracks in our societal structures, the imbalances that persist, and the urgent need to integrate justice into our environmental solutions.

Wildfires and Data

With increasing concerns about wildfires and their potential inequities, it’s essential to understand the racial demographics of those at risk. While the government’s Wildfire Risk to Communities data can give us insights about risk, given the current situation in Maui, I’m more focused on understanding who has been directly impacted by past wildfires.

While it would be ideal to answer this question in its entirety, let’s remember — this is a Substack, not a research journal! Thus, I’ve simplified our investigation to ask: who resides near places where wildfires have historically occurred?

To delve into this, I’ve turned to the U.S. Forest Service’s comprehensive database, which meticulously tracks wildfire occurrences from 1992 through 2020. To focus on the recent past, I’ve zeroed in on the decade spanning 2011–2020. Additionally, to get an accurate representation of the racial/ethnic demographics potentially impacted, I’ve utilized the American Community Survey — a rich dataset from the U.S. Census Bureau that offers demographic insights at a highly detailed geographic level.

Each wildfire in this data is tagged to a specific U.S. county. I identified 23,009 unique combinations of county and year for which there were wildfires (after eliminating a few that had questionable geographic data). To grasp the potential demographic impact, I pulled the corresponding racial/ethnic breakdown from the American Community Survey for each county. While this approach is admittedly a simplification (wildfires don’t typically adhere to county boundaries!), it provides a foundational understanding of the communities that may have been affected.

While I’ve gathered and processed data for each year from 2011 to 2020, the findings are consistent across the years. Therefore, I’ll be presenting an average representation over this decade to provide a clearer overview.

It’s worth noting that the data’s racial and ethnic categorizations come from the Census, which has its limitations in reflecting the rich tapestry of racial and ethnic identities. In Census terminology, the categories available are American Indian/Alaska Native, Asian, Black, Native Hawaiian/Pacific Islander, White, Other, and Two or More Races (all non-Hispanic), plus Hispanic (encompassing any race). For ease of reference and a more contemporary understanding, I’ll use the following terms: Indigenous, Asian, Black, Native Hawaiian/Pacific Islander, White, another group (referring to categories not previously listed), multi (signifying two or more races-a category that arguably oversimplifies complex racial identities), and Hispanic.

Who is Harmed

Denominators play a pivotal role here. First, let’s ask, “Among all individuals residing in counties impacted by wildfires, what is the demographic breakdown?”

The majority of people near wildfires are white, followed by Hispanic, Black, Asian, and other groups. Given that white individuals make up roughly 59% of the US population, this distribution isn’t surprising.

However, this is where the concept of minoritization comes into play. We shouldn’t fixate solely on the majority group. If we do, minoritized populations become further marginalized. This cycle perpetuates itself. So, let’s reframe the question: “For each demographic group, what is the per capita rate of proximity to a wildfire?” We calculate this rate by dividing the number of individuals from each group near wildfires by that group’s overall population. The results are enlightening.

Notably, the Native Hawaiian/Pacific Islander group shows the highest rate. While I haven’t determined its statistical significanc e (one way that statisticians think about how meaningful a result is) the unfortunate prominence of this group is particularly poignant given the current situation in Maui.

The data offers a wealth of insights. So far, I’ve consolidated data across a decade and included all relevant counties. Mapping this data would provide a clearer geographical perspective on the wildfire impact.

In Conclusion

The devastation in Maui, from landmarks ablaze to loss of life, is a stark reminder of nature’s increasing, human-induced fury and the need for preparedness. But it’s also a glimpse into a deeper story of systemic disparities and the communities most affected by them. Data-driven explorations can help us see patterns of racial impact, and therefore, they show how data can matter in the fight for environmental justice. When armed with data, we can better understand, advocate, and strategize for a world that is both environmentally resilient and equitable.

Your neighbor,

Chad