Editor’s Note (updated 2025): Originally published in 2016, this piece has been lightly updated to reflect current language around Indigenous fire stewardship and the growing movement to restore cultural burning as a practice of ecological and community care.
Controlled burn in Sequoia National Park. By James Fitzgerald via Unsplash.
I’ve had the pleasure of supporting some important work happening through The Nature Conservancy’s Fire Adapted Communities Learning Network. According to the FAC website, a fire-adapted community “acknowledges and takes responsibility for its wildfire risk, and implements appropriate actions at all levels.” Actions in these fire-threatened communities “address resident safety, homes, neighborhoods, businesses and infrastructure, forests, parks, open spaces and other community assets.” In addition, it is noted that every community is unique in terms of its circumstances and capacities, so that local action may vary from place to place.
While there may be differences from community to community in the FAC network, it is also united by a common belief that there is a need for more of the right kinds of fire that support the regenerative capacity of ecosystems. As I’ve learned from members of these communities, “controlled fires” can be used to help build resilience into forests, feeding and encouraging new growth and diversity.
Indigenous fire stewards have long practiced cultural burns to support the long-term health of the forested landscape, enrich the soil, clear pathways for fauna, and promote biodiversity, all of which contribute to the health of their own communities. However, these cultural fire practices were criminalized through colonization and U.S. fire suppression policy, severing communities from their stewardship traditions. The result of the new management practices was a decline in the health of the forests and a rise in the vulnerability of those living in or near them. As one community leader put it, they are working to “reclaim prescribed fire and give fire back to people.” Today, cultural fire leaders and public agencies are collaborating to restore these Indigenous-led practices at scale – not as an emergency tactic, but as a path toward resilience and ecological justice.
This idea of giving fire back to people metaphorically resonates with the network-building and democratic engagement work we do at IISC. Much of our capacity building focuses on creating processes and structures that are more inclusive, specifically for those who have been historically marginalized, to support more just, healthy, and sustainable communities. And increasingly, we see the need for more distributed, diverse, flow-oriented approaches to social change as both the means and ends of our work. At IISC, we see “regenerative networks” the same way: when power is shared and flow increases, resilience grows.
Energy network sciences suggest that focusing on diversity, flow, and intricate structures in human networks can be a foundation for long-term and equitable prosperity. In many ways, this is about extending the lessons from fire-adapted communities regarding what it means to tend to the holistic health of the forested landscape – the importance of considering and conserving biodiversity, choosing strategic interventions and disturbances that encourage resilience and new growth, and empowering those who know local landscapes the best to act.
The “cool burns” of human networks might be thought of as “disruptions” in the form of learning, truth-telling, resource sharing, power building, and prototyping that allow new possibilities to spring up. The lessons from fire – distributed power, shared stewardship, and regenerative disturbance – may be exactly what our movements need now.
How are you tending the regenerative “fires” of learning, power sharing, and collective care in your networks? What might become possible if we did this together?
For more on “good fire,” listen to this podcast hosted by Amy Cardinal Christianson and Matthew Kristoff, watch this short video, or check out the Indigenous Peoples Burning Network website.
“Words are how we think, stories are how we link.”
– Christina Baldwin
Last week I had the privilege of facilitating a two-day Network Learning Lab for a remarkable group of conservation leaders and network weavers. I co-designed the session with Olivia Millard and Amanda Wrona of The Nature Conservancy (and at the instigation of Lynn Decker of the Fire Adapted Communities Learning Network) to connect and strengthen the capacity of those working at the intersection of ecosystem health and human/community development while building networks at local, state, regional, national and global levels. Our design was informed by input given by the participating network weavers themselves about their core challenges and learning objectives, while leaving room for the unexpected – enough spaciousness for the network magic of emergence to happen.
As with other network leadership institutes that we at IISC have had a hand in designing and facilitating, the experience last week had as its foundation plenty of opportunities for the cohort to authentically connect, to get to know one another on both professional and personal levels. And as with both leadership development sessions and ongoing network development initiatives that we support, we turned to storytelling as a way to create bonds and understanding. This included time for the participants to tell brief stories about their networks, doing so in 5 minute informal bursts sprinkled throughout the two days (which could also have been done as Pecha Kucha or Ignite presentations). The intent was to create a bit more understanding of what might make each network unique in its aspirations, attributes and accomplishments and to whet people’s appetites for further conversation at breaks, meals and into the evening.
“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.”
– Maya Angelou
We also set up a couple of exercises within the first hour of the lab for people to hear more about one another’s paths to the work they currently do, not by ticking off their resumes, but by telling stories about what happened to and moved them to be where they are now. Time and again, when I facilitate this kind of exercise, it shifts the tone of the gathering in the direction of greater openness and trust. And as we touched on in our debrief of those exercises, inviting that kind of storytelling into our work can send a signal about what is validated with respect to forms of knowing, expression and parts of ourselves to bring to the table. Along these lines, we also drew from poetry and other forms of creative expression, including a stanza from a favorite William Stafford piece, “A Ritual to Read to Each Other” which, to me, gets at the heart of network building … Read More
In light of a recent conversation with Jana Carp, an academic who has studied the underlying principles of the “slow movement” and how they connect to sustainability, place-making and livabily, I am revisiting, revising and reposting the piece below. Jana and I were connected by a mutual colleague with the Fire Adapted Communities Learning Network, given our mutual interests in public engagement, community-building and sustainability (inclusive of justice), and had an interesting conversation about slowness and networks.
At one point, the question came up as to whether networks might cut against slowness, especially when the emphasis is on rapid growth, diffusion, and trans-local connections. My thought at the time was that this certainly could be the case, and that is why it is important to think about both the breadth and depth dimensions of networks, as well linking different scaled networks (local, regional, global). The importance of networks for social change can certainly reside in their reach and rapid scaling. Their potential also resides in the nature and quality of connection, how deep the ties that bind are and what they help to create and circulate. And this brought me back to these reflections on how to think about “social velocity” in networks and collaborative work …
My friend Joel Glanzberg is a constant source of provocation and insight. The way he sees the world, through a living systems and pattern-seeking lens, is not only refreshing but unnerving in that it is evident how simultaneously critical and rare his perspective is. Joel is great at helping me and others to see beyond objects and structures to underlying patterns and processes, and how these are what animate living systems. Read More
In light of a recent conversation with