Today, Robert Siegel interviewed me on All Things Considered about 19th Century fire protection, prompted by the fact that a fire company in Tennessee watched a house burn rather than extinguish a fire because the family that owned it had not paid for their subscription fire service. Salon offers a primer on the story, but it has been widely covered in the media.

I was asked because my first book explored the boundaries of urban fire protection from the 19th century through the middle of the twentieth century. Titled Eating Smoke: Fire in Urban America, 1800-1950, the project explored the work of firefighters and fire insurers in confronting the risk of fire in America’s changing cities.

I noted on the program something about the structure of 19th century fire protection, as much as you can in just a few moments. I also ventured the opinion that it would be hard to find 19th or 18th century precedents for what happened in Tennessee, although you could find an odd incident in the United States where property was allowed to burn or left unprotected by fire companies (and certainly by fire insurers.) However, the reason a fire company might be involved in letting property burn (or even starting a fire) would have reflected social or political conflict, rather than not being paid enough.  In Britain where subscription fire companies, insurers, and communities had a more formal relation in the 18th and 19th century, this sort of thing might have some precedent (hard to say without delving into the literature research once again, which I am not willing to do at this point) but it is unlikely.  There are a number of reasons why a sense of public obligation would have governed firefighting in 19th century America that have everything to do with historic context.

First, as cities emerged on the landscape in the 19th century, the problem emerged as the single most critical environmental threat. If a single house burned it could easily spread and turn into a conflagration, especially given the relatively rudimentary tools used by firefighters and the exceptionally flammable quality of 19th century life. Simply put, it was too dangerous not to put out a fire.

Second, firefighters and fire companies emerged as specialized workers, taking the communal work of bucket brigades and narrowing those obligations into a few hands. They financed their work through donations, from fire companies, neighbors, dues, and businesses. They were not above veiled extortion in collecting these fees. But, their work, their cities, their social standing, their identities, and their culture depended on performance of that public service. They did this effectively, but not without controversy. Firefighters fought one another; they refused to allow african americans to be firefighters; they sometimes were shoddy in performing their obligations. Firefighters created identities that stressed a vision of manhood that was based in their service, as well as in their strength and technical competence. They advocated for improving the methods of fire protection, something that they also debated. Also, they sometimes set fires; during brief periods of urban unrest, they rioted.  They also cloaked themselves in the iconography of the republic, offering competing social and political visions in their choice of symbols. Surely, they were a divisive bunch. But, that said, firefighters frequently sought to restore order and usually stood at the forefront of the social and political realm.

Third, fire insurance companies used firemarks early on as advertising, to deter arson, and as a way of encouraging fire companies. But the firemark was not a subscription service.  If you did not have one, fire companies would still fight the blaze, for example. I believe this was true in Britain as well, where fire insurance companies had a much tighter relation to firefighting companies–usually because they underwrote policies in tightly contiguous spaces. Fire insurers, like firefighters, would have advocated for more efficiency in fire protection and may have chafed at the subscriptions (early in the 19th century and later on they outright opposed giving such subscriptions.)  But, nobody would have advocated allowing property to burn, even if it was the property of folks who had  not paid into the fire protection system–through subscribing to a fire company or a fire insurance policy. Later in the century, this attitude among insurers would change as the ethos of industrialism shaped society more critically, but not in this early period. (And, interestingly, as this change took place, as fire insurers became less concerned about fire protection, firefighters became even more concerned about keeping blazes from happening.)

Before the Civil War communities and individuals would have understood, and been reminded of their obligations to take part in the system of fire protection–as firefighters, purchasers of insurance, or subscribers. That is not to say that people would have believed it their moral obligation to engage this system, because indeed they did not. And, in fact, public spirit vis-a-vis fire protection (as well as interest) actually declined during the nineteenth century. In no small part, this occurred because of the increasing specialization of function in society, including the specialization of firefighting, as well as the rise of industrial work values and approaches to economic exchange.

Given this historical context, it is hard to find any precedent for letting property burn. However, that said, the context has changed in at least some structurally important ways. Urban and rural contexts are far different, and the construction and organization of the built environment has changed dramatically over time. For example, houses are now built on separate lots, and following fire codes, minimizing the danger of fire significantly; in fact, new dangers have emerged, related to chemicals but the danger of a sweeping fire (or conflagration) have diminished. In this context, individuals fires–at least in certain environmental contexts–pose less danger than they once might have.

Also, other things have changed contextually, related to the provision of fire protection. Among many factors, these contextual changes include the nature of the work, its meaning relative to the broader society, the challenges facing firefighters in different contexts, and, of course, the values of our society itself.  Notably, the risks of fire–both physically and economically–have changed and historical approaches may or may not be appropriate to confronting this new regimen.  In other words, we live in a different risk environment, and it might be appropriate to reconsider the provision of fire protection.  That said, I don’t understand how anyone interested in providing such a critical service could watch as a house burned; and, similarly, I think that individuals have responsibilities to support and engage critical community services–something that the $75 subscription fee did. Even so, does that mean that you watch as someone’s house burns? Surely, our obligations to one another transcend mere cash exchange?

But, I digress. I hope that my interview provided a better sense of historical context for this event, and that we avoid the illusion that the past can be used as a perfect guide for the present. Indeed, this is precisely what makes history so interesting and why I am a historian.  Namely in exploring the historical context of events, we learn about ourselves and how society has changed, even if we don’t find precise guidance on how to behave in the present.