Like with any profession, there are different generations within the fire rescue service. In the sixties and seventies, you had the Emergency Medical Services (EMS) generation—the very first EMTs and paramedics, many of whom delivered service from the tailboard of a fire engine. In the eighties, there was the Hazardous Materials (Haz Mat) generation, who developed tools, techniques and protective clothing for dealing with a world that had become dangerously complacent about modern chemicals in their lives. The firefighters of the nineties were the technical rescue guys, and proved their worth in places named Northridge, Oklahoma City, and Manhattan. I would argue that the 1990s were also the first time that firefighters collectively stopped and made what is now (for us) a clichéd observation: “Hey, they keep giving us a bunch of new, strange stuff to do!” Then everybody shrugged their shoulders and went back to work. There are very few fire rescue services extant where the mission is just putting out fires. In various configurations, the 21st century firefighter fights fires—albeit more rarely than ever—delivers medical care, contains the release of haz mats, and performs rescues in almost unimaginable situations. The firefighters of the 2010s are also a part of the Emergency Management generation, but unlike their predecessors they seem particularly unwilling to embrace this latest addition to their duties. In a nutshell, emergency management has existed for decades under different names. Basically, it is the concept that the public safety, public works, utility and political bodies in a given area (a town, county, region, etc.) recognize the different types of risks faced by their community, agree to work together to either prevent the risk or deal with the effects of an emergency, and develop plans on how exactly they will prevent and respond to different risks. More problematically, it also means that these groups will find a way to communicate using the same terms and structures, and that a given group will be a “team player” during an incident even if a representative of that group isn’t in command of the situation. During World War II and shortly after it was called Civil Defense. In the sixties and seventies this coordinating and facilitating service might have been done by an Emergency Services and Disaster Agency (ESDA). In subsequent decades and especially after the creation of the Federal Emergency Management Agency, the modern emergency management profession was born. The point of this history lesson is that really, emergency management is not some new, strange looking baby that’s been left on the doorstep of the fire rescue services. Its intent and practice is also not at all outside of the fire rescue service’s scope of responsibility. So why the resistance? Why do you hear of fire officers scoffing that the National Incident Management System (NIMS) stands for “Not In My Station?” Why are there still reports of police officers and firefighters involved in confrontations over vehicle placement(!) at motor vehicle collisions? Why are public works and utility workers greeted with “Took you long enough” when a fire rescue company has been “babysitting” a downed power line after a strong storm? If we’re all working toward the same goal why can’t we all get along? I suggest that the problems come from 1) the fire rescue services’ issues with trust and control, and 2) substantial work in the theory and framework of emergency management, but little work in coming together as a group of organizations and practicing emergency management. To elaborate:
1) Trust and control: Veteran fire rescue professionals will understand this problem if they consider how long it took their organizations to come around to the idea of mutual aid and its more useful offspring, automatic aid. For the uninitiated: mutual aid is an agreement between two fire rescue services that Town A will send help if Town B is faced with a large fire or other situation which taxes the resources of its fire rescue service. Automatic aid is the automatic dispatch of resources from Town A to Town B for certain, pre-agreed upon emergencies, usually with some type of reciprocity in place. The catch is (or was, hopefully, in most of the country) that Town B’s fire chief remained in charge of all resources working to control the emergency—including firefighters, etc. from Town A. As mutual and automatic aid systems have evolved, individual fire and rescue services have had to overcome an amount of distrust in each other. Eventually the point of view has emerged that all fire rescues services regardless of jurisdiction comprise a team trying to meet the same objectives. However, this has taken place over the last fifteen to twenty years. Think of how much more distrust (and fear, to be perfectly honest) there must be when a fire rescue service contemplates working an incident with “outsiders” from public works, or an out-of-state specialized response team, or, God forbid, that a police official be the incident commander where firefighters are working. Most industry professionals consider 2001 as the unofficial birth of modern emergency management with the creation of the Department of Homeland Security, the eventual promulgation of NIMS, and the final recognition of terrorism, pandemics, and natural disasters as local or regional events with possible national effects. That’s only eleven years…and the old saw that firefighting is “Three hundred years of tradition unimpeded by progress” is not an unfounded charge. We couldn’t get along with each other until relatively recently, and still get antsy when we’re operating under the command of some other guy’s chief. How much greater that distrust must be when we’re forced together with other people who—gasp!—don’t ride on big red trucks. Working together and developing familiarity with each other will help a lot with this problem, but my point is that, simply, it’s also going to take a lot of time. Which leads us to…
2) Problems in the practice of emergency management: “Wait a minute,” I hear you saying. “Our chiefs just went to a tabletop exercise. Our county’s Emergency Operations Plan (EOP) is six inches thick!” Well and good, but how much of that trickles down to the folks in the field? Take a common enough, everyday situation in which several agencies come together to deal with an emergency—a gas leak. Naturally the fire rescue service will have developed its own SOGs for responding to this sort of incident, but do your local police (i.e. the folks on the beat) know how the fire rescue people prefer to isolate the affected area? Do they know how to coordinate with the battalion chief? Do they even have any idea who might be in charge when they see a bunch of different colored helmets running around? Does the battalion chief know how to contact the shift supervisor for public works, and have they discussed the need for barricades, sand barriers, and heavy equipment before? Have the guy driving the dump truck and the new lieutenant on the engine met before, or received any guidance on the roles and responsibilities of the other during an incident? Should you call the mobile command post, and when? Who will occupy the command post? Who’s in command? Now some lately-evacuated residents are reporting headaches and nausea from being downwind of the leak, so you need to establish an EMS group in your Operations branch (you’ve remembered to implement NIMS, right?). Where do they set up and what are their responsibilities as the incident extends? This is not a particularly complicated or unusual scenario, but you can see how the different organizations come together and how many different, connected decisions need to be made. Maybe these are things that ought to be practiced—not just talked about—by the people who will actually be “doing it,” and not decided in an ad hoc meeting outside the hot zone while more of your citizens fall ill and their homes fill with combustible gas. This is what is meant by the practice of emergency management; the boots-on-the-ground folks do what they would do during an emergency. They meet each other, get to know each other, and get used to the idea of maybe, briefly, working for another organization’s boss. Interoperability, which is the fancy, industry jargon name for different organizations seamlessly working together like this, becomes a practiced skill for firefighters and others, just like raising a ladder or laying down fire hose. Tabletop exercises and doorstop-sized EOPs are still needed, but they’re essentially just someone’s theory until the included groups act on them—together. For what it’s worth, the scenario I’ve just described could be thoroughly drilled within two to three hours. You can’t find a handful of hours in the course of a work year to perform emergency management exercises quarterly or biannually? I don’t buy it. If emergency management is a core value of your fire rescue service—the same way firefighting is, or EMS, or Haz Mat, or technical rescue—then treat it that way. Bring it into your firefighter training. Talk about it during your kitchen table coffee break meetings. Invite the utility guys or the mass casualty folks from the hospital over to talk about what they’re going to do when the Big One happens, and how they do it. Firefighters are creatures who are highly observant of others’ behavior; when they see the brass and their company commanders demonstrating an internalization of this core value, they’ll follow…and your operations will improve.