Athens, morning, July 2024, at the Aesthetic Forest of Hymettus’*. In the shade of the giant plane tree beside the Monastery of Kaisariani. It’s early, but the heat is already quite intense. The atmosphere is tranquil. I hear the distant sound of a rake. A jay darts past while I observe two marginated tortoises feeding nearby. Surrounding me are judas trees, cypress trees, lime trees, oaks, and pines. It’s idyllic! Yet, not exactly “natural.” Nearly everything around me has been planted by human hands.
A few steps further, I reach the Taxiarches hill, known as the “Balcony of Athens” (if you’ve been here, you’ll know why). From this vantage point, the forest and the city appear to be separated by a stretch of distance that momentarily makes them seem “invulnerable.” But that’s an illusion. We are deep into fire season. Fires have already destroyed trees and homes. A person has died from a heart attack in Stamata. The emergency number 112 has issued more alerts than we hoped for. Everything I see before me is at risk.
Is this an exaggeration? Unfortunately, no. The areas we’re walking through, whether it’s Vasilissis Sofias Avenue or the botanical trail in the Aesthetic Forest, are part of the same vast, interconnected system.
We are living in a self-destructive novella titled “The Preheat,” where we are methodically setting up the dreadful trap we are destined to fall into.
Burned trees, charred animals, floods, people in danger, destroyed homes, heatwaves, air conditioning running at full blast, and around us, comments like, “This year, the situation is unbearable,” and “Climate change is here” (as if scientists haven’t been warning us for years).
We are living in a self-destructive novella titled “The Preheat,” where we are methodically setting up the dreadful trap we are destined to fall into. Risking sounding simplistic and clichéd, we must remind ourselves that even if something is not immediately visible or doesn’t seem to affect us directly, it doesn’t mean it isn’t there.
Why the anxiety? Why are forests burning? Are humans to blame? Is it the fault of the careless or the unscrupulous? Or perhaps the aging cables and certain types of trees?
The “Fire Season” officially began on May 1st and will run until October 31st. For those involved with forests and terrestrial ecosystems, this period dictates their daily routines and mood, as they depend on the daily fire risk updates from the Ministry of Climate Crisis and Civil Protection’s website.
Why the anxiety? Why are forests burning? Are humans to blame? Is it the fault of the careless or the unscrupulous? Or perhaps the aging cables and certain types of trees? All these factors, among others, contribute to the problem with varying degrees of responsibility. To protect ourselves, we must recognize every potential cause of fire, whether deliberate or accidental.
Fire rarely forgives, and even less so those who are unprepared.
Even though the fight can sometimes seem daunting, we must prepare collectively and strive for the best. We need to use the ashes, knowledge, and mistakes of the past to strengthen our defenses for the present and future. Only by acknowledging risks, understanding the specifics of ecosystems, practicing effective management, and having a solid action plan can we hope to combat this threat effectively. Fire rarely forgives, and even less so those who are unprepared.
In public discussions about fire protection and reforestation, we sometimes hear that fires are caused by the fuel itself, often blaming “flammable” pine forests. But how can we demonize a native tree that has existed long before us?
These pine forests have evolved to regenerate after natural fires, which are an expected part of their lifecycle.
First, it’s important to recognize that not all pines are the same. Greece is home to seven species. The two most common in lower elevations are the Brutia pine and the Aleppo pine, both classified as “fire-adapted” or “fire-resistant.” These pine forests have evolved to regenerate after natural fires, which are an expected part of their lifecycle. However, the time between fires is crucial. New plants must reach reproductive age before the subsequent fire for the forests to regenerate. If they don’t, there won’t be seeds to produce new growth. This is where human-caused fires disrupt the natural cycle of these forests. When a forest is repeatedly burned, it can no longer regenerate, as seen in areas like Mount Penteli.
Eliminating pines from their natural habitats is not a viable solution.
It is evident that many reforestation projects have been poorly executed, lacking proper planning, implementation, and scientific backing. However, eliminating pines from their natural habitats (such as in Attica and similar elevations) is not a viable solution.
The solution lies in carrying out reforestation only when truly needed, guided by thorough planning and scientific evidence. Additionally, it is essential to acknowledge the risks involved in order to develop a comprehensive and effective prevention and protection strategy for the new forest.
*The Aesthetic Forest of Hymettus represents a vision for a better future. After World War II, the Philodassiki Society of Athens—whose directorship I took on last March—planted this entire forest on a war-ravaged Hymettus. This endeavor was guided by the vision of its former presidents, Kaity Argyropoulo and Vasileios Melas. Now around 80 years old, this forest serves as a beacon of hope, demonstrating that with vision, dedication, and collaboration, we can always restore to nature the space it rightfully deserves.
Fyi: Panos Kafousias is a geologist and paleontologist currently serving as the director of the Philodassiki Union of Athens
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