These historical observations are complementary to the work of passing on knowledge of fire to the next generation. Taken together, they reveal a fundamental truth about Australia – it is a land of fire, and Indigenous people are the masters.

The return of parcels of land to Indigenous groups in recent decades means we can restart these ancient fire regimes, through Indigenous rangers and other organisations.

The return of ancient practices

The management of land over deep time by Indigenous groups has meant people and the land effectively co-evolved.

Since 1788, colonisation and Indigenous dispossession have radically altered many parts of Australia. Land was cleared for farms, cities, roads and infrastructure. Rivers were dammed for irrigation.

Grasslands and yam fields were converted to livestock farms or cropping. Forested areas in some areas were cleared and in other areas thickly regrew, replacing the park-like mix of grassland and stands of trees produced by Indigenous land management. Thirsty crops such as cotton were planted, siphoning off huge volumes of water from lakes and rivers.

Even the creation of national parks transformed landscapes, as Western practices of more passive management replaced active Indigenous management.

The suppression of cultural burning brought yet more difficult change to Australia’s plants and animals. Australia now has one of the highest extinction rates of animals in the world. But cultural burning is being applied as a method to help protect vulnerable species, such as the Corroboree Frog.

Over years, Indigenous groups have worked diligently and strategically to rekindle this ancient practice. But they have also reimagined it. It’s time to ask the question: what would it mean to bring back cultural burning at scale?

No longer do Indigenous groups apply fire as a normal and everyday rhythm of life, stopping to light small fires as they walk. It’s now much more deliberate, requiring careful planning, creation of fire breaks and management of fire using trucks and heavy machinery.

Even ignition is done differently. For a ceremony, firesticks will be used, with further lighting done using drip torches. In remote areas, fires are lit from helicopters, making it possible to cover vast areas.

Combining these ancient and contemporary practices creates something fundamentally new. We require innovative discourses to better describe these developments.

New fire season, new hazards

This fire season is likely to be a dangerous one. The seasonal bushfire outlook released by the Australasian Fire and Emergency Council projects the risk of early fires and a higher-than-usual bushfire risk over vast areas of Australia.

Recent rainy La Nina years triggered rapid vegetation growth in many areas, increasing the fuel load. Fire authorities are worried about what a forecast hot, dry, windy summer will mean.

In recent years, Indigenous ranger groups have been undertaking cool burns as much as possible. In arid areas, there are fears of fast-moving grass fires due to the spread of introduced and highly flammable buffel grass.

As danger from climate change intensifies, making volatile and combustible landscapes safer poses challenges both complex – and urgent.

Indigenous groups around Australia have begun the work of rekindling cultural burns, but barriers still remain. Responsibility for fire management in state forests, national parks and on private land has long been split between government authorities and landholders. It’s time this disaster management work by Indigenous groups was recognised and magnified by governments.

To mainstream cultural burning will mean finding ways of sharing the knowledge of when and how to burn, and resourcing Indigenous groups to undertake training and burns. Doing this will not only benefit the land and Indigenous groups, but all Australians.

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Simply Put: Perseverance vs preservation