As firefighters slowly begin to contain the blaze that has devastated many of the hills and valleys around Los Angeles, discussions about recovery are already underway.

For those whose beloved homes are now reduced to leaning chimneys and ash, hear the commitment of our president, governors, mayors and others in power to provide support and support for the survivors of this heartbreaking tragedy. Simplifying the help may be comforting. Of course, no message is more important than hope and unity.

But as a journalist who has lingered in the wake of more than one fire, I feel compelled to offer a warning: What happens next is not easy and, worse, often unfair.

This is a warning meant not to rub salt in the wound, but because I see this so often, my hope for Los Angeles is that we can do better. But a better approach must start with a harsh truth that many people are unwilling to accept: Perhaps in our lifetimes, fire will strike these same places again.

This means we cannot just rebuild what was lost, otherwise we are setting the stage for a repeat of tragedy.

“Anyone who thinks this won’t happen again is kidding themselves,” Jeffrey Schlegelmilch told me. He is the director of the National Disaster Preparedness Center for Climate Schools in Colombia. Like almost every climate scientist I spoke to, he doesn't want to be a downer.

But the facts are the facts — the Palisades, Altadena, and other areas where fires occurred (to a lesser extent) are all high-risk fire zones. Although there's not much left to burn now, within a few years the landscape will likely become dangerous again. This is true with or without climate change.

But as my colleague Ian James writes, Earth's warming is causing dramatic changes in weather, making winds stronger, turning fires into fires and rain into atmospheric rivers, leaving us A drought was not considered possible, although we did experience one of the driest periods in California history.

That means the frequency and intensity of disasters will also increase, said Texas Tech University climate scientist Katharine Hayhoe, who helped California conduct its first climate risk assessment more than 20 years ago. The situation is likened to baseball players on steroids - bigger, meaner, better at what they do.

“We have to prepare for what’s coming in the future,” she told me, sounding obvious. But also, how?

What does this mean when it comes to responsibly rebuilding—both for people and for the future—in places that face ongoing dangers at the wildland-urban interface? Scientists like to call these coveted communities where only a few hundred hiking trails are available. How many yards from the front door?

Most unfortunately, this means survivors will be asked to make more sacrifices: more money to build fireproof homes; more time to rebuild as they overcome these obstacles; more time to rebuild as they figure out what's possible , they will be under greater pressure when something is impossible.

Of course, governments have a huge responsibility to ease these burdens and set rules that are both responsible and reasonable, even if politically unpopular. They've always been like this.

But the reality is that with more than 10,000 buildings gone, replacing even a fraction of them will be a burden on our government to keep up, let alone do better. People will be angry at FEMA, zoning, new building codes and permits waiting—sometimes justifiably, sometimes angry about the changes that must happen if we are serious about preventing future disasters.

Still, there are some real systemic issues that need to be examined and governments held accountable before we start rebuilding homes in dangerous areas.

For example, Department of Climate and Energy Director Michael Wara said the Palisades' small lots and narrow streets — which make it difficult for people to get out and for firefighters to get in — were never meant to be Designed for the mini-mansion that populates it. Stanford University Policy Project.

He noted that the fences were "layed out in a way to maximize the value of the lots because of their beautiful views" but this inadvertently created a "huge fire risk".

Many of those streets are perfectly aligned with Santa Ana winds, which means embers leak down the streets during fires and "you have a domino effect of falling" houses, he said.

All of these are factors that are difficult to change. But those risks need to be identified or mitigated before people are put back into danger — because many people who live in the Palisades have no idea they live in a place that has seen fires in the past and will almost certainly see another .

But these inspections will take time, and more importantly, they argue that all property owners will expect themselves to be subject to the new restrictions and acknowledge that even with them, some dangers will still exist.

So maybe the bougainvillea can no longer climb the side walls. Maybe a wooden fence isn't such a good idea. Maybe the charm of an Arts and Crafts bungalow doesn't require flammable cedar shingles. These are substantive issues that we should discuss up front because they do have consequences.

"You can defend communities and make them resilient to fires like this, but it takes will and more importantly political consensus to convince them that this is the right thing to do," Vara said.

This is the part where we discuss inequality. Because doing the right thing collectively may not work alone.

The Palisade family was obviously wealthy. But even within the scope of their wealth, there are classes. There are many people in the area who don't have to worry about rebuilding costs or even losing another home to a fire in the future. They can afford it.

Those glamorous streets are also home to many families who have lived there for decades or even generations. Their home may be paid off or close to being paid off, and their life savings are invested in that land. Many people living in Altadena and other affected areas are simply working and paying off their mortgages in Los Angeles — a neighborhood that attracts black and Latino families because of its affordability.

I won’t delve into insurance, but even with it, it’s unlikely to cover everything for these average people – especially with cutthroat competition for resources like contractors and architects about to begin, leading to even higher costs. Let’s not even get started on the tariffs and deportations our incoming president has promised, both of which will further complicate reconstruction.

Although the insurance commissioner is temporarily suspending cancellations of home insurance in these areas, when the moratorium is lifted, premiums will go up — perhaps a lot.

At what point does an average person, even an above average but not extremely wealthy person, simply cannot afford to rebuild or risk?

The question has plagued much of California for years, but now it's sweeping Los Angeles with an unrelenting force, and with a twist: Whether the Palisade will become richer, only those with the power to see Can anyone build in this place until all this is burned down?

Karen Chapple told me that in fires, and not just here, “it’s almost impossible to rebuild a place in a way that is inclusive of all current residents and sustainable in the face of future climate change.” She is a professor emeritus of urban and regional planning at the University of California, Berkeley, where she studies the consequences of fires.

Columbia University professor Schlegel Milch also sees this. He said the recovery process often became "unbalanced" and those who needed help the most had the hardest time getting it.

"You're going to have very wealthy people who are going to have access to resources ... and they're going to have accountants and lawyers to help them," he said. "And then there are people who are just scraping by, not getting paid if they don't go to work ... trying to manage 15 different things."

This has a trickle-down economic effect even for those who are not displaced. Thousands of yards of gardeners disappeared too. Cleaning ladies, cooks, and even nannies are now out of work but still have to pay rent. How do we incorporate them into recovery?

Survivors can only camp out in hotels and on couches for so long. The coming housing crunch is likely to lead to lower living standards for everyone, as the most desirable homes are occupied by those with independent wealth or insurance checks.

That's probably the most critical part of our recovery, figuring out how to make it more equitable. Figure out all the different people who need to recover in some way and figure out how to live in a place that's least risky for the most vulnerable people.

It's easy to see how this could all be a serious test. It was a heavy personal strain and a trigger for political unrest and infighting as we struggled to stabilize and move forward.

But we must recover in a way that allows us to coexist with fire and with each other. Therefore, the most difficult part of recovery is having the right mindset and intention.