A city devastated; Neighbors come to his aid; The hunt for a scapegoat: Although the lives of Angelenos enduring wildfires today are vastly different than those of those who survived the Halifax explosion more than a century ago, the stories of the two disasters rhyme at times.
On the morning of December 6, 1917, an accidental collision between two ships in Halifax Harbor sparked an uncontrollable fire. One of the ships was a Belgian auxiliary ship; the other was the SS Mont-Blanc, a French ammunition ship packed with explosives such as TNT, picric acid, benzene and guncotton. The disaster was one of the largest man-made explosions of all time, killing nearly 1,800 people in an instant and destroying or damaging more than 12,000 buildings.
When Boston sent a train loaded with relief supplies and medical personnel to Halifax through a historic snowstorm, it was a remarkable first instance of coordinated international disaster relief. Just like I looked at the canary yellow Canadian Super Scooper Planes roar to Los Angeles to help put out the uncontrollable firestorms threatening my home, and my grieving Nova Scotia heart races: reciprocity between old friends.
But our city can also learn lessons from the Halifax explosion – particularly about the dangers of becoming a scapegoat in times of crisis. The example of Francis Mackey, the Halifax sailor blamed for the disaster, is a reminder that emotionally charged blame after a disaster often finds the wrong lightning rod.
Mackey – whose story we know largely thanks to historian Janet Maybee's book Aftershock: The Halifax Explosion and the Persecution of Pilot Francis Mackey – was tasked with piloting the Mont-Blanc into port and miraculously survived he the explosion. Given the devastation, the public immediately looked for someone to blame, and Mackey, an experienced sea pilot, served as a convenient scapegoat for the government. His pilot's license was revoked, he was arrested, imprisoned, vilified in the press and – along with the ship's captain and the naval officer who monitored the port – charged with manslaughter.
Ultimately, a Nova Scotia Supreme Court judge examined the facts and found Mackey innocent. But public persecution and reputational damage ensued. Mackey, cursed on the streets as a “murderer,” was another victim in a destroyed city.
In the end, no single person could be blamed for the explosion in Halifax. The answer was less exciting and more obvious: the disaster was a freak accident in a country at war and a community in the blast zone of a massive arsenal.
Likewise, the Los Angeles disaster is a product of human-caused climate change and collision with an electrified city built amid flammable chaparral. While the search for answers and lessons is warranted, it would be wise to exercise forbearance for a while and refrain from placing personal blame.
Berating Mayor Karen Bass for traveling abroad, hastily accusing someone of arson, or inventing conspiracy theories about who turned off our fire hydrants will not put out a single flame, rebuild a single home, or leave a single loved one dead Bring back the dead. As in Halifax, no single person is to blame or could ever be responsible.
Angelenos, known for their imagination, drive and open-mindedness, are called by this disaster to show magnanimity in the face of devastation. And if you're looking in the right places, we already are.
One hundred and eight years later, no one remains who witnessed the Halifax explosion. But the Hydrostone, the Halifax district that we rebuilt with American help, remains. And every winter since then, as the anniversary of the explosion approaches, Nova Scotians send one of our most beautiful evergreens to Boston Common: a Christmas gift and a symbol of our continued gratitude for the city's help in our darkest hour.
A hundred years from now, what will be remembered about the Los Angeles wildfires of 2025? Those we lost – and those who helped.
Ben Proudfoot is a filmmaker and founder of Breakwater Studios.