BREAKING: How Trump Plans To Use Wildfires To Redraw American Federalism

Revealing how the Trump administration is using wildfire policy to reshape emergency response — and expand federal authority in key blue and purple states.

Jun 26, 2025

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Scroll to the end of the post for a free, downloadable “Strategic Briefing” of structural shifts from the Executive Orders, and a downloadable summary of this post.

What we’ll cover here:

Executive Order: Achieving Efficiency Through State and Local Preparedness
1. What the order did
2. What this means in practice
3. Why does it matter?
Executive Order: Empowering Commonsense Wildfire Prevention and Response
What to Expect
What’s Likely to Follow

Dear friends

Earlier this week I wrote that there is work to be done. This post outlines a key area that seems to have slipped through the cracks. It needs your urgent attention, especially if you live in a region prone to wildfires — truly, we do not have days to waste.

As I write, a record-setting heat dome is spreading across the Midwest, pushing real-feel temperatures toward 120°F. At the same time, California is bracing for another brutal wildfire season. These conditions may trigger the next phase of centralised federal intervention — not in theory, but in real time, under the guise of disaster response. And this post is the first time I’ve seen the mechanism behind it being fully laid bare.

On 12 June, the Trump administration released an Executive Order that looks, on the surface, like routine wildfire reform. But it quietly builds a framework for expanded federal control — one designed to override state authority, sideline local responders, and funnel power upward in the middle of crisis. It’s been built to land hardest in blue and purple states, where wildfires are frequent and political resistance is strong.

California, Oregon, Washington, Colorado, Hawaii, New Mexico, Nevada, Arizona, and Alaska are all at heightened risk — not only of fire, but of what follows it.

In a video message posted last Friday, Governor Gavin Newsom urged the Vice President to get disaster support “back on track” after President Trump implied that Californians might not receive the same aid as other Americans. His concern was clear and warranted. What he may not yet understand — and what this post lays out in detail — is that this isn’t merely a political deviation or temporary threat. It’s now formal policy. The Executive Orders issued in March and June quietly rewrote the federal approach to disaster relief and state sovereignty. The change is already in effect.

If you live in one of the states listed above — or know people who do — please read and share this post. The wildfire order is not the end of the story. It’s a signal. What happens next will depend on whether the shift is understood in time — and a response is built before it becomes irreversible.

EO: Achieving Efficiency Through State and Local Preparedness

On the surface, this Executive Order of March 2025 appeared to streamline federal support, reduce bureaucracy, and shift more authority to states and communities.

But beneath the language, it marks a significant shift. While presenting itself as a decentralisation of power — moving responsibility for disaster preparedness away from the federal government — central control has been kept over how risks are defined, which threats are prioritised, and who receives support. It also sets in motion a review of long-standing emergency policies built across decades of bipartisan policy.

This is not just a policy update. It’s a deliberate remapping of constitutional relationships, hidden in bureaucratic language. While responsibility is being pushed downward, decision-making power is being pulled upward — and consolidated.

What the order did

It introduced five major changes:

It shifted formal responsibility downward — to states, local governments, and individuals — positioning them as the primary actors in preparedness and resilience.
It replaced the established “all-hazards” model with a “risk-informed” approach, with risk now defined at the federal level.
It launched a sweeping review of key preparedness, continuity, and infrastructure policies dating back more than forty years.
It created a new National Resilience Strategy to guide federal engagement, but with few guardrails and little clarity on oversight.
It established a National Risk Register, intended to quantify threats and inform funding decisions — again under federal control.

What appears to be a commonsense effort to improve national resilience is, in effect, a shift in who gets to decide what counts as a crisis, who deserves help, and which tools are deployed in response. That power now rests almost entirely in the executive branch.

What this means in practice

In effect, the federal government has redefined its role. While pulling back from direct responsibility, it has retained and even expanded its ability to set the terms of engagement: what counts as a risk, which states are seen as “responsible,” and how support is allocated.

That shift creates a new kind of vulnerability. In a major crisis — whether that's a wildfire, hurricane, or cyberattack — states are now expected to lead, but without guaranteed federal backing. If a state’s priorities do not align with federal definitions, it risks being left to manage alone.

This is not theoretical. Policies that had formed the backbone of national emergency response — including those guiding domestic incident management and continuity of government — have now been marked for revision or revocation. The shift away from the all-hazards model narrows the scope of what the federal government considers worth preparing for.

And while the order formally excluded speech and information systems from its definition of infrastructure, that omission wasn’t neutral. It sent a signal that certain threats — including those tied to information flow, democratic discourse, or civil unrest — may no longer qualify for protection or preparedness planning.

This is where the introduction of technologies like artificial intelligence and predictive modelling — which feature prominently in related executive orders — starts to matter. By embedding these tools within the preparedness framework, the administration has laid the groundwork for a federally controlled risk classification system — one that can be updated without legislation, justified by algorithmic output, and used to determine who gets resources and when.

All of this is now operating on a clock. The National Resilience Strategy was due 90 days after the order (17 June, 2025). A full review of preparedness, continuity, and infrastructure policies must be submitted within 180 days, which takes us to 15 September 2025. The National Risk Register — which will redefine which threats count, and which don’t — is scheduled to be finalised within 240 days of the order (by 15 November 2025). So, this is no slow-rolling policy shift. It’s a calendar-driven restructuring, already well underway.

Why does this matter?

This wasn’t just a bureaucratic adjustment. It represents a remapping of responsibility and authority. The order appears to return power to states and communities, but in practice it has concentrated decision-making at the federal level while devolving the burden of action.

That’s not efficiency. It’s extraction — of effort, of resources, and of blame. States will be held accountable for outcomes, but have less and less say in the frameworks that shape them.

It also marks a departure from the longstanding assumption that the federal government has a duty to intervene during national emergencies. What has replaced it is a model that has distributed responsibility broadly — but reserved centralised control over what would count, and who would be supported.

And quietly, it opens the door to the privatisation of preparedness. By weakening the public sector’s role and increasing reliance on private contractors, the government has created a pathway for crisis response to be handed over to politically aligned firms — firms with limited transparency, few ties to community norms, and profit-driven motives.

This model may appear rational or even forward-thinking to some. But scratch the surface, and it becomes clear: this is a framework for controlling crisis response from the centre, while blaming the periphery for the fallout.

And now, Stage II has been revealed.

EO: Empowering Commonsense Wildfire Prevention and Response

This Executive Order of 12 June puts this new structure into action — applying the risk-defined, state-blaming logic of the March order to a politically charged and highly visible issue.

While this Executive Order looks like standard wildfire reform, in practice, it sets up a framework for expanded federal control in states like California, Oregon, Washington, Colorado, and even Nevada or Arizona — framed as “commonsense” wildfire prevention.

It also marks something more subtle but far-reaching: the first concrete test of whether this administration can leverage crisis response to override state governance, reward political allies, and quietly insert tools of surveillance and militarisation under the banner of public safety.

Here’s how it creates that shift:

1. Blaming states to justify intervention

The order opens by accusing state and local governments — mentioning California, by name — of being unprepared and mismanaging wildfire risks. That framing isn’t just symbolic. It sets the stage for federal intervention wherever the White House claims a state has fallen short, whether or not that claim reflects the facts.

By presenting local environmental rules as barriers to “commonsense” response, the administration creates room to override state decisions. The phrase itself — commonsense — functions here as a rhetorical bypass, casting any opposition as irrational, obstructive, or out of touch with the needs of ordinary Americans.

2. Centralising wildfire control in Washington

Section 2 tells the Departments of the Interior and Agriculture to combine their wildfire programmes. While this may sound like a move toward efficiency, it also pulls decision-making power back to Washington.

It reduces the independence of local and regional wildfire teams, who often work closely with state officials. In states that don’t align politically with the administration, this increases the risk that national political or commercial interests — such as timber harvesting or energy projects — could take precedence over local needs.

And because this streamlining occurs under federal oversight, it reorients the balance of power away from local knowledge and toward federally defined goals — goals which may now be shaped by profit, political favour, or campaign optics.

3. Weakening environmental protections

Section 4 proposes loosening federal rules on chemical fire retardants, encouraging more tree removal for fuel reduction, and promoting timber and biomass use. These changes are closely tied to an earlier order expanding the timber industry.

While presented as risk-reduction measures, they could allow the federal government to override stronger state environmental protections, especially in places that had previously pushed back against logging or drilling.

This doesn’t just set the stage for increased extraction. It may quietly redefine what “resilience” means: not protecting ecosystems or reducing climate risk, but clearing obstacles to resource exploitation and branding it as preparedness.

4. Expanding the role of the military and surveillance tools

Section 5 calls on the Department of Defense to release satellite data and prioritise selling military aircraft for wildfire use. Alongside artificial intelligence and mapping tools, and in line with earlier orders on national preparedness, this brings a national security lens into fire response.

At first glance, this may appear helpful. But it raises a more serious precedent: federally directed wildfire teams equipped with surveillance and aircraft, officially for firefighting, but with capabilities that could be used for monitoring land use or protecting infrastructure in ways that limit state authority.

These tools — satellites, drones, AI models, predictive software — can be dual-use. They can just as easily track population movement, monitor dissent, or enforce compliance with federal infrastructure priorities. Once deployed, they may not go away. The wildfire response then becomes a soft entry point for normalising high-tech domestic surveillance and military assets on civilian terrain.

5. Involvement in state-level lawsuits

Section 4(e) asks the Attorney General to review ongoing and future legal cases involving power companies and wildfires. This could open the door to federal interference in cases like those in California, where utility companies have been held responsible for major fires.

It suggests the administration may try to protect certain companies from state accountability, reducing the power of local courts and shifting legal outcomes in ways that align with its broader infrastructure goals.

In effect, it allows federal authority to be extended not just into emergency response — but into the courtroom.

6. Making support conditional

Section 3 highlights partnerships and agreements between federal, state, and local governments. But under the earlier preparedness order, federal support can be tied to meeting federal standards. This wildfire order continues that trend — creating the possibility that states or communities seen as non-compliant could be denied support, while funding is directed to aligned private contractors or local governments.

This could pave the way for a privatised, loyalty-based response model, where federal resources bypass state systems and flow directly to preferred actors. These contractors may have little connection to the communities they serve, and even less transparency. Public safety becomes a transaction — and public trust erodes with it.

In summary, this Executive Order goes far beyond fire prevention.

It provides a structure for overriding state decisions, loosening environmental protections, directing federal resources toward politically aligned industries, and expanding the use of surveillance and military tools within domestic disaster response. All of this is presented in the language of “commonsense” land management — but the practical effect is to shift power upward and inward, away from local control.

The June 12 Executive Order also sets clear implementation deadlines: agencies have until 12 July 2025 to coordinate wildfire strategies, including military assets and programme alignment. A full report on funding structures, operational coordination, and proposed legislation is due by 10 October. And by 8 February 2026, the entire framework is scheduled to be in place. This is not abstract policy — it’s a detailed rollout, advancing on a fixed schedule.

And just as the March order quietly redefined the balance between states and the federal government, this one sets the precedent for domestic militarisation under the cover of climate crisis — not with tanks in the streets, but with predictive algorithms, high-altitude monitoring, and a narrative that frames resistance as recklessness.

If a wildfire breaks out in a blue or purple state, under this Executive Order the federal response may look markedly different from past disasters. The shifts will not only affect logistics — they will reshape the balance of power.

1. Early federal intervention, framed as rescue

The federal government is likely to respond quickly and publicly, presenting the move as necessary due to state-level delays or mismanagement. This framing will be especially prominent if the state has pushed back on federal environmental policy or land-use directives.

The narrative may be reinforced not only through press briefings, but also through official reports, allied media coverage, and televised operations intended to cast federal leadership in a favourable light.

This is not just about optics. It is about performing federal dominance during crisis, while reducing the visibility of state leadership. In practice, governors may be sidelined. Decision-making may shift to federal agencies or handpicked contractors. The public may come to see Washington as the natural command centre in times of crisis — especially if the federal response is heavily branded, centralised, and constant.

And this is all on a timeline. By mid-July, agencies are required to have coordinated their wildfire strategies. By October, they must report on operations, funding, and proposed legislative changes. This means the groundwork for a highly centralised federal response could be in place within the next four months.

2. Federal deployment without state approval

The Executive Order gives the Departments of the Interior and Agriculture — and potentially the Department of Homeland Security — a more direct path to insert federal wildfire teams, contractors, or surveillance tools without a formal request from the state.

If state officials object, they may be accused of obstructing response efforts or prioritising environmental regulations over public safety. In areas near power lines, military facilities, or federally managed lands, the federal government could override local control of the emergency response.

What this creates, quietly, is a legal and operational precedent for unilateral federal deployment within a sovereign state’s jurisdiction — without the trigger of the Insurrection Act, and without the clear threshold of martial law. It’s crisis federalism, on demand.

3. Surveillance infrastructure under the banner of fire prevention

The order’s inclusion of military satellite data and predictive technologies opens the door to extensive aerial and ground-level monitoring. While described as tools for early detection and evacuation planning, the same systems can support continuous observation of population movement, behaviour, and activity.

In regions with a history of protest or environmental activism, this monitoring may be interpreted — or used — as a form of domestic surveillance.

This isn’t speculation. Once high-resolution satellite feeds, real-time geospatial AI, and predictive modelling tools are integrated into disaster management systems, they don’t simply vanish when the flames do. They become infrastructure for permanent situational awareness — ostensibly for safety, but structurally positioned for control.

And if the February 2026 implementation deadline is met, that infrastructure will no longer be a theoretical risk. It will be policy.

4. Private contractors, reduced local oversight

Instead of relying on local crews, federal response may prioritise private contractors — particularly those already tied to national infrastructure projects or politically aligned firms. These teams may operate with fewer ties to local governance and limited accountability to community norms or state oversight.

This shift could result in reduced transparency, weaker protections for fire responders and affected residents, and diminished trust in the emergency response process — especially in communities already subject to marginalisation.

In addition, these private actors may be used as a kind of quasi-public enforcement mechanism, outside the usual checks and balances. This could include companies involved in risk modelling, environmental data capture, or critical infrastructure protection — all of which now intersect with wildfire strategy.

5. Narrative control and political blame

The administration is likely to maintain tight control over communications. Successes will be attributed to federal leadership. Any challenges or setbacks may be used to highlight failures at the state level.

State officials may be excluded from briefings, overruled on key decisions, or publicly criticised. In this context, governors risk losing both operational control and public trust in their handling of the crisis.

This goes beyond messaging. It is a method of replacing state legitimacy with federal authority in the public eye — a psychological as well as procedural shift. And in states where governors are seen as political adversaries, it may become a coordinated strategy of public humiliation: strip power, deny credit, assign blame.

What’s Likely to Follow

If this analysis is correct (and it certainly aligns with how authoritarian playbooks generally unfold), then the wildfire policy isn’t a one-off. It’s a test case. And if it succeeds — if the administration can assert control over a politically disfavoured state under the guise of crisis response, and if it can do so with minimal resistance or public backlash — then we should expect the model to expand.

So, what are they likely to go after next? Flooding, hurricanes, and extreme heat. These are the logical next moves — especially given that the key mechanisms underpinning the wildfire model are due to be formalised within the next four months. This timing aligns almost exactly with the most active months for hurricanes, grid failures, and water strain. That’s unlikely to be accidental — it looks more like preparation.

1. Flooding and hurricanes — especially in the Gulf and Southeast

States like Louisiana, Florida, Georgia, North Carolina, and even Texas are highly vulnerable to extreme weather — and several of them have Democratic governors or large urban blue strongholds. Much like wildfires, floods and hurricanes create high-visibility crises with heavy media coverage. That’s useful for consolidating power.

If the administration can apply the same framework — state-blaming, federal pre-emption, and contractor-led response — it gains a foothold in both emergency management and infrastructure rebuilding. That opens the door to favouring politically aligned developers, fossil fuel firms, and surveillance-linked logistics companies, all under the language of "resilience" and "recovery."

And if the model is already in place — satellite monitoring, AI-based risk scoring, federal access to state-level systems — then disaster becomes a ready-made opportunity. The response can be swift, centralised, and framed as rescue, even as it establishes long-term footholds of control.

Expect this especially if a major hurricane hits before the mid-terms. If Trump can seize control of federal disaster response during a major hurricane before then, it will give him:

An opportunity to project dominance — stepping in where governors "fail", claiming to protect ordinary Americans, and building the image of a strong, decisive leader.
A reason to entrench federal authority in blue or swing states, under the banner of emergency response. Once those systems are in place — especially if they involve private contractors or surveillance infrastructure — they’re much harder to undo.
A test of loyalty and compliance. If a Democratic governor resists federal control during the crisis, Trump’s team can paint them as obstructionist or negligent. That narrative will be useful in the 2026 campaign cycle, especially if it weakens Democrats' standing in disaster-hit regions.
A backdoor into shaping who votes and how. If infrastructure, mobility, or communications are affected — and the federal government controls the response — it may have indirect influence over election access in key counties or districts.

This is not abstract. Hurricane response affects evacuation, polling place access, voter roll maintenance, power restoration timelines, and federal disaster declarations — all of which have downstream political effects. A federalised disaster response system is also a potential lever for soft election interference under the banner of emergency management.

So in short, a hurricane before November 2026 would be more than just a disaster response event. It’s a potential political lever — one that could shape the outcome of the midterms, test the machinery of authoritarian control, and further tilt the balance of power in Trump’s favour.

2. Extreme heat and energy grid strain

States like Arizona, New Mexico, Texas, and Nevada are already under pressure from rising summer temperatures and power shortages. If blackouts or grid failures occur, especially in areas resistant to federal energy policy, the administration could intervene using emergency powers — while shifting blame for failures onto state governments.

This would provide a pathway to:

Override state environmental or energy regulations
Justify new surveillance-linked "smart grid" infrastructure
Insert federal or private actors into critical energy systems

California again sits at the crossroads here — both wildfire-prone and heat-vulnerable — making it a likely staging ground for more centralised intervention.

And once energy infrastructure is federalised in the name of reliability, it becomes a platform for data capture, behavioural modelling, and continuous monitoring — all under the pretext of grid stability. It’s not just about keeping the lights on. It’s about knowing who uses them, when, and how.

3. Water scarcity and drought

The Colorado River Basin states — including Colorado, Utah, Arizona, Nevada, and California — are already under intense strain. Water is a quietly explosive issue, and it’s governed by a complex web of state compacts, tribal rights, and federal oversight.

A federal takeover of water management during a declared drought emergency could:

Undercut state and tribal water rights
Prioritise agriculture, industry, or mining aligned with administration interests
Set precedent for overriding local governance in resource disputes

Look for executive orders that frame this as “commonsense water security,” especially if new federal standards for risk or preparedness are applied.

This would not only allow the administration to redirect a critical resource — it would allow it to redefine what “responsible” water usage looks like, based on centralised risk models. And once water is framed as a strategic asset under emergency control, resistance becomes not just controversial — it becomes disloyal.

What connects these?

Each of these potential moves would follow the wildfire order’s template: Create a crisis (or wait for one), frame states as negligent, centralise control, sideline opposition, reward loyalists — all while claiming to protect the public.

And because each domain — disaster relief, energy, water, infrastructure — touches daily life, the changes can be enacted not as political upheaval, but as emergency management. This is one of authoritarianism’s most potent disguises: rule by crisis, codified through “reform”.

In short, if wildfire was Stage II, then Stage III is likely to move swiftly — following the path of climate disasters, resource scarcity, and infrastructure strain. These are real emergencies. But under this administration, they’re also tools of control.

What looks like preparedness is, at its core, a quiet reconstitution of power.

This shift in federal wildfire policy is not just about land management. As with everything Trump seems to touch, it’s about power — who holds it, how it’s exercised, and how quickly long-standing systems of shared governance can be dismantled under the cover of crisis response.

What’s unfolding now is the deployment phase of a structural rewrite — one that concentrates authority in Washington, bypasses public oversight, and puts critical infrastructure decisions into the hands of private contractors and political allies. The danger is not just what happens in the next fire, flood, or heatwave, but in how those moments will be used to consolidate control. And the longer this model goes unchallenged, the harder it will be to reverse.

But it can still be reversed — and it’s important to recognise this.

All of Trump’s Executive Orders are authorising frameworks — not guarantees of execution. They create the legal and procedural scaffolding, but the actual outcomes depend on a mix of factors: bureaucratic capacity, funding, political resistance, contractor readiness, even weather variability. Delays are likely — for example, there is no public evidence that a new, APNSA‑led strategy meeting the June 17 deadline has been released as of now. Pushback is possible. Infrastructure gaps can stall implementation.

Trump's government is skilled in creating the appearance of inevitability. By laying out sweeping policy in official language, he generates momentum and perception of power, even when the systems aren’t fully built. That’s part of the authoritarian playbook: signal decisiveness, manufacture consent, and fill the gaps later — if needed.

So yes, this can still be reversed. It will take clarity, coordination, and strategic action — across state agencies, city governments, universities, climate coalitions, and grassroots networks. And swift action is critical — while state systems still have leverage, and before the new federal model becomes the unchallenged default.

With the help of AI, I’m shaping a tactical guide — mapping it carefully, testing its edges, and refining it so it can be useful across different roles and systems. I’ll publish it — along with downloadable guides you can use to begin your response — in my next post under The Strategy Room. If it proves useful, I hope others on the ground, far more capable than I, will take it further. My goal is simply to map the structure clearly enough that those in a position to act can recognise what’s unfolding — and respond on their terms.

Meantime, if you’d prefer a more concise Strategic Briefing on these structural shifts, you can download it from the Internet Archive together with a summary of the key points of this post.

If this post gives you new clarity or sparks ideas on how to respond, drop your thoughts below. If it resonates with you, please send it further afield. Unlike wildfires, we want this to spread fast — because the faster this moves, the sooner we can begin to organise and defend what still matters most.

— Lori