Editorial

September 10 2025

Be careful out there

“All right, that’s it, let’s roll. And… let’s be careful out there.”

For a generation of television viewers, those words – spoken at the end of every roll call by the weary but resolute Sergeant Phil Esterhaus on the TV show “Hill Street Blues” – were more than just a send-off. They were a warning. A prayer. A reminder that the world beyond the squad room was unpredictable, often dangerous, and never entirely under control.

These days, the phrase feels less like a throwback and more like a public service announcement. Across Nova Scotia, especially in rural areas, it really is getting more dangerous out there.

Unseasonal droughts. Lightning-strike wildfires. The distance between a natural event and a full-blown emergency seems to be shrinking. And recovery times – measured in lost homes, lost roads, and lost equilibrium – are stretching further than anyone would like. What used to be extraordinary is fast becoming the new normal.

If that’s true, then we need more than policies. We need readiness – not in theory, but in action.

That, more than anything, is the point St. Mary’s Warden James Fuller made recently in response to the provincial government’s decision to sever ties with the Nova Scotia Firefighters School. Fuller, himself a veteran volunteer firefighter, didn’t quibble with the reasons–an independent audit had revealed serious and longstanding safety and governance failures–but he did raise a pressing question: what’s the plan now?

“The abrupt closure, without a solid backup plan,” he told Journal reporter Joanne Jordan, “leaves one to wonder if there even was a plan for appropriate training to take over.” He pointed out that several local firefighters had been midway through their certification when the program was stopped. And that without access to updated, standards-based training, rural fire departments may soon be left shorthanded.

The province says interim training will be available by fall. It has also launched a broader review of fire services and announced the formation of a steering committee to oversee the transition. These are necessary steps. But their success will be measured not in promises, but in preparedness.

Meanwhile, the government’s broader emergency strategy includes the rollout of the Nova Scotia Guard – a new corps of trained volunteers tasked with supporting communities during and after disasters. The Guard, along with the new Department of Emergency Management, is meant to modernize how we respond to everything from wildfires and floods to infrastructure failures.

Again, the intent is commendable. But, as Fuller might say, safety is what safety does.

No overarching initiative – however well-meaning – can replace the value of trained, trusted, and locally embedded first responders. What matters in moments of crisis is not just capacity, but coordination. Not just presence, but experience. Not just personnel, but people who know the land, the roads, the needs of their neighbours.

To succeed, the Guard must work with rural fire services and ground search-and-rescue teams – not around or above them. That means clear protocols, mutual respect, shared command frameworks, and a commitment to lifting up those already on the front lines. It also means ensuring that, in the name of modernization, we don’t unintentionally create new gaps where once there were boots on the ground.

Because when disaster hits, it won’t be a committee or a press release that shows up at 3 a.m. It’ll be someone local. And what they’ll need more than anything are the tools, the trust, and the training to do the job – so that we can all, as Sergeant Esterhaus once said, be careful out there.