Want to explore diverse and connecting threads in urban ecological arts? In the LEAF, three FRIEC Urban Arts Collective members share something from their ideas and work for 10 minutes each, followed by Q&A.
Presenters: Tim Collins, Glasgow Robin Lasser, Oakland Wendy Wischer, Salt Lake City
Tim Collins, Glasgow. I will talk about Deep Mapping: Lough Boora Sculpture Park a recently published deep mapping project that considers a ‘cutaway’ bog in Offaly County Ireland which was strip mined for its peat fuel over a period of fifty years. In 2000 with efforts to reclaim the land for agriculture it was turned into amenity public space that featured a sculpture park. I will talk about the historic conditions and future options revealed in our publication. https://collinsandgoto.com/deep-mapping-lough-boora-sculpture-park/
Robin Lasser, Oakland. I will be sharing two projects: Dress Tents : Nomadic Wearable Architecture and Migratory Cultures. The DressTent project is a conflation of photography, fashion, performance and installation dealing with the geo politics of place, social, and environmental justice issues. Migratory Cultures is a site-specific video projection mapping and documentary video project connecting regional experiences of immigration with stories from around the world.
Wendy Wischer, Salt Lake City. I am going to talk about 3 projects that encompass different aspects of my work. One is “Displacing Vibrations” a collaboration with a geologist, this is about my scientific collaborations. Then I’ll discuss “Written on the Wind” a video/sound installation for the Natural History Museum of Utah that included a community component with 4th graders. And then “Your Memory is Already Fading” an installation and sound piece representing my object making and turning data into personal meaning.
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The FRIEC (Forum for Radical Imagination on Environmental Cultures) Urban Ecological Arts Collective is a global group of almost 100 artists and creatives interested in the connection between nature and people in cities. The LEAF is a monthly webinar in which three Collective members spend 10 minutes describing an ideas or motivation central to their work, followed by discussion and Q&A with the audience. The idea to get to know the work of the Collective members, and to explore creativity and imagination in urban ecology.
Interested in being part of the FRIEC Collective? Write us at [email protected].
Banner image: Ms. Homeland Security: The Illegal Entry Dress Tent. Robin Lasser
Visiting Director for the Contemporary Art Galleries at UConn in Storrs, Connecticut, Wendy Wischer is an artist and educator with a focus on artwork in a variety of media from sculptural objects to installations, video, projection, sound, alternative forms of drawing and public works. Much of the artwork is based on blurring the separation between an intrinsic approach to working with nature and the cutting edge of New Media.
While much of the nation reacted to coronavirus by enacting either strict lockdown procedures or reckless reopening, we sought to demonstrate that it was possible to carry out in-person experiential education that was designed around strict health protocol and productivity.
At the beginning of the pandemic, there was widespread concern and uncertainty. How many people would get sick? How long would this last? Will I lose my home, my job? Will there be food shortages? There were also widespread shutdowns—schools, offices, restaurants, libraries, even the police were only responding to “non-emergency calls”. One thing that was not closed however—deemed “essential” along with supermarkets and hospitals—were farms. This included urban farms. Municipal governments had the foresight to realize the potential for food shortages in cities, and the more-than-ever need for good nutrition when people’s health would be stressed. It was because of our “essential” determination that the Radix Ecological Sustainability Center, an urban environmental education center and one-acre farm based in Albany New York, was able to continue operating though the pandemic, pivoting to meet the challenges and the uncertainties of the coronavirus head-on.
Photo: Scott Kellogg
Disasters, from hurricanes to wars to plagues, disproportionately impact the poor. The coronavirus pandemic, combined with this summer’s worldwide protests against police brutality and systemic racism, has laid bare and shone light upon multiple persistent societal inequalities. These inequities are notably visible and pronounced in inner city environments. Poverty, along with other social and environmental determinants of health, have left low-income and communities of color particularly vulnerable to the effects of the virus. Widespread unemployment and economic uncertainty have compounded these stresses, while access to nutritious food and healthcare has only grown more limited. In the meantime, environmental, climate, and food justice issues plaguing inner-city communities continue unchecked.
In response to these challenges, Radix put out the call for and began organizing the creation of “pandemic resilience gardens”—food production centers built to not only give residents some sense of control over their futures, but to seize the opportunity in the crisis to address long-standing issues of food access and sovereignty. Similar to the victory gardens of the world wars, pandemic resilience gardens provided a sense of stability and reliability during frightening times, while simultaneously encouraging people to go outside, eat nourishing food, breather fresh air and feel sunlight—all essential for immune support. The several pallets worth of seeds we had been donated the previous fall proved enormously useful as widespread panic buying resulted in national seed shortages. This allowed us to get numerous trays of vegetable starts going in our greenhouse to be distributed to Albany residents and to neighborhood gardens. Our biggest limiting factor in planting more was a labor shortage. Working within the confines of a greenhouse, it was difficult to maintain social distancing among volunteers. Furthermore, our year-round afterschool youth program was forced largely online after schools closed. As the weather warmed, however, it was possible to move more of the planting work outside where distancing was easier and air exchanges increased.
Photo: Scott Kellogg
It is in this context that the Radix Center ran its “Pandemic Resilience and Climate Justice” summer program. It consisted of a ten-week in-person experiential education offering involving fifteen AmeriCorps employees (recruited through Siena College’s SPIN program) and twenty high-school age youth employed through the city’s summer youth employment program. As a team, we planted multiple garden sites, keeping them weeded and watered throughout the summer, composted significant amounts of food waste, and distributed food and vegetable starts to neighbors in need. Going beyond gardening work, students worked as teams to engage in community-based participatory research throughout the South End neighborhood, investigating socio-environmental issues including food access, evictions, lead-based soil contamination, and “innovation blocks” a door-to-door neighborhood outreach program of our partner organization, AVillage…Inc. For intellectual growth, collectively we read and studied a number of articles on topics ranging from environmental justice, food access, gender studies, prison abolition, climate change, redlining, urban commons, and more. This focused study was necessary for understanding the big picture issues and theories that informed our work in its particular context.
As their opportunities for education, employment, and entertainment have been drastically curtailed by the shutdown, urban youth have been notably impacted by the coronavirus. When schools closed in March, many of them were left in precarious positions with tenuous access to computers and reliable internet connections. At-risk youth were in danger of slipping through the cracks, cut off from meals, guidance, and other essential services provided by schools. Some youth found themselves in dangerous situations, forced into lockdown isolation with abusive family members. Far more students were simply bored, weary from zoom calls, frustrated by the lack of sports, camps, or extra-curricular opportunities of any sort. In this sense, we hoped to provide an enriching employment opportunity that gave youth the chance to be outdoors, learn, and engage with one another, albeit wearing masks and from six feet away.
Safety was of utmost importance to us in the pandemic resilience program. While much of the nation reacted to coronavirus by enacting either strict lockdown procedures or reckless reopening, we sought to demonstrate that it was possible to carry out in-person experiential education that was designed around strict health protocol. Employing program participants of co-designers of these pre-cautions, we enforced a strict stay-home-if-sick policy, mandatory mask wearing, and social distancing, all while being outdoors nearly all the time (we were blessed with remarkably good weather—on only one or two occasions was it necessary to take shelter in the neighboring warehouse, itself a well-ventilated and spacious structure). We are happy to report that to our knowledge, there were no transmissions of coronavirus within the group. In stark contrast to much of the rest of the country, infection rates in upstate New York remained relatively low throughout the summer.
Photo: Scott Kellogg
The rise of Black Lives Matters and the racial justice movement over the summer of 2020 created an intense synergy with the conditions of the pandemic, and for the focus of our program. The South End of Albany is itself a prime example of what happens to a neighborhood after decades of racist policies—federal redlining practices creating zones of disinvestment where basic services are absent, substandard housing is prevalent, and opportunities for advancement are few. Just one week before its start, the South End was engulfed in protests, tear gas flooding every corner of the neighborhood. The South End precinct station, less than a block away from the Radix Center, was the epicenter for much of the protest activity, with community members demanding accountability from the local police. In response, giant concrete barricades were placed in the road by the station, blocking any vehicular access to the street. Their presence was a constant reminder of the intensity of the moment as we each day navigated wheelbarrows loaded with soil, food, and tools between their confines. The eventual removal of the blockades was a moment of jubilant celebration for the group, their symbolic shadow of oppressive securitized control lifted. While the problems facing the South End will require generations worth of work to remedy, the events of the summer created a sense of urgency and timeliness to the work of challenging degenerative structures and regenerating enviro-social equity and health.
The Black Lives Matters movement timed well with the beginning of the South End Night Market, a weekly outdoor market organized by AVillage…Inc. that featured local, predominantly black vendors selling a variety of products to the local community in an effort to build local black wealth and prosperity. After the initial shutdown, the future of the market was cast in doubt as there was a ban on gatherings of almost any sort. Fortunately, Radix’s agricultural “essential” designation came in useful once again as it permitted farmers markets to continue. By selling our locally grown produce at the Night Market, it could be regarded as a farmers market and be allowed to continue. Vendors were carefully spaced on the sidewalk outside of Radix with tape marking the safe setbacks for shoppers to stand behind. The Night Market drew progressively larger crowds over the summer, creating a community event where local wares and affordable produce could be bought. We were fortunate to involve Pandemic Resilience participants in the market, having them help with tasks ranging from set up, produce sales, vendor questionnaires and promotions.
As the summer ends, autumn brings cooler temperatures and continuing uncertainty. How long will this state of emergency continue for? Will in-person education ever resume? Are further waves of disease and political violence on the horizon? While there are no clear answers, we know that we must increase our adaptive capacity to effectively respond to future events with the needed urgency. It may be entirely possible that summer 2021 is a replay of summer 2020, but if it is, we at least have some blueprint of success to work from.
When is the best time to consider developing an urban ecological network plan for your city? The answer varies based on a city’s long-term planning process and the immediate issues a community may be facing, but it is always the right time to integrate ecology and nature into urban planning and revitalization efforts.
If we peel back the layers of our urban infrastructure and examine the ecological patterns that originally formed the landscapes beneath our feet, we can shape more resilient cities through an interdisciplinary and inclusive urban design process based on the braided narratives of place: ecology, history, and culture. More than a decade ago, designers studying approaches to urban planning noted that “new models of urban ecological networks will improve biodiversity, aesthetics, and cultural identity and be an important framework for creating sustainable cities” (Ignatieva et al, 2008). The impacts of climate change, evidenced by increased drought, record heat, raging megafires in both hemispheres, an Atlantic hurricane season that has run out of names, as well as COVID-19, and the ongoing racial justice movement, have over the last several months (and years) laid bare much about the state of our society and our cities.
There is a growing clamor for a shift in perspectives and practices that will lead to a more resilient future. Much of this is coming from and focused on our cities, where over half of the world’s population already lives, and more are expected to join. A lens of landscape ecology and a foundation in community input provide the keys to designing for tomorrow’s resilient cities.
Mural of native habitat gardens in Baltimore, MD. Photo: Jennifer Dowdell.
As an ecological planner and writer, I have found that when we pause for a moment and listen for the stories of a place, we become more aware of its essence. We notice the patterns and processes that root us in a sense of belonging, a call toward stewardship, and a connection to community. Many of us, without even thinking, can easily name the natural features that define our relationship to our home cities—a creek or harbor we love, a favorite woodland park, a majestic tree we could draw from memory. In some traditions, this connection of community to ecosystem is even more explicit. For example, when formally introducing themselves, the Māori people of Aotearoa (New Zealand) invoke their connection to their cultural and ecological heritage by naming the boat that brought them to the country, their mountain, their river, their marae (cultural hub/ancestral home), and their tribe. This not only grounds these individuals in the heritage of their families but also their kinship to nature and their responsibility as guardians of these landscapes. The Māori, like many indigenous peoples around the globe, value and pass down ancestral knowledge of the relationships, patterns, and rhythms of nature—a knowledge they refer to as mātauranga.
Our urban communities, likewise, have a reciprocal relationship with nature. If we steward our natural resources, restoring ecological function, and preserving the remnants of once-dominant ecosystems, everyone benefits. Access to nature has been proven time and time again to increase life expectancy, decrease recovery times from major surgeries, increase test scores, improve concentration, increase health metrics, and lead to greater happiness (sources). Unfortunately, access to green space is inequitably distributed in many of today’s cities and the integration of open and natural spaces into underserved communities often leads to gentrification and ultimately, displacement of those most vulnerable.
As a practice, we at Biohabitats have been applying ecological principles as an underpinning for more resilient city planning efforts through the development of urban ecological frameworks, or green network plans. We start our planning process by examining the historical ecological narrative of our cities: the geology; the rivers, streams, and creeks (some of which might have been buried or drained in the past); the wetlands and meadows that may have existed prior to our settlement; the remnant forest patches; the mountains or valleys that shape our views and access into and out of the city; and the biodiversity inherent in these systems. Much of this has settled into our consciousness as background noise to the skyscrapers, urban parks, interstate highways, bustling town centers, and neighborhoods that have come to define our identity as city dwellers. But we can bring it back to the fore as a place to begin dialogue with the community in planning for a more resilient future.
Legacy green network analysis results. Photo: Baltimore Green Network Plan
In a recent project with the Department of City Planning in Atlanta, GA, we posed the question to the community members, “What does Nature in the City mean to you?” We wanted to make sure as we kicked off an effort to help the City craft an urban ecological framework to guide future development, that we began with what the residents knew, valued, remembered, and desired of nature in their city. We were regaled with so many personal stories: tales of fishing in neighborhood creeks, tending to grandmothers’ gardens, camping under trees in backyards, hiking along stream valleys, and hearing frogs singing in wetlands and birds calling overhead. Clearly, we have not completely lost our connection to nature in our cities. On the contrary, we know, love, and seek that connection. Yet ecology has never been at the forefront of urban planning, or zoning for that matter. Now is the time to change that.
In addition to the positive public health impacts of increasing our contact with nature in cities, ecosystems provide a model for landscape resilience in response to climate change. Wetlands and marshes help to alleviate the impacts of flooding as natural sponges in the landscape. Shifting and rising dunes of barrier islands provide resilience in light of rising sea levels. Vegetated or forested floodplains provide space during massive rains to capture and contain water. Continuous tree canopy shades and cools our cities as warming continues. Wooded corridors along our rivers and streams help soak up and distribute water during large storms. In the same way that 3.8 billion years of evolution informs biomimetic design approaches, the natural systems that exist in and flow through our cities can inspire an eco-mimetic approach to urban planning.
Community members provide their reflections on Nature in Atlanta at the kickoff of the UEF process. Photo: Atlanta Urban Ecology Framework
This approach is grounded in community input and the culture that animates our cities, at the neighborhood and district scale. Add to that, input from ecologists, landscape architects, environmental engineers, city planners and staff, community leaders, economists, architects, and activists. This is an iterative and consultative interdisciplinary process. We, as ecological planners, serve to facilitate wide-ranging and inclusive discussions with residents, addressing the needs of their neighborhoods as well as those of the broader city and region. Ecosystems are not constrained by political boundaries and we are always aware that our actions have ripple effects.
Ecological framework planning weaves community input at regular intervals into a science-based design and planning approach. This is inspired by Ian McHarg’s work on Designing with Nature, which emphasizes the interactions and interrelationships between ecosystems, historical settlement patterns, and projected development. It requires an intimate understanding of the social and cultural factors at play, the basic ecosystem types and functions in question, the impact of the legacy of disempowerment and systemic racism on the community, the specific issues of climate change impacting the landscape, and the existing or projected biodiversity loss.
The general process we follow for developing an urban ecological framework includes these steps:
Engage the community to set a vision and goals
Analyze existing conditions to establish a narrative of place based on both ecological-social characteristics
Conduct a needs assessment or suitability analysis with community input
Explore alternative scenarios of change and solicit feedback on the needs and priorities in the community
Develop a final urban ecological framework
Create pilot projects and funding plans
Revisit zoning and other regulatory tools for updates that reflect urban ecological guidance
While in Atlanta, our focus was on responding to population growth and its impacts on tree canopy and community access to open space, in a Green Network Plan we developed recently with the Baltimore City Planning Department. Our planning team was tasked with addressing dense areas of vacancy through this approach. In both cases, community members described how they experienced nature; which aspects of nature they wanted to see preserved, protected, and celebrated; how nature was unique or special to their daily lives; and where they thought nature made the most sense in their city- their narrative of place. There were important points raised during this dialogue about the need to support the communities in managing and maintaining restored green space and the need for affordable housing and job creation.
Based on this input, we examine the city through a data-driven analysis of socio-ecological conditions. We gather data on soils, hydrology, landcover, habitat and biodiversity hot spots, floodplain, riparian corridor buffers, and historical streams. Studies of social vulnerability, urban tree canopy change, traffic patterns, safety and access issues are also examined. We perform analysis at multiple scales to ensure consideration of broader impacts to ecoregions, wildlife and habitat corridors, and watersheds. We also endeavor to uncover the historical patterns of nature that settlement may have disrupted.
Biodiversity analysis results for Atlanta. Photo: Atlanta Urban Ecology Framework
Once the general conditions have been mapped and vetted with the community, our team delves deeper and explores ways to harness the natural patterns and processes inherent in the local ecosystems to address the vision and goals established at the outset of the process, whether that is increasing access to open space, utilizing vacant lots for revitalization and restoration, managing climate change impacts, focusing development and preserving tree canopy, or other socio-ecological aims. In Baltimore, through the initial data analysis, we identified four priority areas that had overlapping needs for revitalization and ecological uplift potential, very high densities of vacant land and structures, and very active and engaged neighborhood groups. In the case of Atlanta, we examined the need for habitat and biodiversity protection, harnessing ecosystem services, increasing equitable access to parks and open space, and addressing vulnerable communities’ needs.
Our team connects with residents, local advisors, and advocates at regular intervals to confirm and vet the evolving framework. In Atlanta, as the needs and priorities became clearer, we began testing alternative future scenarios of change with the community. We explored citywide change scenarios associated with improved equity and access, increased ecological connectivity and function, and conversion of all grey infrastructure to innovative green practices. This allowed everyone to visualize patterns of change that could result from different priorities in land use allocation. This pulling apart of key priorities and weaving them back together through the community feedback process provided a powerful visual tool for honing the elements of the urban ecological framework.
From the personal stories shared by community members during the visioning and goal-setting to the input given in other stages of the process, it becomes evident that place—neighborhood, block, home, and all that surrounds it—is inextricably linked to identity. This connection, in turn, becomes a guide for a city’s plans for future development and growth, rather than an afterthought. What has resulted is an acknowledgement that a city’s infrastructure can take more cues from nature and community. A final urban ecological framework creates a cohesive network of greenspaces, restored ecosystems, and civic spaces that serve both human and nonhuman communities in coexistence. It fosters equitable and safe access to open space and recreation, increased biodiversity and habitat, and a variety of ecosystem services including, urban heat island mitigation, flood attenuation, stormwater management, air quality improvements, pollination, and nutrient cycling.
In the case of Baltimore City, the Planning Department went one step further, and it is a step we highly recommend for all municipalities. In each of their four focus areas, Planning Department staff who work with the neighborhoods identified specific community groups and advocates to guide the design of pilot projects. Residents worked directly with the planning team to develop site-specific concepts that reflected their needs. They identified the required programming, types of features, and concerns that should be addressed. In one example, the residents wanted a central, flexible plaza space for community street festivals, a splash pad, a space for watching films, and signage for community notices. In another, the community’s priority was to have a safe space for toddlers to play and a memorial for a fallen female firefighter who had perished on the site. These designs have continued to evolve, gaining local advocates and partners to help in their funding and implementation, fulfilling a promise to the community.
Pilot project concept for a new civic space in a neighborhood on the west side of Baltimore. Photo: Baltimore Green Network Plan
Pilot project concept featuring a playground and a memorial to the first fallen female firefighter in a neighborhood in Baltimore. Photo: Baltimore Green Network Plan
Cities like Atlanta and Baltimore are exemplary in their use of ecology to guide urban planning, but they are not alone in this approach. Other examples include parallel efforts in Edmonton, Canada and Paris, France; and past efforts in Barcelona, Spain and Hamburg, Germany where city leadership identified opportunities to strengthen green networks to foster greater community resilience. The story of Christchurch, NZ, where a natural disaster led to a unique opportunity for re-envisioning urban planning as part of a massive rebuild effort, is even more striking.
In February of 2011, a 6.3 magnitude earthquake hit Christchurch, resulting in widespread structural damage and loss of life. In the wake of this tragedy, the city took the unprecedented step of holding an inclusive and holistic planning process to inform a multiyear and multibillion-dollar rebuild effort. The resulting Christchurch Blueprint sets out a spatial framework for redevelopment, combining actions for economic, social, and environmental revitalization within a central city framed by open space. The Blueprint includes plans for the Te Papa Ōtākaro/Avon River Precinct, which celebrates the river that flows through the center of the city. Many gathered along the river after evacuation from the surrounding buildings on the day of the earthquake and it now hosts a memorial to those who perished in the earthquake and the rescue efforts that followed. Design and planning work along the Avon corridor has focused on supporting the return of native wildlife like the bellbird, whitebait, and eel through channel restoration and increased native plantings. Today the river is a gathering place and a natural spine along which the city continues to see economic revitalization and strengthened community, as well as the return of the eel and other native wildlife.
The memorial to earthquake victims integrated into the enhanced Avon River corridor in Christchurch, NZ. Photo: Jennifer Dowdell
The restoration of the Avon River’s corridor supports the return of native wildlife and water quality improvements in the heart of Christchurch, NZ. Photo: Jennifer Dowdell
When is the best time to consider developing an urban ecological network plan for your city? The answer varies based on a city’s long-term planning process and the immediate issues a community may be facing, but it is always the right time to integrate ecology and nature into urban planning and revitalization efforts. Ideally, this type of planning effort can inform zoning updates, public works planning, park master plans, or transportation plans (that may occur on five to 10-year cycles). This approach can also be integrated into a citywide General Plan or as a stand-alone Urban Ecology Network plan to inform other efforts aimed at economic and climate resilience, environmental equity and justice, and ecological uplift.
There will always be competing priorities in the planning process. The most important step we can take is to listen and then respond in a way that reflects not only the community’s needs but also their stories of identity with, and connection to, nature. There is likely to be a certain level of planning fatigue in many cities. One way to address this is to make sure these plans are actionable and implementable—landing at the site scale and making sure the community sees tangible results. One of the most frequent comments we receive during these processes is that the community members want to see results, not another glossy plan on a shelf. The pilot project process is a great way to do just that, by seeding the energy in the community early and engaging them in a design process that includes potential funding partners.
Another issue we must face head-on is the potential negative impacts that greening (even with the best intentions) can have on a community, including gentrification and displacement. During the planning process, this is bound to come up in discussions with residents. In parallel with planning efforts, municipalities can and should be exploring systemic changes that provide economic security to longtime residents in these communities, such as tax abatement options, housing security, land trusts, legacy community designations, and other options to deter displacement and support historic ties between the community and the land.
Ideally, the final urban ecology framework becomes a reference for all future planning efforts, a living reminder of the connection between the native ecology and the human spirit that animates the city, and an amplifier of community voices and identity.
We are part of nature and we are interdependent with nature.
2 We think we can be separate from nature
We cannot escape this interdependency. Even when we try, we are tied to living systems by umbilical cords of technology, constrained by natural limits.
3 Human culture is a force of nature
Our culture is manifest in our actions. Everything we do affects the natural world in some way. We are a force of nature.
In his slim but vital tome published in 2004, Stephen Boyden wrote from a “biohistorical” standpoint about human culture as a force of nature in The Biology of Civilisation and his main conclusion was that “biounderstanding is key to sustaining civilisation and ecological health and the dominant culture must ‘embrace, at its heart, a basic understanding of, and reverence for, nature and the processes of life.”
There are few reasons to be optimistic about the prospects for biounderstanding becoming central to culture, but the need for it is inarguable.
4 Patterns of action
Everything we do is part of the patterns that make up our lives. Patterns of action reflect culture. The graphic is based on the seminal studies by Appleyard which captured the patterns of community and communication in a street and how it was affected by vehicle traffic.
5 Culture and power
The dominant culture is determined by power relationships. Patterns of living are part of the patterns of occupying and using space. They are part of how we form our human habitats within the bubble of the biosphere.
How we build affects the natural world.
6 Patterns that remain
Like vortices in the stream of biohistory, our constructed habitats are human patterns that remain. In “Steps to an ecology of mind” (1979), Gregory Bateson identified patterns as key to understanding the relationship between humans, culture, and nature and wrote of the “pattern that connects”.
One result of those patterns is human habitation in its relationship to the biosphere as mapped by villages, towns, and cities.
7 Nature needs social distancing too!
To enable nature to recover from the severe impacts of human exploitation on the patterns of nature, from habitat loss to plastic pollution, climate change, and everything in between, we have no choice but to change how we build. Which means changing our patterns of behaviour.
We are implementing behavioural change to tackle the spread of COVID-19 because our lives depend on it. We must do it to rescue the biosphere from collapse because our lives depend on it.
Nature needs “social distancing” too.
8 The big picture is ugly
The big picture isn’t looking good. But the patterns for real change come from below, from daily life changes at a local level.
9 Despair
We can’t afford to despair. Lives depend on it. All lives.
10 Everything is fractal
Everything we do is fractal. It is all part of a larger pattern. It is the larger pattern writ small.
11 Design guidelines for non-human species
In my first TNOC blog, building on my doctoral thesis from 20 years ago, I argued that the creation of ecological cities requires the development of Design Guidelines for Non-Human Species. I suggested that an urban fractal or neighbourhood should be able to provide sufficient viable habitat that could support at least one key indicator species of fauna and a majority of the species of birds indigenous to the place. Later, I tried to take that idea further; it was supposed to be about changing the culture, deeply, it was supposed to be about something that is exciting, challenging, and worthwhile.
But it still turned into a somewhat uninspiring list.
12 Points of view
The design guidelines spoke to responsible planners and change-makers but, whatever its merits, I am compelled to observe that they really aren’t the sort of thing that stirs the blood and, more importantly, they don’t paint the bigger picture – to see how the patterns connect you have to actively make the connections. You have to see and experience the patterns.
Fractals are about pattern, not lists, but to see that bigger picture more clearly we have to speak with science, poetry, and art.
It’s about culture, after all.
The above graphic shows three points of view. The top one is the nominally objective “normal” as described by human mapping, the left one is “mainstream” culture with a consciousness of the car and house dominating all other reality. The right part of the image suggests how it might be seen from nature’s point of view.
There is some movement towards looking at the city from a non-human point of view see, for instance, Urban Animals: Crowding in Zoocities, reviewed by Chris Hensley in TNOC in 2015 in which Hensley notes that “using a nonhuman-centered framework, it sheds light on issues from a very different angle than that from which we are used to approaching such subjects” and that “the animal-focused framework presented here will be crucial in understanding urban life of the present and future.”
But patterns must be key.
13 A Pattern Language for Urban Nature
Taking my cue from Alexander et al and Mehafy, Salingaros et al, I am becoming convinced that there may be a way to bring these ideas to life in a way that has the potential to connect with the daily life of humans and other species. The proposition is simple: What happens if we take a pattern language approach that puts nature first?
I don’t have the resources to take this line of thinking a lot further, much as I would like to, so this graphic essay is little more than an indicator of what may be possible as something that might be developed in a similar fashion to and complementary to “A new pattern language” as an evolving toolbox open to iteration and further development.
All frameworks and insights, e.g., those described in “Urban Animals”, have the potential to be included and sustained within a Pattern Language for Urban Nature – which needs to have an understanding of the need for cultural change based on biounderstanding at its very core.
An example of a page from “A new pattern language”
And What Grassplots, Amur Leopard, and Mold Have in Common
It is estimated that the extinction of the Amur leopard resulted in $722 million in damage to the Russian economy.
What is biodiversity for? Some don’t need that question answered: you just adopt a philosopher’s perspective, and everything becomes clear—all living things have the right to dwell on the planet. For others, the question is confusing. Those trying to find a quantitative answer to this question include not only biologists, but also economists—the latter may calculate the “price of ecosystem services” rendered to humankind by nature. If you crash a car, everyone understands what material damage will be suffered and by whom. And what if a forest is cut down? Or a grassplot is converted into a parking lot? Were the last Amur leopard to die somewhere in the mountains, would the economy be affected at all? In 2008, the answer was found in the Russian State University of Management, where for calculations they used a formula by the US National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration: the disappearance of the last 40, to that day, individuals of that leopard species on the planet would have equaled $722 million in damage to the Russian economy.
Megalopolises are oftentimes referred to as concrete jungle. And it is true that living in a city doesn’t overturn laws of biology. Somewhere in distant mountains, the Amur leopard is dying out because of random deforestation, fragmentation and reduction of its habitat, and inbreeding, ie, mating of individuals closely related by ancestry due to their population being too small. The very same adverse factors also affect city-dwelling populations of plant and animal species in our vicinity. A new highway cuts through a forest? Animals living there will most probably not be able to leave their respective resulting plots. And the stronger the fragmentation, the faster the local population will go into decline. The only bit of wasteland between the houses has been repurposed into a parking lot? Yet another grassplot has been paved? That means not only soil animals, many plants, and insects have died, but, to make matters worse, butterflies and bees in adjacent territories have been deprived of the means to populate broader areas, as they could have used that plot as a place to stop, rest, and refuel on some food.
For example, many bees are known to be only capable of flying no farther than 1.5–2.0 kilometers. “So what?” you may ask. In order to survive, some bees only need one single plant. For example, Moscow’s red bartsia bee (Melitta tricincta) only feeds on red bartsia. What would become of humankind if that red bartsia bee were to disappear? Regretably, it can only be found out by experience. And we may not like that experience.
For instance, last year alone, according to the estimates by the National Beekeepers and Bee Product Processors Association, the decrease in the population of one single species—domesticated Western honey bee—cost Russia over 1 trillion roubles (around $13 billion) in losses. And that estimate doesn’t include losses resulting from wild bees dying out—the ones not counted by beekeepers. According to the UN, the world relies on pollination of crops by bees to produce almost a third of its food worth an estimate of $380 billion.
There’s another example illustrating the Butterfly Effect, which is a story dating back to the mid-20th century: two years after China declared a war on sparrows for allegedly destroying field crops, the resulting major pest outbreak and the deterioration of crops that followed were of such a scale that around 10 to 30 million people died of hunger.
It would be rather naïve of us to believe that any damage can be estimated in advance. Or that—should the ecosystem lose even one of its elements—the course of events can be foreseen. Humankind hardly knows anything about the planet it lives on, but succeeds in taking advantage of discoveries that happen from time to time. There was a time when we were in the dark about the properties of the mold fungus Penicillium that we have to thank for penicillin, of the willow bark that gave rise to aspirin, and of the rice hulls from which vitamin B1 was synthesized. I believe it will be easy enough to evaluate the economic effect brought about by those discoveries to the world’s economy.
On the contrary, it’s impossible to calculate the forgone benefit resulting from the loss of those species whose properties will forever remain unknown to us—with biodiversity declining at a dramatic pace. Scientists estimate, for example, that every year the total insect biomass decreases by 2.5 percent. And that estimate doesn’t take stock of the plants, fungi, microorganisms, and other living things—many of which the humankind never knew—that, potentially, could have come in handy for people.
For example, back in 1990s, when many Moscow’s grassplots were still covered with knee-high grasses, and city parks had some decent forests and meadows, fragmentation already prevented even mid-sized animals, such as hare or stoat, from establishing viable populations there, while small (and well-studied) animals, such as day butterfly, had lost up to a third of species composition by 2001, when Moscow Red Book’s first edition was published. But the dying out of a third of butterflies also means that about a third of less well-studied insects followed suit: pollinators, entomophagous insects, soil formers, dead wood destructors, etc. By the time Moscow Red Book’s second edition was published in 2011, that assumption had proved true for bumblebees and dragonflies.
Nevertheless, about 70% of species remained and continued performing their functions. Due to that, data obtained from forest pathology research showed that large natural expanses—contributing the most to maintaining a normal environmental situation in the city—are in a relatively good condition.
According to Liudmila Volkova, Biodiversity Conservation Center’s expert and Moscow Red Book’s scientific editor, a 50 percent “threshold” of Moscow’s insect survivability will be the limit, meaning another 20–30 percent of entomofauna species will have died out—because of excessively frequent grass-cutting, mass park (and even special protection natural areas) beautification, and a sheer extensive “sealing-off” of soil in the city. And it’s from then on that the humankind will have to compensate for the undermined capability of green areas for self-regulation and to resort to insecticides in order to control pest population in city parks, as populations and diversity of entomophagous invertebrates (e.g. ichneumonoidea, parasites, predators) and songbirds will have decreased.
An alternative solution would be to use nature’s “ecosystem services” rather than fight it. Thus, its restorative influence on the human body was tested in practice more than once. As far back as in 1981, scientists from Sweden’s Chalmers University of Technology proved that patients assigned to rooms with windows looking out on a natural setting recovered faster than those in rooms with window views of a building. Similar findings have been made for children: researchers Taylor and Kuo noticed that children with attention deficits showed improved concentration results after a 20-minute walk in the park.
So why do we need biodiversity? To eat, heal, stay healthy, take rest, save money, and earn money. Do those arguments suffice to protect a grassplot, a wasteland, or a forest? To finally shift our perspective from “what is it that nature gives us” to the one where the only answer begs itself, and namely “because all living things have the right to dwell on the planet”?
Belo Horizonte suffered severely with the floods in January 2020, particularly in the areas that had their rivers canalized under the pavement. But the areas with green and blue infrastructure were much more resilient.
Green and blue infrastructure (GBI), a form of nature-based solutions (NBS), can provide huge benefits for cities, as GBIs are innovative ways to connect biodiversity and people. Besides the direct functions that the infrastructure provides (e.g. flood prevention or cooling effect), there is also a series of co-benefits that nature in cities can have, such as the preservation of biodiversity and increasing environmental awareness. There have been several policies to promote GBI in cities, such as incentives for green-roofs, promotion of urban agriculture, and urban reforestation for cooling and buffer natural systems.
Over the years, various cities around the world have developed a series of innovations to use GBI to provide services to citizens. However, the introduction of new ideas, such as GBI, does not always come easily. Innovations tend to suffer opposition from different fronts, as they can replace existing “gray infrastructure” solutions and consequently affect the organizations and individuals that benefit from them. On the one hand, there is an initial mistrust that the GBI solution would be as good as, or better than, the traditional infrastructure solution. The existing status quo of the regulations and standards tend to use the solution that already exists instead of trying something new, and sometimes uncertain.
There are risks involved as GBI is not a consolidated mainstream practice everywhere. The public bureaucracy is used to traditional engineering solutions, as it is the way they were trained to provide the solution to urban problems. One of the major challenges to advance GBI in cities is the need to provide evidence about the functions of the GBI as compared to the traditional gray (cement) infrastructure. As there are no agreed general standards for GBI, it is difficult to make comparisons with traditional infrastructure. For example, if a city needs infrastructure for flooding control, it could opt between a traditional underground pool to buffer the rainwater or an artificial wetland using GBI. The underground pool has technical engineering parameters that the city can use for specifying the terms of reference. There are agreed methods to estimate the volume of water that can be buffered, how the system would work, and even the amount of cement that will be needed for the size of the pool. In the GBI, there is no agreed methods for a technical estimation to determine the standards of the GBI, for example, the parameters for determining its size, what kind of plants should be used, and the amount of water it could buffer. Thus, the development of engineering standards for the various GBI is key for the widespread use of them in cities.
Photo: José Puppim
Another obstacle for the dissemination of GBI innovations in cities is related to the political economy of the transitions between gray and green and blue infrastructure. GBI innovations could replace or weaken the established organizations and individuals in the infrastructure sector. There are different kinds of interests that could be affected by the changes in GBI. In many cities, some of the most powerful economic and political actors are the construction companies, which build urban infrastructure. They employ a large number of workers and contribute to a significant part of the urban economy. Construction companies are also powerful political actors. They have close connections with politicians and bureaucrats. They generally donate to political parties and are linked to powerful lobbyists. GBI could imply cheaper solutions to urban problems, which would go against the interest of the construction companies if they are not prepared to take part in the GBI business. GBI also would require different kinds of professionals, such as experts in plants and ecosystems to plan, build, or maintain GBI. This could replace a large number of employees from the construction companies generating resistance from the worker’s group.
Therefore, the transition to the widespread use of GBI in cities is a long process of innovating and experimenting, as well as convincing the different internal and external actors about the economic and technical viability and potential benefits of GBI as compared to the traditional infrastructure. Thus, there is a need to have support from the city leadership and continuity in the process of change. Internal actors in the city government and administration would have to be convinced, and maybe see the political and economic gains, to support GBI innovations. Organizational arrangements would also need to change to allow for the use of GBI. External actors, such as financial institutions and construction companies, would need to be part of the innovation process as well. Finance institutions are conservative in the risk analysis of the investments and generally have strict rules for lending. Managers have fiduciary responsibility and are accountable for their decisions.
Photo: José Puppim
Photo: José Puppim
The example of the municipality of Belo Horizonte, the capital of the state of Minas Gerais in Brazil, provides insights on this long process of innovation in GBI. The city started experimenting with certain types of GBI in the early 2000s and took more than a decade to establish a solid policy for prioritizing GBI as solutions for certain urban problems in a drainage program called DRENURBS. Belo Horizonte has developed an approach to avoid the canalization of streams and prioritize the use of green and blue infrastructure in the city’s drainage system. The approach was developed along the years with a series of interactions among the different stakeholders involved in the drainage infrastructure, such as different city government offices, financing institutions, such as the Interamerican Development Bank, and communities affected by flooding. The main innovation in the DRENURBS drainage program was the idea of resettling communities affected by flooding and creating drainage systems on the land using GBI, instead of the previous gray infrastructure approach that was to cover and channel rivers in underground pipes and resettle people back on the top. In the short term, this gray solution could work, but the experience in the city showed that, in the long-term, floods would happen again. The capacity of an underground river would not generally be able to canalize the increasing volume of water that would come with the impermeabilization of other areas in the region.
Photo: José Puppim
Over the years, the innovative policy of avoiding covering the rivers (DRENURBS), which was initially an experimentation, became mainstream in the city. A series of laws and regulations were developed to establish GBI as the main solution to prevent flooding of the rivers and other water bodies in the city. This policy also had an impact on innovation in public policies, by rearranging the relations among the different stakeholders and innovative financial mechanisms. The changes in the way of developing drainage systems also brought a series of investments in other areas that improved the quality of public services in the region. For example, sewage treatment, a state responsibility through the Minas Gerais’ water and sewage company, COPASA, was just ignored before and allowed to go untreated in the underground pipes. The use of GBI requires treatment of the sewage as there could be a health risk in the new parks. Thus, the city made an agreement with COPASA to invest city money in a sewage system in exchange for part of the water and sewage bills from the households in the city. They created a co-financing mechanism with part of the sewage bills collected by COPASA to invest in flooding prevention. The sanitation committee was strengthened with a sanitation fund with resources from the COPASA agreement.
The innovation using GBI could also generate various co-benefits for the communities around the river. The drainage infrastructure, besides flooding prevention, also offers space for recreation, generally in poor areas with a lack of green spaces, as well as centers for biodiversity education for schools and areas for biodiversity preservation. Many of the parks have a social function of bringing the community together for weekend activities. These benefits for the community reinforced the importance of DRENURBS.
Belo Horizonte suffered severely with the floods in January 2020, particularly in the areas that had their rivers canalized under the pavement, but the areas with GBI were much more resilient. Moreover, the initiation in Belo Horizonte changed the way IADB finances drainage systems. Initially, IADB was skeptical about the natural infrastructure for drainage but later was convinced about the benefits in terms of the costs and indirect impacts of the GBI. Nowadays, IADB finances such kinds of infrastructure in several countries across Latin America.
The implementation of the DRENURBS program required significant efforts in the articulation of the various organizations and changes in the way the city approached the solutions to urban problems. The traditional engineering approach of removing the communities temporarily for the construction work and bringing them back in at the end of the process was straightforward and well established in Belo Horizonte, like in many other cities of the world. The new approach needed a multidisciplinary approach with a length plan and long interaction with the communities. The values saved with the lower costs of GBI would not compensate for the need to acquire land to resettle the communities permanently around the area. There was a long process of negotiation with the communities affected by the intervention in order to convince them about the benefits of leaving their homes for new buildings in the region. There was a tremendous risk the process could be stalled for years, which also costs large amounts of money. However, over the years, the city developed the capacity to work with communities by building a more interdisciplinary team to deal with the new approach. The engineering solution of the past was replaced over time to become a multi-actor and transdisciplinary approach to the urban problem of flooding and rain drainage.
José A. Puppim de Oliveira, with Leon Norking and Carlos Rigolo
São Paulo
Carlos Eduardo Rigolo Lopes graduated in Social Science with a specialization in Environmental Management and is currently a master candidate in Public Policy and Management at Getulio Vargas Foundation. He is dedicated to understanding the governance behind urban rivers and works as a consultant supporting social-environmental commitments in Amazon.
Leon Norking Rangel holds a Bachelor’s in International Relations from the University of São Paulo and is currently pursuing the Master of Public Policy and Management at Getulio Vargas Foundation, with specialization in environmental policy. His main research interests are environmental restoration policies and the interaction between infrastructure and environmental politics.
Regularly, we feature a Global Roundtable in which a group of people respond to a specific question in The Nature of Cities.
show/hide list of writers
Hover over a name to see an excerpt of their response…click on the name to see their full response.
Gloria Aponte, MedellínWhen something is scarce it becomes more valuable, and liability is proportional inverse to availability. As the naturalist George Schaller says: “we have to change our cultural relationship with the natural world”.
Katherine Berthon, MelbourneFor cities that already have high standards of water management, such as Melbourne, the code is not transformational, but may allow for confirmation and fine tuning of policies by highlighting strengths and weaknesses of current approaches to water management.
Carmen Bouyer, ParisThis ethical code can absolutely be applied to an art practice. It asks creatives to create images that convey a strong ethic regarding water, ecosystems, and people, creating ways to sense and respect the presence, wisdom and value of water everywhere. It asks artists to use materials that are fully non toxic, not polluting the waterways, and non-water intensive.
Paul Currie, Cape TownWhen joining The Nature of Cities Summit session on Greening Water Stressed Cities, we were one year past the worst drought Cape Town had experienced. I was intrigued that the water crisis was as much a political crisis as it was a technical one. I was intrigued to see climate change as a tangible, present experience, not the ever-approaching but distant concern.
PK Das MumbaiCity planners all along have refused to recognize the need and importance of building with nature, including integrating natural areas in the development plans. In Mumbai, the vast stretches of watercourses, waterfronts, creeks, wetlands, mangroves, natural flora and fauna, coastal edges, hills and forests are excluded and being treated as dumping grounds, both physically and metaphorically.
Meredith Dobbie, VictoriaScientific literacy is recognised as essential for full participation in society and preparation for life-long learning. Without it, water users are less likely to understand the water cycle and all its consequences for sustainable, and ethical, urban water use and management. With scientific literacy and programs supporting behaviour change, implementation of the code by water users is possible.
Casey Furlong, MelbourneWhile top-down management has an important role, it also has limitations, especially in countries with high levels of government corruption, or low levels of technical and governance capacity.
Andrew Grant, BathIt is interesting that we immediately structure our approach to urban water ethics around water specific awareness, governance, and technologies rather than placing it into a debate about our wider human life support needs for air, water, food and sensory wellbeing.
Gary Grant, London For general declarations, is best to avoid jargon, which many people will not be familiar with. Supporting texts could address that, as well as city-level or catchment-level interpretations, which might relate to the most pressing threats, local governance, cultural differences or economic practices.
Juliana Landolfi de Carvalho, CuritibaI believe that the key point of the “Commitment for Users” item is the emphasis on understanding the water cycle systematicity, with questions such as: Where does the water that I consume in my house come from? Where does it go to? What are the impacts of my water use on the environment? How can I reduce them? What shifts about consumption patterns can I take to reduce my impact?
Tom Liptan, PortlandIsn’t it strange: water is life, but most of us know so little. Understanding my local water cycle related to my drinking water system is quite complex, let alone the global cycles, so as a commitment I think local is of primary concern. Also understanding how our actions might or do affect other people’s water would be a part of local to local relationships.
Sareh Moosavi, BrusselsIn the Middle East, a number of design firms have refuted the idea of copying western-style green spaces with vast areas of lawn with high water requirements, and have experimented with new forms of linear urban parks in the abandoned dry water channels, often known as wadis. This requires innovative approaches in designing adaptive and flexible landscapes.
Harini Nagendra, BangaloreEthics and norms grow in the well fertilized water of imagination and culture. Keeping space for a diversity of imaginations to flourish in close proximity will be essential if we are to make the water code work in practice. The challenge will be to do this in a way that works across locations, cultures and imaginations.
Diane Pataki, Salt Lake CityMost American cities still fail to capture and recycle sustainable sources of water. And as I write, my city is filled with smoke from massive wildfires of unprecedented magnitude. It has never been more apparent that people, landscapes, and water are all interrelated, and we will suffer or succeed together.
André Stephan, BrusselsIn the Middle East, a number of design firms have refuted the idea of copying western-style green spaces with vast areas of lawn with high water requirements, and have experimented with new forms of linear urban parks in the abandoned dry water channels, often known as wadis. This requires innovative approaches in designing adaptive and flexible landscapes.
Peter Schoonmaker, PortlandThe case for an “ethical code for water” would be hard to make if water were universally unlimited, like air (before pollution) or starry nights (before cities). It’s the limitation, or excess, that demands an ethic.
Naomi Tsur, JerusalemIt is often said that major conflicts of the future will be about water. The challenge for all of us is surely to make water a force for better and more ethical human behavior.
Mario Yanez, LisbonFor me, this ethical code is a plea for life. For my own rivers inside and those that run beneath my feet. For those that run freely further afield, and for the ones that move through the air and rain down elsewhere that eventually make their way back to me.
Naomi Tsur is Founder and Chair of the Israel Urban Forum, Chair of the Jerusalem Green Fund, Founder and Head of Green Pilgrim Jerusalem, and served a term as Deputy Mayor of Jerusalem, responsible for planning and the environment.
Introduction
Following the Nature of Cities Summit in June 2019 in Paris, a group of us continued the discussion that began in the seed session “Greening Water-Scarce Cities.”
Diane Pataki, Peter Schoonmaker and Naomi Tsur, who had put together the session, were joined by Paul Currie and Mario Yanez in a series of cyber meetings, through which we have attempted to collate and synthesize the creative ideas that had been presented at the seed session into an ethical code for water. It is our hope that this can become a useful basis for diverse parties and institutions in their efforts to address the challenges of water in our current climate crisis, in which no area is unaffected by changing water patterns.
We asked David Maddox to enable us to present our initial document as a theme for a TNOC Round Table Discussion, and look forward to seeing your comments, criticism, and in general addenda and corrigenda.
You, our fellow contributors and readers of TNOC are the first to see this document. It can be used by all, of course, but it is our hope to present it in 2021 at the World Water Forum in Dakar.
It goes beyond the scope of cities, but can certainly be a basis for cities to develop policy, educational programs and infrastructure. The initial responses to the code have been provided by the participants in the seed session.
Naomi Tsur, Jerusalem
Mario Yanez, Lisbon
Diane Pataki, Salt Lake City
Peter Schoonmaker, Portland
Paul Currie, Cape Town
Roundtable question: Water is essential to life. For many it is inaccessible, while others take it for granted. We propose here a code for the ethical use of water in cities. What works? What doesn’t? Would you use this code to transform your city?
The ethical basis for water rights and obligations in cities
After a workshop held at “The Nature of Cities Summit” (Paris 2019), a group of TNOC contributors committed to meeting regularly in order to establish an ethical basis for water use and management. This document is a preliminary draft of our understandings, hopefully a basis for many conversations and policy discussions as more and more stakeholders address the principles laid out. The document also represents a simple guide for ethical actions with regard to water.
Acknowledging that there have been many explorations of water ethics, this document sets out some succinct observations and ethical principles related to urban water use and management and offers considerations for ethical water actions.
Declaration
It is a universally accepted truth that:
Water is the basis for all life on earth
People and nature have a universal basic right to clean, safe water
Ecosystem functions provide a wide range of water-related services (to people and nature)
More than half of the world’s freshwater supply is currently allocated for human activities
Neither people nor nature are universally receiving their rights to water
While many experience water excess, many experience water scarcity
Climate crisis is changing hydrosocial cycles in fundamental ways
Almost all urban areas import water, with potential impacts on upstream and downstream ecosystems
All urban activities have an embodied water footprint
There exist many ecological, social and technical solutions to improve water access and management
The sourcing, treatment and distribution of water have energy and material implications, with wider environmental impacts
There is a conflict of interest between supply-driven business and the need to reduce consumption
Where water is privately controlled, there is risk of exclusion from water access
There is a mismatch between administrative boundaries and watershed areas
People are entitled to use water in manners which express their needs, cultures, values, and activities
People have an obligation to use water responsibly
All are responsible to protect and regenerate the integrity and functioning of water cycles
These obligations and responsibilities will only be fulfilled through the commitment and participation of National and Sub-National Governments, Civil Society, Academia, the Private Sector, Communities, Conveyors, and Individuals.
Commitment
I as a water user will commit to:
Understanding my local and global water cycles
Appreciating that natural fresh water is finite in global supply
Conserving water and using it mindfully
Being cognizant of and responsible for the upstream and downstream impacts of our actions
Reusing water multiple times whenever possible (cascading)
Reserving potable water for drinking and bathing
Preventing household pollutants from entering the water cycle
We, as water suppliers or conveyors, commit to all of the above, and also to:
Taking a watershed perspective
Educating ourselves, peers, residents, and children about how the water system works and our roles in it
Investing in consistent data collection, analysis and sharing
Investing in a hierarchy of water supply types, which allocates and cycles potable water, greywater, and blackwater appropriately (at multiple scales)
Preventing agricultural and industrial pollutants, and untreated wastewater from entering socio-ecosystems
Pricing water services effectively to incentivize stewardship while ensuring that the water system remains intact and that people’s basic needs are met
Operating in good faith when engaging with local communities
Participating in multi-stakeholder water governance processes
Contributing and adhering to water action plans and other policy instruments
We, as government, business and civil society at all levels, commit to all of the above, and also to:
Enabling governance of water which ensures stewardship and regeneration
Ensuring that everyone has access to clean water for drinking and bathing
Ensuring that water management is not monopolized, nor driven primarily by economic gain
Preparing for climate crises by adopting resilience strategies and appropriate infrastructures
Mandating swift action in the face of impending water crises
Ensuring collection and open dissemination of information, data, and best practices for water management and stewardship
Facilitating and investing in creativity, innovation and experimentation for appropriate technologies, and regenerative infrastructures and practices
Developing and enforcing suitable water policies and action plans for every city through multi-stakeholder engagement
Managing conflicts in water provision
Ensuring that diverse socio-cultural values, needs and practices regarding water are acknowledged and accommodated.
Way Forward
Our manifesto! Inundated with ideas! Now you should join us!
As a working document, we invite colleagues to comment, add to, and embrace this ethical code for water, for presentation and adoption at the World Water Forum 2021 in Dakar, Senegal.
It’s universal, Water. Too much. Too little. But a right for all.
Would you like to join a global team that takes this forward? If so, please do leave a comment and email us at [email protected]
Not enough? Too much? Our water manifesto: Be responsible
Mario Yanez is dedicated to envisioning and inspiring a transition toward life-sustaining, regenerative human communities. As a whole-systems designer, he is working globally at various scales, implementing productive landscapes and ecosocial systems. As a scholar-practitioner, he is researching complexity and pathways toward cultivating wholeness in society and economy.
Diane Pataki is a Professor of Biological Sciences, an Adjunct Professor of City & Metropolitan Planning, and Associate Vice President for Research at the University of Utah. She studies the role of urban landscaping and forestry in the socioecology of cities.]
Peter Schoonmaker leads the outdoor education program at American Community School Beirut, and is president of Illahee, a non-profit organization focused on designing new models for cooperative environmental/social/economic problem solving.
Paul Currie is a Director of the Urban Systems Unit at ICLEI Africa. He is a researcher of African urban resource and service systems, with interest in connecting quantitative analysis with storytelling and visual elicitation.
Gloria Aponte is a Colombian landscape architect who has been practicing for more than 30 years in design, planning and teaching. She lead her own firm, Ecotono Ltda., in Bogotá for 20 years. She led the Masters program in Landscape Design at Universidad Pontificia Bolivariana, in Medellín. She is a consultant and belongs to "Rastro Urbano" research group at Universidad de Ibagué, and also the Education Clúster at LALI (Latinamerican Landscape Initiative).
Gloria Aponte
When something is scarce it becomes more valuable, and liability is proportional inverse to availability. As the naturalist George Schaller says: “we have to change our cultural relationship with the natural world”.
Paramos: Water Suppliers and Human Heritage
Talking about how the water system works, it is well known and understood that water flows in a cycle, which varies according with geographical and meteorological particularities of each place. Thus, the point where the water cycle meets the earth becomes quite important. How does land receive water? Through a pervious surface that is home for water? Or an impervious surface that tends to reject it? In the first case, slow release assures a balanced supply, while in the second storm water quick release will be the result.
One example of the first case are the so called paramos, a unique ecosystems located in the tropical area but on very high mountains between 3.000 and 4.500 m; mostly in the Andes in South America and Costa Rica. Paramos guarantee a very convenient water disposal equilibrium, regulating the water flow and avoiding soil erosion; they have been considered “water factories” because of the permanent disposal they provide. Additionally, their soils also have more capacity for fixing CO2 than soils of other ecosystems, which is an additional contribution to face the present global crisis of climate change.
There are just six areas in the world that have paramos ecosystems and half of them are located in Colombia. In this country there are 37 paramos areas, and those provide the 70% of the water supply for the population and activities. That is the reason why Colombia has been classified as one of the richest countries in water, counting with a very wide and abundant hydric net.
Belmira paramo, Colombia central mountain range. Photo: Julián Monsalve, Msc. In Landscape Design
Historically paramos were even revered by native pre-Columbian groups, that had a very close relationship whit nature and deeply respected it. Nevertheless, in last decades and mainly at present, paramos are menaced by agricultural and mining activities that increase progressively in their surroundings.
In the national context, paramos have been considered an important heritage but just in 2018 the law (Law 1930) to protect them was declared when it was visualized that climate change could make them disappear. The vegetation on Paramos ecosystems is quite outstanding and it becomes lower on higher altitude. The most representative is frailejon, that reaches up to ten meters high, growing only one centimeter per year.
Frailejon flower in Ruiz paramo, Colombian central mountain range Photo: Valentina Hidalgo, Msc. In Landscape design
The Colombian public ministry asked UNESCO to declare paramos a World Heritage, for the first time in 2017. The petition continues at present, in order to formalize that deserved designation. Last internal national movements about had taken place during pandemic time, in August and September 2020, to once again file the petition with UNESCO.
Paramos are the origin of the water we enjoy in cities, so we urban inhabitants must apply the Code of water, in order to guarantee the water cycle in best quality and assure that ourselves, peers, residents, and children contribute in that sense.
When something is scarce it becomes more valuable, and liability is proportional inverse to availability. As the naturalist George Schaller says: “we have to change our cultural relationship with the natural world”.
Carmen Bouyer is a French environmental artist and designer based in Paris.
Carmen Bouyer
This ethical code can absolutely be applied to an art practice. It asks creatives to create images that convey a strong ethic regarding water, ecosystems, and people, creating ways to sense and respect the presence, wisdom and value of water everywhere. It asks artists to use materials that are fully non toxic, not polluting the waterways, and non-water intensive.
The code for the ethical basis for water rights and obligations in cities gives a rich overview of water related issues. What I like is that it offers a structured way to commit to adopting an aware and responsible relationship with water on various levels: as an individual water user, as a business, as an organised civil society group, or as a government.
In my view, the points that are presented to structure this commitment could be boiled down a bit more and reorganised to be more easily legible. For instance, I would engage more easily with The declaration section that introduces the document if it was structured by themes: Water in general (1.)(2.)(5.), Climate (7.), Ecosystems (3.), People (4.)(11.)(6.)(15.)(12.)(13.)(14.), Urban issues (8.)(9.), Solutions/Obligations (10.)(16.)(17.)(18.).
In the Commitment section, I would also shuffle the numbers a bit. In the first part “I as a water user will commit to”, I would have the commitments listed in that order that feels more intuitive to me: Understand (1), Being conscious (4.), Appreciate (2,), Conserve (3.), Reuse (5.), Reserve (6.), Prevent (7.). And in the third part “We, as government, business and civil society at all levels, commit to all of the above, and also to” I would organise the points in this order: Access to clean water (2.), Managing conflicts (9.), Governance of water (1.), Water management (3), Preparing for climate crises (4.)(5.), Water policies and actions plans in cities (8.), Open dissemination of information (6.) Ensuring diversity of water based socio-cultural ways (10.), Investing in innovation (7.)
Thinking of transforming my city, Paris, by using those guidelines I wouldn’t know where and how to start. As a citizen I feel I have very little access to policy making regarding water (except by electing representatives every other year) and so wouldn’t know to whom to address the Code here. A code that would have to be translated in French and accompanied by examples of actionable ways showing how those ideals can be applied locally.
But even though I am not in a position where I can directly transform my city regarding water ethics, I can commit to the code as an individual water user and I can support that movement forward and raise awareness through my artistic practices. This ethical code for water can absolutely be applied to an art practice. It asks creatives to create symbols, images and experiences that can convey a strong ethic regarding water, ecosystems and people, creating ways to sense and respect the presence, wisdom and value of water everywhere. It asks artists to use materials that are fully non toxic, not polluting the waterways, and non-water intensive. To do so in a radically honest way would totally change the way art looks and feels in my country.
Photo collage by Carmen Bouyer, extract from tnoc ethical code for water and photographs of the Seine river in Paris, 2020.
P.K. Das is popularly known as an Architect-Activist. With an extremely strong emphasis on participatory planning, he hopes to integrate architecture and democracy to bring about desired social changes in the country.
PK Das
City planners all along have refused to recognize the need and importance of building with nature, including integrating natural areas in the development plans. In Mumbai, the vast stretches of watercourses, waterfronts, creeks, wetlands, mangroves, natural flora and fauna, coastal edges, hills and forests are excluded and being treated as dumping grounds, both physically and metaphorically.
Let’s Demolish These Concrete Walls
There is urgent need for the recognition of all the natural and environmental conditions and their mapping through a well-planned participatory program. An open mapping and database are fundamental to an understanding of the natural resources and their sharing– an imminent objective of sustainability. Further, the democratization of planning is a significant step too in the struggle for rejuvenation and revitalization of all the natural assets and areas, indeed of water, waterbodies and watercourses, for the successful achievement of the very objective of sustainable urban development.
Historically, the waterbodies and watercourses, including rivers across Indian cities have been turned into sewer and sloid waste disposal channels. Most watercourses have been formalized by governments as sewage channels by constructing impervious concrete walls along both edges in order to “contain the filth” and to gain land through landfilling the wetlands in order to promote real estate interest. In many instances, the beds of the watercourses have been concretized too. As a result, the symbiotic relationship that exist between water and land are severed. Also, water and the surrounding land are starved of their nourishment and severed of the multitude of ecological services that that they both individually and together provide. Such rampant destruction of nature and the natural conditions have led to an alarming state of unsustainable urban development with devastating floods and submergence of vast areas– being just one of the many threats that we increasingly experience in cities world over, including India.
City planners all along have refused to recognize the need and importance of building with nature, including integrating natural areas in the development plans. The vast stretches of watercourses, waterfronts, creeks, wetlands, mangroves, natural flora and fauna, coastal edges, hills and forests are excluded and being treated as dumping grounds, both physically and metaphorically. Governments and planners are affected by a build-more syndrome. A syndrome that has been systematically promoted and inflicted under the principles of privatization and the free- market oriented development that is built upon just one objective, i.e. to fast track financial turnover and profit at any cost through private initiative– reflected in the ruthlessness of capital markets and the development ventures that is increasingly colonizing public assets, including attacks on the natural areas through indiscriminate landfilling. Governments behave the same way by directly undertaking landfilling works or legitimizing the effort by private agencies. Over the years, we have failed to evolve methods for evaluating environmental values and its benefits as being an integral aspect of development economy.
Under such dominant socio-political climate, people’s understanding of nature and the environment and their resolve to strengthen movements that would put pressures on their government on decisions pertaining to conservation, restoration and integration of the natural assets are marred. Therefore, struggles for the achievement of a sustainable development rooted in the idea of build-with-nature has to be popularized through concerted campaigns. Importantly, the socio-environmental movements would also have to collectively with other democratic rights movements plan and implement or facilitate the implementation of projects that demonstrate their multiple benefits and through that process gain experience in strengthening their movements. The idea of expanding public open spaces that include the integration of natural areas as an idea of open spaces could be one objective example. This is one effective means through which people will relate to the natural assets, including water and the watercourses. Such projects would inevitably include undoing many works that have been implemented over the years, including demolition of the concrete walls built along waterbodies, watercourses and the coastline.
Meredith Dobbie is a landscape architect and research fellow at Monash University. Her research interests revolve around urban nature, landscape aesthetics and sustainable landscape design.
Meredith Dobbie
Scientific literacy is recognised as essential for full participation in society and preparation for life-long learning. Without it, water users are less likely to understand the water cycle and all its consequences for sustainable, and ethical, urban water use and management. With scientific literacy and programs supporting behaviour change, implementation of the code by water users is possible.
Australia has been at the forefront in acknowledging the importance of integrated urban water management and different water sources for fit-for-purpose use. Water sensitive urban design, including stormwater harvesting, treatment and reuse, is now recognised at all levels of government as essential for sustainable and liveable cities, although its implementation is still somewhat ad hoc. In Victoria, where I live, the Eastern Treatment Plant was constructed in south-eastern Melbourne in 1975 for treatment of sewage. Some of the treated wastewater is recycled for use in nearby suburbs for irrigation and other external uses. Many households have rainwater tanks, which are plumbed in to their houses for use in the laundry and for flushing toilets. However, treated wastewater is not yet used for drinking anywhere in Australia. A referendum was held in Toowoomba, Queensland in 2006, to use treated wastewater for drinking but it was defeated after a very effective, and emotive, campaign by those against the proposal. In Western Australia, though, treated wastewater is used to recharge groundwater aquifers, which provide water to Perth. It is evident that practice still lags behind policy. It is also evident from the draft code for the ethical basis for water rights and obligations in cities that personal practice, or behaviours, of water users must change (code items 3, 5, 6 and 7 in the commitment for water users). This can only occur with increased scientific literacy, which code items 1, 2 and 4 in the water user commitment presume.
Scientific literacy is recognised as essential for full participation in society and preparation for life-long learning. Without it, water users are less likely to understand the water cycle and all its consequences for sustainable, and ethical, urban water use and management. Scientific literacy should include both knowledge about science and knowledge of science. Worryingly, it is decreasing in Australia amongst school students and adults. In 2018, Programme for International Student Assessment (PISA) testing showed that scientific literacy of Australian 15-year old students ranked 13th among 78 OECD countries, with six other countries at the same level (Should Australia worry about drop in PISA rankings?). Australia’s ranking has been declining since 2009. Using a survey based on one developed by the California Academy of Science, the Australian Academy of Science in 2013 reported that scientific literacy among Australian adults had also declined since an earlier test in 2010 (Science Literacy Report 2013). Most Australians had a basic grasp of key scientific concepts but, as an example of water-related knowledge, only 9% of respondents knew that 3% of the earth’s water was fresh. This percentage had declined from 12% in 2010. Generally, younger respondents, men and those with higher education were more likely to answer questions correctly. Worryingly, knowledge levels had dropped the most in young people.
Declining scientific literacy has attracted commentary about school curriculum content and how science is taught. Especially important is to engage primary school students more with science, and to ensure that those students who are interested in science can relate what they are taught in school to their own lives (Science curriculum needs to do more to engage primary school students; Science literacy is a crucial skill). The Australian Curriculum emphasizes the importance of scientific literacy in practice. This will be critical to enabling Australians to observe the code for the ethical basis for water rights and obligations in cities.
Changing behaviour is a greater challenge than ensuring scientific literacy, I think. Behaviour change can be in response to regulations or it can be voluntary. A regulatory approach might involve price increases to reduce water consumption. This approach, though, does raise issues for a code concerned with ethical water rights and obligations. Certainly, higher prices disadvantage those with lower incomes, which is hardly ethical. Voluntary behaviour change is preferable. There are many influences on voluntary behaviour change (Guide to promoting water sensitive behaviour), including awareness, skills and knowledge, costs versus benefits (e.g. financial, physical, emotional, mental), social norms and personal values, emotions, cognitive biases, and contextual factors (e.g. availability of alternative water sources). These all demand our attention if we aspire to change peoples’ behaviour in line with the draft code. However, they can be considered as nested, i.e. awareness, skills and knowledge, personal values, emotions and cognitive biases are personal attributes, which are likely to influence assessments of costs versus benefits and influence responses to social norms (although they help establish them) and contextual factors.
Scientific literacy can contribute awareness, skills and knowledge that support the code, thereby promoting behaviour change. Such knowledge can also help shape personal values. What then of emotions and cognitive biases? What can we do to manage these to facilitate behaviour change?
Cognitive biases are assumptions and (mis)perceptions that people have, which can influence behaviour or affect responses to new information. People are inclined to compare new information with what they already believe and to discard the new information if inconsistent with the old. It can be hard to convince people that new information is correct.
An example relevant to the water code is the Yuck factor. This is an immediate emotional response of disgust to the notion of drinking recycled water, associated with the perceived dirtiness of the water and a fear of contamination (Psychological_aspects_of_rejection_of_recycled_water). Opponents of recycled wastewater in Toowoomba used the Yuck factor in their campaign in 2006 to great effect. There is some debate whether emotional responses precede or follow cognitive responses, i.e. whether we feel before we think or think before we feel when we experience, or even consider, something and express a preference (Feeling and thinking). The idea of feeling before thinking makes sense to me. And here lies the potential for behaviour change consistent with the code, especially problematic item 5. People might initially dislike the idea of reusing treated wastewater, but with scientific literacy, thinking can override feeling, so that recycling water can become acceptable.
I believe that, with scientific literacy and programs supporting behaviour change, implementation of the code by water users is possible. I look forward to seeing how the code develops further to become a document that inspires and supports the ethical use of water for the benefit of all.
Gary Grant is a Chartered Environmentalist, Fellow of the Institute of Ecology and Environmental Management, Fellow of the Leeds Sustainability Institute, and Thesis Supervisor at the Bartlett Faculty of the Built Environment, University College London. He is Director of the Green Infrastructure Consultancy (http://greeninfrastructureconsultancy.com/).
Gary Grant
For general declarations, is best to avoid jargon, which many people will not be familiar with. Supporting texts could address that, as well as city-level or catchment-level interpretations, which might relate to the most pressing threats, local governance, cultural differences or economic practices.
I’m sure that the draft code is a good summary of the discussions of the Paris workshop in 2019, however further condensation would make adoption by cities and organisations more likely. For general declarations, is also better to avoid jargon, which is too frequent in the draft and which many people will not be familiar with. In terms of explanation and detail, especially for specialists, a supporting text or texts could address that, as well as city-level or catchment-level interpretations, which might relate to the most pressing threats, local governance, cultural differences or economic practices.
I suggest something like:
Declaration
Human activities are responsible for the use of most of the Earth’s freshwater, which is finite
Whilst some people have more than enough clean freshwater, many others do not
Current patterns of consumption and management of clean freshwater have damaging effects on the natural environment and cannot be sustained, a problem that is being exacerbated by climate change
For civilization to persist and thrive and nature to be restored, we must all change the ways that we consume and manage clean freshwater
Commitments
As a consumer of clean water, I commit to:
Learning about the water cycle and its role in nature
Using water carefully and mindfully
Not wasting or polluting water
We, as water suppliers, commit to working in constructive partnership with citizens and governments to:
Increase everyone’s knowledge of the water cycle
Improve the measurement of water consumption and impacts on nature and sharing that information with everyone
Invest in appropriate techniques that clean, conserve and recycle water
Prevent pollutants and untreated wastewater from entering the environment
Adopt pricing arrangements that ensure resilience and good stewardship whilst meeting the basic needs of all
We, as government, business and civil society at all levels, commit to:
Governance of water supply and management which is mindful of this Code
Swift and appropriate action in the face of the related global crises of water scarcity, climate change and biodiversity loss
Ensuring that everyone has access to clean water for drinking and bathing and that cultural and individual diversity is respected
Ensuring that water management is not driven primarily for financial gain
Ensuring collection and open dissemination of information and promotion of research, innovation and good practice
Adopting and implementing appropriate policies, strategies and plans with, and for, everyone
Andrew formed Grant Associates in 1997 to explore the emerging frontiers of landscape architecture within sustainable development. He has a fascination with creative ecology and the promotion of quality and innovation in landscape design. Each of his projects responds to the place, its inherent ecology and its people.
Andrew Grant
It is interesting that we immediately structure our approach to urban water ethics around water specific awareness, governance, and technologies rather than placing it into a debate about our wider human life support needs for air, water, food and sensory wellbeing.
“Water is the driving force of all nature.
—Leonardo da Vinci
If there is to be an ethical code for water in cities it must not be just human focussed. Yes, at the most basic level it is important that all humanity has equitable and appropriate access to clean and healthy freshwater to sustain our life. However, there must be a mechanism to balance our human urban water needs with those of all other life forms. In extremis could we survive as a species if we used all the available freshwater at the expense of every other flora and fauna species in the city? Imagine having a belly full of water looking out across a desert city with no trees , no animation from birds and insects, no scent from flowers and no sounds from barking dogs and howling monkeys.
It is interesting that we immediately structure our approach to urban water ethics around water specific awareness, governance, and technologies rather than placing it into a debate about our wider human life support needs for air, water, food and sensory wellbeing. How should we share freshwater across species that sustains all life in an equitable way but which ensures all of our human needs are met?
Another theme is how water shapes the identity of cities in different ways in different part of the world. My home city is Bath in the UK, named Aquae Sulis by the Romans, is a city built on and from its water. The hot springs that emerge at the heart of the city fell as rain over 10,000 years ago on the hills many miles away and continue to give life to the identity of our city and its reputation as a therapeutic refuge. The surrounding landscape is alive with natural springs and the river Avon itself has carved out the distinctive natural topography of the valleys that create the setting for this UNESCO World Heritage Site. The point is this water based identity is an identity borrowed from times past. If we have an ethical approach to water in cities should we also consider the legacy for the future and not diminish the cultural and natural heritage that we have inherited.
Juliana Wilse Landolfi Teixeira de Carvalho is a PhD research student in Hydrogeomorphology Laboratory, Department of Geography, Federal University of Paraná. Curitiba / Brazil.Researcher on nature-based solutions for urban drainage, Urban Hydrology, hydraulic and hydrological modeling.
Juliana Wilse Landolfi Teixeira de Carvalho
I believe that the key point of the “Commitment for Users” item is the emphasis on understanding the water cycle systematicity, with questions such as: Where does the water that I consume in my house come from? Where does it go to? What are the impacts of my water use on the environment? How can I reduce them? What shifts about consumption patterns can I take to reduce my impact?
Urbanization is a global phenomenon that is growing significantly in Latin America, Africa, and Asia, bringing with it impacts in different spheres and scales. Many of these impacts are verified in the urban hydrological dynamics and water management. Climate change associated with the growth prospect of urban areas brings up even more significant challenges related to these impacts. Changes in climate dynamics can lead to variations in the temperature or rainfall regime, shifts in frequency and intensity of extreme rainfall events, thus, enhancing the hazard of floods, droughts, storms, and its social and environmental impacts (IPCC 2018).
Currently, about 55% of the world population lives in urban areas. UN-Habitat (2016) estimated that by 2050, the world population must reach ten billion, with around 70% of the world population living in cities. It is exceptionally alarming when merged with the UNESCO Water Report (2018), which states that by the year 2050, about 5 billion people will suffer from water scarcity at some level. Furthermore, the number of people at risk of flooding should increase from the current 1.2 billion to 1.6 billion, given that the urban population will be the most affected by these extreme weather events. These risks depend on the magnitude and rate of warming, geographic location, vulnerability, and the choices and implementation of adaptation and mitigation options.
In the urban environment context, it is essential to consider that cities are built on watersheds, and, therefore, the urban space configuration can affect the urban water cycle dynamics, changing the rates of water balance components, decreasing water security, and intensifying drought and flood risk.
Face to the urban growth, associated with climate change scenarios and water management challenges, the “code for the ethical use of water in the cities” is urgent and necessary, especially in the poorest countries, where social inequality increases, territory management, and urban planning are shallow, and population awareness has not been a priority.
The eighteen basic principles listed in the code are consistent and realistic, recognizing that the universal right to clean and safe water is not being ensured to everyone. It covers climate change scenarios, upstream and downstream impacts of urban water systems; water private control as the risk of exclusion from water access; the necessity of watershed management; collective responsibility for water use, and collaboration among different entities in society to achieve stipulated objectives.
I believe that the key point of the “Commitment for Users” item is the emphasis on understanding the water cycle systematicity, with questions such as: Where does the water that I consume in my house come from? Where does it go to? What are the impacts of my water use on the environment? How can I reduce them? What shifts about consumption patterns can I take to reduce my impact?
The “Commitment for water suppliers, government, and business” are also consistent. I suggest adding an item about “investing in research about improving urban water management (water security, universal access to water, rainwater use, wastewater treatment and reuse, decreasing impacts on ecosystems; benefits of greening cities for risk management, Nature-based Solutions for water management).
There would be many benefits if this code were applied in my city. I live in Curitiba, the capital of the State of Paraná, southern Brazil. It is a densely urbanized city, whose metropolitan complex has more than 3 million inhabitants. The city suffers from several issues related to water management: urban flooding, water scarcity, water pollution, denaturalization of rivers and hydrological processes.
Currently, we suffer the most severe drought recorded in the last 100 years. With rainfall below the historical average, the level of our reservoirs reached less than 30%. The drought’s result is a severe rotation of water supply, which, unfortunately, disadvantages the poorer classes. In the pandemic context, where there is a recommendation to wash hands several times a day, thousands of citizens often suffer from water scarcity.
I understand that the application of this Code for the Ethical Use of Water in Cities could set up a different scenario from that we currently experience on water management during this drought period in my region. We could also have different scenarios related to urban floods that are recurrent every year, causing numerous demages to the population and the and public management.
References
IPCC, 2018: Summary for Policymakers. In: Global warming of 1.5°C. An IPCC Special Report on the impacts of global warming of 1.5°C above pre-industrial levels and related global greenhouse gas emission pathways, in the context of strengthening the global response to the threat of climate change, sustainable development, and efforts to eradicate poverty [V. Masson-Delmotte, P. Zhai, H. O. Pörtner, D. Roberts, J. Skea, P.R. Shukla, A. Pirani, W. Moufouma-Okia, C. Péan, R. Pidcock, S. Connors, J. B. R. Matthews, Y. Chen, X. Zhou, M. I. Gomis, E. Lonnoy, T. Maycock, M. Tignor, T. Waterfield (eds.)]. In Press.
UNESCO. 2018. The United Nations World Water Development Report 2018: Nature-based Solutions for Water. Paris, UNESCO.
Un-Habitat. 2016. World Cities Report 2016: Urbanization and development, emerging futures. United Nations Human Settlements Programme. https://www.unhabitat.org/wp-content/uploads/2014/03/WCR-%20Full-Report-2016.pdf
Tom Liptan is a registered landscape architect and a retired environmental specialist for the City of Portland Bureau of Environmental Services. Liptan has assisted numerous municipalities, developers, consultants, multi-state corporations and government agencies with acceptance of ecoroofs and other landscape approaches used for stormwater management and healthy city development. His leadership on ecoroofs and green streets has also had an international impact. He has lectured and published widely, and is the author of the 2017 book Sustainable Stormwater Management.
Tom Liptan
Isn’t it strange: water is life, but most of us know so little. Understanding my local water cycle related to my drinking water system is quite complex, let alone the global cycles, so as a commitment I think local is of primary concern. Also understanding how our actions might or do affect other people’s water would be a part of local to local relationships.
The timing on this couldn’t be better. I’m currently applying to be on the Portland public utilities board, interview scheduled for 2 November. The board covers city water supply, stormwater and wastewater management. There are two separate bureaus; Water, and Environmental Services (BES) where I worked for 26 years. As you may be aware, I wrote a book about my 40 years of experience with primarily stormwater/drainage management. I touched on drinking water in a few places but my expertise is stormwater and natural waters. Although I know some about drinking water, I’ve found myself on a new learning curve.
So the first commitment is a good starting point: “1. Understanding my local and global water cycles.” I am a retired water management professional, what do I really know. Here are some randomly related thoughts.
My water purveyor is the city of Portland. From 1850-1895 the city used water from the local river until it became obvious that it was being uncontrolably polluted. This water source was unsustainable based on the known technologies to filter water at the time. So in 1895 the city purchased land in the nearby mountains, not the large snow covered Mt Hood, but the rain drenched watershed of Bull Run. Two dams were built which created two reservoirs and all water could be transported to Portland via gravity and a small amount of electricity is produced in the process. However, the west side of town is up hill so the entire westside must have water pumped up hill from the eastside.
This is just the tip of the Portland water story—A 100 year struggle ensued to protect the forest from logging, it was recently successfully concluded with the US Forest Service. Sometime in 1960-70s the city decided to back up its almost pristine supply with another source, groundwater. This was smart but unbeknownst to the city would be fraught with challenges. For example several years after developing the wells the city planners designated the zoning for industrial uses. The water bureau freaked out and groundwater pollution prevention codes were hastily adopted vs. changing the zoning. In the 1980-2000 a project was required by state law to remove 50,000 cesspools and replace them with a conventional sanitary pipe system at a cost to property owners of $10,000-20,000 each property. This was required to eliminate the risk to groundwater and the bureau required to implement the requirements was BES. Interestingly, in a recent conversation with a water bureau employee, he had no knowledge that this project ever happened. Once something like that is done and 20 years go by I guess it’s easily forgotten.
More recently, the state required BES to determine if its use of sumps for stormwater management might pose a risk to ground water. The person at WB didn’t know about this either. He was a little concerned when I shared what I know of the results. There are 10,000 sumps in the area of concern above the aquifer. Based on what they found the sumps won’t be removed.
It points out to me that understanding my local water cycle related to my drinking water system is quite complex, let alone the global cycles, so as a commitment I think local is of primary concern. Also understanding how our actions might or do affect other people’s water would be a part of local to local relationships. Isn’t it so strange, water is life, but most of us know so little.
Something about else about water, which I didn’t see in the code: Water is an elusive reality, both good and absolutely essential, yet how astounding that it can/does take on such huge physical dimensions and energy to cause death and destruction. From a tiny drop to an enormous tsunami.
One thing for sure, at least for me, is that the code is very thought provoking. I very much appreciate your invitation.
Harini Nagendra is a Professor of Sustainability at Azim Premji University, Bangalore, India. She uses social and ecological approaches to examine the factors shaping the sustainability of forests and cities in the south Asian context. Her books include “Cities and Canopies: Trees of Indian Cities” and "Shades of Blue: Connecting the Drops in India's Cities" (Penguin India, 2023) (with Seema Mundoli), and “The Bangalore Detectives Club” historical mystery series set in 1920s colonial India.
Harini Nagendra
Ethics and norms grow in the well fertilized water of imagination and culture. Keeping space for a diversity of imaginations to flourish in close proximity will be essential if we are to make the water code work in practice. The challenge will be to do this in a way that works across locations, cultures and imaginations.
All too often, we forget that sustainability is at its core a normative issue, a question of morals, ethics and norms of good conduct. An Ethical Code for Water is much needed, and serves to remind us of this all-important fact.
Could I think of using this Code in practice to transform my city? I speak of the city of Bangalore, one of India’s largest and fastest growing cities, fueled by the IT boom, and running out of water. Located in a semi-dry environment, without access to a large river or any perennial sources of fresh water, Bangalore depends on a range of unreliable sources for its water supply, including water on tap from the drying, distant Cauvery river, depleting ground water mined from local borewells and supplied in tankers, and open wells and tanks fed by a mix of rainwater, sewage and industrial effluents. Summer headlines regularly warn that Bangalore is about to become the next Cape Town, running out of water soon—yet somehow the city lurches past another almost-drought year, and towards the next, without very much changing on the ground.
If we could get the various actors that are part of driving water use in Bangalore—the municipality, Government sewage and water supply board, water tanker groups, industries and companies that use large quantities of water, academics, civil society, and other relevant groups—to sign on to a water manifesto, this would be an excellent one. The basic tenets—of equity, sustainability, respecting limits to growth, vulnerability and resilience—are all in place. Yet there are a number of challenges with creating an ethical code that works in practice. First of course, in contexts such as Indian cities, where different groups access water, from diverse religious, cultural and economic backgrounds, values can bring people together to forge a common shared understanding—but a clash in values can also engender conflict. Water wars have taken place within countries and communities as well across different borders and diverse groups. The ethical water code, while identifying important sources of conflict such as the clash of interests between supply-driven business and the demands of reducing frivolous consumption, does not speak of differences in cultural and religious perspectives. Indeed it would be difficult to do so in a code that intends to work across contexts: such a code would need to be easy to accept both in societies where norms of water use are strongly driven by religion and culture, as well as societies where norms are driven by considerations of capital, and a host of other contexts. Yet in making the considerations of ethics broad enough to be accepted by all, there lies a challenge for places where customary laws are largely in force, but being challenged by new values emerging with “modernity”.
Ultimately, while codes lay out a desired goal and endpoint, they cannot in themselves specify the process by which we intend to reach such goals. Ideally, an ethical water code could help outline some useful signposts that can guide us towards the right path or set of possible paths. One such signpost, identified by many scholars and practitioners, is the need for polycentricity, or the presence of multiple levels and levers of governance. The ethical water code recognizes such a need. It identifies the need for multi-stakeholder engagement, specifically pointing to governments at multiple levels, civil society, academia, industry, communities, and individuals. A second signpost or metric is that of justice: the ethical code keeps this recognition at its core, fundamentally asking for people and nature to receive their due rights to water.
A third signpost, more difficult to accommodate in an all-encompassing water code, is the need to make place for diverse water imaginations. Across the Indian state of Karnataka, rural and peri-urban communities get together to sing songs to the God of the monsoon, Maleraya, asking him to pour down on them—not alone, but with his family in tow. Maleraya, in turn, will not respond until the 7 rulers of 7 villages get together, cook a communal meal, sit together for a bit, stand together for a while, and then ask him to rain down—he does not respond to individual requests, only collective ones. He does not respond as an individual, but as a member of a community, a family of rain gods in the sky. As the city urbanizes, and the songs of Maleraya fade from our collective memory, we lose a core ethic—of water as a community resource, governed by a communitarian ethic.
Ethics and norms grow in the well fertilized water of imagination and culture. Keeping space for a diversity of imaginations to flourish in close proximity will be essential if we are to make the water code work in practice. The challenge will be to do this in a way that works across locations, cultures and imaginations.
Naomi Tsur is Founder and Chair of the Israel Urban Forum, Chair of the Jerusalem Green Fund, Founder and Head of Green Pilgrim Jerusalem, and served a term as Deputy Mayor of Jerusalem, responsible for planning and the environment.
Naomi Tsur
It is often said that major conflicts of the future will be about water. The challenge for all of us is surely to make water a force for better and more ethical human behavior.
Water Must Never be Taken for Granted
Water is the second most essential need for living creatures. Without air, we can survive for only a few minutes. Without water, we may last one or two days. Without food, the third essential, we can survive for much longer. I am not sure that we give water the respect it deserves, nor do we pay enough attention to the suffering caused in many parts of the world either by a lack or an excess of water. That is why I was more than pleased to be a member of the team that got together after the workshop on water-scarce cities that was held at the TNOC Summit in June 2020 in Paris. We all felt that the importance of water is such that there is a need to examine it from an ethical viewpoint. This feeling was strengthened for me by my own urban experience in Israel.
My city, Jerusalem, has been at the center of conflict from the time it was wrested from the Jebusite tribe by King David, some three thousand years ago. Situated high in the Judean Hills, from the very first the major challenge was to gain access to a reliable water supply. It was only in the reign of King Hezekiah that a channel was carved, granting access to the Siloam Spring from within the walls of the city. On the west side of Jerusalem, well beyond the city walls, natural springs provided water for the terraced agriculture of the Jerusalem hills. The terraces enabled retention of water, and in turn the sustenance of crops suited to the hilly terrain.
Until the middle of the nineteenth century, the whole city was contained within the famous walls built by Suleiman the Magnificent four hundred years earlier. One feature of Ottoman Jerusalem was the beautifully sculpted water fountains placed in different sections of the city, providing free clean water for residents and visitors alike.
Water has always been part of the story of Jerusalem, in an arid part of the world, with no rain for seven months of the year. When the city began to expand beyond Suleiman’s walls, no building, public or private, was built without adequate rainwater cisterns. These cisterns were what enabled the residents of Jerusalem to get through the siege in 1948, just as their ancestors had survived seven months of siege by the Romans two thousand years before.
Modern day Jerusalem is home to some 900,000 residents, and can no longer rely on cisterns and springs for all its needs. A new major water pipe carries desalinated water from the Mediterranean to the city. At least three quarters of Jerusalem’s sewage receives advanced treatment and is used for agriculture, as well as providing water for the city’s public parks and gardens.
An important challenge for Jerusalem is finding beneficial ways to use run-off from the rainy season. The steep hilly topography results in most of Jerusalem’s precipitation running down to the Mediterranean on the west side, and to the Dead Sea on the east side of the city. We are told that the amount of rainfall in the five wet months is the equivalent of about three quarters of the city’s total water needs. However, not only is it largely wasted, but it is also a major pollutant of groundwater, since it collects dirt and refuse before flowing down to the aquifer. In one major city initiative, the Gazelle Valley Park, a series of natural pools filters and cleans about one quarter of Jerusalem’s rainfall. We are used to the concept of a “green lung”, but this nature park has resulted in a new urban anatomical term, “a green kidney”.
In collaboration with the Jerusalem Municipality, a special team of municipal experts and civil society has been established, the Jerusalem Water Forum, which is a water policy think tank for the city. It is proving to be a very useful arena for sharing ideas, and for promoting better water management in the city.
It is often said that major conflicts of the future will be about water. The challenge for all of us is surely to make water a force for better and more ethical human behavior.
Diane Pataki is a Professor of Biological Sciences, an Adjunct Professor of City & Metropolitan Planning, and Associate Vice President for Research at the University of Utah. She studies the role of urban landscaping and forestry in the socioecology of cities.]
Diane Pataki
Most American cities still fail to capture and recycle sustainable sources of water. And as I write, my city is filled with smoke from massive wildfires of unprecedented magnitude. It has never been more apparent that people, landscapes, and water are all interrelated, and we will suffer or succeed together.
Living in dry cities of the arid American West, I’ve been fascinated with the apparent paradox of urban greening in the desert. How much water can we allocate to keep cities green as more extreme droughts threaten our drinking water supply? Are urban forests and gardens possible in a hotter and drier world? Will cities in arid regions be sustainable at all?
I started my career studying the water needs of natural and plantation forests in the eastern part of the U.S., where rainfall is relatively abundant. When I moved to the western deserts, I worried that that the water requirements of urban trees and gardens were on track to outstrip the dwindling water supply of cities like Las Vegas, Los Angeles, and Salt Lake City. I started a research lab to study the water demand of urban trees and landscapes, hoping to find solutions to problem of greening cities in the face of severe water shortages.
Over the years I’ve found that with one glaring exceptions (lawns), many cherished urban landscape trees and other plants require much less water than expected. Unfortunately, many American homeowners greatly over-water their landscapes. The history of water, land use, and governance in the United States has led to perverse incentives to over-irrigate, even in the face of drought. Water is often cheap, especially for the wealthy, leading to growing inequities and injustices in the costs and benefits of accessing and using water.
The American West, and many other regions around the world, continue to get hotter, drier, and more unsustainable. But our use of water, and more importantly our relationship with water, is not changing very quickly, if at all. Over irrigation is still everywhere, and most American cities still fail to capture and recycle sustainable sources of water. Yet as I write my city is filled with smoke from massive wildfires of unprecedented magnitude. It has never been more apparent that people, landscapes, and water are all interrelated, and we will suffer or succeed together.
It’s been a privilege to talk with Naomi, Peter, Paul, and Mario about the ethical dimensions of the predicament in which we now find ourselves. What is the right thing to do with respect to water and all of the living systems on earth that depend on it? I hope you will find this dialogue intriguing, and I look forward to hearing many more voices and perspectives about our ethical obligations toward water, the land, and each other.
Peter Schoonmaker leads the outdoor education program at American Community School Beirut, and is president of Illahee, a non-profit organization focused on designing new models for cooperative environmental/social/economic problem solving.
Peter Schoonmaker
The case for an “ethical code for water” would be hard to make if water were universally unlimited, like air (before pollution) or starry nights (before cities). It’s the limitation, or excess, that demands an ethic.
Think back to all the cities and other places you have considered “home” throughout your life. Go ahead, stop reading this short essay—take thirty seconds or so right now—and wander back through childhood, adolescence, university, early career, and so on, up to now.
Tell me, did water figure prominently or specifically in your memories? Did water quantity, quality, availability, cost —or any other attributes—come to mind?
Me neither. Even though I spent part of my childhood in water-scarce southern California, and late teens / early twenties building an irrigation system. Lived in a temperate rainforest. And later spent a few years in one of the driest deserts in the world, where acquiring and rationing water was a daily activity. Where you packed 40 to 50 pounds of water (you measure it in pounds when it’s on your back) into remote study sites.
Maybe it’s different if your survival—your business, your farm, your family budget—is acutely (like, life and death) affected by water. Even then, it’s likely many of us think of things other than water when we think of home.
Now I think about water all the time, wherever I go, but that’s a professional hazard as an ecologist interested in policy and civic design. Travelling from Portland, Oregon’s abundant water sources and ample distribution system to Dubai’s obligate desalinated / bottled water system is a shock. Then there are the ground-water dependent systems scattered throughout most rural areas in the western United States and indeed the world.
The point is, most of us take water for granted. Other people provide it, for a price, and water drains away after we’re done with it. Water rises to our attention only when there’s too little or too much. And then, when our need is addressed, it’s on to other things.
The case for an “ethical code for water” would be hard to make if water were universally unlimited, like air (before pollution) or starry nights (before cities). It’s the limitation, or excess, that demands an ethic. Five of us have hammered out a draft of an ethical code for water. Five people with various water experiences and memories. Perhaps some of my colleagues have known water deprivation as both a daily and life-long existential threat. I never have. My experience is limited. The five of us—our experience is limited.
We need to comb through this document with more experience; to hear from people who have known acute water deprivation and oversupply, high costs and “too cheap to meter,” water as a daily focus and an after-thought, water at the center of their lived memory and water as a policy object. A water ethics that works for billions of people and the ecosystems they inhabit has to start somewhere. Maybe it starts with our memories of water. Take another thirty seconds.
Mario Yanez is dedicated to envisioning and inspiring a transition toward life-sustaining, regenerative human communities. As a whole-systems designer, he is working globally at various scales, implementing productive landscapes and ecosocial systems. As a scholar-practitioner, he is researching complexity and pathways toward cultivating wholeness in society and economy.
Mario Yanez
For me, this ethical code is a plea for life. For my own rivers inside and those that run beneath my feet. For those that run freely further afield, and for the ones that move through the air and rain down elsewhere that eventually make their way back to me.
I am water. Every cell of my body contains water. It’s an odd thought, but it’s said that we are walking bags of water—an ocean within. Perhaps it’s more accurate to imagine ourselves as body-scale watersheds with life-giving waters continually cycling through—fractals of a larger whole making our way through the various terrains of our daily lives.
My terrain at moment is Lisbon. A beautiful, mostly ancient City. I recently learned that many smaller rivers snake their way through the city’s undulating hills eventually finding their path to the Tagus river, as it too makes its way toward the Atlantic Ocean. You can’t see these rivers anymore, but I’m told they still flow under the streets. When I take long walks down towards the Tagus I imagine them flowing under me.
It’s too easy take for granted that I can turn on my tap and water streams out. On one of my walks a few days ago, a friend pointed out some remnants of the old Roman aqueduct that used to run through the city. It’s amazing how much effort and energy is spent creating infrastructure—artificial rivers—in our cities to bring freshwater in and deal with or dispose of “waste” water. It’s clear we are not doing all this so gracefully—measured by the degree we expend energy and apply technology to replace services freely given by ecosystems.
As one steeped in ecology, I know intuitively that at the right scale it is possible to participate regeneratively, to repair our water cycles and reverse desertification. But, what is the right scale? Many of our cities started as small settlements strategically placed along rivers or other bodies of water. They have rapidly outgrown the ability to participate gracefully within their watersheds—taking too much water out of circulation, transforming it in ways that make it useable again. Cities, by definition, tend to overrun the local ecosystems that once sustained them—then they go global.
These thoughts are very present with me as some friends and I are working towards establishing an intentional community 40 minutes north of Lisbon. I am leading the overall design of the 46-hectare site. It is beautiful land, a pleasant topography of clay-laden soils with several patches of healthy forest on it. There are no rivers on it, a few naturally-occurring springs, although when it rains a fair amount of water runs through it. I think a lot about the effort we’ll go through to regenerate the productive capacity of the site, to prepare the site for 100 or so families who will participate in the water cycle there. I try to imagine us harvesting, storing, using and reintegrating water as part of living there, growing food and satisfying other material needs.
Water is life. One could say water is food is life. This notion becomes obvious to me sometimes as I work out how to keep produce alive when I bring it home from the market. I try to find the right balance of internal moisture. I bag the carrots so they remain crisp, set the bouquet of parsley in a glass of water with a bag over it, cut up and freeze peppers, and keep onions and tubers dry and well ventilated. Too much water and things rot. Too little water and they dry out. This is true for cells, organisms, cities, and bioregions.
All this to say that I instinctively came to the session on water scarcity and recognized that I wasn’t alone in wanting to create a world of freshwater abundance—in other words, a living world. For me, this ethical code we have drafted is a plea for life. For my own rivers inside and those that run beneath my feet. For those that run freely further afield, and for the ones that move through the air and rain down elsewhere that eventually make their way back to me.
Paul Currie is a Director of the Urban Systems Unit at ICLEI Africa. He is a researcher of African urban resource and service systems, with interest in connecting quantitative analysis with storytelling and visual elicitation.
Paul Currie
When joining The Nature of Cities Summit session on Greening Water Stressed Cities, we were one year past the worst drought Cape Town had experienced. I was intrigued that the water crisis was as much a political crisis as it was a technical one. I was intrigued to see climate change as a tangible, present experience, not the ever-approaching but distant concern.
What is your first memory of water?
When asking this to groups of students or workshop participants, the answers have been some of the most poignant. Everyone and everything on the plant touches water. It is the substance that connects us all, and illuminates easily our different histories, geographies and life experiences. These memories of first baths, puddle jumping in the rain, drinking from a plastic bottle, being cleaned with a cloth, noticing water’s taste for the first time, floating on lakes, splashing in rivers, or seeking hidden resources, show how water is tied to our emotions and relationships.
In this way, resources of water, food, energy, materials are entwined with who we are and how we engage the world. They are not simply enablers, technical infrastructures or disconnected flows, but have strong socio-political resonance. I use these resource flows as a lens for urban sustainability, with particular attention paid to equity of access and quality of the resource.
When joining The Nature of Cities Summit session on Greening Water Stressed Cities, we were one year past the worst drought Cape Town had experienced. I was intrigued that the water crisis was as much a political crisis as it was a technical one. I was intrigued to see climate change as a tangible, present experience, not the ever-approaching but distant concern. I was amazed by how radically water use could be reduced (halved in 18 months), and reminded again of the disjuncture between universal messaging and differential realities: should we really be asking those in informal settlements to reduce their already-low use of water? Given our different experiences of water, should there be one universal ethic for our relationship with water. Given a simplistic distinction between cities that flood and cities that experience drought (or even cities that experience both in a year), is is possible to provide one guidance to both situations at once?
I did not expect that the TNOC session would yield not a pragmatic technical or policy output, but instead lead to a series of deep conversations on the ethics posed by different realities of, and interactions with, water. In our conversations, we arrived at a notion of an ethical code for interacting with water. We explored how we might propose a set of responsibilities that many people and entities could relate to, and contextualise to their own cities and experiences. We organised these principles by those responsible for using, directing and regulating water. We know we have just scratched the surface, and continuously revisited the tension between a concise list and detailed explanation.
The journey to produce this ethical code has been fascinating and reflective, and I am looking forward to the next stages, as more people add their comments, critique and ideas.
Sareh is a post-doctoral research fellow in landscape architecture at the Univeristé Libre de Bruxelles, Belgium. Her research interest focuses on the nexus of Design Experimentation, Nature-based Solutions for urban water management and Climate Change.
Sareh Moosavi and André Stephan
Making Invisible Water Visible
In the Middle East, a number of design firms have refuted the idea of copying western-style green spaces with vast areas of lawn with high water requirements, and have experimented with new forms of linear urban parks in the abandoned dry water channels, often known as wadis. This requires innovative approaches in designing adaptive and flexible landscapes.
One in four large cities face water stress, and water demand is projected to increase by 55% by 2050. Furthermore, projected impacts of climate change in water-scarce regions will mean prolonged droughts, and more frequent extreme rainfall events causing flash flooding. Having a code to reduce water use and regenerate water systems is therefore direly needed and welcomed. The systemic approach of the code and its attempt at covering the entire water system is testimony to the whole-of-economy approach required to tackle water issues in cities.
In our view, the code can further highlight the criticality of Invisible Water and the role of built environment professionals in tackling it. Water can be invisible in urban settings when it flows underground or when it only leaves marks in the landscape where it gushes during floods and rushes to the sea. Water is also needed to produce all goods, including food as well as construction materials. This embodied water is invisible to the urban consumer, or built environment professionals selecting construction materials, yet it has severe repercussions on draining water resources across supply chains, including in water-scarce regions elsewhere. We provide some thoughts about how built environment professionals can account for Invisible Water and we highlight implications to the code.
Invisible Water in Landscapes
Invisible Water in the city needs to be taken into account in any attempt to move towards more water sensitive cities. Integrated Urban Water Management (IUWM) considers a whole‑of-catchment approach in co-ordinating the management of land, water and other natural resources. IUWM aims to help cities progress towards a more circular economy, by closing the water loop, helping limit the discharge of (liquid) waste in waterways, and limiting the constantly growing need for additional water resources. Built environment professionals such as urban planners, architects, landscape architects, urbanists and construction engineers, play an important role in sustainable distribution, use, discharge, and reuse of water in our cities. They need to consider Invisible Water when making decisions on where to place new developments or implement Nature-based Solutions in urban areas. By considering the underlying ecological and hydrological systems (i.e. Invisible Water), decisions can be made to make the best use out of stormwater runoff and to optimize the required hard infrastructure (e.g. drainage pipes). This means understanding how water moves in and around the site depending on the topography, and accordingly restoring and creating green networks in the footprint of moist soil.
In the Middle East, for example, a number of design firms have refuted the idea of copying western-style green spaces often with vast areas of lawn requiring large amounts of water, and have taken on the challenge to experiment with new forms of linear urban parks in the abandoned dry water channels, often known as wadis. This requires innovative approaches in designing adaptive and flexible landscapes that can accommodate flooding in extreme rainfall events while serving as public parks in dry seasons. The Invisible Water flowing in shallow aquifers along these corridors can often support revegetation of the channel, and strategically planted “oases” with native plants can store water underground, but also bring water back to the surface on the long-term, a technique that was traditionally used by native desert inhabitants.
Designed by Heatherwick Studio, Al Fayah Park in Abu Dhabi is inspired by the landscape of wadis and cracked soil in sun burnt desert landscapes. The perforated canopy shades the sunken oasis, and helps reducing the amount of water lost to evaporation. Source: Image courtesy of Heatherwick Studio, used with permission
Embodied Water in the built environment
Invisible Water embodied in goods, products and services, including construction materials and activities, is similarly critical to address. Built environment professionals, across all disciplines, need to better understand the embodied water associated with their design choices, notably as embodied Invisible Water represents the largest part of the water use of a city, house and even transport modes. This can only be made possible by making relevant data fully accessible, transparent and consistent so that higher education institutions and practices can capitalize on this new knowledge and use it for training and design purposes, respectively. As such, the Australian Environmental Performance in Construction (EPiC) database of embodied environmental flows should be highlighted. Being available in open-access, as advocated for by the code (items 3 and 6), it has been adopted by multiple built environment associations and practices and is raising awareness about embodied water on the driest inhabited continent on Earth. Similar initiatives are needed in data-poor regions, which often happen to suffer also from water-scarcity, in order to relieve pressure on far-away aquifers. The Mediterranean region for example, will be significantly drier in the coming decades, potentially seeing 40 percent less precipitation during the winter rainy season. Yet, most countries in the South of the Mediterranean have access to very limited data to inform their designs in regard to Invisible Water.
The embodied water of construction materials is significant. Built environment professionals need access to reliable, transparent, consistent and accessible data to optimise their design decisions for this ‘invisible’ water. Source: authors
We propose adding the following commitments for built environment professionals:
Understanding the importance of Invisible Water, including underlying hydrological systems, but also embodied water flows for construction of materials and infrastructure assets
Taking account of water requirements of plants and materials used in designs
Learning from the past and traditional approaches of first nations peoples in sustainable water management
André is a Professor of Environmental Performance and Parametric design at the Université Catholique de Louvain, Belgium. He develops advanced models to quantify and better understand life cycle environmental performance in the built environment.
Katherine is a PhD candidate at the Interdisciplinary Conservation Science Group at RMIT university. Her passion for conservation biology and curiosity for understanding natural phenomena has led to a diverse research background in animal behaviour, spatial analysis, invasion biology and ecological theory.
Katherine Berthon and Casey Furlong
For cities that already have high standards of water management, such as Melbourne, the code is not transformational, but may allow for confirmation and fine tuning of policies by highlighting strengths and weaknesses of current approaches to water management.
The code provides a good summary of the challenges and divided responsibility in managing water at different scales, but there are some improvements to be made with respect to understanding the broader context and application of the code, as well as clarity in wording of certain points.
For cities that already have high standards of water management, such as Melbourne, the code is not transformational, but may allow for confirmation and fine tuning of policies by highlighting strengths and weaknesses of current approaches to water management. In this way, the code could be used as a kind of checklist, particularly for cities where water management policies are new or under development. Since many of the points are very general, it might be useful to have the code in tandem with case study examples to guide cities that do not already have appropriate policies or governance structures.
While top-down management has an important role, it also has limitations, especially in countries with high levels of government corruption, or low levels of technical and governance capacity.
The code would benefit from articulating how hierarchies (point 2.4*) and diversity in water supply types could be linked to different consumptive and non-consumptive uses, such as the need for potable water for cooking both in households and restaurants, or redirection of stormwater for gardens and parks. Water suppliers are in the best position to both allocate and prioritise water use from various sources to ensure water use efficiency. This includes consideration of desalination and recycled water systems as directly or indirectly supplementing potable water supply. We recommend that water suppliers be committed to investigating reuse of wastewater for potable purposes in the event of water scarcity, linking wastewater treatment, which already ought to be treated for the prevention of pollution (point 2.5), and provision of consistent supply under uncertain and changing climates. This is relevant to point 1.6 (i.e. if the drinking supply already includes suitably treated wastewater then it may be acceptable to use the drinking supply for all uses).
It would also be useful to articulate if, and how, the code intends to work within the broader governance context for water management outside of urban jurisdictions. Missing from the code, e.g. point 3.1, is an important concept of environmental water. Environmental Water Requirements (EWR) are the volume of water that is reserved for ensuring the ongoing functioning of freshwater ecosystems (Smakhtin, 2004 p v). Water use without appropriate regard to EWR can lead to over extraction, dry riverbeds and poor environmental outcomes (Vertessey et al. 2019, p 8-9). We recommend inclusion of a clause explicitly addressing the need for governance systems to ensure EWR are met.
While top-down management has an important role, it also has limitations, especially in countries with high levels of government corruption, or low levels of technical and governance capacity. Point 3.1 and/or 3.8 could be explicit about including a requirement for community consultation and/or other forms of democratic process around water allocation and environmental outcomes. Similarly, point 2.5 and 3.8 could be more explicit about regulation of excessive or irresponsible use, including penalties for water users (particularly industries) that pollute, damage or disrupt supply to other water users.
*Point numbers refer to the code section (1 = water user, 2 = water supplier, 3 = water governance), followed by the subpoint for that section (as listed in the code document)
References
Radcliffe, J. C., & Page, D. (2020). Water reuse and recycling in Australia-history, current situation and future perspectives. Water Cycle, 1, 19-40.
Smakhtin, V. (2004). Taking into account environmental water requirements in global-scale water resources assessments (Vol. 2) p. v
Vertessy et al. (2019) Independent assessment of the 2018-19 fish deaths in the lower Darling: Final Report. Accessed 30/10/2020. URL: https://www.mdba.gov.au/sites/default/files/pubs/Final-Report-Independent-Panel-fish-deaths-lower%20Darling_4.pdf
Dr Casey Furlong is a Senior Water Strategy Consultant at GHD, Senior Industry Fellow at RMIT, and Advisory Board Member at the WETT Research Centre. Since joining the water sector in 2011 Casey has worked in 5 teams at Melbourne Water, completed industry funded PhD and Post-docs, and has published a wide variety of content on water security, alternative water sources and Integrated Water Management.
“A Child of the Oasis” by Ari Honavar, read by Nora Achrati A mother and daughter meet an undocumented refugee on their annual ride to the father’s Remembrance Wall.
“Not Icarus” by Michael Harris Cohen, read by Dori Legg A grandmother defies social law by killing birds to try to save her granddaughter from disease.
The stories are read, and then authors Ari and Michael are joined by social scientist Laura Shillington, a researcher and practitioner whose work in Canada and Central America often concerns children and families.
Nora Achrati is a voice actress based in Washington, DC.
Dori Legg is an actress currently living in New York City.
“Stories of the Nature of Cities 1/2 Hour” is a monthly series of readings from TNOC’s collection of very short fiction about future cities. Each episode is 30 minutes and features two readings and then a conversation between the authors and an urban practitioner.
Michael Harris Cohen has stories in The Dark, F(r)iction, Catapult’s Tiny Crimes, and Conjunctions. He’s received a Fulbright grant and fellowships from The Djerassi Foundation, Art OMI, and Jentel. His first book, The Eyes, was published by Mixer Publishing. He teaches writing and literature at the American University in Bulgaria.
Laura Shillington is faculty in the Department of Geoscience and the Social Science Methods Programme at John Abbott College (Montréal). She is also a Research Associate at the Loyola Sustainability Research Centre, Concordia University (Montréal).
The right of people to freely move, interact, work, and associate should not be at the expense of wildlife to thrive. It should complement their right to a clean, safe, and productive environment.
Since 2013, the government of Kenya has laid out extensive expansion plans for the city’s transport infrastructure. Nairobi County’s strategy lays out a progressive framework that has seen the introduction of Mass Rapid Transit Systems (MRTS), the standard gauge railway, connectors, and the expansion of several other feeder roads. The 2006-2025 Master Plan of the Nairobi Metropolitan Area also portrays Nairobi as a globally significant and accessible city with modernized transport systems. The World Bank reports indicate that Nairobi residents spend an average of one hour to commute to and from their workplaces, a delay the government approximates costs 58 million Kshs (about 5.8M USD) per day. About 12 percent of the residents use private cars while the rest prefer public means, which puts pressure on the city’s transport systems. To increase efficiency and minimize related economic strain, the government has rolled out various road infrastructural projects throughout the city. Most of these, however, cause immeasurable ecological harm to available urban green spaces.
The most recent development in this quest for an interlinked, faster, and efficient movement of people and goods within the city is the construction of a four-lane thoroughfare aimed at connecting Nairobi’s Westland area and the iconic Jomo Kenyatta International Airport. The 62 billion Kshs (about 6.2 million USD) expressway activated by the China Road and Bridge Corporation will also serve residents of Mlolongo and fasten the time taken to reach the international departure station. The construction follows a green light from the country’s National Environmental Management Authority (NEMA), which conducted an Environmental and Social Impact Assessment of the then proposed urban infrastructure. Once completed, the expressway will ease the flow of traffic as travelers will not have to go through the city’s central business district to catch their flights. However, the environmental harm caused by this project is large-scale and somewhat irreversible.The environmental and social impact report of the enhancement of road A104 from James Gichuru road junction to Rironi indicated that contractors needed to clear trees and other vegetation for the multimillion-dollar project to take place, resulting in loss of habitat and biodiversity. Other negative environmental impacts of the road construction outlined in the report included contamination of soil and water resources, soil erosion at road reserve, and increased waste generation.
Road developers of the Nairobi Express way from Mlolongo to James Gichuru earmarked sections of vital public green spaces like Uhuru Park and Nairobi Arboretum, and trees that host birds around Westlands and Nyayo stadium roundabouts, for clearance. In a set of conditions provided by NEMA in March 2020, the authority advised the China Road and Bridge Corporation (CRBC) to mitigate the damage by planting trees in all affected spaces. The CRBC was also expected to clean the areas of the Nairobi river over which the road would cross. NEMA did not, however, give clear communication on whether the Chinese contractor should replace the mostly indigenous trees with similar ones. My common observation over the years has been that road builders often replace indigenous vegetation with exotic grass and trees species, and ornamental plants.
To the astonishment of conservationists and concerned residents of Nairobi, the Kenya National Highway Authority (KeNHA) had confirmed last month that it would uproot an iconic fig tree that that has been sitting pretty at the crossway between Waiyaki Way and Mpaka Road for over 100 years. This news elicited demonstrations from groups of environmental activists, calling the government to consider biodiversity in its quest for modernization of the transport systems. In a news conference held on Wednesday this week, the director general of the Nairobi Metropolitan Services (NMS), General Mohammed Badi, assured the public that the iconic tree will stay put in its current place. While visiting the site where the gigantic tree exists, General Badi said he was working on a Presidential declaration to preserve the famed tree.
The spectacular tree, estimated to be the height of a four-storey building, will be adopted by the Nairobi Metropolitan Services. The Nairobi boss further instructed the environmental department to erect a fence as a protection measure to ensure Nairobian continue to enjoy its presence. He also vowed to “recover Nairobi’s lost green spaces”. While this breathed a sign of relief to many and a clear show of a battle won, many other green areas in the city have already gone under the wrath of builder’s axe and irreversible damage witnessed.
Growing up, I was always welcomed to Nairobi with extensive roadside green spaces full of trees and life. The stretch between Uthiru and Westlands had well-preserved tree lines that truly depicted Nairobi as the Green City Under the Sun. It was always refreshing to have this feeling before you go deep into the noisy and busy estates that form the city. The story of the Nairobi green reception area has since changed. The expansion of the Nairobi-Nakuru
Highway has entailed massive vegetation loss with minimum to no replacement done so far.
Such unprecedented habitat fragmentation has a far-reaching contribution to biodiversity loss. Isolation of animal and bird species often makes them vulnerable to predation. Displaced animals may also find it hard to adapt to new surroundings. Woodland-dependent species of animals may find it difficult to settle in fragmented patches of landscapes. Subdivision of breeding areas also disrupts natural mating patterns, which eventually affects the flow of genes within a species. Residents of Nairobi are denied their fundamental right to access to a clean and healthy environment when ecosystems are destroyed or fragmented, as they are unable to function optimally.
Nairobi’s river ecology is not spared. The Express Way will traverse over rivers Nairobi and Ngong. In its impact assessment report, NEMA indicated that the road contractor should ensure that sections of the river over which the road will pass are cleaned. While this sounds like a glimpse of the right thing to be done, it is unclear whether the “cleaning” process will mitigate all the harm caused by construction on the rivers’ structure and functionality.
Nairobi’s population, which is about 4.4 million people, is expected to double in the next 50 years. The projected increase dictates the need to conserve the few green spaces available in the city. Conservation organizations such as the Kenyan Youth Biodiversity Network, Wangari Maathai Foundation, Natural Justice, Wildlife Direct, and the Green Belt Movement have been at the forefront of opposing the construction of the expressway as initially planned, citing the adverse impact on the city’s ecological spaces. In June 2020, a petition was filed in court under the umbrella of the Daima consortium, propelling NEMA to adequately involve the public before approving the construction of the expressway.
An initial statement released by the government in 2019 indicated that Uhuru Park, the largest, historical, and most preferred public spaces, was to lose about a 23 meters thick stretch to the road. We will keep a keen eye on it to see if the current construction will tamper with this central park. Our freedom fighters and environmental defenders like Professor Wangari Maathai fought to have these spaces protected from degradation, grabbers, and encroachment. The milestone makes Uhuru Park a national symbol of freedom and the power that people have in standing for their ecological rights. We must fight to ensure that the legacy is maintained and that future generations enjoy their right to the ecosystem services provided by these spaces.
The Kenyan presidential declaration on the iconic urban tree, in the possession of the author.
The four million Kenyans who currently live in Nairobi depend on forested areas such as recreational parks to relax, appreciate the city’s beauty, and catch some fresh air. Nature lovers find green spaces such as the Nairobi Arboretum, City park, Karura forest, and Ngong Road forest perfect hideouts and ideal for cycling, birdwatching, and meditation. Living in one of the busiest, hence polluted, cities in Africa, these green spaces absorb a considerable amount of smoke, dust, and other harmful air particles.
The $467M Southern Bypass that left sections of the once pristine Ngong Road Forest cleared is another visible case of how Nairobi lost some of its urban biodiversity. Ngong Road forest, a once continuous and thriving urban natural ecosystem with endless varieties of trees and a host to a myriad species of birds and animals, was fragmented into five sections. The forest is the only true indigenous forest in the county and hosts the near-threatened African Crown Eagle as one of its key bird species. There have been efforts by multiple role players to recover the tree cover lost due to the construction of the Southern Bypass. However, the conversion of interior habitats into road-edge habitats means the ecosystem can no longer function as efficiently as it used to. The 30 km road has had visible habitat fragmentation that points to an immediate impact of wildlife dislocation and isolation, and an undocumented probability of local extirpations.
Development that is informed by the density of cars in the city is unsustainable. Nairobi’s population will continue to steadily rise, creating an endless need for additional infrastructure and other social amenities. Young people, together with other stakeholders, should help the government urgently explore mechanisms of improving road transport using the available space, without the need to put pressure on existing green spaces. Contractors must urgently prioritize innovative ways of maintaining the integrity of green spaces, reducing dependency on private cars, and incorporating sustainability into road plans. It is becoming increasingly important for commuters to consider carpooling to access work, recreation, and shopping. Fewer cars on the road will always reduce demand for the expansion of road infrastructure. I encourage the use of more sustainable modes of transport, such as cycling, that do not need large spaces of land.
The construction of a standard gauge railway (SGR) right through the Nairobi National Park is another clear illustration of how the government of Kenya has its priorities twisted. Nairobi National Park, an extensive natural space of its kind in the world is now battling a myriad of challenges, including invasive species. It is estimated that the park lost about 100 acres of conservation land to the multibillion gigantic transport project. This is a considerable amount of conservation land to lose, considering the park is only 117 km2. The already vulnerable ecosystem was divided by the railway line into two sections. The deliberate disruption of the continuous flow of the park poses a threat of confining animals in certain areas, an element that is likely to promote inbreeding and ecosystem imbalance. Reducing the size of the park will escalate human-wildlife conflicts.
The Environmental Impact Assessment report, conducted only after a public outcry, did not adequately cover the potential ecological impacts of the project in the park. Efforts by environmentalists against the railway line passing through the park were unsuccessful. One of the most memorable moments in my life was taking a signed petition to the national parliament of Kenya and the headquarters of the Kenya Railway Corporation. We also held demonstrations to urge the government to consider re-routing the railway line. All in vain.
The right of people to freely move, interact, work, and associate should not be at the expense of wildlife to thrive. It should complement their right to a clean, safe, and productive environment. Nairobi’s urban infrastructure development has proven that political priorities are more economical than ecological, which could affect the city’s functionality in the long term. The County Government of Nairobi should evaluate their infrastructural development priorities and consider the sustainability of its green spaces.
Want to explore diverse and connecting threads in urban ecological arts? In the LEAF, three FRIEC Urban Arts Collective members share something from their ideas and work for 10 minutes each, followed by Q&A.
Presenters: Christina Freeman, New York Lucie Lederhendler, Montreal Paula Nishijima, Amsterdam
Christina Freeman, New York. I will share work from my cooperative and participatory practice. As an artist and curator, my projects challenge pre-existing cultural value systems such as definitions of waste, and the normalization of competition as inherent. Most recently, I worked with the USDA Forest Service’s New York City Urban Field Station (NYC UFS) and Pratt Institute’s Spatial Analysis and Visualization Initiative (SAVI), to organize Who Takes Care of New York? Presented at Queens Museum in September 2019, this exhibition highlights the wide range of environmental stewardship throughout New York City. An online version of the exhibition will be presented by TNOC very soon!
Lucie Lederhendler, Montreal. Within the framework established by Roland Barthes that “myth is a type of speech chosen by history” (1970/1991 trans), I’m going to review a few past projects that tried to unearth neglected but extant mythologies by highlighting the traces of Tiohtià:ke/Montréal’s industrial past. Building on that approach, I will introduce my current, nascent research trajectory, which deals with the incontrovertible existence of sea monsters, ghosts, and the complexity of void spaces.
Paula Nishijima, Dieman. I’ll share my ongoing artistic research and series of works “Game of Swarms.” The project draws on theories about self-organisation and swarm intelligence—common in the collective behavior of decentralized systems in nature, e.g. social insects and slime molds—and materializes into an audio-visual piece and a cooperative game. I propose the swarm as a framework to discuss how the world is tackling global issues, such as the environmental crisis, while claiming the self-organised and auto-poetic forces of living matter. GoS seeks to stress a non-hierarchical relationship among living organisms that work together through local interactions to achieve a global harmony. It is an initiative to spark new ways of thinking inspired by the behavior of swarms in nature.
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The FRIEC (Forum for Radical Imagination on Environmental Cultures) Urban Ecological Arts Collective is a global group of almost 100 artists and creatives interested in the connection between nature and people in cities. The LEAF is a monthly webinar in which three Collective members spend 10 minutes describing an ideas or motivation central to their work, followed by discussion and Q&A with the audience. The idea to get to know the work of the Collective members, and to explore creativity and imagination in urban ecology.
Interested in being part of the FRIEC Collective? Write us at [email protected].
Banner image: A drawing of my empty street corner during COVID, by Lucie Lederhendler.
Lucie Lederhendler has been the curator of the Art Gallery of Southwestern Manitoba, a community-engaged, contemporary public art gallery, since 2021. Her research is concerned with the ecosystems of mythologies and the mythologies of ecology. She is a lecturer in art history at Brandon University.
Paula Nishijima is a Brazilian visual artist whose research-based practice unfolds on the crossroads of life science, technology and participatory social practice. Exploring individual and collective motivations, either through happenings or longer processes of interaction, her production materialises into different digital media, such as video, web applications and photography.
When space is the limitation, the challenge is not to create new green spaces, but rather to focus on improving their quality, including their characteristics, use, and functions.
The urban matrix is dominated by the built environment that undoubtedly predominates over green infrastructures like domestic gardens, woodlands, tree-lined streets, squares, sports fields, and green corridors. Thus, cities must be seen as a complex system where the interacting gray, green, and blue elements cannot be analyzed individually. Proper handling of these intricate interactions should guarantee their habitability and sustainability.
Green spaces are key elements in curbing the effects produced by urbanization. They have traditionally been considered the city lungs; in addition, they provide multiple benefits, both for people`s health and the well-being of the urban environment sustaining social interaction among residents and their connection with Nature. In many cities, when space is the limitation, the challenge is not to create new green spaces, but rather to focus on improving their quality including their characteristics, use, and functions.
It is common for designers to say that the quality of a public space is measured by the acceptance of the visiting people. But the design of a successful green space depends also on considering the ecosystem services it will offer such as flood mitigation, air pollution reduction, and climate change adaptation. The quality of public green spaces is given by their structural and functional characteristics in relation to the environmental component (infiltration area, tree and herbaceous cover, thermal regulation, noise damping, etc.) and, on the other hand, to the maintained infrastructure and facilities like paths, benches, and playgrounds. That is to say, a good design will depend, not only on for whom the green space has been planned, but also on environmental conditions, especially its climate. What works best for a particular locality will depend on local circumstances; the choice of planting, materials, furniture, fences, pathways, and paving, these must be carefully planned and adjusted to the conditions of the place.
Usually, the specialized bibliography indicates that green spaces provide thermal regulation, being considered places of urban comfort. But what are the consequences of incorporating an incorrect infrastructure? Many of the squares and parks in the city of Buenos Aires can be used to show how a poor choice of infrastructure reverts to discomfort limiting the use of certain facilities at times of greatest sunlight (Fig. 1).
Last year we performed measurements in 14 parks and squares, measuring air and surface temperatures of the different materials used in the park’s construction. To our surprise, we did not find significant differences in air temperature measured inside the park and in the surrounding streets both winter and summer (Fig.2).
Fig. 1. Rivadavia Park in Buenos Aires city
Fig. 2. Air temperature in a summer day measured inside and outside of three Parks
Fig. 3. Average contact temperatures of different surfaces materials found in the studied green areas
The explanation of finding similar temperatures inside and outside the parks was due to the presence of profuse paved areas that under the sun get much hotter than grass or soil. In addition, the use of scrap tires as a playground cover material is used in several recreational surfaces, including children’s playground areas. On these surfaces, the temperature on a summer day reached 71 degrees Celsius (159.8 F), while on the lawn the contact temperature was only 37 degrees Celsius (98.6 F) (Fig. 3).
Fig 4. LEFT: Playground in Gurruchaga Square. 73.2 degrees Celsius (163.7 F). RIGHT: Playground in Rivadavia Park 83.3 degrees Celsius (181.9 F) Temperature of playgrounds using infrared vision. Thermographic images reflect the temperature of objects according to the infrared spectrum and are displayed on a color scale. The lightest colors indicate the maximum temperature and the darkest the lowest. For reference, an image in the visible light spectrum is shown for each case.
Fig. 5. Rubber flooring visibly wears in children playgrounds
Squares (1ha) and medium-sized parks (4 ha) fail to significantly mitigate the urban heat conditions since their own built infrastructure ends up dissipating the cooling effect produced by the green canopy.
It is worrying that the temperature on the floors of the playgrounds reaches, in summer, very high temperatures at midday, which makes this unusable right in the holiday months when families have more time to enjoy outdoors. What’s more, there is evidence of high content of toxic chemicals in these recycled materials used as pavers that can volatilize at higher summer temperatures representing a potential source of carcinogenic dibenzopyrenes to the environment (Llompart et al. 2013). Other chemicals of concern in tires include lead oxide styrene and carbon black nanoparticles.
Consequently, the use of recycled rubber tires should be avoided both for reducing thermal comfort and for its toxicological danger to a greater number of citizens. (Vallette, 2013) and the Healthy Building Network do not recommend the use of tire-derived flooring, especially where small children may come into direct contact with the flooring, as they are at a higher risk of exposure because of normal hand-to-mouth activity (Fig.5). Let’s not forget the reason why the materials suffered wear, it’s that there are loose pieces that can come into contact with children who play in those areas.
Fig. 6. Playground in Konigspark, Munich, Germany
Fig. 7. Park in Providencia, Santiago de Chile.
The city of Buenos Aires has been carrying out for several years a strategy of improving green spaces to encourage physical activity incorporating infrastructures for active and passive recreation. However, contradictions arise when the consequences of using inappropriate materials are not analyzed in detail. Therefore, it would be necessary to reformulate some projects, evaluating and monitoring the materials they use in the different infrastructures guaranteeing access to green spaces of good quality.
Perhaps we should return to traditional designs where children’s games are located in areas under the trees and, for the floor, only sand, grass, or soil is used (Fig. 6 and 7).
Nature-based solutions stand out in the urban design environment for their multifunctionality and connectivity features as they offer multiple benefits to local people and ecosystems.
Cities are almost entirely dependent on surrounding regions for food, water, and energy (FWE) to sustain urban population and activities. Sixty percent of the global population will live in cities by 2030, with 90% of urban growth in the coming decades likely to occur in low- and middle-income countries. Rising costs of urban production, consumer-oriented lifestyles, and pressures to improve the quality of urban spaces could worsen the overall picture of urban areas. In light of this, how can cities promote sustainability through nature-based solutions and improve food, water, and energy securities?
Nature-based solutions are any solution that uses an aspect of the natural world to solve resourcing, provisioning, or other issue types in a city. Some of the most common types of nature-based solutions, such as green roofs or inner-city waterways, are often characterized as green and blue infrastructure (GBI), which are simply defined by the type of infrastructure they provide: green plant life (green), and various water solutions (blue). The great benefit of green and blue infrastructure (GBI) is its often positive effect on food, water, and energy resources, particularly in urban areas. GBI broadly includes parks and reserves, gardens and backyards, waterways and wetlands, greenways, farms, orchards, plazas, roof gardens, and living walls. It can provide ecosystem services such as provisioning (food, water, fiber, and fuel), supporting (such as soil formation and nutrient cycling), regulating (climate, flood, and disease regulation and water purification) and cultural services (aesthetic, spiritual, symbolic, educational, and recreational).
Ecosystem services are defined as the gains acquired by humankind from surrounding natural ecosystems, making them key for the natural functioning of FWE systems. Moreover, these interacting resource systems are crucial to the survival and socio-economic development particularly in urban areas, as they import most of the food, water, and energy. Interestingly, an ideal nexus can occur from the ntersections within FWE systems and this is technically known by the term food-water-energy nexus (FWEN). FWEN systems are an ideal type of nature-based solution for cities because they can often have large positive impacts on better utilizing natural resources, reducing pollution, and ensuring the security of FWE supplies that are essential to the quality of life of city inhabitants. Thus, FWEN has the potential to be a pivotal fuel for global cities to ensure sustainable and resilient population and economic growth. All the terms and acronyms mentioned above are widely used by researchers, technicians, environmentalists, planners, and policymakers.
The aerial view depicts a city wide approach. Photo: CHUTTERSNAP
At this point, you might be asking yourself, what can policymakers and citizens do to enhance GBI in cities? The answer is not so straightforward. It depends on several site-specific variables such as a cities’ characteristics and goals, city size, geographical location, income level, governance capacity, and political will, among others.
In fact, there is more academic and technical information on the effects of different types of urban GBI on FWE resources than information on their potential practical applications in cities. A recent study conducted by the IFWEN project has found that urban agriculture has received the most attention from the urban GBI literature, especially through case studies in low-income and large, rapidly growing but food-insecure, cities of the global south and in Africa. Particularly in some eastern and central African cities, nearly half of all vegetables and maize consumed by city dwellers come from urban agriculture.
A building or micro-climate solution. Photo: Luca Dugaro
In addition to food-related ecosystem services provided by urban agriculture, street trees, green spaces, green roofs, urban forests, and other vegetation can help reduce local temperatures. These effects on temperature occur due to the shading of urban surfaces, through cooling and humidifying effects of plants on air. These types of GBI, when located near or over buildings, have an even greater impact on local micro-climates, and lower temperatures reducing the need for artificial cooling and indirectly contributing to energy savings and greenhouse gas emissions reduction. Technologies aiming to increase the absorption of solar radiation for cooling effects, or in cities such as the use of vegetative-green roofs, appear to be very promising. They have the potential to mitigate potentially problematic concentrations of high heat – heat islands in cities and they can provide significant benefits for more efficient energy performance of buildings, providing passive cooling to the built environment. Energy-related GBI has been attracting attention in middle-income and large Asian, North American, and European cities for this reason.
When it comes to the effects or benefits of urban GBI (such as urban forests, green roofs, rain gardens, permeable pavements, and wetland detention ponds) on water resources, they are mainly explored, in very small cities concentrated across various income brackets in cities (low, lower-middle and upper-middle). Constructed wetlands have been increasingly used for tertiary treatment of domestic wastewater which can then be used for irrigation, cleaning, or to supply water to natural areas. Water bodies, urban wetlands, and other water-based GBI also have positive impacts related to local temperature reduction, creation of micro-climates, and reduction of heat island formation, contributing to greater livability in cities. However, interesting trade-offs may take place. For instance, water bodies can also act as heat retention systems, contrary to the expected process of local temperature reduction.
Therefore, unintended negative impacts of each GBI must be taken into account, as this can offset the objectives that motivate the expansion of GBI in cities. On one hand, planting their own food, cities ensure the food supply, particularly for the urban poor in developing countries. On the other hand, food safety turns out to be a significant concern due to environmental pollution. For instance, heavy metal becomes the top issue sourced from atmospheric deposition. Wastewater reuse in urban agriculture, while enhancing the efficiency of the urban water system, adds to concerns about food safety with pathogens transferring from wastewater to food. Urban agriculture itself also may contribute to water contamination with fertilizer and pesticides similar to any other farming system, in addition to contributing to the increase of mosquito-borne diseases.
Characteristics of urbanization in different cities such as economic level, population size, social, and even the climate conditions could be the main influencing factors for the GBI-FWEN links in cities. Other critical points for overcoming current barriers and promoting GBI in cities are the governance capacity, the political will, and its openness to develop nature-based solutions as opposed to conventional grey infrastructures.Institutional arrangements, infrastructures, and actors are critical in mediating the ways in which central government programs are enacted and implemented, and in defining what it is which will be governed.
Nature-based solutions stand out in the urban environment for their multifunctionality and connectivity features, offering multiple benefits to local people and ecosystems. But the emergence of GBI does not depend solely on the technical evolution of the specialist expertise offered both by research institutions and by community organizations; it also requires local authority remaining as a key governing agency for GBI, in terms of expertise and knowledge of the domains to be governed. Stakeholders should clearly comprehend how GBI and FWE systems are interconnected in urban areas, aiming to promote cities’ sustainability. Despite being ultimately related to human well-being, urban GBI is unlikely to help drive change if their positive effects are not well communicated to stakeholders (i.e. by better connecting with decision-makers, emphasizing participatory approaches, and contributing to capacity building).
A community, neighborhood scale approach. Photo: Mark Chan
Thus, we list below key points that need to be included in the policymaking process to advance and promote urban nature-based solutions:
Recognize the importance of supportive framework conditions and “windows of opportunity” at all levels of governance;
Bring the social dimension into the fold. Empower cities and enhance citizen engagement;
Align the identification and selection of innovative technological solutions to urban development concerns;
Integrate different elements (e.g. plans, guidelines, strategies, frameworks) in the GBI-FWEN when trying to develop nature-based solutions toward sustainable urban development;
Build GBI-FWEN thinking and behaviours through working with educational institutions, universities, research and training providers;
Link cities to financial institutions and support introduction of innovative financial instruments to support GBI-FWEN projects.
Greater integration between local governments and societies with regional and national governments can promote the positive effects of urban GBI on the planning of food, water, and energy systems developed beyond city limits. The advancement of the desired sustainability in the use of scarce resources should not necessarily depend on national policies and initiatives; policies and plans for the sustainability of cities must be developed respecting the specificities of each location. Smaller and more achievable goals that are closer to citizens can be better accepted by the community, bringing the feeling of being part of a change that can be observed on a small scale. Nature-based solutions are a consequence and cause of changing attitudes towards sustainability in cities, and their development shows that urban planning, political will, and social participation must always be intertwined to make cities a better place.
Rodrigo Bellezoni and Fanxin Meng São Paulo and New Haven
Fanxin Meng is a Postdoctoral Associate with central research focus on how Green and Blue Infrastructure (GBI) affects Food-Water-Energy Nexus (FWEN) in cities. She is committed to constructing a methodology for assessing FWEN changes in cities.
A meditation on race and ecology on the occasion of the death of U.S. Representative John Lewis.
What does anti-racism mean for my profession, the science of ecology? We must identify how ecology as a science—which is itself in part a social system of researchers, teachers, and practitioners—can rise to the extraordinary crises that 2020 has highlighted so distressingly.
Representative John R. Lewis (1940-2020) was a hero of the civil rights movement in the United States. He was one of the six leaders of the famous 1963 March On Washington, a leader of the Freedom Rides and other key protests, as well as organizations like the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee. He worked tirelessly toward improving civil rights for Black Americans and other Americans of color. His autobiography summarizes much of his vision, work, and experience (Lewis 2012). He served in the U.S. House of Representatives from 1987 until he died in July of 2020. The death of such an important advocate for civil rights is a cause for reflection, especially since 2020 has come to represent a global reckoning on racism in many places around the world. He often spoke of “good trouble” in describing the non-violent and political work of alleviating the impacts of racism. An important point of reflection is the growing understanding that racism exists in two forms, one personal and one systemic. Each may require different kinds of good trouble.
A racial shock in urban renewal
When I was a kid in Louisville KY, urban renewal displaced my family from the house in which I represented the third generation. The house had been owned by my Grandfather, physician William H. Pickett (1876-1949), and his wife, Lucy B. Pickett (1873-1946). My father, Steward T.A. Pickett, Sr. (1903-1981) was one of the first African American Boy Scout Executives, and my mother, Barbara Lockett Pickett (1926-2010), was a librarian, initially in the “colored branch”, of the Louisville Free Public Library. The house was located on East Chestnut Street, a few blocks away from my grandfather’s medical office. This neighborhood was destroyed by urban renewal in 1964, when I was 14.
Urban renewal was an urban planning craze of the 1960s, dissolving many neighborhoods in which Black and poor people lived. I have come to know that some of the justification for obliterating neighborhoods of Black people or mixtures of Black people and the working classes was derived from a metaphorical translation of ideas of ecological succession to the life cycle of cities. Waves of poor people, immigrants, and Black people were assumed to occupy neighborhoods in a sequence of decreasing status, ultimately leading to a mature stage of “blight”. I now know that this is a perverse application of the ecological idea of deterministic succession to the turnover of neighborhoods in cities. This translation was a product of the Chicago School of Sociology, a pioneering academic specialty in the early 20th century. Unfortunately, that school is sometimes called the Chicago School of Urban Ecology. Social succession is a flawed translation (Light 2009), and one which may reflect the racist impact of that university in the life of Chicago’s south side.
An individual model of race
My parents had a philosophy—as did most Black parents of the era—of personal responsibility. Individuals, whether Black or white, were responsible for their behaviors. We as African Americans had to work harder as individuals in the context of racial exclusions, and the evils of racism were assumed to be the personal characteristics of individual white people.
After urban renewal, the real-estate establishment steered our family to an all-white neighborhood in the West End of Louisville. This was a case of blockbusting. My brother, four years younger than I, became a playmate with the two young white boys next door. That is until their parents forbade them from playing with him. We could chalk that up to more individual bad behavior.
As I have begun to collaborate with social scientists, I have learned a great deal about social differentiation, social hierarchies, economic entanglements, and institutional structures. This new knowledge was what I needed to understand in order to work at the interface of social and ecological sciences in the Baltimore Ecosystem Study research project. BES was originally conceived to understand how a metropolitan area was structured as a combined social-ecological system. Consequently it was necessary for biological and physical scientists to learn from sociologists, human geographers, environmental historians, and anthropologists the details and dynamics of social processes and institutions in this human-natural ecosystem.
The need to understand institutions means that simple parameters like human density, or other straightforward measures of human demography, are inadequate for much research in social-ecological science. Furthermore, individual behaviors are not the whole story. Understanding institutions opens a vast intellectual territory: formal and informal norms, networks of institutional interaction, the operation of power differentials, and the emergent results of institutional behaviors that may go beyond the scope of individual organizations. To me, this sounds a lot like a systems approach to social relationships, but social scientists these days often eschew mention of systems, in favor of—to them—less loaded terms such as “process”. As an ecologist, I was trained in similar ways of thinking, regardless of the term used. So adopting an institutional approach to help understand cities and social-ecological systems was not a difficult step.
Fast forward to the heightened awareness of racism that exists today. There is a perfect storm: a president who seems bent on exacerbating racial conflicts; the COVID-19 pandemic that disproportionately kills African Americans, Indigenous, and other people of color whose employment, living, and transportation situations expose them to the virus excessively; and the ongoing drumbeat of state violence against those very categories of person. My involvement in work on environmental justice as a part of the Baltimore Ecosystem Study, and my continued exploration of the social science literature that is needed to support and expand that work, have led me to a new level of understanding of the nature of what I had been raised to see as individual bad behavior concerning race.
The systems view of race
My new knowledge is that the discrimination I faced as a kid, the problems of environmental injustice, and the social segregation that stands behind so much of what we study in the ecology of Baltimore, are all manifestations of a system of racism. Yes, there are individual bad behaviors, but fundamentally, there is a system—that is, a network—of social tools in place that define racial differences, establish racial hierarchy, and maintain the racial order. Of course, teaching people to avoid individually harmful race-based behaviors is desirable, but even if all bad actors in individual encounters between the dominant and the subordinate racial groups suddenly became good actors, the bedrock of racism as a social-political-economic system would still be in place.
This new understanding can be summarized in the social fact that racism is a complex system. If we want a society that does not socially construct and exploit race as a political device, or put certain races and classes in harm’s way, or continue to treat black people a priori as criminals, we as a society are going to have to undo the system of racism. Racism, to be clear, is a set of policies and norms, operating together to socially define a racial rank hierarchy, and apportion social and political advantage, privilege, disadvantage, and resources based on that ranking. Like many other “isms”, it describes a social-political system of governance and social order.
In the United States, racism expressed as differentiation and exclusion (or worse!) of Native Americans, Chinese, Japanese, African Americans, Latinxs, or recent immigrants is part of the national DNA. Emerging from a settler-colonial project, the United States was built, first, on dispossession or extermination of Native Americans and, second, on the importation of Africans and breeding generations of their descendants to supply slave labor to work the appropriated lands.
The racist system of the U.S. is cleverly hidden (Loewen 2018, Wilkerson 2020). The constitution does not mention slavery but embodies compromises between slaveholders and other stakeholders in the new government that were designed to ensure the survival and expansion of slavery (Baptist 2014). The New Deal looks like a boon for working-class Americans but it established lending practices that advantaged white people over African Americans for decades (Rothstein 2017). The war on drugs of the 1990s, although it seems superficially colorblind, thinly veils racist assumptions about Black people and embodies punitive practices that result in seemingly rational mass incarceration and a growing private prison industry (Alexander 2012).
When one is dealing with a system, individual behavior—whether the striving of underdogs or the microaggressions of the privileged—is not the point. The struggle is against the fundamental system. This is the “good trouble” that John Lewis referred to: Call attention to the hidden system. Don’t let the fight just be against individual bad actors. Work to dismantle the system and put in place a fairer, non-racist system.
The work is made all the more difficult because the system of racism is one of the most resilient social phenomena in the U.S. Highlights of action and reaction can be drawn in broad strokes. First, early slave rebellions engaged working whites as well. To break up that coalition, adjustments were made to privilege poor whites so as to enlist their help in subjugating Blacks. Then, as abolitionist sentiment grew and threatened the expansion of slavery westward into new territories of the U.S., the confederacy was born and seceded with the stated goal of preserving and expanding slavery. After the Civil War, Reconstruction and the associated constitutional amendments gave Blacks some measure of democratic participation. However, after roughly a decade of Reconstruction, federal troops were withdrawn from the South, and Reconstruction was replaced by a so-called Redemption movement, which re-enshrined white supremacy, often on the heels of terrorism by the white supremacist Ku Klux Klan (KKK). (It is the Redemption period that saw the erection of many of the confederate statues around the U.S. They are clearly a message to Black people about their place in society.) Jim Crow laws and practices of segregation against Black people were a 20th century legacy of the Redemption movement. In the mid-20th century, Jim Crow was overthrown by the Civil Rights laws of the mid to late 60s, thanks to the work of people like John Lewis. A ghost of Jim Crow was reawakened beginning in the 90s, however, with a supposedly colorblind “three strikes” war on drugs; this took a great toll on the liberties and enfranchisement of Black people. This regime continues today and continues to hide behind calls for order. This looks like a classic example of resilience in a system.
What I know now
What does anti-racism mean for my profession, the science of ecology. First, it suggests a broader sense of the work to be done. Yes, individual behaviors matter but no amount of good behavior by individuals of whatever “color” will, in and of itself, dismantle the fundamental, resilient system of racism in the U.S. The existence, complexity, and adaptive nature of the racist system must be recognized. Then it can be fought, with great and constant effort. Perhaps a key step is to envision what an anti-racist system would look like. A system that can replace racism will not arise from a neutral, color-blind stance toward racism (Kendi, 2019). The work will be hard and multifaceted: We must understand how systemic racism influenced the academic institutions that created and nourish the field. We must examine how the seemingly rational reliance on individual merit for access and advancement may embody racist assumptions. We must understand how the pleasant and progressive view of American history hides the impact of colonial dispossession and slave capitalism in the past and their continuing legacies today. We must move beyond justice that only aims to restore harms by and to individuals. We must acknowledge that the roots and applications of conservation ecology may owe a debt to white privilege. We must examine the ways in which ecological research has neglected the concerns and neighborhoods of disadvantaged, racialized groups. Perhaps most fundamentally, ecology as a science must have the uncomfortable conversation to understand these things.
Ultimately, we must identify how ecology as a science—which is itself in part a social system of researchers, teachers, and practitioners—can rise to the extraordinary crises that 2020 has highlighted so distressingly.
Future cities have to be re-imagined from dystopian and polluted landscapes of chaotic aggregation where people try to scrape a living, to healthy human habitats where all life can co-exist and thrive.
“Stay home!” This is the imperative that has echoed across the planet in the last months. Everyone is at, and a, risk to themselves and others. And so we did. We mostly stayed at home. After a few days, we began to notice that our house, our cities, and our planet, is kind of a mess. Realizing how dirty, unorganized, and incongruent with our life our “home” is, has been a wake-up call to rethink what the next “normal” habitat for humans should be.
Physical and social distancing stormed upon every one of us. Some of you received it as a suggestion, some more like an imposition. Yet, the result was more or less the same. We stopped. We had to change our plans, cancel concerts, football matches, work meetings, and stay put. At home. Some of us immediately started home renovation projects, but after pairing all socks and cleaning all corners of the kitchen the lockdown forced us to look beyond the walls of our houses and apartments. Our bigger “home”. The landscape where our houses are. And we didn’t necessarily like what we saw.
For most of us, home is a city. The habitats in which human animals roam and prowl are rather small urban landscapes. These places, so different from each other in terms of buildings, culture, smell, size, and weather, are all human-dominated landscapes. They are products of humans’ desires, planning, and ingenuity, and they have something else in common. They are polluted (Mayer 1999), stressful (Hartig and Kahn 2016), and unhealthy (Engemann et al. 2019).
With one-third of the world in lockdown not using cars the way people usually do, with air traffic down, and polluting factories closed, many urban citizens across the planet noticed a cleaner background to the buildings. The difficult time of lockdown has produced a silver lining, the deadly air pollution had mostly gone (He, Pan, and Tanaka 2020). The sight of turquoise rivers and clear skies in cities are stark reminders that our everyday habitat would be better clean. Cities do not need to be detrimental to our health and wellbeing. Rather the opposite. Experiencing a different normality for our cities is a precious moment of awakening that has to be used to act in favour of our common future. With increased awareness and motivation we can change the desires that guide the design of the human habitats to improve our and our biosphere’s wellbeing.
Five realizations about city life
There are five realizations about urban life that emerged from experiencing a lockdown in cities. The first realization is that cities are not inherently polluted, but it is human activities that make them so. Pre-COVID-19 levels of air, noise, and environmental pollution do not need to be accepted as normal urban standards any longer. The internet went berserk when they saw videos of dolphins in the canals of Venice; which in truth were in Sardinia, but still, Venetians haven’t seen through their canal waters in centuries. We saw the majesty of the Taj Mahal not hidden behind a blanket of car and industry fumes. The melodies of nature noises were no longer masked by the cacophony of traffic. Even if we had to look at these positive changes through a screen or our the windows of our apartment, we liked what we saw, and it made most of us realise that we would like to keep it that way. The human habitat does not need to be harmful to us nor any other living beings. It is a design choice. It is a design choice to plan for everyday commuting distances that cannot be covered by bicycle or foot. It is a design and political choice to allow industries to economically thrive despite contributing to air and water pollution. It is a design choice to not have the possibility to hear birds in cities. All these choices can be changed.
The second realization is that in times of physical distancing—and in times when indoor recreation is almost entirely banned—being close to a green area is more than ever a luxury. The company of plants, green space and non-human life is a welcome healing treat for both body and mind that people across the world love to dive into. In Sweden, where the government opted for a soft lockdown with voluntary restrictions, the use of parks and outdoor areas in the last months has increased up to 350 percent. This trend is valid for most countries around the world. Urban green areas allow us to socialize with people while maintaining physical distance, to maintain a sense of community (Jennings and Bamkole 2019), to relieve from ordinary and extraordinary stresses, and to find much needed psychological balance (Hartig and Kahn 2016). The benefits of nature interaction for the human mind and body are so well-established that nature experiences are now prescribed by doctors and discussed in academia in “doses” (Cox et al. 2018). Not having access to green areas in cities is another design choice. Yet, the public health costs of underexposure to nature has been grossly underestimated. Now that we might have experienced directly a glimpse of what of these benefits could be, we might decide to not accept the personal and social costs of this choice any longer.
The third realization is that even if we live in a city we can survive without over-consuming. Through advertisement, cities are constant reminders that we should shop more, own more, buy new. Still, in this time of pause, we have become to realize that talking to a person gives us more pleasure than swiping a credit card. The short-lived, addictive, and environmentally destructive joy of recreational or compulsive shopping does not support us in times of crises. The obsession for brand new objects is vanishing and the extensive use of public spaces advertising our “needs” is now just an obsolete message unsuitable for our everyday happiness. Choosing to define the living fulcrum of cities with high streets and financial centres, rather than squares and parks are decisions that do not reflect the priorities of people’s needs or priorities. These choices too should be questioned for our own and our biosphere’s wellbeing.
The fourth realization is that—although COVID-19 has affected everyone—some suffer more than others. Those already exposed to higher levels of air pollution, with less access to health care, or in low-income neighbourhoods are suffering more the effects of this pandemic. Those in lockdown without access to a private garden, without a balcony, without an escape from the indoor confinement, or without a home altogether are not doing as well as those with an undisturbed view over the beach. COVID-19 has amplified existing injustices and highlighted how health care, green areas, and public services are unequally distributed in cities. These inequalities are landscaped and built in long-lasting cement. Deciding who get access to what is too is a design choice that can be changed.
The last realization is that we like to see a thriving nature living where we live. During the lockdown we saw coyotes, wild boars, deer, and even a sea lion roaming peacefully in city centres. These sights were not alarming, but welcome. We have an appreciation for animals and natural features that goes beyond puppies and cat videos. Observing nature is a joy that derives from spending hundreds of thousands of years together (Kellert and Wilson 1993). The whole biosphere is a close evolutionary family that include us humans. Our habitat should be designed as a constant reminder of this eternal bond. Some non-human species already thrive in cities, but this is mostly because we have destroyed their natural habitats and the concrete jungle is the last place to spawn. If it wasn’t because of personal economic gains, cities might not be the first choice to live for human beings either. Separating ourselves from other inhabitants of the biosphere is mostly the product of a self-granted position of superiority over the rest of nature. Isolating the natural habitats from the human habitat means hiding that social and ecological dynamics depend on each other and co-evolve together. The upcoming climate and the ecological crisis is a clear reminder that the arbitrary decision to separate human’s and biosphere’s wellbeing is not doing us any favour on the long-term. Embedding this relationship with nature in the landscape by separating human and natural habitats is also a design choice. One which might simultaneously hamper humans’ and animals’ wellbeing. This too we saw during the lockdown.
The next “normal” human habitat
How should your city be? “Polluted, stressful, grey, hubs of mindless consumption, inequitable, and isolated from wildlife, please!” said no one ever. The five realisations listed above showed us that cities can and should be different. We saw above that there are several aspects of urban design that should be reconsidered. These realisations lead to reprioritise four design choices in urban design.
First, what makes everybody healthy and happy should be prioritised over what makes people spend. After appropriate access to health care, human company (Cacioppo and Patrick 2008) and nature exposure (Hartig et al. 2014) are among the most effective (and cheap!) methods to keep humans healthy. Designing the next city should make people live happily and healthy by promoting meaningful social and ecological interactions. In practice, this means making green public land the fulcrum of social life, ensure equitable access to it, and encourage community activities in it that can promote place attachment and community building. Possible examples include the re-greening of downtown areas to ensure accessible nature experiences, creating community gardens to encourage ecological learning and social exchange, and designing other nature-based solutions that can foster intergenerational interactions to further community building and limiting loneliness.
The second design choice to reconsider is to prioritise human-powered movement over artificially-powered movement. Walking and bicycling are the main form of transportation for a sustainable and healthy city (Rafiemanzelat, Emadi, and Kamali 2017). This does not mean giving up your two-weeks annual vacation in Italy or your occasional car trip to the hardware store, but your daily commute should not include an hour-long traffic jam on a three-lane highway. That’s no good for your waistline, your stress levels, nor for the lungs of the people breathing the car’s fumes. This is a lose-lose situation. Many cities across the world devote on average up to 30% of their land to motorised vehicles (United Nations Human Settlements Programme 2013). This existing infrastructure could be used to ensure access to emergency vehicles while transformed into a cohesive cycling and pedestrian network that would stimulate the sidewalk economy and a safe sense of community. Mayors of cities such as Milan, Paris, and London are now making bold plans to make transportation human-friendly rather than fossil-fuel dependent. Improved air quality, increased safety, vibrant street life, and overall healthier—hence less expensive to the national health care system—people are just some of the co-benefits that would stem from this intervention.
The third priority is to consider human and natural habitats as one. We are animals, products of natural evolution, surviving because of ecological processes that provide us with clean air to breath, fresh water to drink, and plenty of sun and rain to grow our food. We are part of the biospheric balance from which all species benefit and to which all species contribute. The well-functioning of our habitat depends on the well-functioning of the habitats of other species on Earth. Secluding our everyday lives from this biological reality creates a fictitious disconnection from the biosphere that is dangerous for our survival (Giusti, Barthel, and Marcus 2014; Pyle 1993). The climate and ecological crises are likely outcomes of this misconception and so it is the structure of our sterilised, biosphere-adverse, nature-poor cities. True innovations for the future of urban development have to be found in nature-based solutions rather than in technological advancements (Colding, Colding, and Barthel 2018). Regenerative nature-based solutions would act in synergy with nature rather than use it as a resource of raw material. The next city should then be a true human habitat that—like other animal habitats—favour life in all its forms. In practice, this means promoting outdoor rather than indoor activities. It means promoting outdoor education and biological experiences enough so that people learn -first- to feel comfortable in natural environments, then to play and interact with it sustainably, and eventually to care and take care of ecosystems and non-human life (Giusti et al. 2018). Ultimately, a human habitat should be a landscape that acts as a constant reminder of our dependence on local and global biosphere processes.
The last priority for a healthy and sustainable city is to ensure equitable access to green urban services to inhabitants of all ages, gender, and socio-economic status. Existing inequalities in the provision of urban services affect the health, safety, and productivity of the entire urban community (Beard, Mahendra, and Westphal 2016). Once the services are provided inequitably, the ability of the poorest to be economically or socially productive is compromised. The next human habitat should not rely on electrical fencing to ensure personal and capital safety, but it should rely on a structurally supportive infrastructure that eliminates the need for violent redistributions of resources. This is particularly important given that the highest rates of urbanization are now in low-income countries (UN-Habitat 2016). In practice, this means, first of all, ensuring equitable access to housing, energy, transportation, water, sewage, and education, but also providing equitable and safe access to a supportive local economy, green infrastructure, and recreational services.
Future cities have to be re-imagined from dystopian and polluted landscapes of chaotic aggregation where people try to scrape a living, to healthy human habitats where all life can co-exist and thrive. Public support is readily available and post COVID-19 investments are and will be made to stimulate the economy. The question is whether these investments will be used to create a landscape that will promote people’s health wellbeing, that will help us enjoy the smell of flowers and the songs of birds, and that will ensure us with a healthy, sustainable, and resilient future. Alternatively, we go back to what our “normal” business-as-usual way of building cities. With urban solutions that externalise air, noise, and environmental pollution as public costs, maximise unequal financial gains, hide the need for everyday nature interactions, and make us wonder why the air is so clear after a week of lockdown.
Beard, Victoria A, Anjali Mahendra, and Michael I Westphal. 2016. “Towards a More Equal City: Framing the Challenges and Opportunities.” World Resources Institute.
Cacioppo, John T., and William Patrick. 2008. Loneliness: Human Nature and the Need for Social Connection.Loneliness: Human Nature and the Need for Social Connection. New York, NY, US: W W Norton & Co.
Colding, Johan, Magnus Colding, and Stephan Barthel. 2018. “The Smart City Model: A New Panacea for Urban Sustainability or Unmanageable Complexity?” Environment and Planning B: Urban Analytics and City Science, March, 239980831876316. https://doi.org/10.1177/2399808318763164.
Cox, Daniel T.C., Danielle F. Shanahan, Hannah L. Hudson, Richard A. Fuller, and Kevin J. Gaston. 2018. “The Impact of Urbanisation on Nature Dose and the Implications for Human Health.” Landscape and Urban Planning 179 (November): 72–80. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.landurbplan.2018.07.013.
Engemann, Kristine, Carsten Bøcker Pedersen, Lars Arge, Constantinos Tsirogiannis, Preben Bo Mortensen, and Jens-Christian Svenning. 2019. “Residential Green Space in Childhood Is Associated with Lower Risk of Psychiatric Disorders from Adolescence into Adulthood.” Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences 116 (11): 5188–93. https://doi.org/10.1073/pnas.1807504116.
Giusti, Matteo, Stephan Barthel, and Lars Marcus. 2014. “Nature Routines and Affinity with the Biosphere: A Case Study of Preschool Children in Stockholm.” Children, Youth and Environments 24 (3): 16. https://doi.org/10.7721/chilyoutenvi.24.3.0016.
Giusti, Matteo, Ulrika Svane, Christopher M. Raymond, and Thomas Beery. 2018. “A Framework to Assess Where and How Children Connect to Nature.” Frontiers in Psychology 8 (January). https://doi.org/10.3389/fpsyg.2017.02283.
Hartig, Terry, and Peter H. Jr Kahn. 2016. “Living in Cities, Naturally.” Science 352 (6288).
Hartig, Terry, Richard Mitchell, Sjerp de Vries, and Howard Frumkin. 2014. “Nature and Health.” Annual Review of Public Health 35 (December 2013): 207–28. https://doi.org/10.1146/annurev-publhealth-032013-182443.
He, Guojun, Yuhang Pan, and Takanao Tanaka. 2020. “The Short-Term Impacts of COVID-19 Lockdown on Urban Air Pollution in China.” Nature Sustainability, July. https://doi.org/10.1038/s41893-020-0581-y.
Jennings, Viniece, and Omoshalewa Bamkole. 2019. “The Relationship between Social Cohesion and Urban Green Space: An Avenue for Health Promotion.” International Journal of Environmental Research and Public Health 16 (3): 452. https://doi.org/10.3390/ijerph16030452.
Kellert, Stephen R., and Edward O. Wilson. 1993. The Biophilia Hypothesis. Edited by Stephen R. Kellert and Edward O. Wilson. Washington, D.C.: Island Press.
Pyle, Robert Michael. 1993. The Thunder Tree: Lessons from an Urban Wildland. Boston: Houghton Mifflin.
Rafiemanzelat, Reihaneh, Maryam Imani Emadi, and Aida Jalal Kamali. 2017. “City Sustainability: The Influence of Walkability on Built Environments.” Transportation Research Procedia 24: 97–104. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.trpro.2017.05.074.
UN-Habitat. 2016. Urbanization and Development: Emerging Futures. World Cities Report 2016. Nairobi, Kenya: UN-Habitat.
United Nations Human Settlements Programme. 2013. “Streets as Public Spaces and Drivers of Urban Prosperity.” Nairobi, Kenya: UN-Habitat.
Want to explore diverse and connecting threads in urban ecological arts? In the LEAF, three FRIEC Urban Arts Collective members share something from their ideas and work for 10 minutes each, followed by Q&A.
Presenters: Olive Bieringa, Oslo Matthew Jensen, New York Stéphane Verlet-Bottéro, Paris
21 October, 11am EDT
Olive Bieringa, Oslo: “Resisting Extinction” is a performance work that will offer embodied practices for grieving and resisting extinction amidst our spiraling ecological devastation. This performance work will offer participatory practices for building relationship and agency through weather walks, grieving practices and hauntings in urban landscape with the land meets the water.
Matthew Jensen, New York: I will share a few recent projects that help unpack what I mean when I say I have a “walking-based practice”. I will touch on Tree Love: Street Trees and Stewardship in NYC and show a few iterations of the project. And I will quickly explain the first and only “virtual walk” I created for City as Living Laboratory during the pandemic. The piece takes a walk and spreads it out on StoryMap, an interactive map with video and text.
Stéphane Verlet-Bottéro, Paris: I will present about an ongoing body of research on what I’ve coined “the permacircular museum”. It revolves around gestures of object maintenance, looking at expanding the field of museum care practices to ecosystems and non-human collectives. There are currently two field experiments: in Karlsruhe, with ZKM museum of art and media – we are regenerating an abandoned fruit orchard, in the framework of the exhibition Critical Zones; in Taipei, with Taipei Fine Arts Museum – an urban reforestation action in partnership with Taipei Forestry Technologist Association and Geotechnical Engineering Office. I’m keen to explore the question recently asked by curator Chus Martinez on the possibility for cultural institutions to “produce shelter”, in a time characterized by the disappearance of refuges (Haraway, Tsing).
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The FRIEC (Forum for Radical Imagination on Environmental Cultures) Urban Ecological Arts Collective is a global group of almost 100 artists and creatives interested in the connection between nature and people in cities. The LEAF is a monthly webinar in which three Collective members spend 10 minutes describing an ideas or motivation central to their work, followed by discussion and Q&A with the audience. The idea to get to know the work of the Collective members, and to explore creativity and imagination in urban ecology.
Interested in being part of the FRIEC Collective? Write is at [email protected].
Banner image: A photographic series by Matthew Jensen celebrating the myriad of ways city residents care for street trees and the spaces surrounding them.
Matthew Jensen is an interdisciplinary artist whose rigorous explorations of landscape combine walking, collecting, photography, mapping and extensive research. His projects investigate the relationships between people and local landscapes.
Stéphane Verlet Bottéro (b. 1987) is an artist working at the intersection of social practice, installation, education, writing, gardening, and cooking. He is interested in the entanglements of community, materiality, body, and place. Based on site-specific research and durational interventions, his practice seeks to open spaces to unlearn and unsettle ways of inhabiting the world.
The read stories are Rym Kechacha’s “Old Father Thames” and Alyssa Eckles’ “Uolo and the Idol”. The Stories are first read, then authors Rym and Alyssa then join David Maddox for conversation.
“Old Father Thames”by Rym Kechacha The narrator gets swept away by Old Father Thames after playing on a riverbank and ignoring a flood warning. Read by Lucy Symons (London).
“Uolo and the Idol” by Alyssa Eckles Uolo discovers an idol of a woman while fishing in the automobile reef. Read by Bernadette Dunn (New York).
“Stories of the Nature of Cities 1/2 Hour” is a monthly series of readings from TNOC’s collection of very short fiction about future cities. Each episode is 30 minutes and features two readings and then a conversation between the authors and an urban practitioner.
Rym Kechacha is a writer and teacher living in Norwich, UK. Her debut novel, Dark River, was published this year by Unsung Stories. Find her on twitter @RymKechacha
More people are changing how they use green and open spaces in New York during COVID-19, but we found the perception of access to these spaces remains unequal, and reduction in funding further compromises the ability of parks managers and city officials to manage these significant shifts in use.
Urban green spaces have long been a refuge for city dwellers, especially in times of crisis, but how has the COVID-19 pandemic affected the use and importance of urban green and open spaces? Are they perceived or used differently during this time? Who has access historically, but also during COVID-19? And can current and future social distancing and budgetary policies impact this access?
In cities like New York, which was hard-hit by the impacts of the pandemic early on, reports of increased park use in some areas signaled a radical shift in mobility and demand for services as communities across the region adapted to new social distancing policies and mandates. With some parks and natural areas closed, while others partially restricted, the Urban Systems Lab in collaboration with The Nature Conservancy in New York,Building Healthy Communities NYC, and the New York State Health Foundation launched a social survey from 13 May to 15 June 2020 to better understand the shifts in use, importance, and perceived access to urban green spaces across the five boroughs. Our aim was to capture a snapshot during a critical time period following some of the worst health impacts in the City, but, before New York State entered into Phase 3 and 4, when restaurants and businesses partially reopened. In total, we received 1,372 responses to a NYC survey, and 1,145 people completed over 70 percent of the survey questions used for analysis.
LEFT: Bikers wearing masks in Prospect Park, Brooklyn. Photo: Chris Kennedy; CENTER: Two NYCHA open spaces in the Bronx. Photos: Nicholas Dagen Bloom; RIGHT: Social distancing signage installed by NYC Parks on the Northern entrance to Central Park. Photo: Allison Meier
The results of the survey show New Yorkers continued to use urban green and open spaces during the pandemic and considered them to be more important for mental and physical health than before the pandemic began. However, the study revealed a pattern of concerns residents have about perceived accessibility and safety, and found key differences between the needs of different populations, suggesting a crucial role for inclusive decision-making and urban ecosystem governance that reflect the differential values of communities across the City. More than this, the study highlights an urgent need for additional funding, and consistent and practical guidelines to meet shifting demands, and to ensure the safe implementation of adaptive management strategies. In this post, we highlight some of the findings from the study and discuss the crucial role urban green spaces play during extreme events. We advocate for recognition of parks and open spaces as more than an essential service, but rather a critical urban infrastructure that provides multiple benefits and ecosystem services to address the interdependent impacts of the COVID-19 health crisis as well as other threats posed by climate change and socio-economic instability. Throughout we take an inclusive approach to the term urban green space, which we refer to as any public spaces with natural or managed vegetation, including parks, greenways, public gardens, plazas, and accessible wetlands, forests, prairies, and beaches.
Variation in responses about the importance of parks and open space for mental (A,B) and physical (C,D) health across gender (A,C) and race/ethnicity (B,D) groups.
In our analysis, we found that most respondents considered urban green spaces to be very or extremely important for their health (88% for mental health, 80% for physical health) and that this held true for all groups across gender, race/ethnicity, and borough. While scholars and practitioners have known this for some time, the multiple and interdependent impacts of the pandemic have brought new meaning to the idea of urban green spaces as a sanctuary or space of psychic refuge. What we found particularly interesting in the results of our study is that respondents generally considered urban green spaces to be more important for mental than physical health. This may indicate the many different roles that urban green spaces can provide for communities especially as a documented case of ongoing “COVID depression” spreads nationwide and social isolation creates additional barriers to the kinds of cohesion and community-building needed for overall well-being. Urban green spaces in this sense may be critical for alleviating mental stress and health, and point to the necessity of providing continued access to these spaces during times of crisis to prevent further inequities in public health.
Distribution of responses to the questions “How many times have you visited a park or open space in the last week?” (A) and “How has your participation in [visiting parks or open space] changed since the start of the COVID-19 crisis?” (B).
Percentage of New York City inhabitants who have access to an urban green space within 400m. Map developed by Ahmed Mustafa.
Uneven access, unequal service
Do all New Yorkers have safe and easy access to an urban green space? Yes and no. According to the Trust for Public Land (TPL), nearly all New Yorkers live within a 10-minute walk to a green space. While this may appear equitable, higher rates of White residents tend to live near large parks with a greater level of desired features. This is now a national trend confirmed most recently in a TPL study published earlier this year. In contrast, low-income and communities of color are more likely to lack access to green spaces of quality and to face disinvestment in local parks, which often do not include basic amenities like bathrooms or basketball courts. Even without considering the multiple impacts of the current health crisis, access to parks and open spaces of quality are not equal for New York’s diverse communities.
However, the question of access is not necessarily the whole story. The use of urban green space depends on more than just who is within physical proximity to parks, but what amenities those spaces provide, how well they match the needs of the community, and who feels safe and welcome to use the park. In a Citywide Social Assessment conducted by NYC Parks and USDA Forest Service in 2014, researchers showed that park visitation correlates with park size, facilities, and the ability to participate in recreational activities and engage with the local environment. And, in a study analyzing NYC park usage through social media data, researchers found the key determinants of visitation are linked to park facilities, access to public transportation, the size of the park, and socio-demographics of the neighborhood.
In our study, we were interested in questions of accessibility, but also understanding resident’s “perceived access”, or ease with which people can reach desired urban parks or open space sites. And similarly, if new concerns over safety, overcrowding, or a lack of desired amenities would influence this. Overall, we found these additional concerns have made an impact, with perceived access to parks unequally distributed across the 5 boroughs, although relatively high because of the number of parks and open spaces in the City.
Approximately 75 percent of respondents said that they had “safe and easy access” to an urban green space, with access to “natural areas” significantly lower, ranging from 53 percent in Staten Island to 20 percent in Brooklyn. In our initial spatial analysis, however, we found that residents in Queens and Brooklyn have lower perceived park access, as well as receive less of their desired features from urban green spaces. This is particularly concerning as studies point to neighborhoods in Queens as disproportionately impacted by COVID-19, which are also at higher risk and incidence to conditions such as diabetes, hypertension, exposure to extreme heat, poor air quality, and heart failure. These have been identified as comorbidities that significantly increase the likelihood of patients requiring hospitalization, contribute to COVID-19 fatality, which may be exacerbated by a reduction in perceived access to produce further inequities.
Variation in features considered to be important for a park or open space visit reported by respondents across race and ethnicity.
New concerns, shifting needs
As many recent reports suggest, the increased use of urban green spaces is taking a toll on the maintenance and capacity of parks to meet the evolving needs of users. In our study, even though visitation to urban green spaces increased for some during the pandemic, we found that shifting needs of New Yorkers can also result in a decrease in park visits. While more than half of park users surveyed were concerned about issues of safety, the concerns and emerging needs also varied across locations and social groups. For example, in selected write-in comments, some Black-identifying respondents expressed concern about police presence in parks or racial profiling, while Latinx respondents more frequently selected “lack of park staff.” One survey respondent explained: “Feels like parks for white people these days and law enforcement continue to target people of color.”
Parks with desired features are key as well. Our findings indicate that people may not use the park or open space closest to them if it does not have the desired amenities or if it is too small and likely more crowded. While the majority of respondents indicated landscaping and trees, places to sit and walk, and water features as a high priority, other communities placed a different value on park features such as places to socialize and cook food within parks, wildlife habitat, or educational opportunities. Additional write-in comments also suggest that other features were necessary, such as public restrooms and open playgrounds. These results highlight the ways in which residents’ beliefs and attitudes are not necessarily uniform and an urgent need to increase the capacity of NYC Parks and other agencies to better understand shifting behaviors and to include communities authentically in decision-making processes.
Illustration from the Connect the Dots project, exploring ecologically-based design solutions for networking urban open space. Developed by Timon McPhearson, Taylor Drake, Chris Hepner, Josh Snow.
Moving Forward: Parks as Critical Urban Infrastructure
So, what are city officials and planners to do, especially in light of recent budget cuts and the likelihood of the pandemic extending into the coming year? How do we plan for equity and resilience?
Although the severity of the COVID-19 crisis this Spring was unprecedented, many of our partners point out that there are still no clear guidelines for how to translate the New York State Department of Health or recommendations from experts into practical measures for NYC’s park and open space managers. The lack of consistent messaging and guidance earlier this Spring meant that some playgrounds were required to close with reports of others remaining open, certain natural areas were closed while others remained accessible, and open spaces not maintained by NYC Parks had to determine policies in an ad hoc fashion. This absence of responsive and inclusive policies, especially in times of crisis, tend to disadvantage low-income communities, while reduced funding compromises the capacity of NYC Parks, park conservancies, and other City agencies to adequately respond and adapt.
Long-term, planners may need to think differently about how urban green spaces are supported both financially and also through engagements with the communities who use and benefit from these spaces. This requires thinking critically about parks and open spaces not just as isolated islands of ‘Nature,’ but rather as complex urban ecological networks that operate as multifunctional systems, providing ecosystem services, transportation opportunities, flood and extreme heat protection, and support local and regional economic activity. Urban green spaces in this sense are more than essential, but rather critical urban infrastructure to manage the multiple impacts of COVID-19 as well as other threats.
In New York City, linking smaller parks with larger parks, NYCHA open spaces, waterfront hubs, community gardens, open and cool streets, and natural areas through a network of urban ecological infrastructure could begin to address issues of uneven perceived access and additional safety concerns reflected in the results of our survey. As many respondents noted, urban green spaces are often fragmented and the spaces with desired amenities can be difficult to access with many traveling greater distances, adjusting their typical routines, or actually reducing or stopping their park use altogether. This suggests that access to urban green space is not necessarily about proximity to a park or open space, but rather a perception of having safe and easy access to an urban green space that meets user’s needs.
This is especially crucial in considering the interdependent and cascading risks of extreme events such as heatwaves and coastal storms, and how they may interact with COVID-19. A reduction in staffing at NYC Parks for instance already had major impacts on City services in the aftermath of Tropical Storm Isaias which caused more than 800,000 people to lose power in New York State in August 2020. Due in part to staffing shortfalls within NYC Parks, the cleanup and recovery were significantly delayed, placing those with pre-existing vulnerabilities at greater risk. Given the likelihood of these events reoccurring with an increased intensity quite high, planning for and building resilience is key.
As parks and open spaces increasingly emerge as a “pandemic commons,” this new appreciation is not just a challenge to manage or merely a strain on resources, but also an opportunity to rethink the role parks and open spaces play in our daily experience. And, more importantly, a call to action to ensure all New Yorkers have a say in the future operations of urban parks and open spaces.
Timon McPhearson, Christopher Kennedy, Bianca Lopez and Emily Maxwell
New York
This study was conducted by the Urban Systems Lab at The New School in partnership with The Nature Conservancy in New York and Building Healthy Communities NYC. Funding for the study is provided in part by the National Science Foundation under Grant Number (2029918) and the New York State Health Foundation. Any opinions, findings, and conclusions or recommendations expressed in this material are those of the author(s) and do not necessarily reflect the views of the National Science Foundation.
Christopher Kennedy is the associate director at the Urban Systems Lab (The New School) and lecturer in the Parsons School of Design. Kennedy’s research focuses on understanding the socio-ecological benefits of spontaneous urban plant communities in NYC, and the role of civic engagement in developing new approaches to environmental stewardship and nature-based resilience.
Bianca Lopez is a postdoc at the University of Massachusetts Amherst and the Northeast Climate Science Center working at the intersection of invasion ecology and climate change to inform land management. She has also collaborated with social scientists to study people's interactions with nature and is interested in art as a way to communicate science and inspire conservation behavior.
Emily Nobel Maxwell is dedicated to environmental justice and urban greening. She is Director of The Nature Conservancy’s NYC Program and Advisor to TNC’s North America Cities Network.
Regularly, we feature a Global Roundtable in which a group of people respond to a specific question in The Nature of Cities.
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Hover over a name to see an excerpt of their response…click on the name to see their full response.
Elmaz Abinader, OaklandHere I sit in California where fire is consuming the hills. Today, they say, prepare to evacuate. The city of my obsession is in shambles: Beirut is changed forever. Lebanon, we are at the beginning again. You reach out. I take your hand.
Anne Brochot, ParisTo support oneself in a vacuum does not mean believing in a possible vessel that carries the vacuum. No, emptiness is merely our condition.
Joyce Garvey, DublinI will commit to persuading a prominent local business to commission from me a piece of environmental art which I will complete without charge, in return for their public commitment to appoint an environmental officer to their business.
Leslie Gauthier, New YorkMy deck is an ecosystem: bumble bees and blue-winged wasps, grasshoppers, ladybugs, spiders. More, too. But I’m still learning.
Jane Ingram Allen, Santa RosaDuring these months of isolation, I have had time to reflect and make art and also to start a vegetable garden; to make paper “from scratch” in my garage studio using the bark of the mulberry tree in my front yard.
Frances Mezzetti, DublinA world with making less the pressure as we set Zoom up and move in our respective garden or spaces and tune into each others movements through the flatness of the screen to connect and open up a space of consciousness, to imagine, to create!
Munira Naqui, PortlandI settled down to be in the gentle rhythm of nature. Watched the signs of Spring as the snow heaps diminished and the woods slowly stirred into life with shades of green. This is when I started to pine for human presence and got restless.
Carmen Bouyer is a French environmental artist and designer based in Paris.
Introduction
In order to keep a trace of the major collective experience we all went through during quarantine time, Anne Brochot, and myself as an invited artist at Cour Commune, launched a program called « Et Après? » (what’s next?) throughout the Summer. Cour Commune is a third place that includes a printing studio, visual art residency, and communal garden, based in an ancient 19th century shop located in Voulx, a small village 100km south of Paris.
We invited neighbours and friends to write about what they lived during quarantine, what they learned, what became obvious to them and what they wished for the future while confined in their homes. We are extending here, on The Nature of Cities platform, our collective inquiry, opening it to a larger network of artists living around the globe and focusing on the relationship to nature. We are exploring here how artists’ relationships/or non relationship with nature have moved them during lockdown. What kind of nature experience did they have during quarantine? How did it manifest itself? What teachings did those experiences convey?
To you too, who is reading these lines, we invite you to reflect on how your relationship to nature has been or is shaped by this time: what is standing out that needs to be remembered and put into practice?
In 2012 Anne created CourCommune, an artistic third place located 100 km from Paris, which she animates in the spirit of Robert Filliou: "Art is what makes life more interesting than art". The way of life, around a workshop space and a garden, is participative and inspired by the regrowth movement.
Anne Brochot
To support oneself in a vacuum does not mean believing in a possible vessel that carries the vacuum. No, emptiness is merely our condition.
EN
I created CourCommune in 2012 and we moved into an old village grocery store in 2016. We welcome artists in residence and organize many other events. A month before the lockdown we needed to shore up the cellar, which was threatening to collapse. We are in full lockdown, we realize that our foundation is fragile and the building could collapse. We cover the entire studio and the masons tear up the floor. I move my office upstairs, just above where they are working.
The sky, with the edge of the roof of CourCommune’s house. And far away in the middle, the moon. Photo: Anne Brochot
May 5th. Since 8 a.m., the jackhammer has been breaking through the concrete mass supporting a brick pillar in the cellar that has exploded under the weight of the two-storey building. Several tons rest on a few poorly mortared bricks. Suddenly, I hear a crashing, metallic noise and feel vibrations, then, silence. In the wall just behind me, a series of crystalline, musical sounds; the particles of the plaster tearing. For two seconds, the floor shifts, almost imperceptibly. A barely audible crackling sound and it’s over. Gravity has provided the structure with new-found stability.
During the few seconds it takes for the weight to transfer from one reinforcement to another, I feel the words of the psychoanalyst Jean-Pierre Lebrun “to support oneself in the void” pass through me. To support oneself in a vacuum does not mean believing in a possible vessel that carries the vacuum. No, emptiness is our condition. Yet, we need to exist and possess skills, to reflect and to concentrate during the moment when, for however long and for whatever reason, individually or collectively, we will have only the void as our only support.
FR
J’ai créé CourCommune en 2012 et nous sommes rentrés dans une ancienne épicerie de village en 2016. Nous y accueillons des artistes et bien d’autres choses. Un mois avant le confinement nous avons dû étayer une cave qui menaçait de s’effondrer. Nous sommes en plein confinement, nous constatons que nos fondations sont fragiles et le bâtiment nous parle d’effondrement. Tout l’atelier est bâché, le sol est ouvert, les maçons travaillent. J’ai monté le bureau à l’étage, je suis installée juste au dessus des maçons.
5 mai. Depuis 8h, le marteau-piqueur défonce le massif de béton supposé soutenir un pilier de briques dans la cave et le pilier lui-même. Ce dernier a explosé sous la charge de l’étage et du toit. Plusieurs tonnes reposaient sur quelques briques mal maçonnées. Puis des bruits de masse, un bruit métallique, des vibrations, et le silence. Et là dans le mur juste derrière moi, des crépitements minuscules, une série de sons cristallins, musicaux ; les particules du plâtre qui se déchirent. Pendant 2 secondes, l’étage se repose sur un appui qui descend, imperceptiblement. Un craquement à peine audible et c’est fini. Le principe de gravité a redonné à la structure une nouvelle stabilité.
Pendant les quelques secondes nécessaires au transfert d’un appui à l’autre, j’ai senti passer en moi l’expression du psychanalyste Jean-Pierre Lebrun « se soutenir dans le vide ». Se soutenir dans le vide ne veut pas dire croire en une possible propriété porteuse du vide. Non, le vide est notre condition. Mais il faut des étais, du savoir faire, de la réflexion, de la concentration autour du moment où, pendant un temps plus ou moins long et pour quelque raison que ce soit, individuellement ou collectivement, nous n’aurons que le vide pour seul appui.
Elmaz Abinader is the author of two poetry collections, a memoir, Children of the Roojme and several plays. This House, My Bones was the Editors Selection 2014 for Willow Books, and In the Country of my Dreams won the Oakland PEN award for poetry. She is a co-founder of VONA—the workshop for writers-of-color. She lives in Oakland, CA.
Elmaz Abinader
The Collapse in the Quiet
…imagine looking down on earth, seeing marionette strings that once kept it afloat in the black current. Think of every moment breath swept through you, unremarkable. Your heart squeezing a handful of red petals//… — “After” by Ruth Awad in Set a Music to Wildfire
Here I sit in California where fire is consuming the hills. Today, they say, prepare to evacuate. The city of my obsession is in shambles: Beirut is changed forever. Lebanon, we are at the beginning again. You reach out. I take your hand.
Lebanon, I had put you to rest this summer. Smoothed the last page of the book that cost years of research, interviews, translations, and visit. Thrashed out the differences between interpretations, replayed old news videos like they were dear home movies, called out to the soldiers in every army, to the children hiding under the bed; to the women cooking hot in the bomb shelters. I studied your war — our wars — more deeply than my family tree.
I had put you, the book, Almost a Life, to rest in the quiet. World struck with fever, I had to figure out how to sustain and develop the story of Dede from the shelter of my porch overlooking the looming redwoods and blossoming peach tree. There was no other way to approach the chaos of the civil war, except in the company of the fierce rotations of nature, where death brings life, and decomposition feeds new bodies. I sat in gardens filled with wild tomato vines, in giant forests where treetops fused together, on empty beaches, feet dug into sand, words resting on my knees. Dreaming in an Arabic that was colloquial, illiterate and insufficient, I finished, confidently, I thought.
But Lebanon, you did not let me go. My eye drifted from one news story to the next, to the view of Beirut: the port, the Corniche, the night clubs, the restaurants, Pigeon Rock. I stepped in the shoes of my mother and father’s promenades, my own strolls along the beach, the lingering on the rail watching the fishermen and their long rods.
And then you exploded: the first time, a tremor in the chest; the second — I rose and fell and rose again. A gasp that has not exhaled. When a city explodes, the air becomes inhabited with flying glass, the sea burns a sickening ash, the trees in Martyr’s Square collapse as if they were never rooted. When a city ignites, all is fire: the frantic rush to rescue a body, the words calling for help, the hearts who don’t imagine what can survive or how they can live. Just like that, the cells have shifted, in every living thing.
I have not let go, after all. Here I sit in California where fire is consuming the hills. Today 367 wildfires. Today, they say, prepare to evacuate. Where I wrote is off-limits; do not go outside. The city of my obsession is in shambles: Beirut is changed forever. Lebanon, we are at the beginning again: wondering how it will go, how the story will end. You reach out; I take your hand.
Frances is a visual artist and works in live art, video and sound, with performances nationally and internationally. At present she is exploring connections through technological inter - actions in various groups. Her work is mostly collaborative, choosing to develop projects on relationships with other humans within the environment.
Frances Mezzetti
A world with making less the pressure as we set Zoom up and move in our respective garden or spaces and tune into each others movements through the flatness of the screen to connect and open up a space of consciousness, to imagine, to create!
Lockdown, a halt to the free flow of coming and going, for some, the age of privilege is gone. The choice of how, where, when to travel or not is curtailed, for now, for how long? The concept of time is challenged.!
It’s Springtime. Nature is taking her time. The red poppy welcomes the bumblebee! There is a quietness, a silence in the sky, an absence of the heavy reverberation of jet engines overhead, no white tail streaks across the blue. Blackbirds, robins and twittering sparrows, thrill us with their singing. Pause in the still morning barefooted on the grass, the ground is hard for lack of rain. Feel blessed to have this space to go outside! The streets are empty. It’s the script of a movie of the end of the world. The questions is: Is it ? What have we done? What are we doing to this beautiful planet to these/us endangered species? Busyness is slowing down. Fear meets us from the TV, the pandemic, with daily statistics of contagion and deaths. This is not just a local hiccup, a town in flux, a city ground to a halt, a country watching, waiting, a continent, a globe suspended in time. While borders are closing, people are opening up to each other across fences, balconies, reaching out but not touching, sending vibrations of care like the opera singer in Milan!!
Time to reflect and to envision for the future!
A kinder, compassionate world, softer, listening to nature, to her creatures, to what matters. A world with making less the pressure as we set Zoom up and move in our respective garden or spaces and tune into each others movements through the flatness of the screen to connect and open up a space of consciousness, to imagine, to create!
Jane Ingram Allen creates environmental art projects around the world using natural materials and collaborative processes to raise public awareness about environmental and social issues. Allen also curates international environmental art projects and writes about sculpture and environmental art for publications such as SCULPTURE, PUBLIC ART REVIEW, and ART RADAR ASIA.
Jane Ingram Allen
During these months of isolation, I have had time to reflect and make art and also to start a vegetable garden; to make paper “from scratch” in my garage studio using the bark of the mulberry tree in my front yard.
I have been quarantined at my home in northern California since mid-March. Most of the US, California and our county still have a rising number of COVID-19 cases, so we expect to be quarantined longer. The future is very uncertain, and my art projects have mostly been postponed until 2021.
During these months of isolation, I have had time to reflect and make art and also to start a vegetable garden. One art project I set for myself is to create a mixed media painting each week on handmade paper I create from plants in my own yard. I call these works “Quarantine Flowers”. I wanted to do something hopeful and uplifting, and the colorful flowers were particularly appealing. These paintings depict flowers that were blooming in my yard during the Spring months of quarantine: pink apple blossoms, blue oxalis, cream orchids, golden poppies, yellow sunflowers, and red nasturtiums.
During the quarantine I made paper “from scratch” in my garage studio using the bark of the mulberry tree in my front yard. Making paper from plant materials involves gathering the bark, cooking it, beating it to a pulp and then forming the sheets. Mulberry bark is one of the best plant fibers for papermaking; paper mulberry bark is used in Japan to make some of the finest paper in the world. My mulberry tree is not the same one that is used in Japan, but it is from the same plant family. The mulberry bark paper is thin and strong when done in my modified Asian style. This Zoom program now available online shows my process for making paper directly from plant materials.
Dr Joyce Garvey is a Scottish born visual artist and writer, living and working in Ireland. She is a graduate of the National College of Art and Design in Dublin with an ANCA and BA majoring in Fine Art and holds an MA in Film and a PhD in Creative Writing. She has written a trilogy of books on "women living in the shadow of famous men".
Joyce Garvey
I will commit to persuading a prominent local business to commission from me a piece of environmental art which I will complete without charge, in return for their public commitment to appoint an environmental officer to their business.
CHANGE
One of the few positives of the COVID-19 pandemic has been lockdown’s beneficial effect on the environment.
Although climate change has temporarily slowed, because of Covid restrictions, it is still accelerating the destruction of the planet’s life support systems and the decline of species that humanity depends upon.
Since being presented with a beautifully preserved and intact dragonfly during an art residency in Courcommune, Voulx, France, my particular interest has been this wonderful insect whose symbol is change.
Therefore I was disturbed to read a UN report (March 2019) which noted a catastrophic decline in the abundance and diversity of insects, particularly the dragonfly.
Change is the key?
Every day during lockdown I walked to a local graveyard where I sat quietly and undisturbed and drew the glory of nature.
The question I asked was: Could I do anything through my art to preserve this beneficial effect that lockdown was having?
Inspired by the dragonfly, I devised a plan called:
“The Art Challenge”
Simply: I will commit to persuading a prominent local business to commission from me a piece of environmental art which I will complete without charge, in return for their public commitment to appoint an environmental officer to their business.
Through social media’s art societies, I will create a viral campaign challenge involving tens of thousands of artists in every city/town and village worldwide.
Challenges on social media, like the ice bucket challenge, promoting awareness of the disease ALS, worked incredibly well for charity. They can be equally successful for nature.
The positive publicity would raise the profile of artists, and businesses involved would save money too in sustainability.
But the greatest beneficiary would be us, and the wonderful, natural world we live in.
Leslie Gauthier is an interdisciplinary artist based in Brooklyn, NY. Her writing has appeared in The New York Times and Paste Magazine. Leslie wrote, produced and performed in 23-Year-Old Myth as part of Theater for the New City's Dream-Up Festival. Her short film, “The Astronaut Hour”, was recognized by the International Independent Film Awards in 2019.
Leslie Gauthier
Brooklyn, Summer 2020
Every morning since April I wake up and greet the plants. We prepare each other for the day.
My deck is an ecosystem: bumble bees and blue-winged wasps, grasshoppers, ladybugs, spiders. More, too. But I’m still learning.
We watched the neighbors chain smoke and move back to Moscow because “they just can’t with America right now”; the refrigerated trucks come and leave Brooklyn; the arrival of the house finches and mourning doves in May, and their departure in July when the airplanes returned.
In June, protests streamed by the apartment nightly, and the plants grew with the movement. They stood in solidarity when the helicopters hovered, trying to intimidate.
The garden shook as I did when the mysterious professional-grade fireworks exploded in the peaceful summer sky. Are they trying to desensitize us?
Photo: Leslie Gauthier
We wilted in July: dried leaves, aphids, high heat / anxiety and insomnia. Remedies: hydration, potassium, Klonopin, early-morning yoga, the courage to try new spaces and the trust to grow into them. There were miracles — a cucumber on what I thought was a tomato plant. There were casualties: the cilantro, RIP.
A fighter jet flew over Brooklyn yesterday. The windows rattled, worse than the fireworks.
How can an American — an immigrant — right the wrongs done to this land? How can I make myself indiginous to a place my ancestors didn’t know? How will I survive the conflict I fear is coming? Do people garden in wars?
Manhattan’s buildings stand empty and gray across the river. My old life a backdrop to a smaller but generative one — full, colorful, and a home. My deck is an ecosystem: bumble bees and blue-winged wasps, grasshoppers, ladybugs, spiders. More, too. But I’m still learning.
Munira Naqui is a visual artist who was born in Chattogram, a bustling port town on the coast of Bay of Bengal which is now Bangladesh. She now lives in Portland Maine, a beautiful coastal town at the edge of the Atlantic Ocean and works in her studio tucked in the woods across a pristine lake. Her work is abstract, concrete and reductive in nature. To her painting is a form of language that gives shape to a space for contemplative engagement.
Munira Naqui
Light, like life, can be delicate,
fragile, unique, volatile, ethereal.
But of unbearable lightness.
Let me dream reality, another reality
—Fernando Pessoa
I settled down to be in the gentle rhythm of nature. Watched the signs of Spring as the snow heaps diminished and the woods slowly stirred into life with shades of green. This is when I started to pine for human presence and got restless.
It was still deep winter here in Maine. COVID-19 was sweeping across continents shutting down the world. My quiet little town went into “lockdown”. The winter skies were grey and there was an ominous feeling of doom as people stayed in and everything closed. After several weeks of isolation in town we took refuge in our cottage on the lake near my studio in the woods. I thought I would work on my unfinished paintings in my studio while I waited for the crisis to be over. I found it hard to concentrate even harder to continue working on the work conceived in the past as I felt the ground shift. I realized a pause was needed.
It was very quiet at the lake. Not unusual for that time of the year. Most of the cottages were closed down for the season. The lake and nature here was on its normal schedule. Nothing had changed here. I found that reassuring as I felt the human part of my world descending into chaos.
I settled down to be in the gentle rhythm of nature. Watched the signs of Spring as the snow heaps diminished and the woods slowly stirred into life with shades of green. The chartreuse of leaf buds changed into deeper forest green, the drama of the ice melt on the lake as its surface changed from white to dark patches and finally into the color of water. The birds got busy building nests, the tree frogs chirped. The sun had changed its angle and I discovered new shadows. The lake was ready for people to return but no one came. This is when I started to pine for human presence and got restless. We also realized with the way the public health crisis was handled we were in for a long haul. It made me sad to think that all my travels were cancelled. I wouldn’t be going to Cour Commune for my residency this year. Worse, I would not be able to visit my mother in Bangladesh or see my grandchildren in far away states.
We entered a phase of cloudy days with no rain. Then suddenly thunder and lightning lit up the sky accompanied by a heavy down pour. I stayed inside reading that day. At some point I looked up from my book and saw the sun come out casting a magical light on the lake. The leaves on the trees were shimmering in the golden light. It was still raining, but gently. I stepped out on the deck to capture the sight. I stood quietly in the rain watching the magic. Something lifted off my heart. I felt the lightness of being.
Urban gardening can be adapted to the reality of Santiago and other cities with similar characteristics. In Santiago, urban gardens that provide secure sources of healthy food could be implemented not only in common spaces, roofs, and balconies but also in median strips and tree pits along streets.
In December 2019, the city of Wuhan, China, reported the first case of Coronavirus. Since then, the virus has spread rapidly, reaching more than 31,300,000 cases worldwide (as of September 2020, according to John Hopkins University). Globally and regionally, a series of measures have been taken to slow down the spread of the virus, affecting millions of people in the way they live, work, socialize, and stock up on supplies.
In Chile, the first infected person was confirmed on 3 March 2020. Since then, the government has decreed several measures including mandatory quarantine, lock-down, border closure, and the closing of urban parks, nature parks, and nature reserves. Despite these restrictions, four months later, there were more than 280,000 cases in Chile.
The government and media have mainly focused on the number of infected persons, whether or not to continue with the quarantines/lock-down, and when to resume normal social and economic activities. But other situations are happening at the same moment that can’t be overlooked.
Due to the crisis, many people have shopped excessively in supermarkets, generating a shortage in the food supply and leading to a surge in pricing. Adding to this, the economic impacts of the pandemic have led to reduced pay and/or loss of employment for many, making it very difficult for them to maintain themselves and their families. For these families, food supply has been a daily challenge since the crisis started. The COVID-19 magnifies the inequalities that have always existed, food security being a basic amenity.
In this context, questioning our source of food supply and distribution is imperative. Is it safe, healthy, and accessible? While advocated quite widely for years, urban gardening presents itself as a highly viable practice to ensure food security in times of crisis like the one we are experiencing (Armanda et al. 2019; Poulsen et al. 2015). Urban gardening refers to the production of vegetables within the urban context (Wunder, 2013), being one of the most common activities of urban agriculture. The scale of vegetable production can be highly variable, from community and collective gardens to a micro-scale production such as roof-top gardens, green walls, backyards gardening, and street landscaping (Pearson et al. 2010; Dinis et al. 2018).
Urban gardening in Santiago, Chile, is an activity that is in an early stage. It is mainly developed by civil organizations such as NGOs, artists, neighborhood organizations, and university initiatives, although it is also supported by some municipalities (Contesse et al. 2018). In general, the development of urban gardening has been associated mainly with community gardens. However, there are no available studies on the development of urban gardening on the micro-scale even though it has become more popular in recent years.
Considering the COVID-19 crisis, where thousands of people have been under lock-down with reduced social interactions, the development of urban gardening on a micro scale is emerging as the most appropriate alternative.
While the virus does not distinguish between sex, age, or origin, those living in small spaces, in overcrowded conditions and without sufficient economic resources to support themselves are undoubtedly more vulnerable. In Santiago, there have been several demonstrations during the course of the pandemic. For these communities, food insecurity is a matter of survival.
Vulnerable communities are often located in high-density urban and peri-urban areas. In low-housing neighborhoods, houses are in precarious conditions, gardens are usually expanded to incorporate more family members, generating overcrowded conditions. Similar conditions are seen in high housing neighborhoods. In both cases, there are few green areas or quality public spaces available, and they are commonly associated with insecurity and crime. Slums are extreme examples where vulnerable families live in more than precarious conditions.
Gardening in sacks
When we think about the incorporation of urban gardening not only in the context of low income but also of high-density neighborhoods where the availability of public and private space is limited, it becomes necessary to look for alternatives that can adapt to these specific conditions. Sack gardening is an urban gardening method that is suitable to be implemented in such conditions. In this method, vegetables are planted on the top and sides of sacks. Gallaher et al. (2013) found that sack gardening in the Kibera slums of Nairobi, Kenya, has a great impact on families’ food security. Faced with challenges of severe poverty and malnutrition, sack gardening in Nairobi has made an important contribution to increasing the diversity of the households’ diet and being a source of nutrition in times of shortage (Gallaher et al., 2013). The use of sacks allows people to produce several vegetables in a limited space that they usually share within their communities.Another example of urban gardening in similar contexts is the roof-top and balcony gardening in Rio de Janeiro’s “favelas”. Since 2003, the Brazilian government has provided funding for urban agriculture projects, one of which is the urban gardening project in the favelas, part of Rio’s Sustainable City program (Ortiz, 2012). People interested in growing vegetables participate in an organic agriculture workshop that educates them on different techniques for growing crops in household planters. People usually share their terraces or balconies to garden with neighbors, that is to say: plant, maintain and harvest together lettuce, arugula, watercress, cherry tomatoes, rosemary, and mint, among other vegetables and herbs (Ortiz, 2012). The possibility of planting in underused spaces such as roof-tops and balconies allow people to develop urban gardening despite living in high urban density contexts.
Both examples of urban gardening can be adapted to the reality of Santiago and other cities with similar characteristics. In Santiago, urban gardens could be implemented not only in common spaces, roofs, and balconies but also in median strips and tree pits along streets. As crop containers, sacks are easily available materials and can have great acceptance to be used as containers. In addition, there are many other materials that are usually discarded and can be reused for cultivation: bottles, tires, and pallets.
Gardening in tires
Gardening in bottles
All these different procedures of urban gardening can be developed by the families themselves at a very local scale with the potential to expand to the community scale. In these times of reduced social contact, urban gardening projects could augment community building in innovative ways and build upon the social potential of these communities. The possibilities to exchange different types of vegetables and to sell them in order to have an extra income are activities that can still be done within the restrictions advised during the pandemic. Working in shifts to avoid person-to-person contact can be an alternative to maintain the crops, without losing the support within the community members. Urban gardening at the community level could nurture these relationships and help communities as a cohesive unit to overcome the current crisis and be better prepared for future events.
Urban gardening can be a response to a safer, healthier, and accessible way of food supply and distribution. It is more secure, especially as it can help families from being affected by shortages of supply, ensuring at least basic nutrition. It is healthier, not only because of the contribution of organic vegetables to the diet, but also due to local availability either at home or within the community reducing the need to travel too far to shop, and thus reducing the risk of contagion. This would also reduce food being passed through several “hands” before reaching the consumer. And accessible, because of the availability and low resources required for production and distribution.
Families do not have to be in dire need of producing their own food, but when the state is unable to guarantee the food security of its citizens, alternatives such as this should be supported, especially because the role of the state is fundamental, even more in times of crisis. Santiago de Chile has a path initiated in urban gardening that has great potential for further development, and this may be an opportunity for that. Education on urban gardening would allow local residents to engage in it. The circulation of manuals and development of workshops suggesting the types of vegetables and how, where and when to plant them, along with the delivery of basic materials such as soil and seeds, would be a first step to offer communities tools to better cope with this crisis and empower them in urban gardening development. NGOs, the local government, or even universities, can be key stakeholders in developing this educational process.
The COVID-19 crisis not only raises the question of how vulnerable we are as people, but also whether the way we are building ourselves as a society benefits us all or not. The traditional form of food supply has been stretched to its limit, and it is important that we implement other alternatives as soon as possible.
Armanda D., Guineé J. and Tukker A., 2019. ‘The second green revolution: Innovative urban agriculture’s contribution to food security and sustainability – A review’. Global Food Security 22 (2019) 13–24. Elsevier.
Contesse M., van Veliet B. and Lenhart J. 2018. ‘Is urban agriculture urban green space? A comparison of policy arrangements for urban green space and urban agriculture in Santiago de Chile’. Land use policy 71 (2018) 566-577. Elsevier.
Dinis, A., Marquez R., Santos C. and Martins, M. (2018) ´ Urban Agriculture: A tool for towards more resilient urban communities?´ Environmental Science & Health 2018 5:93-97, Elsevier.
Gallaher C., Kerr J., Njenga M., Karanja N. and WinklerPrins A., 2013. ‘Urban agriculture, social capital, and food security in the Kibera slums of Nairobi, Kenya’. Agric Hum Values (2013) 30:389–404.
Ortiz F. 2012. Urban Agriculture Sprouts in Brazil’s Favelas. Tierramerica. September 25, 2012.
Pearson C., Pilgrims S. and Pretty J., 2010. ‘Urban agriculture: diverse activities and benefits for city society’. Ed. Earthcan 2010.
Poulsen M., McNab P., Clayton M. and Neff R., 2015 ‘A systematic review of urban agriculture and food security impacts in low-income countries’. Food Policy 55, 131-146.
Taylor, W., and Goodfellow T. 2009. ‘Urban poverty and vulnerability in Kenya: The urgent need for coordinated action to reduce urban poverty’. Nairobi: Oxfam GB Kenya Programm.
Wunder S. (2013) Learning for sustainable agriculture: Urban gardening in Berlin. With particular focus on Allmende Kontor. Support of Learning and Innovation Networks for Sustainable Agriculture SOLINSA.
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La horticultura urbana como respuesta a los problemas de suministro de alimentos en zonas urbanas densas durante la crisis de COVID-19
Los huertos urbanos pueden adaptarse tanto a la realidad de Santiago como a otras ciudades de características similares. En Santiago, los huertos urbanos, que proporcionan una fuente segura de alimentos saludables, podrían implementarse no sólo en espacios comunes, techos y balcones, sino también en los bandejones centrales y en las bases de infiltración para árboles a lo largo de las calles.
En diciembre de 2019, en la ciudad de Wuhan, China, se reportó el primer caso de Corona-virus. Desde ese momento, el virus se ha esparcido rápidamente, llegando a más de 31,300,000 casos a nivel mundial (a septiembre de 2020, según la Universidad de John Hopkins). Tanto global como regionalmente, se han tomado una serie de medidas para desacelerar la propagación del virus, afectando a millones de personas en la forma en la que viven, trabajan, socializan y se abastecen.
En Chile, el primer contagio fue confirmado el 3 de marzo del 2020. A partir de ese día, el gobierno chileno decretó medidas como: cuarentena obligatoria, bloqueo de las fronteras y cierre de parques urbanos y reservas naturales. Pese a estas restricciones, cuatro meses después, el número de contagios alcanzaba la suma de 280,000 casos.
Tanto el gobierno como los medios de comunicación han puesto su foco de atención en el número de personas infectadas, si continuar o no con las cuarentenas y bloqueos, y cuándo comenzar a retomar las actividades sociales y económicas. Sin embargo, hay otros eventos, ocurriendo a la par de la crisis, que no deben ser pasados por alto.
Debido a la crisis, muchas personas se han sobre abastecido, generando escasez en el suministro de alimentos y con ello alza en sus precios. Sumado a esto, las repercusiones económicas de la pandemia han llevado a una reducción generalizada de los salarios y/o a la pérdida de empleos, haciendo aún más difícil que las familias puedan abastecerse. Para estas familias, el suministro de alimentos ha sido un desafío diario desde el inicio de la crisis. Sin dudas, la crisis generada por el COVID-19, ha magnificado las desigualdades sociales que siempre han existido, siendo la seguridad alimentaria una necesidad básica que ha quedado expuesta como un ámbito especialmente frágil.
En este contexto, cuestionarse sobre las fuentes de abastecimiento y distribución de alimentos es imperativo: ¿Son ellas seguras, saludables y accesibles? Aunque se han defendido ampliamente durante años, los huertos urbanos se presentan hoy como una práctica especialmente viable para garantizar la seguridad alimentaria en tiempos de crisis como la que estamos viviendo (Armanda et al. 2019; Poulsen et al. 2015). Los huertos urbanos conllevan la producción de hortalizas dentro del área urbana (Wunder, 2013), siendo ellos una de las actividades más comunes de la agricultura urbana. La escala de producción de hortalizas puede ser muy variable, desde huertos comunitarios y colectivos hasta una producción a micro-escala, como los huertos de techo, los muros verdes, los huertos en patios y en las áreas verdes de acceso público (Pearson et al. 2010; Dinis et al. 2018).
En Santiago de Chile, el desarrollo de huertos urbanos se encuentra en una etapa temprana. Principalmente, ha sido impulsado por organizaciones civiles, tales como ONGs, artistas, organizaciones vecinales e iniciativas universitarias y, en algunos casos, han sido apoyados por municipios (Contesse et al. 2018). En general, el desarrollo de los huertos urbanos se ha llevado a cabo a través de huertos comunitarios, y a pesar de que su desarrollo en la micro-escala se ha hecho más popular en los últimos años, aún no se dispone de estudios sobre ello.
Si considerarnos que durante la crisis del COVID-19, miles de personas han debido permanecer en sus hogares y reducir al mínimo sus interacciones sociales, el desarrollo de los huertos urbanos en la micro-escala, se perfila como la alternativa de abastecimiento de alimentos más adecuada.
Si bien el virus no distingue entre sexo, edad u origen, quienes viven en espacios reducidos, en condiciones de hacinamiento y sin recursos económicos suficientes para mantenerse, se constituyen, indudablemente, como el grupo más vulnerable. En Santiago, se han llevado a cabo una serie de protestas ciudadanas durante el transcurso de la pandemia, dejando al descubierto que para estas comunidades, la inseguridad alimentaria es una cuestión de supervivencia.
Las comunidades vulnerables suelen localizarse en zonas urbanas y periurbanas de alta densidad. En los barrios de baja altura, las viviendas se encuentran generalmente en condiciones precarias, los patios suelen modificarse para incorporar a más miembros de la familia, generando condiciones de hacinamiento. En los barrios de viviendas en altura, se observan condiciones similares. En ambos casos, el acceso a áreas verdes o espacios públicos de calidad es limitado, siendo lugares que se identifican comúnmente como espacios inseguros. Los campamentos son un ejemplo de la extrema precariedad en los que viven cientos de familias vulnerables.
Cuando pensamos en la incorporación de los huertos urbanos en contextos no tan sólo de bajos ingresos, sino también de alta densidad urbana, donde la disponibilidad de espacio público y privado es limitada, se hace necesario buscar alternativas que puedan adaptarse a estas condiciones específicas. El cultivo en sacos, es una forma de huerto urbano adecuada para ser implementada en tales condiciones. En este método, las hortalizas son plantadas tanto en la parte superior como en los costados de los sacos. Gallaher et al. (2013) descubrieron que el cultivo en sacos realizado en los barrios marginales de Kibera, en Nairobi (Kenya) tiene un gran impacto en la seguridad alimentaria de las familias. Frente a los desafíos de la extrema pobreza y la malnutrición, la horticultura en sacos de Nairobi ha contribuido de manera importante a aumentar la diversidad de la dieta de las familias, además de constituirse como una importante fuente de nutrición en épocas de escasez (Gallaher et al., 2013). El uso de los sacos ha facilitado la producción de verduras en un espacio limitado, que usualmente comparten con el resto de la comunidad.
Jardinería en bolsas
Otro ejemplo de huertos urbanos en contextos similares son los huertos en techos y balcones de las “favelas” de Río de Janeiro. Desde el año 2003, el Gobierno del Brasil ha proporcionado financiación para proyectos de agricultura urbana, uno de ellos, es el proyecto de huertos urbanos en las favelas, que forma parte del programa de Ciudad Sostenible de Río (Ortiz, 2012). Las personas interesadas en cultivar hortalizas participan en talleres de agricultura orgánica, en donde se les enseña diferentes técnicas de cultivo en sembradoras domésticas. La gente suele compartir sus terrazas o balcones para cultivar con sus vecinos, esto implica: plantar, mantener y cosechar en conjunto lechugas, rúculas, berros, tomates cherry, romero y menta, entre otras verduras y hierbas (Ortiz, 2012). La posibilidad de plantar en espacios infrautilizados -como tejados y balcones- permite a las personas desarrollar huertos en contextos de alta densidad urbana.
Ambos ejemplos de huertos urbanos pueden adaptarse a la realidad de Santiago de Chile y de otras ciudades de características similares. En Santiago, los huertos urbanos podrían implementarse no sólo en espacios comunes, techos y balcones, sino también en bandejones centrales y en las bases de infiltración para árboles a lo largo de las calles. Los sacos son materiales de fácil acceso que pueden tener una gran aceptación para ser utilizados como contenedores, además de otros materiales que suelen desecharse y pueden reutilizarse para el cultivo, tales como botellas, neumáticos y pallets.
Jardinería en neumáticos
Jardinería en botellas
Todas estas modalidades de huertos urbanos pueden ser desarrolladas por las propias familias, a escala local y con el potencial para expandirse a escala comunitaria. En tiempos de contacto social restringido, los proyectos de huertos urbanos podrían potenciar las relaciones comunitarias de forma innovadora, aprovechando el potencial social de las comunidades. Las posibilidades de intercambiar diferentes tipos de hortalizas y venderlas para tener un ingreso extra, son actividades que pueden realizarse dentro de las restricciones aconsejadas durante la pandemia. El trabajo por turnos para evitar el contacto de persona a persona, por ejemplo, puede ser una alternativa para mantener los cultivos, sin perder la participación de los miembros de la comunidad. Los huertos urbanos podrían fomentar las relaciones a nivel comunitario, contribuyendo a las familias a superar la actual crisis y con ello, a estar mejor preparadas para eventos futuros.
Los huertos urbanos pueden ser la respuesta para una forma más segura, saludable y accesible de abastecimiento y distribución de alimentos. Es una forma más segura, al permitir que las familias no se vean tan afectadas por la escasez de suministro, asegurando al menos una nutrición básica. Es más saludable, no sólo por la contribución de hortalizas orgánicas a la dieta, sino también por su disponibilidad: un cultivo en el hogar o en la comunidad reducirá la necesidad de viajar para ir de compras y contribuirá a la disminución del riesgo de contagio (este factor también reduciría el riesgo de que los alimentos pasen por varias “manos” antes de llegar al consumidor). Y accesibles, dado los bajos recursos necesarios para su producción y distribución.
Si bien las familias no tienen por qué tener la necesidad imperiosa de producir sus propios alimentos, cuando el Estado es incapaz de garantizar la seguridad alimentaria de sus ciudadanos, existen medidas alternativas como los huertos urbanos, apropiados para tiempos de crisis como la que estamos viviendo. Santiago de Chile tiene un camino iniciado en los huertos urbanos, con un gran potencial de desarrollo, siendo ésta una oportunidad para ello. La educación en materia de huertos urbanos permitiría a los residentes locales participar en la producción local. La distribución de manuales y la realización de talleres en los que se sugieran los tipos de hortalizas adecuadas para cultivar y eduquen sobre cómo, dónde y cuándo plantarlas, junto con la entrega de materiales básicos como tierra y semillas, sería un primer paso para ofrecer a las comunidades más herramientas para afrontar mejor esta crisis y para potenciar el desarrollo de los huertos urbanos. Las ONGs, el gobierno local o incluso las universidades podrían conformarse como los principales actores interesados en el desarrollo de este proceso educativo.
La crisis de COVID-19 no sólo plantea la cuestión de cuán vulnerables somos como personas, sino también si la forma en que nos estamos construyendo como sociedad nos beneficia -o no- a todos. La forma tradicional de suministro de alimentos se ha forzado hasta su límite, y es importante que pongamos en práctica otras alternativas lo antes posible.
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We read two stories: Claire Stanford’s “Neither Above Nor Below” and Elizabeth Twist’s “May Apple”. Both stories were prize winners in the original Stories of The Nature of Cities 2099 contest.
The Stories are read by actors Howard Overshown and Dori Legg.
Authors Claire and Elizabeth are then joined for conversation by ICLEI’s Paul Currie from the Biodiversity Centre in Cape Town.
“Neither Above Nor Below” Hasan chases a turtle around the waterways of a flooded Jakarta. Read by Howard Overshown
“May Apple” Sammie receives her seeds to look after on her 21st birthday. Read by Dori Legg
“Stories of the Nature of Cities 1/2 Hour” is a monthly series of readings from TNOC’s collection of very short fiction about future cities. Each episode is 30 minutes and features two readings and then a conversation between the authors and an urban practitioner.
Elizabeth Twist writes speculative fiction, some of it dark, some of it dreamy. She loves the wobbly line that separates the known from the unknown. Her work has appeared in NonBinary Review, AE: The Canadian Science Fiction Review, and most recently in The Fiends in the Furrows II: More Tales of Folk Horror. She lives in Hamilton, Ontario. Find her on Twitter @elizabethtwist.
Paul Currie is a Director of the Urban Systems Unit at ICLEI Africa. He is a researcher of African urban resource and service systems, with interest in connecting quantitative analysis with storytelling and visual elicitation.
Want to explore diverse and connecting threads in urban ecological arts? In the LEAF, three FRIEC Urban Arts Collective members share something from their ideas and work for 10 minutes each, followed by Q&A.
Tim Collins, Glasgow. I will talk about Deep Mapping: Lough Boora Sculpture Park a recently published deep mapping project that considers a ‘cutaway’ bog in Offaly County Ireland which was strip mined for its peat fuel over a period of fifty years. In 2000 with efforts to reclaim the land for agriculture it was turned into amenity public space that featured a sculpture park. I will talk about the historic conditions and future options revealed in our publication. https://collinsandgoto.com/deep-mapping-lough-boora-sculpture-park/
Robin Lasser, Oakland. I will be sharing two projects: Dress Tents : Nomadic Wearable Architecture and Migratory Cultures. The DressTent project is a conflation of photography, fashion, performance and installation dealing with the geo politics of place, social, and environmental justice issues. Migratory Cultures is a site-specific video projection mapping and documentary video project connecting regional experiences of immigration with stories from around the world.
Wendy Wischer, Salt Lake City. I am going to talk about 3 projects that encompass different aspects of my work. One is “Displacing Vibrations” a collaboration with a geologist, this is about my scientific collaborations. Then I’ll discuss “Written on the Wind” a video/sound installation for the Natural History Museum of Utah that included a community component with 4th graders. And then “Your Memory is Already Fading” an installation and sound piece representing my object making and turning data into personal meaning.
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