Urban Nature Forms Urban Character

Art, Science, Action: Green Cities Re-imagined

“Urban nature” is, for many people, a contradiction in terms. Urban spaces are all about control, hard edges, and the fabrication of an environment. Nature is wild, opportunistic, and fragile. Where is the overlap?

We don’t remember how places look—we remember how they feel.

Yet for those of us who work in fields related to urban nature, we see that there is more integration between the two than might seem obvious at first glance. In 1978, G.W. Grey and F.J. Denke stated in Urban Forestry that most cities were forests based on the definition of a forest as an area where “at least 10% of the land is stocked with trees” (Rowntree 1984). While cities may not feel like forests, the role of nature in the built environment is a powerful one. City dwellers understand, perhaps because of its relative scarcity, that urban nature is as essential to creating the character of cities as buildings and streets.

In some ways, character is a soft term. It’s subjective and a little squishy—ask five different people about the character of a place and you will likely get five different answers. I think one of the primary ways that humans experience the character of a place is through the creation of an enduring feeling or memory—something nature provides even in the densest urban environments.

I grew up in New York City on a block with a church on it, and not much else of note. This was on the Upper West Side of Manhattan, a relatively tree-d neighborhood compared to many parts of the city. Our block was lined mostly with honey locusts, with their distinctive dark, ridged bark, and bipinnate compound leaves that turn brilliant shades of yellow. Every year their fruit—long, twisty black pods—would spin lazily in the wind before falling to the sidewalk with a clattering noise. For me, these trees were some of the most defining features of our micro-neighborhood.

Honeylocust pods. Image credit/link: Dave Bonta. Attribution: CC BY-SA 2.0

I also spent a lot of time in Riverside Park, one of the city’s “wild places”. It’s where we would walk the dog every day, and it was also the site of countless play dates, parties, and sporting events. Our school “field days” were held in fields on the lower level of the park, above the West Side Highway and with a clear view of the Hudson River. The topography of this part of the park is still quite steep, a remnant of when it was all rugged bluffs and rocky outcroppings There are many wonderful trees in the park, but the ones I remember the most distinctly are the Liquidambar. I always liked their starry leaves, and their prickly “gumball” fruit was good for kicking. In some parts of the park, there were so many of them, they would collect in a small ocean across the asphalt paths.

Riverside Park, seen from the George Washington Bridge. Image credit/link: b k. Attribution: CC BY-SA 2.0
Pin oak. Image credit/link: George Thomas. Attribution: CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

There was a giant pin oak adjacent to a lawn where a lot of people used to gather with their dogs (and probably still do). It was so large that you could easily duck under its drooping branches and wander around the cool, hidden interior. This is where I remember catching fireflies during wonderfully pink, languorous summer dusks.

Does that sound too idyllic to be a memory of someone who grew up in New York City? It isn’t. Green places make those experiences possible, even in the most developed urban places. And they infuse a place that will always and forever be known for its high-rises and busy streets with a deeper sense of place and character.

That my childhood memories are so enduring illustrates one of the most compelling features of urban nature, which is its ability to transform the character of a place by impacting how we feel about it—our emotional response to being there. One interesting quirk of human psychology is that we often fail to remember the specific features of a place that affect our experience of it. We may not notice, for example, that we gravitate to the shady side of the street, or that we choose our route home based on the quiet of a tree-lined block. Places that we want to be—streets that are safe, shady, and calm—don’t advertise their alchemy. They appear to simply work. In other words, we don’t remember how places look, we remember how they feel.

Discussions around urban character tend to focus on architecture and street design—and those are important. But I do think sometimes we prioritize aesthetic details over the experiential, what it means to actually stand somewhere and be immersed in a place. Ultimately, it is this experience of a place that comes to define it. This elusive goal is part of what makes successful planning so enduring, and also so challenging.

I’m not the only one who vividly remembers the trees of my childhood. There’s a reason the trees we grew up with remain embedded in the landscape of our memories: they mark the passage of time.

Leda Marritz
San Francisco

On The Nature of Cities

Read this! 90 recommendations for the one book about (or relevant to) cities that everyone should read

Art, Science, Action: Green Cities Re-imagined
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.
Pippin Anderson, Cape TownRambunctious Garden: Saving Nature in a Post-Wild World, by Emma Marris
Gloria Aponte, MedellínCities and Natural Process, by Michael Hough
Ana Luisa Artesi, Buenos AiresHorizon 101 – Reflections and Paintings, by Jala Makhzoumi
Xuemei Bai, Canberra王如松:《高效、和谐–城市调控原理与方法, Efficiency and Harmony: Principles and methods of urban system regulation and control, by Rusong Wang
Stephan Barthel, StockholmThe Death and Life of Great American Cities, by Jane Jacobs
Jane Battersby, Cape TownHungry City, by Carolyn Steel
Adrian Benepe, New YorkThe Power Broker: Robert Moses and the Fall of New York, by Robert Caro
Genie Birch, Philadelphia & New YorkThe Works: Anatomy of a City, by Kate Ascher
Timothy Bonebrake, Hong KongThe Ecology of a City and its People: The Case of Hong Kong, by S. Boyden, S. Millar, K. Newcombe, and B. O’Neill
Eduardo Brondizio, BloomingtonDreaming Equality: Color, Race, and Racism in Urban Brazil, by Robin Sheriff
Steve Brown, SydneyStories from the Sandstone: Quarantine Inscriptions from Australia’s Immigrant Past, by Peter Hobbins, Ursula K Frederick and Anne Clarke
Lindsay Campbell, New York Crabgrass Frontier, by Kenneth Jackson
Lena Chan, Singapore Design With Nature, by Ian McHarg
Katrine Claassens, Cape TownPreludes, by T.S. Eliot
Lorenzo Chelleri, L’AquilaThe City in History: Its Origins, Its Transformations, and Its Prospects, by Lewis Mumford
Bharat Dahiya, BangkokBanaras: Making of India’s Heritage City, by Rana P.B. Singh
PK Das, MumbaiEcology and Equity, by Madhav Gadgil and Ramachandra Guha
Samarth Das, MumbaiHousing Without Houses: Participation, Flexibility, Enablement, by Nabeel Hamdi
Marcelo de Souza, Rio de JaneiroFrom Urbanization to Cities, by Murray Bookchin
Anna Dietzsch, São PauloThe Death and Life of Great American Cities, by Jane Jacobs
Paul Downton, MelbourneEcocity Berkeley: Building Cities for a Healthy Future, by Richard Register 
Katerina Elias-Trostmann, São PauloCities for a Small Planet, by Richard Rogers
Thomas Elmqvist, StockholmGlobal Cities: A Short History, by Greg Clark
Jayne Engle, MontrealSharing Cities: A Case for Truly Smart and Sustainable Cities, by Duncan McLaren and Julian Agyeman
Ana Faggi, Buenos AiresCities for People, by Jan Gehl 
Martha Fajardo, BogotaDesign With Nature, by Ian McHarg
Emilio Fantin, BolognaL’anima dei Luoghi: conversazione con Carlo Truppi, by James Hillman
Ben Feldman, Los AngelesLast Child in the Woods: Saving our Children from Nature Deficit Disorder, by Richard Louv
Sheila Foster, New YorkTriumph of the City: How Our Greatest Invention Makes us Richer, Smarter, Greener, Healthier, and Happier, by Edward Glaeser
Niki Frantzeskaki, RotterdamGreening the Red Zone, by Keith Tidball and Marianne Krasny
David Goode, BathSwifts in a Tower, by David Lack
Divya Gopal, BerlinNature in the City: Bengaluru in the Past, Present, and Future, by Harini Nagendra
Andrew Grant, BathThe Night Life of Trees, by Durga Bai, Bhajju Shyam, and Ram Singh Urveti
Bram Gunther, New YorkBaltimore School of Urban Ecology: Space, Scale, and Time for the Study of Cities, by J. Morgan Grove, Mary Cadenasso, Steward T. Pickett, Gary E. Machlis, William R. Burch Jr., Laura A. Ogden
Jonathan Halfon, New YorkThis Changes Everything, by Naomi Klein
Fadi Hamdan, BeirutAl Muqaddimah, by Ibn Khaldoun
Zoé Hamstead, BuffaloThe Manhattan Project: Theory of a City, by David Kishik
Mathieu Hélie, MontrealDelirious New York, A Retroactive Manifesto for Manhattan, by Rem Koolhaas
Tom Henfrey, BristolThe Oregon Experiment, by Christopher Alexander
Cecilia Herzog, Rio de JaneiroThe Granite Garden: Urban Nature and Human Design, by Anne  Spirn
Mark Hostetler, GainesvilleSustainable Landscape Construction: A Guide to Green Building Outdoors, by J. William Thompson and Kim Sorvig
Mike Houck, PortlandThe Last Landscape, by William H. Whyte
Todd Lester, São PauloThe Practice of Everyday Life, by Michel de Certeau
Nina-Marie Lister, TorontoThe Culture of Nature: The North American Landscape from Disney to the Exxon Valdez, by Alexander Wilson
Shuaib Lwasa, KampalaUrban Environments in Africa: A Critical Analysis of Environmental Politics, by Garth Myers
Patrick Lydon, SeoulSmall is Beautiful: Economics as if People Mattered, by E.F. Schumacher
Yvonne Lynch, MelbourneThe City and the Coming Climate, by Brian Stone Jr.
Ian MacGregor-Fors, VeracruzConcrete Jungle: New York City and Our Last Best Hope for a Sustainable Future, by Niles Eldredge & Sidney Hohenstein
Mahim Maher, KarachiKarachi: Ordered Disorder and the Struggle for the City, by Laurent Gayer
Jala Makhzoumi, BeirutDamascus City: A Study in Urban Geography, by Safouh Khair
François Mancebo, ParisThe Right to the City, by Henri Lefebvre
E.J. McAdamsCity Eclogue, by Ed Roberson
Rob McDonald, WashingtonCity Trees: A Historical Geography from the Renaissance through the 19th Century, by Henry Lawrence
Brian McGrath, NewarkNature’s Metropolis, by William Cronon
Timon McPhearson, New YorkConcrete and Clay: Reworking Nature in New York, by Matthew Gandy
Hitesh Mehta, MiamiLife between Buildings, by Jan Gehl
Patrice Milillo, Los AngelesThe Rise of the Creative Class: And How It’s Transforming Work, Leisure, Community, and Everyday Life, by Richard Florida
Mary Miss, New YorkThe Great Derangement, by Amitav Ghosh
Franco Montalto, PhiladelphiaCradle to Cradle: Remaking the Way We Make Things, by William McDonough and Michael Braungart
Polly Moseley, LiverpoolThe Growing Stone, by Albert Camus
Harini Nagendra, BangaloreLandscapes of Urban Memory: The Sacred and the Civic in India’s High-Tech City, by Smriti Srinivas
Kate Orff, New YorkGreat Expectations, by Charles Dickens
Susan Parnell, Cape TownNew Babylon New Nineveh: Everyday Life on the Witwatersrand, 1886-1914, by Charles Van Onselen
Raquel Peñalosa, MontrealThe Death and Life of Great American Cities, by Jane Jacobs
Steward Pickett, PoughkeepsieThe Granite Garden, by Anne Spirn
Stephanie Pincetl, Los AngelesArchitecture Without Architects: A Short Introduction to Non-Pedigreed Architecture, by Bernard Rudofsky
Christine Platt, DurbanArrival City, by Doug Sanders
Andrew Revkin, New YorkThe Well-Tempered City, by Jonathan F.P. Rose
Debra Roberts, DurbanDesign with Nature, by Ian McHarg
Eric Sanderson, New YorkCarfree Cities, by J.H. Crawford
Jason Schupbach, WashingtonThe Image of the City, by Kevin Lynch
Richard Scott, LiverpoolCities For People, by Jan Gehl
Paula Segal, New YorkInvisible Cities, by Italo Calvino
Huda Shaka, DubaiDubai Amplified, by Stephen Ramos
Laura Shillington, Managua & MontrealThe City & The City, by China Miéville
Philip Silva, New York Uncommon Ground: Rethinking the Human Place in Nature, edited by William Cronon
David Simon, Gothenburg Designing Public Policy for Co-production: Theory, practice and change, edited by Catherine Durose and Liz Richardson
Kevin Sloan, Dallas-Fort Worth The Matrix of Man: Illustrated History of Urban Environment, by Sibyl Moholy-Nagy
Laura Spinadel, Vienna Campus WU: A Holistic History, by Ila Berman
[/contributor]
David Tittle, London Cities in Civilisation, by Peter Hall
Anne Trumble, Los Angeles Imagining Extinction: The Cultural Meanings of Endangered Species, by Ursula K. Heise
Naomi Tsur, Jerusalem If Mayors Ruled The World: Dysfunctional Nations, Rising Cities, by Benjamin Barber
Chantal van Ham, Brussels Biophilic Cities: Integrating Nature into Urban Design and Planning, by Timothy Beatley
Shawn Van Sluys, Guelph The Gentrification of the Mind: Witness to a Lost Imagination, by Sarah Schulman
Claire Weisz, New York The Fall of Public Man, by Richard Sennett
Mike Wells, Bath Green Design: From Theory to Practice, by Ken Yeang and Arthur Spector
Diana Wiesner, Bogotá Naturaleza Urbana. plataforma de experiencias, edited by María Angélica Mejía
Kathleen Wolf, Seattle With People in Mind: Design and Management of Everyday Nature, by Rachel Kaplan, Stephen Kaplan, and Robert L. Ryan
David Maddox

about the writer
David Maddox

David loves urban spaces and nature. He loves creativity and collaboration. He loves theatre and music. In his life and work he has practiced in all of these as, in various moments, a scientist, a climate change researcher, a land steward, an ecological practitioner, composer, a playwright, a musician, an actor, and a theatre director. David's dad told him once that he needed a back up plan, something to "fall back on". So he bought a tuba.

Introduction

We have assembled a list of 90 must-reads on cities from a diverse group of TNOC contributors—a nature of cities reader’s digest. The recommendations are as wide-ranging as the TNOC community, from many points of view and from around the world. They are a reflection of the breadth of thought that cities need. And, as my grandmother would have said: “This will keep you off the street and out of trouble”.

The prompt seems easy, but it turns out to be difficult to recommend the one thing everyone should read on cities, and what we have created here is a remarkable and diverse reading list. You will likely think of other essential works yourself, and when you do, leave them here as a comment. There is a rich conversation to experience simply by exchanging ideas on great books.

The list below could serve as a wonderful primer for courses or other gatherings. You can download the entire list as a PDF here.

Check out these titles at your local, corner bookstore. But if you choose to buy one of these titles online, please click here to go to Amazon. Some of the sales price will benefit TNOC.

The books are listed in a random order. Refresh your screen to see the list displayed in a different order.

Get busy.

—David Maddox

Pippin Anderson, Cape Town

Rambunctious Garden: Saving Nature in a Post-Wild World
by Emma Marris
2011, Bloomsbury USA

Touches critically on so many debates in ecology (well, in many quarters they are not debated). Re-wilding, novel ecosystems, are invasive aliens always bad, old conservation models … etc. Her writing feels effortless and then she gives you lots to kick back against. Rather like finding yourself eating an exotic flavour of ice cream (ice cream—yum, popcorn flavoured—gosh!).
Buy the book.

Gloria Aponte, Medellín

Cities and Natural Process
by Michael Hough
1995, Routledge

Nobody concerned with urban habitat should miss this book, available in English and in Spanish, that reaffirms the role of nature in the city. In six easy to read chapters, landscape as a process is highlighted and understood as the link between nature, humans, and built environment. The author demonstrates that total control (of nature) is impossible and that in attempts to do it, the result is least diversity for the most effort.
Buy the book.

Ana Luisa Artesi, Buenos Aires

Horizon 101 – Reflections and Paintings
by Jala Makhzoumi
2010, Dar Onboz

I strongly recomend Jala Makhzoumi’s “101 horizons”, for students and people involved in Landscape in cities as a fundamental reading to see a different point of view.
From a room with a view of the Mediterranean, in an artistic and emotional story, with poetry and illustrations, and also … blank spaces, Jala describes a Landscape where all Theories and Methodologies are surpassed by the day to day of a terrible and seemingly endless war. Despite all the fears, Jala paints, draws, dreams, wishes … expressing from her soul, so that we can understand the depth of this moment.
The text in both languages, Arabic and English.

Xuemei Bai, Canberra

王如松:《高效、和谐–城市调控原理与方法》, 湖南教育出版社, 1988, 278页.

Efficiency and Harmony: Principles and methods of urban system regulation and control
by Rusong Wang
1988, Hunan Education Publisher

Rusong Wang is an internationally renowned urban system ecologist, whose work laid the foundation of urban ecology research in China, and influenced and contributed greatly to the theory and practice of eco-city development in China. Although not always highly cited in the English literature, some of the concepts and thoughts presented in this book—e.g., cities as complex social-economic-ecological systems—were inspirational in the 1980s and are cutting edge even today. Nominating this book is also a way to pay tribute to a fine urban scholar and his achievement—he passed away in 2014 at the age of 67.

Stephan Barthel, Stockholm

The Death and Life of Great American Cities
by Jane Jacobs
1961, Random House

It opens up a view of the city as an ecosystem. It is a must read for anyone combating the “hot planning topic of densification”. Such an agenda builds, to some degree, on Jacobs’ thinking—but with a selective interpretation of it. She was one of the first describing how social capital is built in neighborhoods in large cities, and one of the first describing how the gentrification process works (but long before any of those terms were theorized). She lacked an understanding about the benefits humans obtain by interacting with natural environments, which is her drawback. But hey, no one is perfect. Great book, great humanist, and great systems thinker!
Buy the book.

Jane Battersby, Cape Town

Hungry City
by Carolyn Steel
2008, Random House

Food fundamentally shapes our cities’ ecologies, economies, and social lives, but most people hardly ever consider how it reaches our plates in cities. Hungry City traces food from farm to fork and beyond. It will not only make you look at food in a new way, but will give you a new perspective on cities; as Steel herself says, “In order to understand cities properly, we need to look at them through food”.
Buy the book.

Adrian Benepe, New York

The Power Broker: Robert Moses and the Fall of New York
by Robert Caro
1975, Knopf Doubleday

The Power Broker by Robert Caro, and not necessarily as a pro Jane-Jacobs morality tale.

For example, Robert Moses tripled the NYC park system in size—the biggest periods of park creation and expansion in NYC’s history.
Buy the book.

Genie Birch, Philadelphia & New York

The Works: Anatomy of a City
Kate Ascher
2007, Penguin Press

Kate Ascher introduces this portrait of urban infrastructure based on New York City with a wise observation: “Rarely does a resident of any of the world’s great metropolitan areas pause to consider the complexity of urban life or the myriad systems that operate around the clock to support it.” She then offers a richly illustrated compendium that explains five systems: transport of people and freight, power, communications, water, and sanitation. While slightly outdated due to the absence of a current description of today’s technology, it is an accessible and informative primer. The final chapter, “The Future,” lays out key concerns.
Buy the book.

Timothy Bonebrake, Hong Kong

The Ecology of a City and its People: The Case of Hong Kong
by S. Boyden, S. Millar, K. Newcombe, and B. O’Neill
1981, Australian National University Press

This is a classic book in urban ecology that examines the city from an ecosystem perspective, with humans as a key and integral component of the ecosystem. In the 35 years since the book was published, Hong Kong has changed dramatically in many ways, including a 40 percent increase in population size and skyrocketing rates of consumption—this book provides a fascinating source of perspective in light of these changes. While some of the specific conclusions may well be unique to Hong Kong, the general patterns are largely applicable to growing cities worldwide.
Buy the book.

Eduardo Brondizio, Bloomington

Dreaming Equality:
Color, Race, and Racism in Urban Brazil

by Robin Sheriff
2001, Rutgers University Press

An ethnographic analysis of race relations from the perspective of residents of a Rio favela.
Buy the book.

Steve Brown, Sydney

Stories from the Sandstone: Quarantine Inscriptions from Australia’s Immigrant Past
Peter Hobbins, Ursula K Frederick and Anne Clarke
2016, Arbon Publishing

This newly published book is an archaeological-historical investigation of rock inscriptions at Sydney’s former Quarantine Station (1835 – 1979). It charts stories of new arrivals to Australia and the diseases that saw them held at this place for days, weeks, and months. I recommend it for its multiple narratives of the growth of Sydney as an urban, ethnically diverse, and spectacular city from immigration and medical perspectives.

Lena Chan, Singapore

Design With Nature
by Ian McHarg
1969, Natural History Press

A must-read book. Inspirational. I first read it in 1981, still find it relevant, and always discover something new each time I re-visit it.
Buy the book.

Lindsay Campbell, New York

Crabgrass Frontier
by Kenneth Jackson
1985, Oxford University Press

Because to understand the city, we have to understand the suburb. While conditions have changed since this 1985 book, Jackson investigates the role of multiple forces, including technology, transportation, federal policy, culture, and demographic shifts in shaping the suburban form of the United States. I read it as an undergrad in my first geography course, and this book sparked my interest in studying urban planning and later human geography.  Particularly insightful is his chapter on early federal policies—such as the Federal Highway Act, Home Owners Loan Corporation (origin of redlining), and the Federal Housing Act, showing the institutionalized roots of spatial unevenness and inequality in our urban and suburban form.
Buy the book.

Lorenzo Chelleri, L’Aquila

thecityinhistoryThe City in History: Its Origins, Its Transformations, and Its Prospects
by Lewis Mumford
1961, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

There is no book like this in addressing how and why cities evolved, from the medieval villages to the modern post-industrial metropolis. Mumford was among the few able to grasp and communicate, through a clear and extraordinary narrative style, the very “nature” of cities, explaining the root causes of the processes which remain at the forefront of urban studies debates. His half century old insights explain most of the problem we’re still facing and about which any reader could deepen her knowledge with hundreds of books. But no other book could provide you the big picture, the bases for understanding “what is a city”.
Buy the book.

Katrine Claassens, Cape Town

Preludes
by T.S. Eliot
1911

Now more than 100 years old, this poem is a haunting look at a turn-of-the-century city, which—despite its description of a London where cab horses “steam and stamp” and lamps must still be manually lit—is shockingly modern. In a smoky, densely populated city, nature lingers, clinging uneasily, with “sparrows in the gutters” and vacant lots offering fuel for fires.
Buy the book.

Bharat Dahiya, Bangkok

Banaras: Making of India’s Heritage City
by Rana P.B. Singh
2009, 
Cambridge Scholars Publishing

Based on more than three decades of intensive research and intimate acquaintance with the sacred geography and urban cultural history of India’s ancient living city, Professor Rana P.B. Singh, in this pioneering volume, provides an excellent narrative of the making of Banaras—also known as Kashi or Varanasi. This book is a lead reference for understanding the cultural landscape, sacred geometry and cosmogram, archetypal architecture, vivid ritualscapes, and magnificent riverfront heritagescapes of Banaras that portray and maintain the dignity of India’s rich history and culture. This splendid volume also serves as a role model for the multidisciplinary studies of urban cultural landscapes in South Asia and beyond.
Buy the book.

P.K. Das, Mumbai

Ecology and Equity: The Use and Abuse of Nature in Contemporary India
by Madhav Gadgil and Ramachandra Guha
1995, Routledge

It is a must read, published by Penguin Books India, but before that by Routledge in 1995. Over the years, I have read parts of this book several times and have extensively quoted it in my talks and writings.
Buy the book.

Samarth Das, Mumbai

Housing Without Houses: Participation, Flexibility, Enablement
by Nabeel Hamdi
1995, Practical Action

Hamdi focuses on participatory planning as an essential component of sustainable development, with local communities at the forefront leading discussions and contributing to the production of neighborhoods in cities. The failures of the state and market forces to provide housing have been demonstrated in numerous cases, and the book discusses how architects and designers along with citizens are responsible for building just cities. Hyper-local knowledge of local citizens is an incredible resource that architects can tap while making their cases for production of neighborhoods. The book also emphasizes how local bodies need to work in unison with state powers to promote equitable development, with a balance of new production and preservation of cultural aspects of daily living. The traditional roles of architects need to be challenged and evolved in order to develop strategies for development from the ground up in today’s context. This is a must read for all!
Buy the book.

Marcelo de Souza, Rio de Janeiro

From Urbanization to Cities
by Murray Bookchin
Revised ed. 1996, Cassel & Co.

I think his reflections on cities and urbanization deserve much more attention that has been devoted to them so far. A few reasons:

1) Bookchin pioneered the analysis of urban ecology and political ecology from a critical viewpoint. His book Our Synthetic Environment (published under the penname “Lewis Herber”) was published a couple of months before Rachel Carson’s Silent Spring; probably due to the fact that his analysis is much more radical, Rachel’s book turned into a bestseller, while Bookchin’s book not…

2) Bookchin’s books The Limits of the City (1974), Post-Scarcity Anarchism (essays written between the mid-1960s and early 1970s) and, above all, Urbanization without Cities (1992) are as important or even more important than Lefebvre’s The Right to the City and The Urban Revolution—but everyone talks only about Lefebvre, who was in some regards not as profound or original as Bookchin.

3) Bookchin’s “social ecology” is a very important framework for the type of analysis we need in the 21st century.
Buy the book.

Anna Dietzsch, São Paulo

The Death and Life of Great American Cities
by Jane Jacobs
1961, Random House

The classic. Because it is the mother of everything we think is good for cities now: walking, meeting people, being diverse.

And worth re-reading, because it has been so much quoted and talked about, some of the ideas and principles have been kind of distorted.
Buy the book.

Paul Downton, Melbourne

Ecocity Berkeley: Building Cities for a Healthy Future
by Richard Register
1987, North Atlantic Books

The first book with “ecocity” in its title and perhaps the key text of the ecocity movement, this slim volume describes a vision of Berkeley (but it could be any city) as a place of wildness and life, dense with vegetation and people but empty of cars, with a narrative propelled by exuberant enthusiasm and a kind of wild-eyed joy that is rare in city literature. From buildings covered with trees and vegetation to precarious glass-bottomed walkways, recovered creeks, and cars converted into planter boxes, this is the book that let loose many of the memes that now populate city disourse and urban design. Neither conventionally academic nor stiflingly professional, Ecocity Berkeley is richly illustrated with naive and quirky drawings that help communicate sublime and sophisticated ideas about fitting a city within the full embrace of nature—read it alongside Murray Bookchin’s Limits of the City for a radical social and political analysis of urbanisation and the incomparable Lewis Mumford’s City in History for a comprehensive overview of cities that, like Ecocity Berkeley, remain absolutely pertinent to understanding that we cannot make a healthy future without balancing our cities with nature.
Buy the book.

Katerina Elias, São Paulo

Cities for a Small Planet
by Richard Rogers
1998, Basic Books

In this book, Richard Rogers speaks to everyone: no matter the reader’s level of experience in urbanism and architecture, Roger reels in his readers, who in exchange are taken on a journey through the history of urbanism, urban decay, ecological design, and ultimately, humanity. This book is a potential classic in urban literature, and a fantastic entry point for beginners, or a recap for specialists, to contemplate the role of our cities and their potential for being a driving force for greater sustainability.
Buy the book.

Thomas Elmqvist, Stockholm

Global Cities: A Short History
by Greg Clark
2016, Brookings Institution Press

The book gives a very interesting overview of past waves of globalisation events and the formation of city networks going back 4,000 years, up to the patterns and processes underlying today’s globalisation and formation of large city networks.
The book ends with an analysis and discussion of the globalisation and cities of the future. Although there are vast differences between the networks of cities along the ancient Silk Roads and the 21st-century system of global value chains and competitive advantage, there are also striking parallels. The author argues that the leaders of today’s cities can learn much from how those in previous waves built and sustained their competitive attributes, and how to avoid becoming locked into unsustainable or unproductive cycles of development.
Buy the book.

Jayne Engle, Montreal

Sharing Cities: A Case for Truly Smart and Sustainable Cities
by Duncan McLaren and Julian Agyeman
2015, MIT Press

Everyone should read this book because it makes a case that the guiding purpose of the future city should be understanding the whole city as shared space, and acting to share it fairly. It brings together the notion of the city as a commons with a critical perspective on the sharing economy. Its compelling theory and a rich mix of city cases move the conventional smart city discourse from multinational companies driving city change, to technological innovation in the service of social innovation and well being for all urban dwellers.
Buy the book.

Ana Faggi, Buenos Aires

Cities for People
by Jan Gehl
2010, Island Press

Very easy to read for everyone, this book shows how real urban life takes place in the streets. A livable city is one that considers the human dimension and offers a friendly and safe environment. The book, available in English and in Spanish, gives many useful recommendations for planning and management.
Buy the book.

Martha Fajardo, Bogota

Design With Nature
by Ian McHarg
1969, Natural History Press

Written in the 60s, it could be seen as very outdated—most of the ideologies are largely realized and the methods are practiced. However, it is still relevant for anyone who is interested in humans’ relationship with nature and how can we improve it.
Buy the book.

Emilio Fantin, Bologna

L’anima dei luoghi: conversazione con Carlo Truppi
by James Hillman
RCS, Milano

L’anima dei luoghi (The Soul of the Place) is the transcript of a dialogue between the psychologist James Hilmann and the architect Carlo Truppi; it is aimed at understanding the profound identity between culture and nature. The nature of the place is rediscovered as a new subject of reference that has to establish new relations of meaning and to change human perceptions. To respect a “territory” by protecting it ecologically, instead of destroying it, means allowing its energy to live, to survive over time, and to come down to us. Hilmann’s perspective shows us how geographic coordinates can be seen as an expression of the soul of the place, and it also explains how in the same place, churches of different religions, and villages and cities of different ethnicities and culture, have given rise to a stratification of signs and memories. The book has not been translated to English.
Buy the book.

Ben Feldman, Los Angeles

Last Child in the Woods: Saving our Children from Nature Deficit Disorder
by Richard Louv
2008, Algonquin Books

As a landscape architect, father of a four-year-old and uncle of two autistic nephews, reading the book further clarified a personal cause of purpose to make a case for creating meaningful places to expose children to nature in its many forms.
Buy the book.

Sheila Foster, New York

Triumph of the City: How Our Greatest Invention Makes us Richer, Smarter, Greener, Healthier, and Happier
by Edward Glaeser
2011, Penguin Books

It is a well-written, comprehensive paean to cities of all kinds across the world. It is also full of insights and policy prescriptions which, whether one agrees with them or not (and there is much I disagree with), challenges assumptions about how and why some cities succeed and others falter. A terrific read for our urban era in which cities will play an outsized role in economic life, politics, and culture.
Buy the book.

Niki Frantzeskaki, Rotterdam

Greening the Red Zone
by Keith Tidball and Marianne Krasny
2013, Springer

I love this book. It shows how communities can take up greening actions as a means to regenerate their areas and reconnect communities with the past and the future. With case studies around the globe in cities that experience devastation because of natural disasters or wars and conflict, the book shows how nature in cities can restore identity and reignite hope for the future.
Buy the book.

David Goode, Bath

Swifts in a Tower
by David Lack
1956, Methuen

Everyone dealing with the ecology of cities should read this, wherever you are in the world. David Lack was a great ecologist and a great writer who produced a wonderful story about the swift, explaining the intricacies of its life in amazing detail and especially its adaptation to city life. His book is a classic in the literature of urban ecology. We all need to understand the detailed workings of urban ecology; there are so many mysteries. This book provides a way into that world that you won’t forget, and you will certainly look at swifts with new eyes.
Buy the book.

Divya Gopal, Berlin

Nature in the City: Bengaluru in the Past, Present, and Future
by Harini Nagendra
2016, Oxford University Press

The book is a good mix of research findings and narratives from locals about urban nature in an Indian city. It helps the reader to understand the various factors (colonial past, economics, poverty, development, etc.) that play a role in “what” and “how” urban nature is in the Indian sub-continent, and perhaps is applicable to many other cities in developing countries.
Buy the book.

Andrew Grant, Bath

The Night Life of Trees
by Durga Bai, Bhajju Shyam, and Ram Singh Urveti
2006, Tara Books

This is a hand printed, illustrated book that I turn to when thinking about trees in cities. It captures the luminous spirits of trees at night, as portrayed by the Gond tribe in central India, and communicates the intimate relationship between the people and the forest that goes well beyond simple functional dependency into a way of life and thought. It is a visual reference for how we can relink our imagination and culture with urban nature.
Buy the book.

Bram Gunther, New York

Baltimore School of Urban Ecology: Space, Scale, and Time for the Study of Cities
by J. Morgan Grove, Mary Cadenasso, Steward T. Pickett, Gary E. Machlis, William R. Burch Jr., Laura A. Ogden
2015, Yale University Press

A great story about an early and pioneering long-term ecology study city and how the study team blended social and ecological attributes to more deeply understand urban systems. Well written and speaks to all of us working in this arena.
Buy the book.

Jon Halfon, New York

this-changes-everythingThis Changes Everything
by Naomi Klein
2014, Simon & Schuster

It might be a little too politically orientated for the list (although it shouldn’t be), but it does a fantastic job looking at the political and economic structures that are impeding large scale actions to address climate change. A little light on concrete solutions, but some worthwhile examinations on the roles of community organizing, protection of indigenous rights, and natural disaster recovery as the catalysts for system wide change.
Buy the book.

Fadi Hamdan, Beirut

Al Muqaddimah
By Ibn Khaldoun
1377

In particular,  Chapter 4. Some modern thinkers view it as the first work dealing with the philosophy of history or the social sciences of sociology, regarding the evolution of cities. It is an attempt at critical thinking in 1377 AD; unfortunately, that AD-thinking is much needed in 2016 in our Middle East region, and perhaps even beyond. Of course, much of what it says is now not applicable, but the critical thinking methodology is remarkable for its time. Buy the book.

Zoé Hamstead, Buffalo

The Manhattan Project: Theory of a City
by David Kishik
2015, Stanford University Press

This book is the elaboration of a “hypothesis” that Walter Benjamin did not commit suicide at Portbou, but in fact faked his own suicide and successfully fled Nazi Germany. In the book, The Manhattan Project is his manuscript, discovered in the NY Public Library (after his actual death), which articulates a theory of a place and the ways in which the form of the city shapes us in situated ways. New York is seen as an urban implosion, deriving its power from increased density and diversity—the economic, artistic, environmental, and equity dimensions of this urbanist movement are explored in relation to works and worldviews of Mumford, Jacobs, Arendt, and a slew of other important thinkers. It is a playful and thought-provoking work that experiments with place-based, fictional philosophy in the urban context.
Buy the book.

Mathieu Hélie, Montreal

Delirious New York, A Retroactive Manifesto for Manhattan
by Rem Koolhaas
1997, The Monacelli Press

The concept of a retroactive manifesto is a paradigmatic stepping stone from the design stance of city planning to the ecological, emergent stance we need to embrace for urbanism to succeed as a science and practice.
Buy the book.

henfreyTom Henfrey, Bristol

The Oregon Experiment
by Christopher Alexander
1975, Oxford University Press

Christoper Alexander’s “Pattern Language” trilogy sets out a compelling vision and agenda for a new participatory approach to architecture and urban design, where planning and settlement act as ongoing generative processes that reflect the deepest creative impulses of the universe itself. Of the three books, The Oregon Experiment is the most compact, and situates the philosophy set out in The Timeless Way of Building and methodology of A Pattern Language within the context of implementation of a real-world case study. Buy the book.

Cecilia Herzog, Rio de Janeiro

The Granite Garden: Urban Nature and Human Design
by Anne Spirn
1984, Basic Books

The book that made me look at cities in a totally new way is Anne W. Spirn’s The Granite Garden: Urban Nature and Human Design. It goes deep on how landscape interventions can impact the quality of the urban environment for better or worse. It even predicts what is happening now in many cities around the world.
Buy the book.

Mark Hostetler, Gainesville

Sustainable Landscape Construction: A Guide to Green Building Outdoors
by J. William Thompson and Kim Sorvig
2007, Island Press

This book is important because the best design can fail if it is not implemented properly during the construction phase. For example, heritage trees that are marked for conservation in a subdivision development can subsequently die if heavy earthwork machines run over the root zone during construction.
Buy the book.

Mike Houck, Portland

The Last Landscape
by William H. Whyte
1970, Doubleday Anchor

Everyone, but particularly those working on park open space (I hate that term), and planning issues (regional especially) should read this old, but never more relevant, book. A comprehensive, holistic rationale for integrating nature into the city and natural resource planning across the urban and rural (regional) landscape. Inspires me today as much as on my first reading 35 years ago.
Buy the book.

Todd Lester, São Paulo

The Practice of Everyday Life
by Michel de Certeau
1984, University of California Press

…and specifically the chapter on “Walking in the City” in which he offers an “operational concept” that attempts to subordinate urban growth to user needs. While one of the primary references for his 1984 work—the World Trade Center—no longer exists and has certainly been surpassed in terms of largesse, de Certeau reaches ahead and amply problematizes extreme edifice for cities “founded by utopian and urbanistic discourse.” He reminds of the “tactics” required to navigate the contemporary city, and equally reaches back to LeFebvre’s “demand [for] a transformed and renewed access to urban life.”
Buy the book.

Nina-Marie Lister, Toronto

The Culture of Nature: The North American Landscape from Disney to the Exxon Valdez
by Alexander Wilson
1991, Between the Lines Press

The late Alexander Wilson (a Canadian landscape designer and cultural critic) pre-dates Cronon in exploring the hierarchical dualisms that underlie our perceptions of nature in an urbanizing world. Wilson asserts that the environmental crisis is a cultural crisis, beyond the confines of landscape, which itself is full of deeply conflicting ideas about the natural world—and these are manifest most powerfully in our cities and suburbs. (For those who can’t access this out-of-print Canadian volume, you might go to David Orr’s [2002] The Nature of Design: Ecology, Culture, and Human Intention [Oxford Press] for related reasons, but that would be a second recommendation, so…. there.)
Buy the book.

Shuaib Lwasa, Kampala

Urban Environments in Africa: A Critical Analysis of Environmental Politics
by Garth Myers
2016, University of Chicago Press

This book analyses power and resultant cityscapes through the Situated Urban Political Ecology lenses. Drawing on various examples from Africa, it reflects on how power shapes urban environments, leading to different configurations. Myers argues that urban African environments go beyond just power versus counter power to a structure of feeling—that assessing urban physical environments merely as sites of risks misses seeing these cities as wellsprings of environmental opportunities.
Buy the book.

Patrick Lydon, Seoul

Small is Beautiful: Economics as if People Mattered
by E.F. Schumacher
1973, Harper & Row

An economic text for those in search of an economy that works for people and the environment, Schumacher’s treatise has been called one of the most influential books published in the past century. Based in the kind of socially and ecologically connected thinking where the well-being of people and cities sprouts from something more basic than sheer economic and industrial growth, the writing offers invaluable philosophical and practical wisdom for those looking to achieve the trifecta of social, economic, and ecological sustainability. Regardless of the discipline, every successful sustainability plan is bound to find its roots tucked somewhere in the theories of Small is Beautiful.
Buy the book.

Yvonne Lynch, Melbourne

The City and the Coming Climate
by Brian Stone Jr.
2012, Cambridge University Press

Climate change will fundamentally challenge the way we design, build, and manage our cities. In this book, Stone explains the pertinent climate science and articulates the profound impact of climate change and urban heating, which are currently affecting our cities. He puts forth a range of interventions that can be considered for adapting our cities and building resilience in a positive manner.
Buy the book.

Ian MacGregor-Fors, Xalapa

Concrete Jungle: New York City and Our Last Best Hope for a Sustainable Future
by Niles Eldredge & Sidney Horenstein
2014, University of California Press

This book is a walk-through of New York City, from the geological origin of the land on which it sprawls to the current social-environmental actions that are being considered to tackle the city’s issues. Although the book focuses on NYC, much of its content applies to large cities around the globe. It is very well written, mostly for a general audience, and provides fantastic details.
Buy the book.

Mahim Maher, Karachi

Karachi: Ordered Disorder and the Struggle for the City
Laurent Gayer
2014, OUP & Hurst

We were lucky, oh so lucky, to have Laurent Gayer explode onto the scene in 2014. Laurent works at Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique in France, but came to Karachi for several years to do this book, after having learnt Urdu in India. I believe his ability to conduct his interviews in Urdu, often shocking his unsuspecting subject, was the secret to the success of this granular examination of the forces that shape Karachi. Karachi has a rep for being the most violent city in the world (never mind that Oakland and Ciudad Juarez also once had a higher homicide rate). The violence was inexplicable; sure, experts had their theories, but none of them satisfied me. (I was working as the head of the metropolitan pages during some of its most violent years). What Laurent has done is explain “us”. His brilliant theory is “ordered disorder” or managed chaos. He explains why Karachi continues to function while falling apart every day. Best of all, it is a riveting read because he approaches it almost like a journalist and tells the story. Ordered Disorder is essential reading also for anyone who wants to understand the history of modern Karachi, how certain factors have influenced its growth, decay, and resilience, and how we often work “through” violence.
Buy the book.

Jala Makhzoumi, Beirut

Damascus City: A Study in Urban Geography
by Safouh Khair
1982, Ministry of Culture Publications, Damascus

In Arabic, a holistic narrative of natural and cultural processes that shaped urban morphology. The book is a must to understand evolution of the three components that shaped the morphology, architecture, and cultural landscape of this ancient oasis city.

François Mancebo, Paris

The Right to the City
by Henri Lefebvre
(in French, Le droit à la Ville)
1968, Peninsula

Let’s turn to the great classics. The Right to the City is a touchstone for people working on social production of space and justice in the city. Some, like Susan Feinstein, consider that The Right to the City is more a rhetorical device than a policy-making tool. Still, this book, published in 1968, has inspired countless academic authors and practitioners in urban planning and urban design up through today.
Buy the book.

E.J. McAdams, New York

City Eclogue
by Ed Roberson
2006, Atelos

One of the few American poets with field experience in biology, Ed Roberson brings his innovative poetic forms and radical imagination to singing the ecological, political, and racial ecosystems of the city. If The Nature of Cities community is going to read one poetry book in 2017, this is it!
Buy the book.

Rob McDonald, Washington

City Trees: A Historical Geography from the Renaissance through the 19th Century
by Henry Lawrence
2008, University of Virginia Press

What is mind-blowing in this book is the painstaking reconstruction of tree cover and parks in major cities from the 16th century on. It really changes your perspective to learn, for instance, that the Dutch practice of having trees along canals spread to trees along streets in Amsterdam, and that the initial response of most observers from other countries was bewilderment (why in the world would you want trees in a city?!). The book provides the detailed historical evidence that how we have tried to use nature in cities has changed and expanded multiple times since the renaissance, and (optimistically) could expand again even in our current urban century.
Buy the book.

Brian McGrath, Newark

Nature’s Metropolis:
Chicago and the Great West
by William Cronon
1992, W. W. Norton & Company

For me, an architect, Nature’s Metropolis helped me see cities in a much more complex way.
Buy the book.

Timon McPhearson, New York

Concrete and Clay: Reworking Nature in New York City
by Matthew Gandy
2002, MIT Press

Concrete and Clay wonderfully traces the development of New York City and the shifting and contrasting views within key development projects integrate a “metropolitan nature” in the city and the region. The focus on capital and political power in decision-making and the impact this has on urban environments is a useful history that remains important as a story about the impacts of urban development on all nature in the context of an urbanizing planet.
Buy the book.

Hitesh Mehta, Miami

Life between Buildings: Using Pubic Space
by Jan Gehl
1980, John Wiley & Sons

A must-have for any library shelf on city planning. First published in 1980, it was both enlightening and thoughtful, and even then asked the fundamental question “What has happened to life in cities?”. The book has had a lasting influence on the quality of public open spaces and has especially helped architects and urban planners better understand the larger public life of cities. Focused on how humans use public spaces, Gehl places substance and quantitative research behind urban planning.
Buy the book.

Patrice Milillo, Los Angeles

The Rise of the Creative Class: And How It’s Transforming Work, Leisure, Community, and Everyday Life
by Richard Florida
2002, Basic Books

This book explains how important placemaking is and the economic power wielded by creativity.
Buy the book.

Mary Miss, New York

The Great Derangement
by Amitav Ghosh
2016, University of Chicago Press

I really enjoyed this book because of the way Ghosh makes clear the important role of “culture” in thinking about the climate crisis, whether it’s the role the writer / artist has in making such a topic central to our thinking about the world or the way our “political culture” has brought us to this point. Ghosh writes with great insight and allows us to track these links in a very compelling way.
Buy the book.

Franco Montalto, Philadelphia

Cradle to Cradle: Remaking the Way We Make Things
by William McDonough and Michael Braggart
2002, North Point Press

I have found Cradle to Cradle seminal in my development. It makes the critically important distinction between eco-effective and eco-efficient design. The former is a radical departure from how we’ve made things for most of the industrial history of the world. The latter is simply a slower way of destroying the world. I believe this book is of interest to all involved in the design process, regardless of scale.
Buy the book.

Polly Moseley, Liverpool

The Growing Stone
by Albert Camus
1957

In French, La pierre qui pousse. A short story, this is brilliant in terms of a story of myth blending with city engineering. It’s about inequalities, about myth-making, about changing the narrative of a town in a deeply democratic way. When I read it a centenary on from Camus’ birth, it blew my mind.
Buy the book.

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Harini Nagendra, Bangalore

Landscapes of Urban Memory: The Sacred and the Civic in India’s High-Tech City
by Smriti Srinivas
2001, University of Minnesota Press and Orient Longman

My book is set in the southern hemisphere, a fascinating account of how traditional and modern cultures, ecologies, and visualisations of the sacred and the civic influence each other, in the backdrop of the globalising city of Bangalore. It focuses on an iconic sacred event, the annual Karaga performance. Conducted by a traditional community of gardeners, the Karaga is organised around a network of garden and lake sites. Many of these sites have now vanished from the city, but survive vividly in memory and imagination, while others are still physically extant, though substantially altered in form and function. Through the lens of the Karaga, Smriti Srinivas describes the complex, changing matrix of cultural, political, and social ties to nature in an Indian city where tradition and modernity are two sides of the same coin. The book provides a scholarly insight into social transformations in a modern Indian city, but at the same time takes you deep into the lives and imagination of people in the city, describing how they see and value nature, and how this has changed over time. It’s one of my favorite books, on my favorite city. Happy reading!
Buy the book.

Kate Orff, New York

Great Expectations
by Charles Dickens
1860

A novel that traces how cities began forming the modern backdrop for humanity and a portrait of the multiple human stories and twists of fate (luck, cruelty, love) that cities foster.
Buy the book.

Susan Parnell, Cape Town

New Babylon New Nineveh: Everyday Life on the Witwatersrand, 1886-1914
By Charles Van Onselen
2011, Jonathan Ball Publishers

I love Gwendoline Wright’s volume on the Politics of Urban Design in French Colonial Urbanism because it’s the South speaking back to the North—but the “urban” book that really got me hooked on doing city research and convinced me, as a geographer, that there was a real value in a historical perspective, is Olsen’s two-volume set of essays about Johannesburg. Beautifully written, place and people sensitive—but with a much bigger understanding of political economy.
Buy the book.

Raquel Peñalosa, Montreal

The Death and Life of Great American Cities
by Jane Jacobs
1961, Random House

Because of its intemporality, it is always inspiring to new generations—to transform the City, and mostly its people. It remains fresh and pertinent in its transversality, dealing with social, urban, human, gender, and generational issues in a simple and engaged manner.
Buy the book.

Steward Pickett, Poughkeepsie

The Granite Garden
by Anne Spirn
1984, Basic Books

Anne is one of the pioneers and continuing deep thinkers about the relationship of ecological, geological, and climatic processes and context that interact with urban design. Her approach is based on data and knowledge, yet informs the creative and human-centered intentionality of urban design. Her writing is a joy to read, and her insights are still fresh today.
Buy the book.

Stephanie Pincetl, Los Angeles

Architecture Without Architects: A Short Introduction to Non-Pedigreed Architecture
by Bernard Rudofsky
1965, The Museum of Modern Art

It shows the wisdom and creativity of builders who did not have a formal education, but were observant and inventive. The traditional forms and materials both came from local places and were built to shelter from heat and cold and to take advantage of natural phenomena such as wind and sun to create livable cities and communities. The end results were cities and villages that addressed local conditions for thermal and human well-being.
Buy the book.

Christine Platt, Durban

Arrival City
by Doug Sanders
2011, Windmill Books

It is a remarkable book telling the story of what happens to people arriving in a series of world cities. It explains how they have adapted to the barriers that face them and gives us a much keener understanding of just why the peripheral—or arrival—places in our cities are the way they are. It covers cities in countries as far flung as China, Iran, and France.
Buy the book.

Andrew Revkin, New York

The Well-Tempered City
by Jonathan F.P. Rose
2016, Harper Collins

It’s a welcome summary of studies and cases showing that the social and cultural infrastructure of cities can be as important as the physical infrastructure.
Buy the book.

Debra Roberts, Durban

Design with Nature
by Ian McHarg
1969, Natural History Press

This was one of the first “how to” books addressing nature and cities. Instead of just theorizing about the city and how it might be changed, McHarg offered a practical approach to urban design that allowed the incorporation of nature into city plans. His “overlay” thinking paved the way for subsequent GIS based planning approaches, without which it would be impossible to protect nature and biodiversity in the 21st Century city.
Buy the book.

Eric Sanderson, New York

Carfree Cities
by J.H. Crawford
2002, International Books

Little known but much loved by those who have had the pleasure of reading it, J.H. Crawford’s book, Carfree Cities, walks through every aspect of what it would be like to live in a town or city without cars. Thoughtful and surprising, this short book will remind you of Christopher Alexander’s Pattern Language, Jan Gehl’s devotion to livable cities, and Richard Perl’s systemic understanding of how transportation shapes urban form, all before Google’s Self-Driving Car or Uber were on the horizon. Illustrated by Arin Verner.
Buy the book.

Jason Schupbach, Washington

The Image of the City
By Kevin Lynch
1960, MIT Press

An absolute essential, in this short book, Lynch revolutionized the way city planners thought about how people move through and view their cities. The basic lessons of what elements a well-designed city has are all here. It will shift your thinking of how residents of a place conceive of their city, and change the way you look at a city yourself.
Buy the book.

Richard Scott, Liverpool

Cities for People
by Jan Gehl
2010, Island Press

Considering cities through five human senses is a good place to describe how we react to the spaces around us, and how best to respond to them. It’s a great starting point for planning better cities.
Buy the book.

Paula Segal, New York

Invisible Cities
by Italo Calvino
1972, Harcourt Brace & Company

Invisible Cities, for understanding that cities themselves are organisms that run on empathy.

Always good to re-read to remember that everything we build or reconstruct will be seen with many, many different eyes and be part of many, many different stories.
Buy the book.

Huda Shaka, Dubai

Dubai Amplified: The Engineering of a Port Geography
by Stephen Ramos
2010, Routledge

While Dubai has received some attention from architects and planners recently, the literature on it has been somewhat superficial. This book considers the evolution of the city over the past 50 years and links it to major infrastructure development, an often over-looked aspect. The city of “glam” is actually a city of “ports”. The book provides insights into the politics and economics of development in the Arabian Gulf.
Buy the book.

Laura Shillington, Managua & Montreal

The City & The City
by China Miéville
2003, Penguin/Random House

The fundamental idea in The City & The City is that two different cities occupy the exact same geographical site. The spaces in the cities overlap, but they are legally separate entities. The cities in the book symbolise the ways in which there are multiple and diverse spaces in real cities, but how certain spaces (and the people who produce and occupy them) are “othered”.
Buy the book.

Philip Silva, New York

Uncommon Ground: Rethinking the Human Place in Nature
Edited by William Cronon
1996, W. W. Norton & Company

Nature’s Metropolis (1992), Cronon’s history of Chicago and its Western hinterland, would probably be a more obvious fit for this list. Yet Uncommon Ground is a primer for deconstructing many widely held misconceptions about the relationship between humans and nature, including the place of cities in an environmentally enlightened society. The introduction alone should be required reading for any student of cities and the environment.
Buy the book.

David Simon, Gothenburg

Designing Public Policy for Co-production: Theory, practice and change
Edited by Catherine Durose and Liz Richardson
2016, Policy Press

This is arguably the best guide to the shortcomings of conventional public policymaking and the potential of co-production methodologies. The diverse authors, a mix of academics and practitioners based in the U.K. and U.S.A., draw on long experience at the (mainly urban) public policy-practice interface to explore the potentials and challenges of experience with diverse forms of transdisciplinary co-design or co-production.
Buy the book.

Kevin Sloan, Dallas/Fort Worth

The Matrix of Man: Illustrated History of Urban Environment
by Sibyl Moholy-Nagy
1968, Pall Mall Press

Every time I open The Matrix of Man: Illustrated History of Urban Environment by Sibyl Moholy-Nagy, I learn something important.

This is a book that contains an inventory of urban models as well as speculations on the contemporary city as it was imagined in the 20th century. While recent texts discuss mega-cities as they have unfolded, this book was published as they began to appear.

Beautifully and intelligently written, the book’s author, Moholy-Nagy, was the wife of a Lazlo Moholy Nagy, a seminal figure in the early 20th century who also taught at the Bauhaus.
Buy the book.

Laura Spinadel, Vienna

Campus WU: A Holistic History
by Ila Berman
2013, BOA buero fuer offensive aleatorik

Unlike the global village, which in its attempt to homogenize is increasingly exclusive, we understand that holistic villages, like the Campus WU, are the places that celebrate diversity and inclusion. Our actions can give form to holistic societies. That is our hope and a dream we want to share with all those who we meet along our way and which on the Campus WU was the common denominator and the holistic fire that united us before the proposed challenge. And so it was that on the back cover of the book Campus WU: A Holistic History, I wrote: “It is about the making of places that seek a dialogue with creation, with the hope of encouraging the people who experience our spaces to unconsciously perceive them. The reality is showing me that something magical happened in Vienna and that thousands of people allow themselves to be seduced by this utopia that became reality.”

David Tittle, Chatham

Cities in Civilisation
by Peter Hall
1998, Pantheon

Professor Hall brings together a lifetime of scholarship on the nature and functioning of cities to weave an extraordinary story of economics, politics, anthropology, and culture across millennia and continents. It is a huge tome, but at the same time is enjoyably readable and a great resource for understanding the city’s role in the history of our species, and the complex combination of factors that make for great cities.
Buy the book.

Anne Trumble, Los Angeles

Imagining Extinction: The Cultural Meanings of Endangered Species
by Ursula K. Heise
2016, University of Chicago Press

Heise effectively argues why any advocacy on behalf of endangered species must understand the cultural frameworks that shape what we think is and isn’t valuable in nature. As Heise illustrates in her twisting and turning narrative through the diverse ways humans make cultural assumptions about nature, conflicts and convergences of these things in the Anthropocene open up a new vision of multi-species justice. Imagining Extinction makes it clear that cities are ground zero for this vision.
Buy the book

Naomi Tsur, Jerusalem

If Mayors Ruled The World: Dysfunctional Nations, Rising Cities
by Benjamin Barber
2013, Yale University Press

Why? Because it addresses boldly, if impractically, the total dysfunctionality of the global division of the world into so-called nations. In an increasingly urban world, the reins of management will be more effective in the hands of cities, especially if their jurisdiction takes in their entire bio-shed. In a world ruled by cities, we can hopefully talk more about urbanism, nature, sewage, garbage, transportation, education, health, prosperity, and cultural diversity—and less about war and peace…
Buy the book.

Chantal van Ham, Brussels

Biophilic Cities: Integrating Nature into Urban Design and Planning
by Timothy Beatley
2010, Island Press

I would recommend urban planners to read Timothy Beatley’s Biophilic Cities; it is such a great way to think about what nature means for all of us and especially those who live in cities, and how it can benefit urban citizens in every part of the world.
Buy the book.

Shawn Van Sluys, Guelph

The Gentrification of the Mind: Witness to a Lost Imagination
by Sarah Schulman
2013, University of California Press

In The Gentrification of the Mind: Witness to a Lost Imagination, which Mike Young reviewed for ArtsEverywhere.ca, Sarah Schulman shows how the gentrification of many neighbourhoods in New York during and after the AIDS crisis correlates to the forgotten politics and socialities of queerness as it intersects with racial and economic struggles. The gentrification of space is the gentrification of the mind through the erasure of histories, relationships, rights, and differences.
Buy the book.

Claire Weisz

The Fall of Public Man
by Richard Sennett
1977, W. W. Norton & Company

The book that made the first cultural argument about the loss of the civic commons that was the genesis of urbanity.

Also a great piece of writing.
Buy the book.

Mike Wells, Bath

Green Design: From Theory to Practice
by Ken Yeang and Arthur Spector, eds.
2011, Blackdog Architecture

Yeang and Spector have been doing the green thing in cities—not just thinking about it—longer than almost anyone. This book is a temperature take on where we are and should be in delivery of green, sustainable, biodiverse cities in practice. It links across all or most design themes—not just addressing low or zero carbon, or water sensitive urban design, and stopping there, but making the point that the sustainable city has to be truly green, vegetated, biodiverse, and biophilic, too. Architects need ecologists to design good cities.
Buy the book.

Diana Wiesner, Bogotá

Naturaleza Urbana. plataforma de experiencias
edited by María Angélica Mejía
2016, Instituto de Investigación de Recursos Biológicos Alexander von Humboldt
The Spanish version of the book can be downloaded here.

Es necesario contemplar las acciones concretas de la Ciudadanía respecto al cuestionamiento del papel de la naturaleza en la ciudad. Los gobiernos locales subestiman el poder de la acción ciudadana. Uno de los potenciales más poderosos es la capacidad que puede tener una complicidad público privada para una gestión efectiva de la biodiversidad en la transformación positiva de las ciudades. Este libro se logró gracias a la participación de más de 80 casos en diversos lugares de Colombia.

Kathleen Wolf, Seattle

With People in Mind: Design and Management of Everyday Nature
by Rachel Kaplan, Stephen Kaplan and Robert L. Ryan
1998, Island Press

The book explores how to design and manage areas of “everyday nature” in ways that are beneficial to and appreciated by humans. The book translates many years of empirical studies into practical design and management approaches, and it is a readable and flexible guide for practitioners and managers in many fields. It takes theory and research evidence to small-scale changes that improve quality of life.
Buy the book.

History’s Peak: A Long View of the Nature of Cities

Art, Science, Action: Green Cities Re-imagined

Author’s note: Through TNOC, we are encouraged to take a broad view of how nature can contribute to urban life. “Many voices, greener cities, better cities” is our mantra. Given the recent election of Mr. Donald Trump in the United States, with all that portends for voices, cities, and the green, I thought it might be useful, even comforting, to take the long view. Hence a short excerpt from a book proposal in preparation. Please let me know what you think.

In this Time of Trump, the future, like the past, will not be all good or all bad. The only enduring reality is that the future will be built on top of our dreams.

If we viewed history in cross-section, it might look something like Figure 1. A simple curve shows the trajectory of the human population—since the first farmer thought to put a seed in the Earth during the Neolithic Revolution through to the modern, crowded, crazy Internet Age of the early 21st century. Population—the number of people on Earth—is on the y-axis, and time is on the x. For nearly all of human history, the curve hugged the bottom of the plot, an 11 millennia-long, slow burn to reach an unexpectedly steep slope upwards. Then there is a change, the alteration at the root of all alterations.

Around 1750, the curve tips upward, slowly at first, and then with an inexorable, powerful, careening surge, whips up toward the top of the plot. In fact, the slope between 1900 – 1970 is so steep, the curve verges on the vertical. Although it may not be visible on the full axis of human history, the slope after 1970 starts to fade, minutely coming back to “Earth”. That slight fade (Figure 1a), so important not only to our past and present, but to our future, is known mainly to demographers, the bean counters of the social science world. All most of us see are the crowds—on the expressways, in the shopping malls, in the stacked apartment complexes of the world’s cities and the endless rows of houses in the expanding suburbs; no one can actually see a world population of 7.3 billion souls.

Yet, the demographers know, as everyone needs to know, that in the 21st century, the rate of growth of the world’s population is in decline (Figure 1a); the population, while still growing, will grow at a slower rate this year than last, and slower still than two years ago. The human bean counters quibble about when, but nearly all agree, given current trends, that some time before or shortly after 2100, the world population will stop growing. It will stabilize. It might even fall. We will have reached the greatest height of human population on Earth, arguably the peak of history. What then?

Figure 1. Data: HYDE 3.1, World Bank
Figure 1a. Data: World Bank

Figure 2 gives another slice through history. It looks a lot like Figure 1, except that the vertical axis is urbanization, not population. Urbanization measures the percentage of people that live in towns and cities rather than in rural localities. As you can see on the second graph, for most of human history, most people lived in scattered agricultural settings; very few people took the chance to move to towns and cities, which were not only dirty but deadly, but tiny as a result, at least by modern standards. Jerusalem at the time of Jesus was inhabited by about 70,000 people, the size of contemporary Bamberg, Germany, or Newport Beach, California. Rome at its height had maybe a million residents, the size of modern day New Orleans or Helsinki. Then, about the same time as the world’s population began to swing upward in the late 18th century, so did urbanization.

Indeed, these two phenomena are tightly interconnected. Whereas with population, it’s unclear what a theoretical maximum might be, with urbanization, the theoretical maximum is 100 percent (since it is a fractional measure.) No society—outside small city states such as Singapore or the Vatican—has ever neared the 100 percent urbanized mark, but many societies have reached 70-80 percent of their populations living in town, including most countries in Europe, Latin America, North America, today. (Different countries do have slightly different definitions of urban, which should be kept in mind, but is not a significant enough factor to materially change the overall trend.) Urbanization, like population, has been on a steep, statistical progression upward, and it too will reach a maximum—most likely during the 21st century, and probably somewhat before the peak of population. The greatest geographic redistribution of people in the history of the world will have finished. What does it mean?

Figure 2. Data: HYDE 3.1, World Bank

A third curve describes history as a mountain of money. Figure 3 shows the evolution of the size of the global economy, measured as the sum of the monetary value of the trillions of exchanges made in the world each year—in economics-speak, this is called the gross domestic product of all nations. The monetary view of history mimics the population and urbanization curves, but at an even greater extremity,: growing so slowly as to be barely noticeable in modern terms for millennia before, as if by a miracle, zooming upward like a rocket, shooting into the 20th century. Long-term projections of the world’s economic future, like this one from PwC, optimistically imagine that the line will continue to go up for as long as we dare to forecast, though how fast the economy will grow and through what mechanisms, no one really knows. It would be great to know how it could be maintained, because, as Thomas Piketty has shown in his book about 21st century capital, investments made on such a steep slope deliver a mighty return (estimated at 4-5 percent per year over the last 100 years). What lies at the root of such tremendous growth? Economists are keen to point to technology, and there is no doubt that technology has delivered wonders. Politicians are fond of talking about bringing jobs and retraining the work force, and indeed, most folks are happier with a job than without one. These are good and worthy ideas and important ones, but at best they are just decorative fixtures atop the true engines of economic growth over the last 250 years: for at work in the factories at the root of the economic mountain are people living and working in cities. Urban people are creative and more often employed at tasks to which they are particularly suited than their rural colleagues; not the least of the urban agglomerative miracles is the provision of a rich diversity of tasks, specialization made manifest. All of which leads one to wonder: if urbanization peaks and population stabilizes or even declines, whence the economy?

Figure 3. Data: Maddison Project, World Bank (also see this.)

Any modern dissection of world history would be incomplete without a plot describing the rise of atmospheric carbon dioxide shown in Figure 4. Carbon dioxide can’t be seen, heard, or smelled, but its concentration has almost doubled in the atmosphere over the last 200 years, after having been relatively stable for some 10,000 years prior, all the way back to the last Ice Age. This graph, like the three others, shows a dramatic increase, after a long equilibrium, in about the same time frame as the other three. Carbon pollution is a wicked and unintended side effect of the Industrial Revolution, when some cleverer-than-average types, and their urban friends with money to invest, figured out that there was energy lying around unused in the ground, especially in the form of coal, but also as oil and “natural” gas.

The rise of the modern, mechanized economies based on fossil fuels parallels the assent of population, the movement of people from fields to towns, and the expansion of exchange. Growing populations have required more food to be produced by industrial processes on ever-larger farms cut from forests and grasslands; growing towns have required liberal applications of material and concrete to expand outward; and growing economies have seized on the consumptive advantages of new sources of energy, largely neglecting the smoky wastes that once covered the widening industrial cities with soot. Hence the relentless trend of the carbon curve, bending upwards toward the sky, with no known natural limit except the feedback nature gives in the form of rising sea levels, more intense storms, shifting species, and ever grimmer prognostications from the prophets of climate change.

In recent times, we have entered into a carboniferous terrain not seen in the last 330 million years. Carbon dioxide in the atmosphere—just one of the many signals of the environmental sickness of our time—may peak someday, too, and let us all hope that it is sooner rather than later. Meanwhile, we suffer the environmental damages of the last 300 years with the frogs and the fishes and wonder: how can the Earth carry on?

Figure 4 Data: Oak Ridge National Laboratory, NOAA

These are the four figures of the modern Apocalypse: (over)population, urbanization, economic stagnation, and climate change. Or so we are told. People have been worrying about population ever since Reverend Malthus pointed out in 1798 that the number of people grew geometrically, while the production of food grew arithmetically, such that starvation was “inevitable” and feeding the poor “useless”. Jean-Jacques Rousseau presaged many a rural philosopher of later years when he wrote “Les villes sont le gouffre de l’espèce humaine”. (“Cities are the abyss of the human species.”) Economic stagnation was the primary concern for Adam Smith, the great economist, who tried to solve it with his notions of the division of labor and the accumulation of capital; even he predicted that after a good 200-year run, the Invisible Hand would falter, because population growth would drive down wages, natural resources would become scarce, and labor can only be divided so far. Smith’s clock started running in 1776, with the publication of the Wealth of Nations, and expired just as Jimmy Carter, a one-time peanut farmer, became President across the sea in the midst of a recession.

Eighteenth century thinkers looking up at the mountains of history from the low foothills of their time, failed to see the fourth curve in the sky with any clarity, but modern environmentalists have more than made up for their historical oversight with terrifying predictions that would cause Malthus, Rousseau, and Smith to shudder in their wigs. It turns out that the climate—long-term patterns in the weather—is much affected by the atmospheric concentration of carbon dioxide (and related gases), which hold heat. From these tiny gas molecules, we owe the blessedly temperate climate that made life on Earth possible in the first place. Unfortunately, an atmosphere with more than desired molecules holds more heat than we want, stirring more powerful storms and less predictable patterns of precipitation, with concomitant effects on fires, floods, agriculture, the availability of drinking water, and so on. The title of a recent textbook succinctly sums it up: Dire Predictions: Understanding Climate Change.

No wonder that electronic book shelves of the late 20th / early 21st centuries heave with books about ends: The End of Nature, The End of Faith, The End of Reason, The End of Normal, The End of Sanity, The End of Wall Street, The End of Oil, The End of Poverty, even The End of History and the Last Man. We also read of the Sixth Extinction, The Big Short (The Doomsday Machine), and the Apocalyptic Planet: Field Guide to the Future of the Earth. Black Swans paddle unseen in the murky future and here comes everybody. (Personally my preference has long been for Where the Sidewalk Ends.)

If studying history has taught us anything, though, it is that history does not end. Rather it stumbles forward, as much happenstance as plan, good or bad for some, in pain or pleasure for others. The war to end all wars did not end wars (in retrospect, it led to the next one.) Capitalism, for all its excesses, has failed to be destroyed by them (yet). The globalization of liberal democracy, celebrated in the halcyon days at the end of the Cold War, has run straight into the buzz saw of terrorism and sectarian divide. And yet, through it all, up ‘til now, the four curves have continued their upward motion, practically unchanged by all the tumult below, like a ball off the bat of some cosmic game.

My belief is that the reason that dark premonitions have found such fertile ground in early 21st century culture—including in the election of Donald J. Trump—is that they reflect the uncertainty we all share about the future. That uncertainty, at its roots, links back to these four cross-sections of global civilization. Wherever people live on planet Earth today, no matter our income or politics, our language or our religion, we all feel how fast human life is changing and share a sinking feeling that it can’t keep going…up. The dynamics of change are so large, they are difficult to conceive; so profound in their consequences, they are practically unconscionable. As a result, in the popular discourse, there is a lot of finger pointing and a lot of talk, but not a lot of meaning. Most of us don’t have the time or the energy to stand back and look at the tableau in its entirety. As one friend recently said to me, “the extent of my time horizon is tomorrow.” And yet, given recent increases in human longevity, it is nearly certain that someone born today, as I’m typing these words, will live to see the peak of history by the end of this century, a mere 84 years away.

So what does all this mean for the nature of cities? A great deal, and more than I can write about in this forum. I’m hoping to find more space to elaborate in a book, but in the meantime, here are a few teasers:

  • It is often said that the root of all environmental problems is population. What we are coming to realize is that the solution to population is cities. Modern urban living typically means better jobs and healthier lives and more opportunity than rural forms of life, which is the main attraction, but urban lifestyles also entail less space for kids, less need for kids to labor in fields, and more incentive and greater capacity to invest in the kids we’ve got. That’s why, around the world, urbanization goes hand-in-hand with longer lives and smaller families. Cities are the best form of birth control we’ve yet devised: they induce couples for their own inimitable reasons to choose to limit the population growth rate. For towns and cities to be effective agents of the demographic transition, however, they need to be attractive and satisfying places to be, such that they continue to attract immigrants from the hinterlands and retain the populations they already have. Green spaces are part of what make cities livable. And because cities tend to be constructed in places of high biodiversity in the first place, the nature of cities has the potential to make extraordinary natural habitat for people.
  • What limits urbanization? Unhealthy environments and unemployment could. One reason why cities existed for so long but hardly grew until the nineteenth century is because they were death traps. Concentrating people also concentrates wastes and bugs, the kinds that spread disease. Once human demands are concentrated, cities depend on virtually uninterrupted flows of resources, especially in terms of water, food, and energy. As I wrote about in a previous book, Terra Nova, the good news is that modern science, urban planning, and a willingness to work with, instead of against, nature, can help diminish pollution, reduce consumption, provide clean air and water, and ensure the timely flow of inward-bound necessities. The bad news is that many cities, especially in the developing world, are not investing in cities or nature enough, with the result that poor rural immigrants become slightly less poor, urban dwellers, living in squalid and dangerous slums, when, with the right investment and less corruption, they could be leading better, longer, more productive lives, and having jobs, too. The good news is we know what to do to make this situation better and the sooner we do, the sooner the demographic (and other) consequences of urban life can kick in.
  • In the long view, cities face entirely different challenges that are difficult to imagine in our current moment of immense growth. Just think: between now and 2100, we may double the size of the urban footprint on Earth. The population will peak at 9 – 10 billion souls, 70-80 percent of whom live in towns and cities. And then it seems possible, even likely where current trends to continue, that the world population will start to go down. (To assume sustained population growth beyond 2100 is either to assume we live much longer than is currently possible, or find a way to reverse the fertility declines of the last 100 years.) One set of projections suggests that if the whole world obtained the demographics of the Western world today, the global population two centuries further on, in 2300, will only be 2.3 billion. That means we will have approximately 80 percent more urban area than we need, which implies that the cities that we are building with such avidity now will have to shrink in the future. Some—perhaps many—may go away entirely. They will surely compete with each other, but in the coming centuries, the competition will be over maintaining population, rather than gathering it. Detroit and Dresden, where disinvestment and vacancy are widespread, are just our first ventures into the global realities of the 22nd century urban life. That may seem like a distant and unlikely prospect, but so our ancestors could never had guessed that by driving to the movies or warming their homes with a coal stove they could eventually change the climate.

There is a lot more to be said along these lines, but I’ll leave you here with this last thought in this Time of Trump: the future, like the past, will not be all good or all bad. It’s really hard to know what will happen, except to say, that like the past, it will be circumstantial, ironic, funny, tragic, stupid, heroic, and unexpected. The only enduring reality is that the future will be built on top of our dreams: how we imagine the future is how the future is made. That’s why I contribute to The Nature of Cities—so that I can dream, with my fellow visionaries, of many voices calling out for better, greener, saner cities in a better, greener, saner world.

Eric Sanderson
New York

On The Nature of Cities

Full Function May Remain Out of Reach, But Urban Stream Restoration Can Empower Communities

Art, Science, Action: Green Cities Re-imagined

A review of Restoring Neighborhood Streams: Planning, Design, and Construction. By Ann L. Riley. 2016.  Island Press, Washington, D.C. ISBN: 9781610917391. 288 pages. Buy the book.

The basic challenge of restoring urban streams that support diverse environmental, social, and ecological functions is that these functions are inextricably linked to the surrounding watershed. Development in urban watersheds changes vegetation cover, soils, flow paths, and the volume and frequency with which water, sediment, and pollutants are delivered to a stream. Consequently, urban stream restoration, which usually focuses on a relatively short homogenous section of stream (a stream reach), has limited ability to address causes of degradation related to watershed development.

Riley is most convincing when she emphasizes the role that urban stream restoration can have in transforming and empowering a community.

Research going back decades shows that streams in watersheds with as little as 10 percent impervious, or hard, surface (which is typical of suburban landscapes in the U.S.) exhibit signs of worse biotic health than streams in watersheds with less hard surface. When more than 30 percent of the land cover in a watershed has been developed, restoration goals for streams are usually, at best, aesthetic. In such stream systems, much research suggests you could not hope to restore ecological function; fughettaboutit, as one might say in Brooklyn, New York, where impervious cover is over 40 percent.

Anne Riley provides a rejoinder to this common tenet that urban streams cannot be restored beyond superficial appearances in her new book, Restoring Neighborhood Streams. Instead, she argues, urban stream restoration can be ecologically effective, affordable, and compatible with urban stormwater management and development constraints. She makes this claim in the face of the ample literature that paints a discouraging picture of the prospects for reestablishing ecological functions in streams through reach-level restoration projects in sub-urban, much less urban, watersheds. Riley does this by telling the story of gritty and inspiring local efforts to unearth and reconstruct urban streams. Her book is a summary of her 30-year experiment, as she calls it, to prove that urban stream restoration is possible. Anne Riley provides plenty of evidence that stream restoration projects are worthwhile. But she also makes clear that the degree of restoration that can actually be accomplished, how sustainable it is, how much work must be done in the watershed to truly effect it, and how feasible that is, are all extremely difficult questions with different answers for each stream, watershed, and urban context.

For those who already believe that efforts to restore ecological functions in urban systems are worthwhile, this book provides case studies that underscore the value of urban stream projects and some general principals of stream restoration design drawn from Riley’s own experience and others’. Practioners in the field of stream restoration will empathize with the missteps described at some sites, and the repeated lesson that trying to restore an urban stream means facing not only physical, but also economic, political, and social-cultural challenges.

However, for others, who believe urban stream restoration projects do not typically restore significant in-stream ecological functions—just as reach-level projects often do not achieve this effect, even in rural settings—this book does not present systematic indisputable ecological research to dispel that position. However, it does give varied examples of how urban stream restoration projects provide essential first steps towards ecological and other functions by establishing necessary physical and vegetative structures and processes previously absent, transforming a neighborhood, giving communities access to and understanding of heretofore hidden resources, and enabling people to better advocate for water quality protection.

In her first chapter, Riley acknowledges the huge challenges to achieving ecologically diverse, dynamic, and otherwise functioning streams in constrained urban environments, where it is usually cost prohibitive and infeasible to secure space for a functioning floodplain, or to reverse ongoing impacts from a degraded watershed. In addition to physical and financial challenges, she recognizes that public support for planning, investing in, and maintaining urban stream restoration efforts is critical. To introduce her argument, she points to a poster child for urban stream degradation, the Los Angeles River. There, local sections of the concrete trapezoid channel are “recovering” thanks to the disintegration of the concrete bed and accumulated sediments that allow this channel to exhibit forms and sediment transport processes typical of a naturally occurring channel. Federal and local support for system-wide planning has the potential for transforming miles of this engineered waterway. The rest of the stream restoration case studies Riley provides for her thesis are all located in California’s San Francisco East Bay region, but are much smaller than the Los Angeles River.

In her second chapter, Riley addresses the question of how to define restoration, particularly in the case of urban streams, where returning a river to its pre-development condition is impossible. After presenting the history of various definitions, she identifies a common theme. Restoration is the act of altering a site damaged in some way by human actions to try to achieve a certain condition (whether completely indigenous or historical, or not), with representative structures, functions, diversity, or dynamics. To engage in restoration is to identify key variables of a target or reference condition that form the guide for any plan or design. This definition of restoration suits the urban condition, where only some natural and pre-disturbance structures and processes can be re-established at any given site or in any given project. Consequently, in the “hierarchy of restoration”, urban stream projects can never reach the top tier of historic restoration.

But Riley contends we should not be satisfied with just the bottom tier in the restoration hierarchy, channel enhancement, where only surficial features are modified to create a natural aesthetic. Instead, urban streams projects should target the creation of channels that are dynamic enough to transport and store sediment, and to support riparian vegetation (functional restoration), and that can eventually even support biological communities and processes, such as those characterized by diverse benthic aquatic species (ecological restoration).

Riley refers to 15 critical functions that should be considered in developing target objectives for stream restoration. In urban watersheds, however, she points out that it is impossible to re-establish hydrologic and other processes that are needed to support all natural stream functions. Consequently, Riley proposes seven measures for success against which to evaluate urban streams. These include:

  1. Create an ecologically dynamic environment;
  2. Improve ecological conditions;
  3. Increase resiliency;
  4. Do no harm;
  5. Do ecological assessments;
  6. Create learning about Restoration Planning, Design and Construction for Future;
  7. Create community benefits.

Along with this kind of general guidance to planning and design considerations (this is no how-to book), Riley provides an overview of approaches to restoration that she calls “schools of restoration.” The historical context she gives provides a useful, succinct overview, particularly for a reader new to this field of restoration.

Riley recounts numerous case studies in Chapter 3, sometimes with a level of anecdotal detail that may only appeal to a very narrow audience familiar with the East San Francisco Bay area, where Riley’s case studies occur. Still, the particulars, at least in a few examples, demonstrate just how appropriate the title is for this book. These neighborhood projects are often driven by particular advocates; community and government personalities; engineering and infrastructure conventions; site histories and funding opportunities; regulations and ordinances; and economic and development circumstances. Though it is possible to wade through these project stories and draw parallels to examples elsewhere (such as cases around the country), it may be more satisfying to skim through these examples; readers can go back to them later for more details, especially when these cases are called upon in later chapters as justification for Riley’s main arguments about the value of urban, reach-level stream restoration projects.

Practitioners reading the case studies to gain guidance on methods, approaches, and tools that apply universally to stream design approaches will not always have an easy time extracting instructive information/design lessons. Fortunately, in her last chapter, Riley explains more clearly how she invoked various schools of restoration in the approaches she describes being taken in the various stream cases. Several planning and design principles emerge here, including: finding a reference condition for empirical guidance; understanding historical ecological / hydrologic, and watershed conditions; maximizing natural floodplain availability and pursuing opportunities to make that happen (e.g. through acquisition); utilizing analytic approaches to help predict design performance; and developing an educated community’s support.

Riley’s book often reads like a memoir, as she recalls her personal history in the stream restoration field, and interactions with renowned experts and practitioners. Some of the stories she includes—such as recounting her failed effort to start a lasting stream restoration practicum in collaboration with her local university—seemed a bit like sour grapes. With the information she provides in that particular anecdote, it became easy to envision other perspectives that were not fully presented. Those kinds of small, personal failed experiments are out of place in a book aiming to build a convincing argument for urban stream restoration. Given the expansion of stream restoration projects, training programs, workshops, conferences, and academic programs over the decades, it would have been more helpful to hear of examples where efforts to integrate academia and practice in stream restoration are continuing.

Riley’s arguments for urban stream restoration are most convincing when they emphasize the role that these projects can have in transforming and empowering a community, both through physical change and education. Scientists and designers involved in urban stream projects need to be educators, and to guide expectations for what a stream will look like that tries to mimic natural form and processes. If that is successfully accomplished, and the community embraces a section of urban stream that displays nature-like stream forms and riparian structures, people become aware of what streams provide in general, and can make the connection to protecting them locally and, perhaps, regionally.

Communities can benefit from witnessing birds, fish, and animals, such as beaver, which are rarely seen in city environments. And they can actually better see what may get discharged into a stream, identify points of contamination or spills, and advocate for addressing those sources of pollution. Ultimately, the neighborhood has to value ecological structure and, ideally, function, enough to maintain these sites. To achieve that goal requires educating local communities not just during the design and construction process, but maintaining that understanding over time with new property owners, with the loss of original project champions, and with changes in community and local government priorities.

Greater access to nature and opportunities for education and engagement are outcomes of urban stream restoration that are not always valued or measured when assessing the functional success of a stream restoration project. Instead, standard ecological assessments, e.g., of stream benthic community health, are employed (sometimes, at least) to evaluate the success of a project. Riley argues that these measures of performance are not always adequate to determine effectiveness of habitat measures over time, because they do not help identify or account for impacts upstream that vary over time, whether from diffuse pollutant loads (e.g., pesticides) or other sources of contaminants, such as illicit outfalls or spills.

But it is exactly for those reasons that detractors of urban stream restoration have a case for arguing that functional ecological restoration is largely not possible in urban streams. Because urban stream restoration can be extremely expensive (often being much more costly than the examples given in this book), as well as highly visible, the question of what functions we should expect from these projects, and how effective and successful they can be, remains highly relevant. This book does not answer that question, but it provides a useful West Coast, U.S. perspective, as well as a thorough introduction to the challenges, successes, and messy realities of urban stream restoration projects at the neighborhood scale.

Riley is right to argue that we should be more ambitious in trying to achieve restoration of ecological function for two reasons. First, because this requires we take a more complex look at the factors causing degradation in a watershed, including how impervious area and the runoff it generates are connected to the stream network and how and where contaminants are entering the stream; that effort should be part of any stream restoration project. Second, because by striving for ecological restoration, Riley appropriately challenges practitioners, designers, and advocates to educate themselves as well as the community about the changes in landscape, policy, and practices that would truly be needed for our streams to deliver all the benefits they have to offer.

Marit Larson
New York City

On The Nature of Cities

Our Garbage, Their Homes: Artificial Material as Nesting Material

Art, Science, Action: Green Cities Re-imagined

Human activities have direct, negative consequences on almost all the world’s ecosystems. It is known that we are in a changing era in which uncontrolled human population growth and the associated increase of urban landscapes are leading to an alteration or reduction of natural areas. The activities that humans usually do, and the lack of understanding of the consequences related to these activities, has led to new interactions between humans and some species of animals that survive or colonize the city ecosystem.

Urban birds are using garbage as nesting material—but is this strategy beneficial or harmful to their survival?

Urban development imposes several constraints and produces direct impacts on such species’ “natural” habitats. One of the biggest impacts of urban development is the fragmentation and isolation of natural habitats, which limits the species’ movements between natural patches. Additionally, the isolation between natural habitats creates small islands, where just a limited number of individuals of each species may survive. Furthermore, these islands of natural habitats are surrounded and used by people, pets, and buildings; in some cases, they are crossed regularly by vehicles. This type of use in urban spaces and their surrounding habitats is the main driver of accumulations of different types of garbage inside or on the edges of what remains of undeveloped habitats.

Rose-throated Becard (Pachyramphus aglaiae) pair building a nest using natural (dry grasses) and artificial materials (cotton rope). Photo: Luis Sandoval

Garbage is one of the consequences of human activity in urban areas. The type and quantity of these kinds of solid wastes are highly related to the level of income, level of development, and level of education in an area. For example, towns, cities, or countries with high proportions of low-income groups typically have inadequate infrastructure and garbage management services, increasing the amount of garbage around urban and “natural” areas. On the other hand, areas with high-income groups have reduced the amount of solid wastes around urban and natural areas; but even their garbage does not disappear completely.

Thus it is constantly argued that garbage availability imposes a risk for public health as well as to the environment because it contributes to the spread of diseases, to flooding, and to soil and air contamination. However, garbage is also used by different groups of animals, for example: as breeding places for vectors of human disease, as food by different type of pests (e.g., rodents) or as a new resource to include in the structures they build (e.g., squirrels, opossums, birds). How the use of garbage affects or benefits animals is poorly understand, because the diversity of waste types is high (e.g., plastic, wood, metal, polyester, and rubber), as are the forms in which each type of waste can be found in the environment (e.g., plastic bags, plastic ropes, pieces of plastic, or plastic mesh).

Despite all the negative effects that urban development produces on the natural environment, in cities, it is common to observe different groups of animals living and reproducing in what remains of “natural” habitats or within the city infrastructure. Those groups of animals are called urban species, as they can survive in the habitats modified by urbanization. Urban species may be classified as exploiters if they increase and occur in the area due to the urbanization, or survivors if they occur before urbanization takes place and continue to persist post-urbanization, but in lower numbers. Birds constitute one of the most common groups of urban animals; birds’ ability to fly allows them to move quickly between places to find refuge, food, or water inside cities. Additionally, several bird species are well adapted to urban areas because of their generalized diets (in other words, they can tolerate the majority of food resources available), large brains (allowing them to solve problems and use new resources), non-specific requirements for nesting places (can nest in the majority of available places), and small sizes (allowing larger populations to survive on small amounts of resources).

Three examples of nests built with solid waste: A) plastic fibers, and B) & C) plastic rope. Photos: Luis Sandoval

Although urban bird species may nest in the majority of available places in the cities, this group could face limitations to obtaining resources for nest building due to the small amount of natural areas where those materials occur. Therefore, some bird species are able to exchange natural materials for artificial ones usually found in urban areas (mainly, garbage) to incorporate as nesting material. For example, natural cotton materials obtained from plant seeds (e.g., bromeliads or Bombacaceae trees) or mosses may be exchanged with cotton insulation or polyester; some dry leaves may be exchanged with pieces of plastic bags, paper, or aluminum foil; and sticks may be exchanged with electric cables, plastic or natural ropes, or plastic sticks. Additionally, some other species of birds also add new and unusual materials to the nest, such as cigarettes butts or nails.

We consider the nest to be a structure built with two main objectives for birds (1) protection of the egg against potential danger and (2) temperature control that leads to adequate embryo development. We also consider that the nests we observe birds building now are the results of a long process of natural selection for the use of adequate materials to improve the rates of achievement of both objectives. It is possible that the use of new, artificial materials inside the nest would affect, in some way, one or both functions, negatively or positively. For example, one negative effect of the use of garbage for nest building could be an increase in the nest temperature when birds use plastic bags pieces, a situation that could negatively affect an egg’s embryo development. Another negative effect may be an increase in nest predation if, by being more conspicuos, artificial materials make nests more easily detectable by visual predators. It is also possible to expect a decrease in chicks’ survival because plastic or nylon ropes may attach and tangle around chicks in the nest, causing mortality. Conversely, a positive effect of the use of garbage could be a disruption of the nest image, because the use of new material may camouflage or blur the typical image of a nest, causing a decrease in nest detectability and, thereby, a reduction in predation by visual predators. Or, the use of some artificial materials may reduce the occurrence of parasites; for example, the nicotine present in cigarettes butts is known to work as a repellent against some hematophagous insects. Information about the direct consequences of garbage use as part of nest materials by birds is contradictory, and direct studies and experiments are lacking to understand whether these new behaviors are favoring the species that display them.

When thinking about the use of garbage as nesting material, it is important to remember that, within the same species (e.g., Clay-colored Thrush, Turdus grayi) in urban areas, some individuals use a lot of garbage as nesting materials, but others do not. This difference may be the result of the differences in garbage abundance around the nesting area, or differences in the abundance of the right materials for nesting. For example, the Clay-colored Thrush builds its nest with clay, mosses, and sticks in “natural” areas, but in cities, the availability of clay and mosses is reduced because the majority of soil is covered with concrete and humidity is reduced, lessening moss occurrence. Therefore, the lack of these materials for nest building may make an individual Clay-colored Thrush exchange mosses for some synthetic mosses/cotton-like materials common in garbage, such as pieces of plastic, cloth, or mesh that can be attached to the external nest structure in a similar way to mosses.

Several examples of Clay-colored Thrush (Turdus grayi) nests that include different types of solid waste: A) plastic fibers, B) ropes, C) cloth, and D) paper. Photos: Josué Corrales

It may be that intrinsic differences between individuals influence the selection of the nesting material. It is also possible to find differences in nesting material selection between individuals that nest in areas with equal amounts and availability of garbage. Given the complexity of these patterns, it is hard to show a perfect relationship between garbage availability and the use of artificial materials as nesting materials. What we do know is that, obviously, it is impossible to use non-natural materials if they are not available. Therefore, the use of artificial materials could be related to urban landscapes where garbage is commonly available, but there is an interesting individual selection of materials for nesting that is poorly understood.

Although some urban bird species may be favoring the use of new materials in the nests, other materials could reduce their reproductive success. The reduction in abundance of natural materials for nest building is probably the force incentivizing species to use artificial materials, which are becoming more, not less, available as human activities increase. For now, for those groups which use garbage as nesting material, it is necessary to determine whether the garbage is a new adaptation that improves survival and breeding success in an urban world, or if it occurs solely as a result of the lack of natural materials in urban areas. If we find that the use of garbage for nesting materials is negative, we can start making management plans for solid waste that include the reduction of garbage and the provisioning of natural material for nest building. But, if the effect is positive on the species, a provisioning of some types of “garbage” could improve a strategy to preserve urban species that are adaptively using artificial materials for nesting.

Josué Corrales and Luis Sandoval
San José, Costa Rica

On The Nature of Cities

Luis Sandoval

about the writer
Luis Sandoval

Luis Sandoval is a researcher and professor at Escuela de Biología, Universidad de Costa Rica. His research focuses on urban ecology, animal communication, and behavior and natural history of birds.

 

Climate Resilience Means Meaningfully Engaging Vulnerable Communities in Urban Planning Processes

Art, Science, Action: Green Cities Re-imagined

Impacts of extreme heat are uneven across geographies and communities. People who live in micro-urban heat islands and who lack the capacity to cope with extreme heat are disproportionately vulnerable to heat-related health risks. Collaborative climate action planning processes should directly engage vulnerable communities in identifying neighborhoods with concentrated and multiple risk factors, as well as in co-producing strategies for reducing vulnerability.

By engaging in collaborative processes of mutual learning and action, we might identify solutions for protecting people who are most at risk from extreme heat.

Its only getting hotter

2016 is shaping up to be the one of the hottest years in human history, with record-breaking temperatures creating some of the most intense heat waves modern humans have experienced. During the month of June, for example, cities in many parts of the southwestern United States—including Burbank and Death Valley, California—experienced substantially hotter maximum temperatures (109-126ºF). In July, temperatures in two Middle Eastern cities—Mitribah, Kuwait and Basra, Iraq—reached the highest levels ever recorded in the Eastern Hemisphere (129.2ºF and 129.0ºF). The summer rounded out with heat waves striking northeastern U.S. cities. Philadelphia experienced the most 90-degree days in its recorded history, making it that city’s warmest August on record, and Washington, D.C. experienced its second-hottest summer on record, with consecutive 100-degree days and a record number of 90-degree days. Climate change will only exacerbate these warming trends in cities, at rates faster than the global average.

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Courtesy Rawle C. JackmanFlickr Creative Commons

Urban climate governance must address disproportionate impacts of heat

Many local governments and residents in urban communities are understandably concerned about the impacts of these heat waves and overall temperature increases. In major cities with large and diverse populations that rely on public infrastructure and public services to meet peoples’ basic needs, some of the most urgent concerns focus on impacts on human health, human well-being, and damage to or suspension of crucial energy services, such as residential air conditioning. As with most challenges we face in the age of the Anthropocene, the impacts of extreme heat are not experienced equally across socio-cultural subpopulations. Who suffers from extreme events is a function of cumulative risk factors—determined by geography as well as personal, household, and community preconditions.

However, these risk factors are not the whole equation. Climate action planning and related governance processes can be intentionally or unintentionally exclusionary, alienating minority and marginalized groups from decision-making processes that steer mitigation and adaptation investments. For instance, a recent study on “Urbanization, Exclusion and Climate Challenges” finds that religious minorities, recent migrants, and people living in poor neighborhoods and slums of surveyed Indian cities lack municipal governance and institutions that enable access to services such as all-weather roads, drainage, sanitation, and reliable drinking water. Structurally-exclusionary decision-making processes reinforce patterns of inequity that determine who suffers injury during extreme climate events. Planners must go beyond civil rights era stakeholder participation approaches (e.g., informing the public) to more meaningfully engage diverse actors, especially those who tend to lack political power. Through processes of mutual learning and action, we can envision strategies for creating more just and resilient urban futures..

Cities experience more extreme heat than their surrounding, less built-up areas

Cities experience higher daytime temperatures and less nighttime cooling than surrounding (peri-urban) areas—a phenomenon known as the urban heat island effect (or UHI). This urban/peri-urban difference is driven by large amounts of built infrastructure which have thermal properties that facilitate concentrations of heat; fewer trees, vegetation, and soil that facilitate evaporation and evapotranspiration processes; and urban geometry configurations that cause air stagnation.

People are exposed to extreme heat when summertime weather is hot and humid. Dramatic temperature spikes can be an important driver of heat-related morbidity and mortality, as can small differences between day and nighttime temperatures. Because these events are extreme relative to normal conditions, individuals, households, and communities are often unprepared to cope with their impacts.

Since 2008, our global population has been mostly urban. By 2050, up to 70 percent of the world’s total population will live in cities and urbanized regions (United Nations, 2014). These urbanization trends and accompanying increased densities of people and built materials will only compound the urban heat island effect and its negative impacts on human health and wellbeing unless we begin to design, plan, and manage our cities differently.

Urban heat poses health threats and reinforces effects of climate change

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Understanding the spatial relationship between landscape compositions of buildings, green and blue space, bare soil, and paved or other heat trapping surfaces can help communities understand their exposure to heat and extreme heat. Left: NYC land cover and building height; Right: Surface temperature on July 15, 2011.

In the United States, heat is the leading weather-related killer (Klinenberg, 2002; U.S. Environmental Protection Agency, 2014). High temperatures become dangerous to human health when people have difficulty maintaining their internal body temperatures. This condition can lead to heat cramps, heat exhaustion, or heat stroke, and can impact other health problems, such as circulatory or respiratory diseases. In the New York City metropolitan area, mean annual temperatures are projected to increase by 4.1–5.8ºF by the 2050s and 5.3–8.8ºF by the 2080s (New York City Panel on Climate Change, 2015). With these increased average temperatures, the region is also expected to experience a tripling of heat waves by the 2080s, leading to an overall 70 percent increase of heat-related premature mortality by the 2050s over a 1990s baseline (Knowlton et al., 2007).

While direct heat-related health and human comfort impacts are among the most immediate concerns, extreme heat events are also problematic for energy consumption and air quality, leading to feedbacks that reinforce climate change. As temperatures rise, so does energy demand, which in turn leads to increased fossil fuel consumption. Fossil fuel consumption reinforces climate change, thus reinforcing extreme weather events, thus reinforcing our ever-growing reliance on fossil fuels. In addition, higher electrical demand increases air pollution emissions, and higher temperatures enhance ozone formation and evaporative emissions. Climate action strategies must not only reduce vulnerability to heat-related risk, but also disrupt the undesirable feedbacks through which some risk amelioration strategies (such as residential air conditioning) further drive climate change.

Risk is geographically uneven

Not everyone who lives in a city experiences the urban heat island effect in the same way. Temperature variation within a given city can be even greater than the average temperature difference between that city and its surrounding areas. Exposure to extreme heat is largely driven by conditions of the built environment and these conditions vary considerably across urban landscapes. The various compositions of landscapes and built environments that we find throughout cities have different temperature signatures (Hamstead et al., 2015). Areas of the city that are hot relative to the city as a whole are known as micro-urban heat islands. People who live in micro-urban heat islands are disproportionately exposed to heat-related health risks. Spatially-explicit environmental data, such as land cover and surface temperature, can help communities identify distributions of exposure in cities like NYC (Fig. 2).

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Left to right: distribution of elderly individuals, Black/African American individuals; individuals below the poverty line and overall sensitivity index of all three sensitivity risk factors.

Not only are people who live in cities exposed to heat differently, but even those similarly exposed to hot conditions are not necessarily impacted by those conditions in the same way. People with physical, mobility, or economic constraints can be disproportionately sensitive to heat-related health impacts, as can those with cognitive impairments or those living in social isolation. For instance, in New York City, recent studies have found that Census Tracts with high proportions of African American and economically-constrained populations tend to have relatively high levels of heat-related mortality (Madrigano et al., 2015; Rosenthal et al., 2014). Demographic data provided by the U.S. Census can provide indicators of extreme heat sensitivity.

City governments, including New York’s, have begun to recognize that extreme heat is an increasingly dangerous threat to urban residents. In New York City, the Mayor’s Office of Recovery & Resiliency has established an Urban Heat Island Task Force to examine the causes and consequences of UHI and extreme heat in the city, and to develop community-based and citywide solutions for building resilience to heat-related threats. Yet unlike hazards such as floods and storm surges, which are commonly studied by agencies such as the Federal Emergency Management Agency in the United States, communities often lack basic knowledge of where extreme heat threats are likely to have the most impact, and who is most likely to be affected. Mapping distributions of extreme heat vulnerability and understanding the fundamental drivers of heat-related risks are crucial components of spatially-planning extreme heat mitigation and adaptation strategies.

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Distribution of combined exposure and sensitivity to extreme heat in NYC.

People who experience multiple forms of risk—such as people of minority race status who are also living in poverty in communities that are highly paved and lack tree canopy—can be particularly vulnerable to heat-related impacts. By identifying neighborhoods with concentrated and multiple risk factors, we can identify geographic concentrations of risk and better focus risk reduction interventions where they are needed most.

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Harlem is considered one of the ten most “heat vulnerable” neighborhoods in the city. Source: Urban Gazelle/Flickr Creative Commons

The Harlem Heat Project is directly engaging communities in climate action processes

In NYC, one such high-risk neighborhood, Harlem, was the focus of a pilot project during the summer of 2016 that used participatory community engagement techniques to gather thermal data from inside residents’ homes, where heat stress can be an invisible public health risk. The collaborative Harlem Heat Project, led by climate news service AdaptNY, involved community members, journalists, scientists and residents. Approximately 30 citizen scientists were recruited through the community-based organization WE ACT for Environmental Justice to place inexpensive, hand-built heat-tracking sensors in their homes. During the course of the experiment, residents also shared their experiences on a digital journaling platform ISeeChange, that matched their observations to NASA satellite weather data. These stories were reported by the project’s mass media partner, WNYC, which revealed how poverty, restrictive regulation in public housing, and other factors left Harlem residents especially vulnerable to heat’s ill effects. (See also this short video on the project at the Huffington Post).

Most of the residences Harlem Heat Project gathered heat index data from this summer found indoor temperatures were hotter than outdoors. (Graphic: Brian Vant-Hull, Prathap Ramamurthy, City College)

hhp-averageheatindexSubsequent analysis of data from the sensors—which captured thousands of temperature and humidity measurements over an approximately two-month period—found that for two-thirds of residences, the indoor heat index was consistently higher than ambient conditions, and that because of thermal inertia, indoor temperatures lag heat waves, warming and cooling slower than outdoor temperatures. This suggests that it may be possible to forecast indoor heat waves, as distinct from outdoor heat waves. The summer project culminated in a collaborative community workshop in which residents, experts, media, and local officials used the project findings to collectively brainstorm possible solutions to urban heat risks, such as the creation of a more advanced sensor that could serve as an early warning system during periods of dangerous indoor heat. The project team presented solutions to a high-level panel of representatives from city government, foundations, and community-based organizations, and these are currently the subject of ongoing development. The project as a whole represents an important new way not only to collect elusive indoor readings, but also to involve citizens in the processes of gathering data, presenting narrative experiences, and offering a transformative strengthening of the sometimes fraying relationships among communities, city officials, scientists, and local news media.

Mitigation and adaptation strategies must be informed by democratic planning processes

Extreme heat vulnerability reduction in urban areas will rely on a broad array of strategies, expertise, knowledge, and engagement. Some strategies involve incorporating landscape features that reduce exposure to extreme heat into the urban built environment. Urban greening—planting trees and vegetation—as well as “blue-ing” and “turquoise-ing” (Childers et al., 2015)—increasing access to surface waters, restoring wetlands, and daylighting underground streams to above-ground channels—will help to cool air temperatures through processes of evaporation. Increasing water infiltration through green roofs, porous paving, and other green infrastructure will promote cooling through evapotranspiration. These kinds of public investments have numerous benefits beyond moderating temperatures—particularly if they are designed in such a way that enables people to access and use them for recreation or other kinds of activities (McPhearson et al. 2016).

We can also build community capacity to respond in the event of an extreme heat threat, as efforts such as the Harlem Heat Project are beginning to do. By developing emergency response or early warning protocols for nursing homes, public housing, and other residential communities that are especially at risk, we can develop ways for people to better access the resources they may need in the event of a hazard. Other public investments—such as cooling centers and community spaces with air conditioning—could be designed as hubs that enhance social cohesion, strategically located in areas with concentrations of people who may be at risk.

Perhaps most importantly, urban communities need robust processes of democratic participation that enable people whose voices are often left out of planning processes to engage in decision-making and help steer public investment where it is needed the most. For instance, a United States National Science Foundation-funded urban resilience project (URExSRN) taking place in 10 U.S. and Latin cities is engaging communities in scenario development workshops. These workshops, held in partnership with NGOs, city planners, and local community activists, are intended to provide opportunities for residents, community leaders, and particularly underrepresented voices to connect their insights and goals to larger scale, citywide planning processes. In NYC, WeACT, the West Harlem Environmental Action advocacy and community planning group, as well as the NYC Mayor’s Office of Recovery & Resiliency, and other city agencies, academics, and community organizations, are collaborating to develop community-based, data-driven innovations for reducing risk to heat waves and other climate driven extreme events.

The fact that risk of injury due to extreme heat (among other threats) is not evenly distributed across social groups is emblematic of deeper structural inequality embedded in our systems of governance and economy. Differential access to crucial resources such as healthcare, healthy living conditions, high quality education, and robust social networks are reinforced through decision-making processes. Climate action processes that rely too heavily on existing governance structures may serve to reinforce the power structures that produced differential vulnerabilities. By engaging in collaborative processes of mutual learning and action—such as vulnerability assessments or resilient futures scenarios that are co-produced by local communities and city agencies—we might identify solutions for protecting people who are most at risk.

During crises, communities with engaged and self-empowered citizens supported by social institutions fare better, often regardless and in spite of geography and socio-economic status. Yet, our decision-making processes tend to be democratically weak at best, and authoritative at worst. As anthropologist David Graeber notes in The democracy project, even when opinions are shared by a majority of Americans (let alone those that stem from pluralist or minority values), they can be entirely left out of mainstream political discourse (2013). Direct, participatory democracy through techniques such as collaborative community design is necessary to address societal problems whose impacts are disproportionately felt: climate change, poverty, energy dependence, lack of access to employment, extreme weather events, and the like. City agencies, civil societies, and citizens—informed by the expertise of engineers, climatologists and others—can collaboratively develop effective mitigation and adaptation strategies in ways that tackle structural inequality.

Zoé Hamstead, Timon McPhearson, and A. Adam Glenn
Buffalo, New York City, and New York City

On The Nature of Cities

References

Childers, D., Cadenasso, M., Grove, J., Marshall, V., McGrath, B., Pickett, S., 2015. An Ecology for Cities: A Transformational Nexus of Design and Ecology to Advance Climate Change Resilience and Urban Sustainability. Sustainability 7, 3774-3791. doi:10.3390/su7043774

Graeber, D., 2013. The democracy project: A history. A crisis. A movement. Penguin Books, London, UK.

Hamstead, Z.A., Kremer, P., Larondelle, N., McPhearson, T., Haase, D., 2015. Classification of the heterogeneous structure of urban landscapes (STURLA) as an indicator of landscape function applied to surface temperature in New York City. Ecol. Indic. 70, 574-585. doi:10.1016/j.ecolind.2015.10.014

Klinenberg, E., 2002. Heat wave: A social autopsy of disaster in Chicago. University of Chicago Press, Chicago.

Knowlton, K., Lynn, B., Goldberg, R.A., Rosenzweig, C., Hogrefe, C., Rosenthal, J.K., Kinney, P.L., 2007. Projecting heat-related mortality impacts under a changing climate in the New York City region. Am. J. Public Health 97, 2028–2034. doi:10.2105/AJPH.2006.102947

Madrigano, J., Ito, K., Johnson, S., Kinney, P.L., Matte, T., 2015. A Case-Only Study of Vulnerability to Heat Wave–Related Mortality in New York City (2000–2011). Environ. Health Perspect. 123, 672–678. doi:10.1289/ehp.1408178

McPhearson, T., E. Andersson, T. Elmqvist, and N. Frantzeskaki. 2015. “Resilience Of and Through Urban Ecosystem Services,“ Ecosystem Services (Special Issue) 12:152-156, DOI: 10.1016/j.ecoser.2014.07.012

New York City Panel on Climate Change 2015 Report Executive Summary, 2015. . Ann. N. Y. Acad. Sci. 1336, 9–17. doi:10.1111/nyas.12591

Rosenthal, J.K., Kinney, P.L., Metzger, K.B., 2014. Intra-urban vulnerability to heat-related mortality in New York City, 1997-2006. Health Place 30, 45-60. doi:10.1016/j.healthplace.2014.07.014

United Nations, Department of Economic and Social Affairs, Population Division (2014). World Urbanization Prospects: The 2014 Revision, Highlights (ST/ESA/SER.A/352)

U.S. Environmental Protection Agency, 2014. Climate change indicators in the United States: Heat-related deaths

Timon McPhearson

about the writer
Timon McPhearson

Dr. Timon McPhearson works with designers, planners, and local government to foster sustainable, resilient and just cities. He is Associate Professor of Urban Ecology and Director of the Urban Systems Lab at The New School and Research Fellow at the Cary Institute of Ecosystem Studies and Stockholm Resilience Centre.

Adam Glenn

about the writer
Adam Glenn

Adam Glenn is an award-winning journalist, media consultant and educator who has worked in newsrooms in New York and Washington, D.C.

Dhaka’s Struggle with Traffic and Livability

Art, Science, Action: Green Cities Re-imagined

Ding, ding, ding. Ding, ding, ding. Honk, honk. Hoooonk. Honk, honk. Toot, toot, toot, ding, ding, ding. Honk, honk, honk.

This is the sound of Dhaka. All. Day. Long. There are only a few hours before dawn when there is quieter hum of traffic. But for the rest of the day, it’s a constant, maddening pummeling to eardrums and interrupts every single thought.

How will this city absorb this rapid growth and become a livable place for the millions already there and the millions that keep coming?

In a matter of a few days, Bangladesh’s capital, a heaving, hot mess of humanity, has become my least favorite place on Earth. It’s the most difficult city I have ever stepped foot in (although Lluís reminds me that I also have little love for Manila and Lima). I’m here because we need to get two necessary stamps in our passports: our Bangladesh extension visa and our visa for India.

But getting anywhere in the city is an exhausting expedition. True to the spirit of our trip, we walk everywhere, not only because we like walking cities, but because in a place like this traffic-logged megacity, it’s faster to walk than to take a bicycle rickshaw, a motorized tuk-tuk (known here as CNGs because they run on compressed natural gas), a bus, a taxi, a moto, or any other wheeled form of transportation.

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There are signs of improvement around Dhaka. Construction of a 4-kilometer flyover (top and middle) is underway and posters (bottom) show the promise of other bypass roads designed to ease traffic. Images: Bangkok Barcelona On Foot

We maneuver around people, makeshift tea stalls, people sleeping on used rice bags under a blanket, vendors hawking everything from coconuts to longyis (the sheets of cloth men typically wear here) and (ironically) bottles of shoe shine, and piles of trash with black birds pecking each other for scraps. We watch people with amputated legs roll themselves sideways along the street not knowing how to help them; we avoid eye contact with an old woman, her spine bent down 90 degrees, begging for a few takas, and we circumnavigate the teenagers who are checking Facebook on their phones while milling around near a shop making fresh roti. We skip over chasms in the sidewalk, and dance around webs of wire and electric cables.

Our most bold move comes when we step off the curb, follow the courageous handful of folks in front of us, and squeeze through vehicular chaos, hoping not to catch the end of the stick the traffic cop swings at the back of a bus to get it to move out of the intersection. We do what locals do—with a confident sense of bravado, we hold our hands out and command the drivers to stop, or at least convince them that we, too, need a sliver of space to pass.

I recently read this New York Times article about the traffic in Dhaka, and couldn’t stop shaking my head in agreement.

Where to go from here?

Dhaka’s the worst, but all of Bangladesh’s cities that we walked through—Chittagong, Comilla, Jessore—have the same problems to some extent, none of which will be easy to fix as more and more people migrate to these densely populated urban centers.

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Parks, shaded with tall, old trees, offer some refuge from Dhaka’s traffic chaos, but need sprucing up. Many people toss their trash wherever they happen to be standing. Photos: Bangkok Barcelona On Foot

Dhaka is already one of the most densely populated places on the planet, passing even Mumbai, according to this Prothom Alo article. Referring to data from the Bangladesh Bureau of Statistics and the United Nations Population Fund, the article states that Dhaka has the 11th highest population among cities in the world, with 43,500 people living in every square kilometer.

And, it’s only going to intensify. The metropolitan area is home to more than 17 million people, and by 2025 that number could pass 20 million, according to this report from The Independent. Some 300,000 to 400,000 new people migrate to Dhaka every year, the report notes, quoting the World Bank.

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Roads begin to get congested during the morning commute in Dhaka. Traffic and horn honking steadily increase as the day goes on. Photo: Bangkok Barcelona On Foot

Creating a sustainable future

Dhaka’s city officials, urban planners, engineers, architects, businesses and residents have a massive task ahead of them. How will this city absorb this rapid growth and become a livable place for the millions already there and the millions that keep coming?

There are so many places to put the development focus, resources, money, and energy. I don’t envy those charged with the job ahead.

Improving the city’s infrastructure would be an obvious starting point. There is an evident lack of infrastructure ranging from sufficient and adequate housing, to trash picking and disposal to, yes, having enough roads and sidewalks to handle exponential growth.

There are small signs of those things happening. We see a few of them walking around the city—there are a few new high-rise buildings going up, and a four-kilometer flyover road that should alleviate some of the ground traffic.

But doing more than that is a costly ambition, requiring funds that Bangladesh doesn’t have.

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Infrastructure and housing improvements are critical issues as Dhaka’s population swells. Between 300,000 and 400,000 migrate annually to the Dhaka metro area, which is already home to more than 17 million people. Photo: Bangkok Barcelona On Foot

As I sip my sweet milk tea on a hard bench at a small corner tea stall, watching daredevil CNG drivers fight for every centimeter of road, I mull over other options that wouldn’t cost much in comparison, but could make the city a bit easier to live in.

How about organizing communities to pick up trash in the handful of parks we walked by?

How about limiting how much sidewalk space street vendors can use?

How about creating and enforcing a licensing system for the number of CNGs, rickshaws, and buses that circulate the city?

How about not allowing buses to hog up interactions and mill about while touts scour for new passengers?

How about enacting and enforcing a no-honking, no-bell-ringing rule to eliminate the sheer amount of noise pollution being created every second?

Ding, ding, ding. Ding, ding, ding. Honk, honk. Hoooonk. Honk, honk.

My string of thoughts is interrupted. I thank the tea man, and boldly step off the curb into the chaos of one of the world’s most populated places. I hold up my hand to stop traffic, and keep walking onward.

Jenn Baljko

See more about the trip here.

From Biomimicry to Ecomimicry: Reconnecting Cities—and Ourselves—to Earth’s Balances

Art, Science, Action: Green Cities Re-imagined

One reason we should care about biodiversity is that it might be the solution to our environmental impact: after 3.8 billion years on planet Earth, Nature certainly has some sustainability and resilience lessons to teach us—that is, before it gets driven mostly to extinction. Will we care to listen?

It is at the city- or territory-level that we can transform cities into life-regenerative ecosystems.

As Janine Benyus said in the late 1990s: “Life creates conditions conducive to more life”. How does Nature do that?

Life’s principles

In the biomimetic design approach she has developed over the last 20 years, Benyus identifies the first important step in extrapolating from Earth’s operating conditions to living systems strategies and characteristics to innovating within the frame of “Life’s Principles”.

Life’s Principles, Biomimicry Design Lens – Biomimicry 3.8 (2013)

Such principles are not new, and other approaches like them have been developed before, such as the 16 Principles of Life compiled by the biologist Mahlon Bush Hoagland [I].

His introduction to those principles is even more compelling:

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From The Sixteen Patterns of Life, “Exploring the way life works : the science of biologie “, Mahlon Bush Hoagland, Bert Dodson, Judy Hauck (1995 – 2001)

“To see Life as a whole—to observe what all life has in common—requires a shift in the way we normally look at things. We must look beyond the individual insect or tree or flower and seek a more panoramic perspective. We need to think as much about process as we do about structure. From this expanded viewpoint, we can see life in terms of patterns and rules. Using these rules, life builds, organizes, recycles, and re-creates itself.”

Bio-inspired innovation and architecture

Thus far, biomimicry has gained recognition via famous inventions such as the nose of the Japanese speed train Sinkansen, which took its shape from the nozzle of the Kingfisher bird [ii]; or the Lotusan paint that never gets dirty because of its hydrophobic surface, inspired by the nanostructure of the Lotus leaf surface [iii]; and many more [iv].

In the field of architecture, bio-inspiration is not new; even the Eiffel Tower (1889) was indirectly inspired by the works of Hermann von Meyer (1801–1869), a famous German paleontologist. Von Meyer was studying the structure of bones, particularly the human femur, which can resist a vertical load of 1 ton before breaking. As the story goes, Karl Culmann (1821–1881), a Swiss engineer who visited von Meyer in 1866 and was busy inventing a new type of crane for very heavy loads, immediately noticed that the trabecular structure of the femur followed the lines of force and cried out: “Here’s my crane!” He thereafter theorized his findings, which came to be known by Gustave Eiffel (1832–1923).

Many other famous architects, such as Antonio Gaudi (1852–1926), Buckminster Fuller (1895–1983), and Frei Otto (1925–2015) have pioneered the study of natural shapes and geometries to invent new types of buildings, including the Sagrada Familia in Barcelona, the invention of the geodesic dome, and the Münich Olympic Stadium from 1972, respectively.

In 1957, Frei Otto founded a research center in Berlin, which has since moved to the University of Stuttgart and currently operate as the “Institut für Leichtbau Entwerfen und Konstruieren” (Institute of Building Structures and Structural Design). This research center has continued research themes that Otto explored in his work from 1984 to 1995 (titled “Natural constructions–Light structures in Architecture and Nature”). Today, the center is part of a collaborative, multi-institutional, multidisciplinary research program called “Biological Design and Integrative Structures”, which is conducting impressive scientific and technical work on new bio-inspired materials. Several examples include functionally graded concrete inspired by trabecular structures [v], developed under the lead of Werner Sobek; facade components such as the Flectofin louver system [vi] inspired by the flower, Strelitizia reginae [vii]; and, globally, the analysis of natural movement principles found in the flora world, which also inspired the design of the German Pavilion kinematic façade in South Korea in 2012 [viii].

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The The hingeless, flapping louver system Flectofin (top), inspired by the Bird of Paradise Flower (bottom) is now under development.

Likewise, the Institute for Computational Design, headed by Achim Menges, has come up with highly performative and beautiful envelope solutions inspired by natural organisms [ix]. For example, in Menges’ Hygroskin—Meteorosensitive pavilion [x], humidity-responsive wood composites, directly derived from the nanometric analysis of spruce cones, open or close themselves according to the ambient air humidity, without any sensors, engines, actuators, or energy.

Having poured millions of euros over decades into bio-inspired research and design, Germany is the most advanced country in this field of research: they are already delivering market applications.

Still, my opinion is that most of these inventions—as scientifically and technically robust as they are; as economically promising [xi] as they appear; and as fascinating and often beautiful as they may be, do not seem to tap deeply enough into Life’s Principles, as Benyus or Hoagland depicted them. Too often, they miss the main point of biomimicry, which is to invent life-compatible, and even life-regenerative, innovations—in the broadest meaning of “Life”.

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ONE OCEAN German Pavilion at Seoul’s World Expo 2012, with façade components directly inspired by natural movement principles found in the flora world. Image: Soma Architects / Knippers Helbig Advanced Engineering

Indeed:

  • such projects often use materials that are not life-friendly or that bear a high carbon/environmental footprint (carbon fibers, cement, steel);
  • they are mostly based on technology-intensive design and production processes, populated by robots, computer numeric control, and computer-aided design, with the embedded carbon and environmental footprint of information technology;
  • and finally, they are mainly focused on maximizing components’ performances (such as load bearing, energy efficiency, and kinematics), without looking at the overall system optimization, especially towards environmental criteria, using tools such as Carbon Footprint, System Life Cycle Analysis or Global Environmental Footprint Assessment.
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Transfer of the biological principle of shape change induced by hygroscopic and anistropic dimensional change of the spruce cone. Images: Achim Menges, in collaboration with Oliver David Krieg and Steffen Reichert
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HygroSkin, Meteorosensitive Pavilion in Stadtgarten, Stuttgart. Images: Achim Menges, in collaboration with Oliver David Krieg and Steffen Reichert.

From bioinspired innovations to ecomimetic cities

The good news—especially at TNOC, where cities are the main focus—is that it is precisely at the city- or territory-level that the fundamental “principles and rules of Life” could have their most valuable applications: transforming cities into life-regenerative ecosystems, and reconnecting those ecosystems to the broader natural ones.

HO+K, the global design, architecture, engineering, and planning firm founded in St. Louis in 1955, starting collaborating with the Biomimicry Guild (today Biomimicry 3.8) of Janine Benyus in 2001, before forging a formal alliance in 2008. Working together on the planning and design for the new city of Lavasa in India, they developed the Fully Integrated Thinking (or FIT) process for innovation [xii], helping integrate Life’s Principles into the full range of the design cycle.

Taryn Mead, initiator of the FIT project at HO+K, and Dayna Baumeister, from The Biomimicry Guild, identified 40 different functions a city must perform, from collecting, storing, filtering, and distributing water to generating and distributing energy, and conducted extensive research into biological models for each of theses functions. “FIT helps turn design challenges into opportunities for better solutions that go beyond ‘doing less bad’ to making a positive impact in multiple areas. The Life’s Principles encourage us to view our designs as part of the complex and adaptive systems of a specific location. The FIT matrix can reveal the latent potential of ‘place’, including site selection, available ecological services, potential partners and opportunities for new industries,” Mead explains in a 2011 CBID article [xiii].

The FIT Matrix and its 15 realms, or “lenses”, aligned with the Triple Bottom Line. Image: HO+K / The Biomimicry Guild (2011)

To systematically tap into the latent potential of place, the FIT process was quickly followed in 2013 by another tool: the Genius of Biome [xiv].

Genius of Biome describes the strategies and designs adopted by living organisms found in the temperate broadleaf forest biome. It describes the biological principles and patterns common to organisms and ecosystems within this biome. From this biology, designers can extract principles to inspire innovation and to identify specific criteria for place-based design for their projects.”

Janine Benyus further explains in a Greenbiz interview: “We look at the place where a development or a city is being built, even just a building, and we say, Okay, what is the ecological story of this place ? What are its realities? Is it a fire regime? Does it get four seasons? Is the Achilles heel of this place that it’s got water scarcity, it’s about to lose its aquifer? Believe it or not, for most architects and builders and developers, that is something that gets skipped over. They know the solar angle. They may know what kind of soil they’re going to put their building into. But that’s about it. They don’t really know what makes the place tick and what could flip the place into losing its resilience.”

The Genius of Biome report can be viewed for free on Issuu, in the hope that its accessibility will “encourage designers, architects and planners to begin integrating nature’s innovations into the design of buildings, communities and cities”.

The aim of FIT and Genius of Biome is to help designers conceive a built environment that is “restorative and resilient and that works with nature”, a goal shared with another American initiative from the International Living Future Institute: the Living Product, Building and Community Challenges.

The idea of the Living Building Challenge, or LBC, came to Jason F. McLennan in the 90s. As an architect and influencer in the sustainable building community, McLennan asked the fundamental question: “Instead of a World that is merely a less bad version of the one we currently have, what should we do to conceive and build positive or even regenerative infrastructures?”

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The Living Building Challenge positioning, compared to other certification programs. Image: ILFI (2015)
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The Living Building Challenge Matrix. Image: ILFI (2015)

Thereafter, they progressively developed the LBC along 7 “petals” (Place, Water, Energy, Health and Happiness, Materials, Equity and Beauty) and 20 imperatives, from “net positive water buildings” to “biophilic environment”, through which to design and build buildings that would be “Socially Just, Culturally Rich and Ecologically Restorative”.

The certification process for Living Buildings is based on actual performances and measures during at least 12 months. As of April 2016, 331 LBC projects had been registered, and 33 had been certified. One of the first certified projects was the headquarters of the International Living Future Institute, itself, at the Bullitt Center in Seattle.

Its characteristics, which you can read about on its case study page here, along with many other case studies, make it one of the most ecological buildings in the world: it includes recycled and reused materials from the site’s previous building, it is the first system in Washington State with onsite potable/waste- and greywater collection and treatment, it has increased floor-to-floor heights in order to increase interior daylighting, and an “irresistible” stair that “encourages occupants to incorporate exercise into their daily routine in exchange for incredible views of the city skyline and Olympic Mountains beyond”, drastically reducing people’s desire to take the elevator.

The building has become famous for its solar roof, which makes the Bullitt Center a Net Zero Positive building despite its total photovoltaic panels’ area, which—thanks to the energy savings achieved through the rest of the design of the building—is only one-third the size of what the Seattle Energy Code requires for a six-floor office building.

The Bullitt Center Solar Roof dimensioning, according to Seattle Energy Code on the left, and according to LBC standards on the right. Source: ILFI (2016)

The University of Washington’s Integrated Design Lab studied the building’s performances and costs in 2013, showing that the building actually over-performed its forecasted energy balance.

The Ecotrust case study of the Bullit Center showed that the 25 percent extra spent in construction costs—compared to those projected for a class A office building—did include the PV energy system, the water collection and treatment system, and the solid waste treatment system, costs that were not originally included in the class A office building budget and usually comprised the capital expenditures supported by the community or energy providers.

The Ecotrust research further showed that The Bullitt Center produces meaningful direct benefits (or avoided impacts) for over two-thirds of the 22 ecosystem services classified by the United Nations in “The Economics of Ecosystems and Biodiversity study”. The Ecotrust study estimated that the “hidden” value created over a 250-year lifecycle of the building at $18,450,000 compared to its $7.5 million extra construction cost produced better environmental performances.

The value of ecosystemic services for regenerative urban design is also at the heart of Dr. Maibritt Pedersen Zari’s doctoral thesis, “Ecosystem Services Analysis for the Design of Regenerative Urban Built Environments”. The case studies Pedersen Zari examined suggest that “ecosystem based biomimicry at the process and function levels may be the most effective kind of biomimicry to respond to climate change impacts and utilise synergies between mitigation and adaptation strategies, as well as address biodiversity issues. […] Buildings are expected to become active contributors to ecosystems and social systems, rather than remaining unresponsive agents of ecosystem degeneration.”

In her thesis, Pedersen Zari devises a thorough framework for the use of ecosystem biomimicry at the process level, suggesting it “could be a way to give order and coherence to the myriad of [sic] methods used in the creation of sustainable architecture. This is because process level biomimicry is not prescriptive of specific technologies or design techniques, or strategies. Rather it provides goals regarding how built environments should work at an overall level of organisation.” (Pedersen Zari, 2012).

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Excerpt of “Ecosystem Process Strategies for the Built Environment to Mimic “ in “Ecosystem Services Analysis for the Design of Regenerative Urban Built Environments”. Image: Maibritt Pedersen Zari, Victoria University of Wellington, New Zealand (2012)
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Excerpt of “Ecosystem Process Strategies for the Built Environment to Mimic” in “Ecosystem Services Analysis for the Design of Regenerative Urban Built Environments”. Image: Maibritt Pedersen Zari, Victoria University of Wellington, New Zealand (2012)

She also notes that, although widely advocated in biomimicry, industrial ecology, and related fields—and as potentially powerful as it might become—mimicking the processes of ecosystems is not widespread and “may be complicated both to understand and use in a design context…because of the large amount of complex ecological information that has to be understood to do this meaningfully (Kibert 2006)”.

Given these limitations, Pedersen Zari rather focuses the main chapter of her thesis on mimicking ecosystemic functions and services for regenerative urban built environments.

She sees several advantages in doing so:

  • in this way, “ecological regeneration goals for developments can be provided by ecosystem services analysis for a particular place”, rather than the one-size-fits-all approach of classical certification programs. The built environment performance goals are judged against “the best an ecosystem could or did do on the same site and in the same climate, rather than on standards defined by humans.”
  • “By devising principles for the application of ecosystem biomimicry at a functional level to the built environment, it is anticipated that designers may begin to understand how to utilise ecology knowledge beyond the level of metaphor.”
  • “New (or retrofitted) developments using an understanding of ecosystem services that become regenerative, even only in part, could act as filters (purifying air and water), providers (of food and fresh water) and generators (of energy) for the rest of the surrounding existing built environment.” Therefore, such developments could mitigate the very causes of climate change and biodiversity loss, and at the same time make the built environment more adaptable to climate change

Following McGranahan et al. (2005), who say that, “even in a stable world, no city or urban region as presently configured could be sustainable on its own”, Pedersen Zari’s position is that “if the built environment can provide some of its own services, pressure is potentially decreased on local and distant ecosystems. This means these may be able to become healthier, or regenerate if they are currently degraded, and therefore be able to support more species. Healthier ecosystems more readily provide ecosystem services to humans that cannot be provided by the built environment and therefore enable humans to be better able to adapt to the impending impacts of climate change” (MEA, 2005b).

By applying her methodology on the area of Wellington, Pedersen Zari shows that all seven ecosystem services could be provided at 100 percent locally by “ecomimetic” engineered solutions in a potential future Wellington (except for nutrient cycling, which could be provided at a level of 80 percent), compared to almost the opposite today.

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Excerpt of “Ecosystem Process Strategies for the Built Environment to Mimic “ in “Ecosystem Services Analysis for the Design of Regenerative Urban Built Environments”. Image: Maibritt Pedersen Zari, Victoria University of Wellington, New Zealand (2012)
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Excerpt of “Current Ecosystem Services Situation in Wellington “ in “Ecosystem Services Analysis for the Design of Regenerative Urban Built Environments”. Image: Maibritt Pedersen Zari, Victoria University of Wellington, New Zealand (2012)
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Excerpt of “Potential of Wellington to Provide Ecosystem Services Pre-Development“ in “Ecosystem Services Analysis for the Design of Regenerative Urban Built Environments”. Image: Maibritt Pedersen Zari, Victoria University of Wellington, New Zealand (2012)

Dr. Pedersen Zari’s thesis is a must-read for all sustainable building and city professionals. It continues Professor Janis Birkeland’s work on design for “eco-services” by giving a practicable framework for design teams based on pre-development/current/potential ecosystem services analysis. It goes one step further than the Living Building / Community Challenge by giving a scientific basis for environmental performance goals and design imperatives.

Moving forward using biomimicry: ecomimicry

We’ve seen the real potential of biomimicry for sustainable, regenerative, and resilient cities. We could call this ecomimicry, as it is based more on mimicking how local ecosystems work to transform the city itself into a “more natural” ecosystem, simultaneously releasing the pressure on “real” natural ecosystems, and reaching a balance between the built and non-built environment.

There are no technical or regulatory barriers that we cannot overcome—as the very productive collaboration between the Bullitt Foundation / LBC teams and the Seattle city regulators, the Seattle Department of Planning and Development, and the Washington Department of Health and Seattle Public Utilities demonstrates. But there is a profound mind shift that has to be undertaken by the wider community of built-environment professionals—from architects and engineers, to city planners and regulators, to real estate developers and property owners—to design and (re)build cities that will be “Socially Just, Culturally Rich and Ecologically Restorative” [xv].

Olivier Scheffer
Bordeaux

On The Nature of Cities

 

For more information on this subject, read:

“Why Should an Urbanist Care About Biodiversity?” on TNOC.

References

[i] « Exploring the way life works : the science of biologie », Mahlon Bush Hoagland, Bert Dodson, Judy Hauck (1995 – 2001)

[ii] https://www.greenbiz.com/blog/2012/10/19/how-one-engineers-birdwatching-made-japans-bullet-train-better

[iii] https://www.greenbiz.com/blog/2010/03/18/lotus-leaf-demonstrates-business-case-bio-inspired-design

[iv] https://www.greenbiz.com/blogs/featured/biomimicry-column

[v] http://www.trr141.de/index.php/research-areas-2/b04/

[vi] http://www.asknature.org/product/5954a34b8660bd0e57a6bfb2103fafe7

[vii] http://www.trr141.de/index.php/research-areas-2/a04/

[viii] http://www.german-architects.com/en/knippers-helbig/projects-3/thematic_pavilion_one_ocean-25297/?nonav=1

[ix] http://www.achimmenges.net/?cat=272

[x] http://www.achimmenges.net/?p=5612

[xi] « Tapping into Nature : Bioinspired innovation as economic engine » Chris Garvin, Cas Smith, Erika Hanson and Allison Bernett (November 6, 2015)

[xii] http://www.hok.com/thought-leadership/fully-integrated-thinking/

[xiii] « The HOK/Guild partnership and the FIT process », Taryn Mead (2011)

[xiv] http://issuu.com/hoknetwork/docs/geniusofbiome?mode=window

[xv] International Living Future Institute

Morphology, Generosity, and the Nature of Cities

Art, Science, Action: Green Cities Re-imagined

A review of The Battle for Home: The Vision of a Young Architect in Syria. By Marwa Al-Sabouni. 2016. Thames & Hudson, New York. ISBN-10: 0500343179. 208 pages. Buy the book.

I have been reading an extraordinary book by Marwa Al-Sabouni: The Battle for Home: the Vision of a Young Architect in Syria, who posits the critical importance of urbanism for the nature of a city—its feeling, its generosity, its openness to all regardless of difference. She argues that a generous city, that has fountains in the streets, benches to sit on, and cool shade from trees that give joy year-round with their fragrances and fruits, creates a model for residents to follow. In writing about the old Homs, her home, she says, “This generosity was a model for residents to follow; it was the womb in which a shared morality gestated” (pg. 68).

The relationship between urbanism and nature is one of mutuality: they make each other.

In the nature of cities, we often forget the significant role of urbanism: the buildings, the architecture, the morphology of the city. The ways buildings juxtapose, set up social relationships, and create open spaces and paths for circulation orchestrate the nature of a city. How the built part of the environment can be either welcoming or forbidding, for both people and fauna and flora, is largely derived from urbanism. It is also important to realize that urbanism is not the same as urban planning; urbanism encompasses creating the feeling of a city, its atmosphere, its emotional quality and tone. Urban planning is certainly a component of urbanism, but urbanism also includes parks; open spaces; the relationship between the city and the countryside; civic culture and private spaces; and, ultimately, place making.

coverAl-Sabouni’s argument for paying attention to the relationship between city morphology, urbanism, and well-being is one that has been put forward before, but in thinking of nature in the nature of cities, we have not given this other relationship enough attention. It points directly to the relationship between the hard mineral surfaces humans construct, their form and layout, and the position and location of urban elements like parks or trees, or gardens and court yards: destinations, interwoven in daily pathways, privatized in yards, and so forth. Her argument for a generous city also resonates through housing: its accessibility, affordability, grace, and disposition on the landscape that can facilitate or encourage natural elements as well as amity among residents—in fact, those elements may be essential to the nurturing of civility and cordiality. The types of public spaces, their arrangements and relationship to buildings, are important, too, in making an open and inviting city. As Al-Sabouni writes of the old Homs where she grew up, “[T]he buildings, streets, and trees were not just the components of the urban environment; they were the very soul of the community, creating the faces we saw, the shops we bought from and the shape sound and feel of every footstep we took. In sum, such things shape our shared experience of belonging and the collective conscience of the city. . . . [to] make our coexistence into one existence” pg. 68 (italics in the original).

She writes about the double ravaging impact of state imposed modernist architecture, with its zoned districts, income, ethnic segregation, and high rises, and the devastation wrought on the old Homs, from the war. The old Homs was formed of Muslim and Christian dwellers, a small city behind a wall, with a history of harmonious coexistence imprinted on every stone and in every corner. It was a city where Muslims and Christians lived undivided and shared everything, from common house walls to shops, alleys, and even a church/mosque. People lived, worked, and worshipped together.

I was struck by this discussion and how relevant the concepts of urban form and urbanism are to the nature of cities. What makes a generous city? How segregated are we from one another by race and ethnicity, from work, from play, from parks, and from people who are in a different class? How is this also reflected in access to open spaces; to the benches, fountains, and fragrant trees that elicit joy and a desire to be out, outside of our personal space? In the U.S., there seems to be greater and greater emphasis on the individual, on the self, in uneasy tension with the equal rise of shared spaces, shared rides, co-working spaces. These tensions are reflected in the built environment, and in access to what makes cities livable—our open spaces, squares, trees, walkability—and our attitudes toward the homeless, the low income, and people who are not like ourselves. Generosity toward others needs to be intertwined with how we integrate natural elements in cities, how it can echo the ecosystem in which the city finds itself, in an increase of a sense of belonging.

A public garden between apartment buildings in New York City. Photo: David Maddox
A public garden between apartment buildings in New York City. Photo: David Maddox

Urban open spaces, parks, yards, courtyards, and planting strips are intimately married to the built environment, shaped by that built environment, enhancing it, or introducing danger. It is the disposition of the built spaces that creates opportunities for sociability, vegetation, and water elements, organizing open spaces to function as oases of vegetation and fauna, beautification, and tolerance. Of course, an ancient city like Homs was the cumulative outcome of incremental decision-making, of traditional building materials, human and animal labor that enforced a certain modesty. As Al-Sabouni writes about the buildings: “Their coarse textured facades, moderate heights, and low wide doors welcomed every visitor humbly into their wide and simple interiors, and for that reason they were loved, becoming—in their own way—instruments of reconciliation between communities” (pg. 36). Such cities were built in those ways in good part out of necessity—but, as she reveals, Homs was quite different than Damascus, and thus there was intentionality in its construction.

Today, we have immensely powerful fossil fuels to build our cities, from the extraction of materials, to their processing, to manufacturing and distribution. Italian, Chinese, and Brazilian marbles travel the world to satisfy customer demand; timber is harvested from Russia, Scandinavia, Canada, and the tropics, then traded and processed for construction, creating various degrees of devastation in the process. Our cities’ construction materials, apart from concrete, can come from far-flung places, subsidized by cheap fossil fuel energy. We use these materials without regard for consequences in their places of origin or global greenhouse gas impacts, and with little attention to their relationship to the places in which they are utilized or to place making. While the ancient cities of the Middle East are, in some senses, vestiges of the past and perhaps not good models for the relatively newly developed West or for developing nations, many are still vibrantly inhabited, valiantly resisting the temptations of a hegemonic modernism, and in full throttle of contestation of space with the increased polarization that has occurred, perhaps most pointedly in Jerusalem.

Still, there are lessons to be learned about an urbanism that results from constraint—constraints of space, labor, wealth, materials, and energy. In moving toward a post-carbon world, these cities show the beauty and joy that can emerge from a generous urbanism. Importantly, a post-carbon future may also enable the renewal of craft skills, a trend that is already incipient in the maker and shared space movements. Integrating these movements into a new urbanism of place that emphasizes common open spaces and access to the nature of a particular place is an aspirational goal. This new urbanism can be built on an understanding that there is an urgent and immediate necessity to shift to a post-carbon, new normal and that this move necessarily entails a different urbanism, a generous urbanism of inclusion and modesty.

Al-Sabouni comments about the social importance of a way of production that creates handmade objects. She notes that this mode of production far exceeds its economic benefit and that its true value is greater for the producer than the consumer. She argues that craft production is essential for any flourishing society, as it broadens our sense of the universe as an arena for inspiration and creation. It educates us to strive for commitment and allows us to know what it is to contribute. This can and should include horticulture, the making and maintenance of gardens, parks, common small spaces, and food production. Artisanship has been lost in the race to the bottom of price and consumption made possible by cheap fossil fuel energy. The power of accomplishment of craft, of making, provides a sense of identity and, as Al-Sabouni argues, is a key measure of acceptance among disparate social groups and communities. It engenders respect. But how do we create those spaces where not only craft production can occur, but cities are built to create intimacy we experience with one another? Cities where we live next to the “other”, where we live with the artisans that, in a post-carbon world, are fashioning what we need from recycled materials, local materials, and some more precious ones from faraway places? Cities where the natural environment becomes a primordial partner not only in survival, but in well-being?

Some might argue from an apocalyptic view that these changes in our status quo will happen as our impacts far exceed the planet’s capacity to absorb them. But this will likely be an impoverished and mean adaptation. Rather, we need to drive a new urbanism based on values that encourage generosity, and a shared and civilized identity. Al-Sabouni again has something to offer: “If a place offers architectural details that give pleasure to the eye as well as moral values implicit in their creation, order and configuration, then the inhabitant will experience joy and consider that place to be their accomplishment; their identity.” (pg. 129). And the thing is, this form of participation does not have to be exclusive to class, race, ethnicity, religion, or other distinctions. The quest for a shared home needs to be engaged in democratically and unstintingly, in the knowledge that the future of the planet depends on it.

This work will engender pride that will unite the collective self and an identity based on the sharing of a place to which all belong. A new, post-carbon urbanism based on remaking cities that can more harmoniously depend on the resources available, including recuperating and recycling what has already been expended locally; embracing the nature of the local environment and inviting it in to make beautiful and livable places; and neighborhoods that welcome diversity—of people, activities, thought, and creativity—needs to be an urgent priority. The relationship between urbanism and nature is one of mutuality: they make each other. “The fabric of our cities is reflected in the fabric of our souls” (pg 175). We need to be more intentional and open hearted in this relationship to place and urbanism, realizing our inescapable dependence on the Earth. Al Sabouni has important insights to help us reconsider our current trajectory.

Stephanie Pincetl
Los Angeles

On The Nature of Cities

Why Should an Urbanist Care About Biodiversity?

Art, Science, Action: Green Cities Re-imagined

Let’s face the facts.

Despite laudable international initiatives for climate change mitigation and environmental preservation [i], major changes in Earth’s balances have been set in motion and we’re starting to experience their consequences: heat records; increased droughts; increased wildfire intensity and frequency; melting of landlocked ice; increased sea level and coastal storm damages; ocean acidification; climate change-based migration flows of human and animal/insect populations, along with pathogens and diseases—without considering the great loss in biodiversity, where one animal or vegetal species disappears every 20 minutes.

Habitat loss is the main cause of biodiversity loss, and a main cause of habitat loss is land use change due to urbanization and transport infrastructure.

Indeed, when the debate is focused on “energy efficiency” and “greentech”, we’ve almost forgotten one major threat for human survival: the survival of all the other inhabitants of our planet. According to the International Union for Conservation of Nature, the extinction rate is between 100 and 1,000 times greater than during the 65 million (!) previous years. As a result, 26,000 (known) species disappear each year, and according to the Living Planet Index 2014 [ii], “population sizes of vertebrate species—mammals, birds, reptiles, amphibians, and fish—have declined by 52 percent over the last 40 years”; that measure is up to 76 percent for freshwater species. According to the IUCN, the picture isn’t rosy for the near future: 25 percent of mammals, 13 percent of birds, and 41 percent of amphibians will disappear in this timeframe, adding to 37 percent of all known species by 2050.

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Figure 1. The Global Living Planet Index is based on trends in 10,380 populations of 3,038 vertebrates (mammal, bird, reptile, amphibian, and fish species). The white line shows the index values and the shaded areas represent the 95 per cent confidence limits surrounding the trend. Image: WWF, ZSL, 2014

Why should you care, if you’re not an enthusiastic nature conservationist?

For three reasons at least:

Firstly, species—from bacteria and viruses to mammals, including humans—are part of the “web of life”, as Fritjof Capra [iii] writes it. “These are the living forms that constitute the fabric of the ecosystems which sustain life on Earth”, says Marco Lambertini, WWF’s International Managing Director.

See also this, on biomimicry as a key path forward.
Life is not the simple addition of all 10 million species: it is their intricate relationships, which form the fabric of ecosystems. On a vertical axis, the food chain—where, for example, ocean acidification is depleting plankton populations to the extent that the whole trophic chain, up to large aquatic mammals and fisheries—is endangered. On the food chain’s horizontal levels, the myriad collaborations that take place—starting in the soil, where thousands of species, such as mycelium and bacteria transform rock and digest dead organic matter, including human pollutants, into a rich earth—form a process that, over 700 or so years, creates 1 cm of soil. Yet, that creation can be destroyed in a few hours by deforestation or new built infrastructure.

On a global level, where all those interactions add to biochemical and geochemical cycles (such as the nitrogen, water, carbon, oxygen, and phosphorus cycles), they have historically maintained the delicate balance of Life. Therefore, biodiversity, from genes, to species, to ecosystems, is paramount to the presence of life on our planet, and to our own survival, notably through all the ecological services it provides [iv].

Despite our great effort to disconnect ourselves from the “web of life”—to the extent that we are investing billions into inventing artificial life-support systems for space exploration—we, human beings, continue to be inextricably tied to this web of life.

Secondly, because we human beings are the main threat to biodiversity and our environment, so, therefore, are we our main threat to our own survival.

Indeed, the primary explanation for biodiversity loss, according to the Living Planet Index, is the degradation, fragmentation, or loss of natural habitat (45 percent), followed by the over-exploitation of resources (37 percent) and climate change (7.1 percent only). Habitat loss is identified as a main threat to 85 percent of all species described on the IUCN’s Red List. Habitat loss is mostly caused by the expansion of agricultural land; intensive harvesting of timber wood for fuel and other forest products; and overgrazing. “Around half of the world’s original forests have disappeared, and they are still being removed at a rate 10x higher than any possible level of regrowth. As tropical forests contain at least half the Earth’s species, the clearance of some 17 million hectares each year is a dramatic loss”, says the Living Planet Report 2014.

But the second main cause for habitat loss is land use change due to urbanization and transport infrastructure. We’re generating a quantity of artificial soil as big as the area of Greece every year. In the European Union alone, such land use change represents 1,000 km2 each year, or 275 hectares per day [v], of artificial soil—the equivalent of Central Park in New York City, or the area of Hungary within one century. Alongside urbanization comes air (and also sound and light) pollution, accounting for 4 percent of biodiversity loss.

The Global Ecological Footprint [vi], published each year by the Global Footprint Network, is a very clear and understandable signal measuring our pressure on our planet’s resources and “biocapacity”: we are using more natural resources than our natural environment can provide, and we would need 1.5 Earths to fulfill our consumption needs (and up to 4 Earths if we all had the living standards of U.S. citizens).

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Figure 2. Global ecological footprint evolution and Earth Overshoot Day forecasts. Image: Global Footprint Network (2016)

With the phenomenal growth of the world’s population, which has added 2 billion people since 1990 and is expected to add 4 billion more by 2100 (3 billion for Africa alone); with the growing concentration of this population in urban areas (from 30 percent of the global population in 1950 to 66 percent by 2050), especially in Africa; with the rise of new economies; and with developing countries seeking the average standards of living in the West, the pressure on our planet is not going to ease.

Figure 3. Countries by Real GDP Growth Rate (2017). Image: Kami888 – Own work; Used a blank map from here., CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=68753479

Experts believe we entered the Anthropocene epoch in the mid 20th century, and our planet is paying the price. As the climate experts from the IPCC noted in their 2007 synthetic report: “Unmitigated climate change would, in the long term, be likely to exceed the capacity of natural, managed, and human systems to adapt. (WGII 20.7, SPM). This description does not even name the biodiversity loss and nitrogen cycle threats that are identified by the Stockholm Resilience Center as the major Earth boundary overshoots, out of ten such factors.

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Figure 4.The Planetary Boundaries. Image: Stockholm Resilience Centre (2009)

To put it more directly, we’re heading toward the wall at full speed, still wondering and discussing how we can slow down; we now have to prepare ourselves for damage (crash?) control, as well as resilience (survival?).

Thus, the third reason we should care about biodiversity is that it might be the solution to our problems. See my next post for details on how using biodiversity could help us achieve sustainability and resilience.

Olivier Scheffer
Paris

On The Nature of Cities

For more information on this subject, read:

“Ecomimicry: Reconnecting Cities—and Ourselves—to Earth’s Balances” on TNOC.

References

[i] the latest being the Paris Agreement at the COP21 – if ratified by 55 countries representing more than 55% of GHG emissions

[ii] “Living Planet Report 2014” from the WWF, the Zoological Society of London, The Global Footprint Network, The Water Footprint network http://www.worldwildlife.org/publications/living-planet-report-2014

[iii] http://www.fritjofcapra.net/books/

[iv] The United Nations Environment Programme made this very clear more than 10 years ago in its Millennium Assessment programme : supporting services (nutrient recycling, primary production, and soil formation), provisioning services (food, raw materials, minerals, water, energy, genetic, and medicinal resources), regulating services (climate regulation; carbon sequestration; waste decomposition and detoxification; purification of water and air; pest and disease control), and cultural services (recreational, therapeutic, educative, historical, spiritual).

[v] « Lignes directrices concernant les meilleures pratiques pour limiter, atténuer ou compenser l’imperméabilisation des sols », Services de la Commission Européenne (2012)
http://ec.europa.eu/environment/soil/pdf/guidelines/pub/soil_fr.pdf

[vi] http://www.footprintnetwork.org/en/index.php/GFN/page/world_footprint/

Linking Urban Science and Society—Putting Good Old Wine in a New Bottle

Art, Science, Action: Green Cities Re-imagined

India is experiencing rapid change as a consequence of 21st century urbanization. Making steady inroads into fertile farmlands, lush forests, thriving wetlands, and productive grasslands, urban expansion is steadily converting biodiverse lands in shades of blues and greens into swathes of gray concrete. The United Nations World Population revision estimates that by 2050, an additional 404 million people will squeeze into India’s already stuffed cities and towns. This adds to the substantial increase in India’s urban population since the country’s independence—the proportion of India’s population that is urban has almost doubled between 1950 and now. Far from tapering off, urbanization will, if predictions prove correct, swiftly accelerate in the coming decades.

Three challenges from India’s urban centers illustrate the urgent need for a new ecological wisdom based on transdisciplinarity.

While India already has three of the world’s ten largest cities (Delhi, Mumbai, and Kolkata), it also now contains three of the world’s 10 fastest growing cities (Ghaziabad, Surat, and Faridabad). Although urbanization is a relatively recent phenomenon for these smaller cities and towns, they represent the face of urbanization to come.

Unprecedented urban growth has given rise to a suite of environmental challenges, ranging from air pollution to flooding, and from feral animal control to epidemic outbreaks. Dealing with these challenges demands a better understanding of how ecological processes interact with social drivers and outcomes in cities. Such knowledge is in short supply. In general, ecologists have tended to ignore cities. Despite the growing attention to urban ecology, there are massive gaps in our knowledge. Cities cannot run well without attention to ecology and to ecological science. And ecological science, in turn, demands a great deal of social science, as well, to glean what people want from cities and from their urban commons. In short, we need more multi-disciplinary and interdisciplinary urban ecological research.

For cities to survive, we need to develop a new ecological wisdom. And that requires a concerted focus on data gaps and new ways of integrative thinking that recognize the importance of technology and science, but which are equally cognizant of, and bounded by, societal needs and requirements for social justice. Three ecological challenges facing Indian cities today—air pollution, flooding, and disease epidemics—illustrate the need for this shift in thinking.

As I write this in November 2016, Delhi is suffering from alarming rates of air pollution, by far the worst experienced by any Indian city so far. Schools and colleges have been ordered closed for a week, and all new construction has been banned while the city struggles to put together a comprehensive plan to combat air pollution. These challenges are not unique to Delhi, of course. A new meta-analysis of data from 245 cities finds that air pollution is responsible for tens of thousands of deaths annually in urban areas worldwide. Nature can serve an important role in combating environmental challenges like air pollution. A number of studies show that trees and plants can play a major role in reducing outdoor and indoor air pollution.

Yet there is still a lot to learn. For instance, much of the research assessing the role of trees on reducing air pollution has been conducted in parks. In comparison, street trees, which may have a greater role to play in reducing air pollution by virtue of their location along conduits of high traffic, where air pollutants are often concentrated, are less studied. Nor do we have a consensus on the types of trees that are most efficient at reducing outdoor air pollution, in contrast to our knowledge of how to combat indoor air pollution via plants. Adding to the health challenges of air pollution is the problem of urban heat islands, which are caused by unchecked concretization, and are linked both to the disappearance of lakes and wetlands and to the clearing of trees. Faced with one of the worst heat waves in recorded history this year, Indian cities faced exceptional maximum temperatures in summer due to a vicious combination of extreme events triggered by climate change and urbanization.

Air pollution and heat strokes affect the poor and homeless much more than the wealthy, making the already substantial challenges of environmental injustice in cities worse. Heat waves make people angry, stressed, and deeply depressed, another side effect of urbanization that is exacerbated by the foolishness with which we disregard our environment. We need local research that can identify the best tree and plant species for urban heat island mitigation and air pollution remediation in different cities, taking into consideration local ecologies, the characteristics of local architecture, and sources of pollution. This requires investment by local municipalities, which is deficient because of the lack of awareness of the importance of finding natural ecological solutions to urban environmental problems.

Identifying a set of recommended species for urban planting is not just a question of ecology; it involves economic and cultural preferences as well. Often, urban planners and planning documents count numbers of trees, and plan targets for millions of trees to be planted, quite as if one tree were the same as another. Thus, New York has a Million Trees Program, while Mexico City has recently announced plans to plant 18 million trees to combat air pollution. Yet, there is little description of what species they plan to plant.

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Bigger, more established trees provide more ecosystem and socioecological services. Photo: Harini Nagendra
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Younger trees with smaller canopies provide less shade and, therefore, less cooling. Photo: Lionel Sujay Vailshery

Trees come in a range of shapes and sizes. A street lined by majestic trees that are close to a century old, with massive canopies, will receive much greater shade and protection from pollution than a street lined by young trees with small canopies that only shade the median. Similarly, our discussions with street vendors and city walkers alike suggest a strong preference for trees with shade (understandably so). Business districts with street cafes and restaurants value trees, especially in hot cities where a street vendor located under the strategic shade of a tree can expect to do brisk business. But trees mean much more to people than the size of their canopies. Along with science, social science research must play a role in helping planners to understand what trees to plant.

Cultural preferences for species vary across cities. In Bangalore, people prefer the honge (Pongamia pinnata), whose shade is believed to be good for health, and the neem (Azadirachta indica), whose air is believed to heal breathing disorders. The South African city of Pretoria is covered by tens of thousands of beautiful Jacaranda trees, which turn the city’s skyline purple during the flowering season from September to November. Despite being imported from Brazil, these trees form a beloved part of the city’s cultural identity. While cherry blossom (Prunus spp.) trees are famous in their country of origin—Japan—many cities across the world, including São Paulo, Hamburg, Vancouver, and Washington DC have areas planted with cherry blossom trees that are prized by the city. Can we prepare a list of species for each city that satisfies local socio-cultural and ecological requirements? Species that are relatively hardy, stress tolerant, provide shade, and reduce air pollution, that people also like to see, sit under, and walk around? Such information should be easy to collect, yet the published literature on this is lacking.

Other urban ecological issues urgently demand the generation of new local knowledge through interdisciplinary and transdisciplinary collaborations. Flooding and drought constitute widespread challenges across cities. Severe floods put most of Chennai under water towards the end of 2015, for instance. Many cities, including Bangalore and Chennai, have become dependent on ground water. Both flooding and drought can be controlled by the reclamation of urban wetlands and lakes, which have become casualties to urban development.

The municipality of Bangalore recently undertook a much-publicized demolition drive to remove illegal encroachments on wetlands and connecting stormwater channels. Many vulnerable local residents lost their homes and life savings during this time Yet, as many argue, the topography of the city has already been profoundly altered by construction. City planners rely on maps that are over a century old to reconstruct the hydrology of water bodies that were built to supply a city that held a fraction of its current population. In addition to transformations in topography, transformations have taken place in the hydrology of most urban water bodies. From being largely seasonal and rain fed, they have transformed into essentially perennial and sewage fed. Such fundamental transformations in the ecology and hydrology of urban water bodies requires research to determine new ways of management. This necessitates collaborations between hydrologists, ecologists, landscape architects, and urban planners, along with community activists who can help figure out management solutions, such as alternative options for urban hydrology that can help vulnerable residents avoid the risk of demolition of their homes.

Vector borne disease epidemics constitute a third ecological challenge of increasing magnitude. Malaria, chikangunya, dengue, Japanese encephalitis, and other diseases—some known, others unknown—have swept across Indian cities from north to south and from east to west. We do know that it is a wicked combination of heat, rainfall, poor sanitation, and poor drainage that play a role in the spread of mosquitoes. But mosquitoes have proved very difficult to control. Many cities rely on insecticide fogging around lakes, garbage dumps, and other places where stagnant water may persist. Fogging is only a short term solution, and a partial one at that; it leads to other problems of toxicity and insecticide resistance over time. What we need instead is better insights into the altered mechanisms of spread of the mosquito in urban areas. Anecdotal reports suggest that the Aedes aegypti mosquito (the main carrier of dengue and chikangunya), which was originally a daylight feeder, has adapted to urban environments with artificial light, and now actively bites at night in areas that are well lit. Other studies suggest that urban mammal companions—such as dogs, cattle, pigs and goats—act as incompetent or dead end reservoirs for the virus, slowing down disease transmission. Both these points suggest that some diseases may, ironically, spread faster in wealthier environments with bright night lights, and which are kept free of stray dogs and free ranging livestock. In the absence of research on the social and ecological factors that influence the spread of mosquitoes in crowded urban environments, we can only speculate. Cutting edge research on urban diseases is urgently needed, and requires focus by municipal authorities, public health officials, and epidemiologists. Trandisciplinary, collaborative research could go a long way in solving urban disease challenges.

Some of the research questions that emerge, such as which are the best trees to plant to reduce air pollution or urban heat island effects in specific cities, are local problems that require local studies. Others, such as understanding the role of urban livestock and artificial lighting in disease transmission, or the impact of changing hydrology on the management of urban wetlands, have global and regional implications. Yet all of these are critical for urban sustainability and greater livability and well-being in cities. Why, then, is urban transdisciplinary research so hard to find? Part of the reason may lie in the lack of attention by municipalities and funding agencies, who need to be educated on the importance of ecological research and urban ecological design for providing adaptive solutions to many pressing urban environmental challenges. But another problem is that such research is often rather unattractive for scientists. The information it provides is relevant locally, rather than internationally, causing such research to have a reduced likelihood of acceptance in well-cited international journals, an important currency of recognition for scientists.

Urban sustainability demands sustained, bottom-up transdisciplinary research, driven by collaborations between scientists, community members, urban activists, city planners, and corporate actors—as well as poets, visual artists, musicians, and writers. We need dialogues within cities, but also across cities. Here is where conversations, such as those seen in many of The Nature of Cities’ blogs and roundtables, play a role. Transdisciplinarity requires being in for the long haul. It demands the building of trust between disparate actors, such as activists, corporations, and state officials—many of whom have been traditionally at loggerheads with one another—developing a shared language. None of this is easy, which is why it has not been done before. But it is urgent. We need to learn from the past, but look to finding solutions for the future. We need old wine—a richer understanding of traditional social-cultural preferences for urban ecology—in a new bottle, shaped by cutting edge scientific research.

Harini Nagendra
Bangalore

On The Nature of Cities

A Barley Field Grows on Soviet Concrete

Art, Science, Action: Green Cities Re-imagined

In the summer of 2016, the largest Soviet-era residential area of Estonia was living a new life. The district Lasnamäe, including Estonia’s capital city, Tallinn, was built in the late 70s, but it has fallen into stagnation. Little has changed since its inception, and those big plans are still unfinished. A vast traffic channel to the city center is waiting for a planned-but-never-built central tramway. The road, the bridges, and the stairways-to-nowhere are completed, desperately waiting for the tram.

The installation of a barley field where a planned tramway lays empty reminds us of the cycles of nature and life.

This summer, Lasnamäe’s urban plan got a new mid-term solution: I and another young designer planted a barley field on the unused stairs in the middle of the highway. Ann Press and I are both practicing interior architects and Master’s degree students at the Estonian Academy of Arts’ Interior Architecture Department. What started off as schoolwork for us grew into a significant urban installation.

The idea of a barley field installation came from history—barley was the earliest crop grown in Estonia and was grown in the area of Lasnamäe in circa 500-600 BC. Because the culture of barley growing was brought to Estonia from Russia, and the tramway stairs mark the border between Estonian- and Russian-speaking districts, the art installation carried an idea of integration for us. The aim of the barley field was to bring some contrasting softness, some life and progress to this industrial area, but also to encourage the locals to take steps towards changing their living environment, instead of waiting for the authorities to do it, given that the tram has still not arrived after over 40 years.

https://vimeo.com/181689206

This project was founded by a crowdfunding campaign, built and cut with the help of volunteers. The soil—45 tons of it—was carried on the stairs bucket by bucket. By the end of September, the crop was ripe and we held a harvesting party for the stair-field.

We made the harvested crop a gift for the crowdfunders; some if it is now living a new life as jewelry, while some of it was taken to a laboratory for tests that will calculate air pollution levels of the area.

Throughout the summer, the stairs of barley offered the district a new puff of life—young, verdant seedlings growing and turning into a ripe yellow barley field, reminding us of the cycles of nature and life.

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The installation begins. Photo: Hendrik Osula
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Spring 2016. Photo: Markus Tamm
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Late Summer 2016. Photo by Tõnu Tunnel / www.tonutunnel.com
LasnaViljaMäe lõikuspidu
Photo: Madis Veltman
LasnaViljaMäe lõikuspidu
Photo: Madis Veltman

Thus far, the locals  and the media have given us only positive feedback, which is the most important thing; some of the residents of Lasnamäe have even contacted us to ask how to get the permissions to build their community gardens in Lasnamäe. And this was what our art installation was aiming for—to encourage people to make changes in their district themselves, not to wait for a tram that has not still arrived for 40 years.

Andrea Tamm & Ann Press
Tallinn, Estonia

On The Nature of Cities

Social Media Sharks and Tell-Tale Vultures—Connecting to Nature in a Digital Age

Art, Science, Action: Green Cities Re-imagined

Nature is being lost all around us. It is alarming in its implications for both livability and sustainability. How can we better connect to nature in a distracted digital world? Although it may not be intuitive, these are also promising times because of all the digital tools and technology we now have at our disposal, and the hope they hold to connect us in meaningful ways to the nature around us. Whether technology will make a difference and help to ignite conservation actions or support for conservation, remains to be seen, but there is evidence that these digital connections help to change our point of view in some important ways. Can these digital interactions—while obviously not substitutions for time spent watching, listening to, and enjoying nature “in real life”—add an important element of enjoyment and meaning, especially for urbanites who may be far removed from nature?

Through digital connections, we are extending our innate curiosity and softening our hearts to vultures and sharks, and many other species.

In January of 2016, I had the pleasure of attending the USAID Environmental Officers Workshop, a meeting that brought environmental staff from posts all over the world. On one day, the organizers showed a short video, in Spanish—a public service announcement that described an innovative effort to use GPS-tagged vultures to find illegal trash dumps in Lima, Peru. It was a fascinating story and sent me on the search to find out how this initiative came about and what its impact has been.

The story partly intrigued me because of a longstanding affection I’ve had for vultures, mostly Turkey Vultures, which I got know when I was a glider pilot in my youth. We used to watch them spiralling and aimed our sailplanes in their direction in hopes of catching the thermals they intuitively knew were there. Not many other people, I discovered, had much affection for Turkey Vultures, and of course many them ugly; some see these “nature’s-cleaner-uppers” as downright revolting. For me, they have remained most majestic creatures, creatures that have perfected the art of soaring with nary a movement of wings. Their effortless ability to stay afloat, and their graceful movements, have been nothing less than miraculous to me, and an endless source of wonder and joy to watch.

Many of the details of the story of the Lima vultures (American Black Vultures, Coragyps atratus) I learned from Lawrence Rubey, the USAID official in Lima who helped to initiate this unique program. In partnership with ornithologists at the University of San Marcos and the Lima Natural History Museum, the idea was to use GPS-tagged vultures to raise awareness about environmental issues, especially the problem of clandestine garbage dumps, a major problem in Lima. Their team eventually tagged 10 vultures, and they can be tracked in real time online. One can visit their website and watch the blinking icons of vultures to locate their current positions and where they have traveled and visited. Two of the vultures were, for a time, outfitted with Go-Pro cameras, which generated some impressive footage of what it might be like to be a soaring vulture. Each of the vultures was given a distinctive name—there were Grifo and Elpis, and Captain Higgin (the vultures were grouped into three teams, each with a captain!). The vultures have indeed been used to identify garbage dumps, leading to the next step, the organizing of community-based cleanups.

An American Black Vulture (Coragyps atratus) in Lima.
Lima’s Black Vultures contribute to waste reduction.
A recent collaboration between ornithologists at the University of San Marcos, the Lima Natural History Museum, and USAID allows scientists to track individual vultures to illegal dumping sites.

The initiative was seen as a way to educate about the broader issues of climate change and the environment. USAID and the Peruvian Ministry of the Environment viewed learning about garbage through the creative lens of vultures as a broader “gateway” to environmental awareness and local action.

Remarkably, the vultures seem to have captured the imagination of many in Lima, and the story has become as much about how the initiative has changed the ways the public sees this oft-maligned species as about pollution. Rubey tells me there have been some 4 million social media interactions—including Facebook, Twitter, and video views. Most telling has been the ways in which human hearts seem to have softened for these vultures. The whole idea, Rubey told me in a recent phone conversation, “was to draw people into the website through social media and then leverage that into community action.” This has certainly happened, leading to a number of neighborhood-based garbage cleanup events.

The campaign does seem to have improved the local view of vultures, Rubey tells me, from what was a negative view. “But you read through on Facebook and Twitter and you look at the comments and people are saying “how cute, how sweet,” because each of the vultures has a persona and a name and would ‘make’ its own posts. The response that came back was very, very positive about them as individuals, and people have favorites…” The initiative has personalized the vultures in a way that makes it hard to feel disgusted by them.

Exchanging tweets with a Great White Shark

Similar digital connections are being made in the marine realm, and to similar effect. The nonprofit Ocearch, for instance, has been tagging sharks and providing real-time information online about their whereabouts. These tagged sharks include a great white shark named Mary Lee, who has a Twitter account that now has more than 100,000 followers. Mary Lee (it was recently discovered that the real author of her tweets is a reporter for the Raleigh News and Observer) tweets and her followers tweet her back, sending a variety of personal messages, from wishing her a happy Mother’s Day, to encouraging her to return soon to their state or region. Along the way, followers appear to be learning about the shark—there are images, there is information about weight and distance traveled, and, in the end, perhaps there is a sense of something familiar: a digital friendship that helps to overcome the remoteness, the strong sense of “otherness,” that a creature such as a great white shark engenders.

I spoke recently to Ocearch founder Chris Fischer, who discussed the ways in which his shark tagging has helped people to overcome the perhaps understandable disconnect (or aversion) that they feel towards sharks. Fischer and his Ocearch crew have tagged some 300 sharks, including about 80 great whites (Mary Lee is named after Chris’s mom). The tagging trips are usually collaborations with marine scientists, including from Woods Hole and the Mote Marine lab. Fischer points to the value of this more public-inclusive mode of science, and notes the many biological insights the trips and the tagging have generated.

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Beachgoers in Cape Cod attempt to save a 14-foot Great White Shark. Digital campaigns to raise awareness about species have helped soften the reputations of historically maligned species, such as the Great White.

Fischer argues that most of the fear of sharks stems from a fear of the unknown. “The only time we heard about a shark was when something bad happened and now we’re talking about, ‘Could Mary Lee be pregnant? Where is she giving birth? Where is the mating site?’” Facts, curiosity, and wonder replace fear. The secret to these successes seems to involve engaging the public—getting their attention and interesting them in caring about these creatures.

“And we’re having thousands of ongoing conversations throughout every day of the year,” says Fischer, “instead of just the odd shark attack story really driving how people feel. We’re replacing this fear of the unknown with the first facts and information that people can see and be a part of. That’s allowed us to engage them in not only solving the problem of where they’re [the sharks] mating, giving birth, and migrating, but also to help them then understand why sharks are important.”

Including the public in science gives provides people with different avenues for contact and connection “by allowing people to find their way into the project, whether it’s communicating with the shark on Twitter or tracking a shark on the tracker and then Tweeting or Facebooking a scientist with a question, and connecting all these dots for people in real time, in the now,” Fisher says. The Ocearch Facebook page now has more than 440,000 likes, so its content and photos are clearly being seen.

These modern digital tools are also proving to be helpful in the classroom, where elementary school students are following sharks in real time, learning about their biology, writing in journals about these subjects, and generally replacing fear with fascination. Fischer tells me they have been working with a dozen schools to integrate a K-12 educational curriculum focused on the sharks, and to use this information in teaching other subjects, from math to physics.

To understand the impact of this programming, take, for example, the case of the first grade class at the Highlands Elementary School in New Jersey, which has been keeping track of Mary Lee. They have made a 16-foot paper replica of her that adorns the front wall of their classroom. According to their teacher, Colleen Acerra, these students—who write about Mary Lee in their journals—are quite fond of the Great White Shark, ”They love her,” said Acerra, who was quoted in the Asbury Park Press. “They love tracking her. They love learning all about her and they’re wondering if she’s pregnant…Some people think she’s pregnant and some people think she’s just following the tuna run up and down the coast.”

Fischer sees real change happening in the way sharks are being perceived, pointing to a recent episode in which Cape Cod beachgoers worked frantically to save a 14-foot great white shark. The image of people digging in the sand, passing buckets of water, pulling together a rope in an effort to get the shark back to open water is impressive to see, although it ended up being futile (you can watch the video here) While the behavior of people in Cape Cod may not be the direct result of Mary Lee tweets, these social media connections are likely quite helpful to sharks.

Such efforts can lead to real and significant scientific insights, and can result in more effective management and protection. The GTOPP—Global Tagging of Pelagic Predators—has also tagged and tracking marine organisms, including sharks. Barbara Block, of Stanford, has been a leading force behind this effort, tagging sharks as well as Bluefin tuna, elephant seals, and California sea lions, among other species. Some species, such as the Pacific Bluefin tuna, are doing poorly, with populations estimated at only about 5 percent of what they had been before extensive commercial fishing. How to protect and manage this species is a real challenge, which motivated Block and her colleagues to organize a recent Bluefin Futures Symposium held at the Monterey Bay Aquarium. Tracking has led to an understanding of where essential feeding grounds are located, including the area off the northwest coast of the U.S., where nutrient uplifting happens every spring. Block has called this area our “Blue Serengeti” (in a compelling illustration of the power of language to help us connect with and understand the importance of this essential piece of seascape). Can tracking this species ignite a level of engagement with and concern for tuna, and perhaps create the political space and cover for the tough management and conservation decisions necessary to ensure that Pacific Bluefin tuna doesn’t, as Block says, “go the way of the cod”? It is hard to know, but the new ways that technology may allow us to “wire the ocean” through a network of WiFi buoys and wave gliders are promising.

There are many other creative ways, of course, that our modern digital technologies can foster nature connections. Our iPhones and tablets provide almost unlimited opportunities to record the natural world around us and to effortlessly share these images, observations, and experiences with friends and family. We are able prod, induce, and incite with our Twitter posts, and Twitter and social media campaigns have proven to be effective methods for encouraging more nature-full lives.

The Wildlife Trusts in the U.K., offer one recent example of this power to motivate in the form of a social media campaign encouraging participants to engage in “random acts of wildness,” at least one per day for a whole month. Through the nationwide 30 Days Wild challenge, some 25,000 participants signed up to participate, including thousands of students. Some 2,000 schools around the U.K. participated. Participants in the challenge received an info packet via email with ideas for engaging in wild acts, stickers, and a wall chart for tracking progress over the month. Participants were encouraged to take photos of these acts of wildness and to tweet them using the hashtag #30DaysWild, as well as to post them to Instagram and Facebook. From bug hunts to food foraging, to mapping the wildlife in one’s neighborhood, citizens expressed their wildness in many different ways; people wrote many blog posts (and even received awards for the best blogs), snapped photos, and recorded videos. The challenge was a huge success—20 days into the month of June, there had already been more than 1 million “random acts of wildness.”

In these ways, we are beginning to shift from seeing social media, and the emerging digital tools and technologies through which we navigate it, not only or primarily as distractions, but also as tools for nature reconnection. While we are still collectively learning how to harness the power of the digital realm, these examples provide at least some positive counter-story, demonstrating that the same tools by which we are stitching together a global human commons might also be useful in helping to craft an even more inclusive global commons of life. These tools, from Twitter to Facebook, offer benefits of immediacy and, for many, sheer fun.

Anything we can do to overcome the cognitive and emotional gulf that exists between humans and the many other species we share the world with is helpful. We live in a world where ubiquitous technology, including iPhones and handheld devices of various kinds, offers the opportunity to instantly learn about and connect with nature. This technology provides the chance to see and experience nature and to follow it in real time—both nearby (the black vultures above, the great white shark just offshore), and far away (the Bluefin tuna swimming in the middle of the Pacific ocean). These connections are fleeting, and the digital bonds feel cursory and shallow. But through them, we are extending our innate curiosity and softening our hearts to vultures and sharks, and many other species—which suggests that we are laying some foundations for the development of a deeper sense of understanding and caring.

Tim Beatley
Charlottesville

On The Nature of Cities

Tim Ingold’s “Sustainability of Everything”

Art, Science, Action: Green Cities Re-imagined

A review of Tim Ingold‘s lecture event “The Sustainability of Everything” at the Centre for Human Ecology, Pearce Institute, Glasgow, Scotland

Sustainability is an overused word.

It is much diminished by its occurrence in too many documents purporting to suggest that transport, local government or this tea or those coffee beans are “sustainable”. Grant applications ask how the project will be “sustainable” after the funding period. But we know that sustainability matters: we need to understand how to live without compromising the lives of future generations. Whether we subscribe to “business as usual, but greener” or the more radical “accelerationism” or “degrowth”, there are alternative ways of thinking about sustainability.

Tim Ingold’s approach to sustainability opens up new ways of experiencing and knowing which are more process- than object-oriented.

The provocative phrase “sustainability of everything”, the title of Tim Ingold’s talk, came from being asked to address sustainability in relation to art and science, citizenship and democracy, love and friendship. Ingold used “everything”, including qualities and processes, as a way to open up a trenchant criticism of not merely the usage of sustainability, the word, but more widely, the focus on thinking of sustainability in terms of stocks rather than processes.

Tim Ingold is Professor of Anthropology at the University of Aberdeen. He is known for his distinctive arts-and-humanities inflected approach to anthropology, and is currently leading “Knowing from the Inside”, a major European Research Council funded project involving anthropologists, archaeologists, architects and artists. For Ingold the question of sustainability is not “How can we carry on doing what we are doing but with a bit less waste and impact?” but rather “What kind of world has a place for us and future generations?” “What does “carrying on” mean?” and, more practically speaking, “How do we make it happen?”

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“Redwings in the Little Asby Hawthorn near Orton, Cumbria” This lone tree is one of seven trees from “The Long View”, a two-year photography and writing project involving repeated meetings with these trees and an exploration of the landscape and stories that surround them. Credit: Rob Fraser / somewhere-nowhere.com

“Everything”, in Ingold’s sense, is not the collection of all the individual bits, but something different. He contends that the problem with current science and current constructions of sustainability is their reliance on isolating something to analyse it. Ingold comes at things looking for movement and entanglement rather than boundary. To make this point he regularly uses examples where either one doesn’t know where one thing ends and another starts, or examples of things in motion. He asks, for instance, whether the bird’s nest is part of the tree? Or whether the wind that has made the tree grow bent over is part of the tree? He asks if you can tell which part of the eddy in the stream is the “inside” and which is the “outside”? Of course, for artists, relationships between elements are at the heart of the process of composition. Artists’ process of composition explores exactly this sense of “what needs to be included” for something to “make sense”.

The importance of this approach, which highlights entanglements, is that it opens up new ways both of experiencing and knowing which are more process-oriented rather than object-oriented. Artists, in particular, respond enthusiastically to this way of knowing.

In his talk, Ingold developed this thread further, using Lucretius’ idea that everything is in motion, and when things bump into each other, they form knots—clouds are knots of water and temperature and wind. Trees are complex knots. Ingold evolves the idea of knots by pointing out that rope stays together through a combination of twist and friction. He notes that harmony (e.g. in polyphonic music) is a human creation making use of the principle—a combination of elements that in themselves might initially appear to be in conflict, but in relationship with each other are beautiful. Here again, he’s nodding to artists’ ways of knowing. In his terms, everything is a “correspondence of parts”—not a totality, but rather a carrying on.

In essence, Ingold is offering an indigenous ecological philosophy (based on his field work with the Sami)—his anthropology has moved beyond documenting and understanding indigenous world views to embracing them as a way of knowing and being in the world. To fully understand the implications of his process-oriented view of entanglement, it’s worth reading Barry Lopez’s “The Invitation”. Lopez articulates the immersion of indigenous people he has travelled with, beautifully describing encounters with bears and how his companions experience the unfolding of events; the bear is not an object to be viewed, but rather almost a field of influence which extends temporally and spatially.

After setting up this alternative way of understanding, Ingold highlighted how current formulations of sustainability are underpinned by an assumption that the “entire Earth is a standing reserve” and that we need to protect the Earth in the way that a company protects its profits. He drew attention to the underlying corporate or management language implicit in these descriptions of sustainability and how this is true of conservation organisations as much as corporations and governments. Furthermore, of course, Paulo Friere provided a deep critique of the “banking” model of education, which is closely aligned with this accounting version of sustainability.

Having established what he meant by “everything”, Ingold went on to construct an idea of “carrying on”. To do this, he referred to traditional ways of forestry in Japan, where there is a dynamic relationship between the forester, the forest, and the building of a house articulated in a 30 year cycle—trees take 30 years to grow, and a house needs to be renewed every 30 years. Trees are planted, foresters learn to build houses, trees are cut to build houses, trees are planted. It is very different from the forms of plantation forestry and clear-felling we experience across much of Scotland.

As he concluded, Ingold came back to the themes of art and science, citizenship and democracy, peace and friendship. He suggested that science has reneged on its commitment to understanding the world in ways that are useful for life, and that in his view environmental arts do this more effectively now. He talked about the need for a politics of difference and the importance of embracing tension and agonism (which emphasizes accepting that struggle and conflict are inherent to politics).

There are a few key points that are worth teasing out of Ingold’s valuable line of argument for reflection.

Firstly, the construction of sustainability currently offered in “sustainable development” and “ecosystems services” is fundamentally human-centric and has lost any connection with the “existence value” of the non-human, as constructed by the likes of Arne Naess, Gregory Bateson, and many others who were early inspirations of the environmental movement (and remain very influential on environmental arts).* Ingold’s focus on entanglement and movement is a useful counter to “banking” approaches. Understanding the world in terms of process rather than focusing on the objects is also characteristic of the arts and, in particular, of environmental arts. So many artists working with the environment make work that is both temporal and temporary, seeking to bring audiences and participants into new relationships with ecologies.

Secondly, we need to recognise that our current construction of sustainability is only one possible construction, built in terms of conventional ethics that are essentially a form of Utilitarianism—seeking to provide the greatest good for the greatest number. In this respect, our current construction suffers from all the criticisms of Utilitarianism in being fundamentally subjective and, in environmental terms, challenging—for example, a simplistic line of thought often promoted by architects and urban planners holds that, if more than half the world’s population lives in cities, then what is good for cities must be good for humans.

The point is that Ingold is providing an underpinning articulation of “being” that asks for a different ethics—one which accepts conflicts, but accords value to the connectedness of everything and its motion. In his talk, he positively argued against the conservation of trees and in favour of the carrying on of planting and growing, felling and building, as a cycle. Perhaps Ingold doesn’t go far enough in focusing on the cyclical relationship—Helen Mayer Harrison and Newton Harrison, eminent ecological artists known as “the Harrisons”, argue that we need to “put more back into ecological systems than we take out” in our carrying on. By this, they mean that we need to positively contribute to ecological cycles, reduce the generation of entropy and work to produce greater biodiversity, strengthening ecological cycles.

Ingold’s construction, particularly of “knots” is useful if we recognise that we humans are arch constructors of knots. Everything we make is some sort of knot, whether it’s food or paths or roads or houses or nuclear power stations or mustard gas or satellites. And if we can imagine a knot, then we will make it. If it’s been imagined, then someone, somewhere, is trying to make it. That’s an interesting ethical dilemma. It’s prompted discussions around what “responsible innovation” might be. How can we create knots that make for healthier places for all living things?

Chris Fremantle
Ayrshire, Scotland

On The Nature of Cities

Video of Tim Ingold’s talk held at the Centre for Human Ecology on 10 September 2016.

 

Footnotes:

*I’m indebted to Dave Pritchard for elucidating this evolution through the sequence of major environmental summits starting in Stockholm in 1972 and progressing in 10 yearly intervals through to Rio+20 in 2012. He correlated this process with the shift from an environmentalism of “existence value” through to “ecosystem services” and “sustainable development”. Each Summit sought to achieve greater policy impact and, as a result, Pritchard suggests each Summit can be understood as a step away from intrinsic values towards utilitarian and anthropocentric policy.

Uses and Abuses of Preservation

Art, Science, Action: Green Cities Re-imagined

The current system of zoning and planning is wrongly fixated on maintaining state instead of preserving good patterns, and changing this fixation will be the key to making growth beneficial to all civic stakeholders.

The most contentious issue in North American urbanism today is preservation. More than transportation, more than usage-zoning, more than health and safety, more than growth, which all had their day as the driving intent of urban planning, preservation is now the intent behind the most politically active movements in planning. Politically active is the important distinction, since unlike other areas, preservation does not grow out of a forward-thinking ideology, but is essentially reactionary, arising from local residents organizing and pressuring local elected powers to keep things close to their current state.

What passes as preservation today is not so much the enhancement of a valuable feature but a rejection of change.

Many reasons are typically given by political groups for why the restrictions are necessary, from protecting communities against gentrification, traffic, rising housing costs or falling housing costs, to protecting endangered local species or ecologies. Typically, the effect of those policies is always the same: rising housing costs as demographic pressure increases demand, while supply has been fixed at current levels. “Housing costs”, in this case, is a term of confusion: the building stock is not becoming more expensive to maintain, but the rent carried by the scarcity of habitable space is increasing. The residents feel richer from rising property values (despite living in the exact same houses, and deriving the same enjoyment from them), the local politicians are reelected, and everyone seems happy with the outcome, until someone forms the Rent Is Too Damn High Party.

It turns out that keeping things exactly the same is a form of economic exclusion that exploits demographic trends, namely, denying access to new households formed by the young and newcomers. A fixed housing supply means every new household has to take the home of an existing one, and households who wish to expand must take homes away from other households. It is unsustainable, unfair, and otherwise possible only because of a mismatch of scales between building code legislation (local) and demographic pressure (regional).

The solution of merging local urban governments into larger urban megacities, or taking their land use powers to a higher tier of government (as is the case, for instance, in Japan), has been used to settle the matter in now-booming construction markets such as Toronto, where more residential towers are under construction than in any other North American city except for Mexico City. It is a solution that is clear, simple, obvious, and wrong. It is wrong because it is politically unstable and requires constant force to maintain itself.

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Rob Ford’s electoral support map shows the deep antagonism of citizens living in Toronto’s suburbs, versus its down town residents.  — Torontoist

Toronto is the poster child for urban amalgamation in North America, having been redrawn by its provincial governing body to include over a million residents in sprawling suburbs such as Scarborough and Etobicoke that would easily constitute major cities on their own elsewhere. While such mergers may look like a success at the moment, the election and subsequent global infamy of Mayor Rob Ford shows that forced cohabitation in a political institution between suburbanites and world capital cities can have the opposite outcome than the one sought by amalgamation. Rob Ford was elected by mass support of the amalgamated suburbs. Current mayor John Tory, elected for his first term in 2014 but who received little support from the suburbs, will be judged by how suburbanites perceive their success in the political life of the city, instead of feeling as though they are solely a source of tax income. Should he fail, someone cleverer than Rob Ford (perhaps his brother Doug) will successfully harness the suburban electorate’s resentment to propel himself to power over Toronto’s newly ultra-dense central core, and this cycle of division will continue.

“These are very small, technical changes which actually don’t make any difference to who needs to come to council,” Mayor Naheed Nenshi told reporters Monday. “I’m frankly dumbfounded that there has been this much debate over them.” — Mayor of Calgary Naheed Nenshi fights councillors over accessory units in a suburban-dominated city

I personally feel this political cycle to be wasteful and unnecessary, and therefore propose a fractal view of urban incorporation and regulation, where cities are delimited by purpose and specialization. This would mean that local property owners would continue to wield the power to restrict new construction in their neighborhoods. I think they have the right to do so, that in fact it is the better outcome for them, although it may not yield the best possible outcome for everyone at the global scale.

To transform the outcome from a local optimum to a simultaneous global optimum, I will present an argument for a system of preservation that I hope will satisfy both the anxieties of property owners and the demographic pressures faced by cities. I argue that the current system of zoning and planning is wrongly fixated on maintaining the current state instead of preserving patterns, and that changing this fixation will be the key to making change and growth beneficial to all city residents.

Before such a claim can make sense, we need a framework to analyze preservation and show what makes it appealing and successful. We must step back in time to the first applications of preservation, when it was once synonymous with urban planning. We will then demonstrate its evolution into more layered systems of preservation — including systems designed as recently as twenty years ago — to show that the problem with the ruling building codes is their insistence on stopping change instead of allowing it. Preservation succeeds with change, not by working against it.

* * *

The tradition of “town planning”, until roughly the mid-19th century, meant preserving a system of spaces for movement that would not fail when a settlement grew into a populated city. There were fashions in this tradition, such as the Roman grid being rediscovered and reinvented as the baroque radial grid, some nationalistic styles such as the English crescent, and some ideological patterns such as the Manhattan grid, meant to maximize economic activity. What this kind of planning presumes is that open space for circulation is scarce, fragile, and completely fundamental to a city’s success, and by regulating what space may or may not be built upon, some large-scale success can be achieved. In contrast, an “unplanned” town may be a random settlement that increased in density until the natural paths became contested and protected from further encroachment — notable examples include the medieval cores of Rome, Paris, or London. These protected spaces eventually became named streets that lasted centuries, perhaps millennia, though their design has improved over time, acquiring pavements, sewers, lighting, subways, circulation signals, bike lanes, shared spaces, and so on. This phenomenon of preserved structures improving over time will be essential to the success of preservation as a method, as we will see next.

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Sir Christopher Wren’s city plan for London never overcame the forces preserving the existing street grid, despite the building stock having been razed by the Great Fire. The street grid was nevertheless improved by widening.

“The idea is pretty simple. Take nine square blocks of city. (It doesn’t have to be nine, but that’s the ideal.) Rather than all traffic being permitted on all the streets between and among those blocks, cordon off a perimeter and keep through traffic, freight, and city buses on that. … In the interior, allow only local vehicles, traveling at very low speeds, under 10 mph. And make all the interior streets one-way loops (see the arrows on the green streets below), so none of them serve through streets.” — Barcelona’s 19th-century hygienist grid evolves to 21st-century mixed-use superblocks.

While open space may be the most strategic endowment that a city starts with, other kinds of endowments may also be given by the natural world. The Mediterranean world of the late Roman and Byzantine Empire began a tradition of preserving the sea itself, in addition to access to light and space to circulate in town. When new building was called for due to natural demographic change, this building had to conform to strict rules regarding existing buildings’ lines-of-sight to the sea.

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The growth of the Mandelbrot set fractal preserves the set through a sequence of successive iterations, leaving greater complexity at each step.

Mediterranean building codes assumed change was natural and constant and described how cities could change by implementing proscriptions on growth. The details of the rules relied strongly on context, making the system of preservation highly adaptive and, over time, increasing the natural complexity of the boundary between the city and the sea. In other words, the feedback loop introduced by the preservation of sea views and the construction of new windows onto those views gradually created a very deep fractal, so that gradually the natural beauty of this fractal overcame the beauty of the sea. This explains the popularity of sites such as Santorini, which, despite being located in the middle of nowhere (it is reached only by boat and accessed by riding a donkey up narrow stairs) and having no remarkable landmarks or attractions, is one of the most famous tourist destinations of the Mediterranean.

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A view worth a donkey-ride? An increasing number of visitors think so. Image: Wikimedia

While a town where everyone painted their homes in pastel colors may suddenly discover that pastel houses are now part of the definition of the town, and may elect to preserve the practice by requiring new buildings to also be painted in pastel colors, there are conditions to this type of “historic” preservation that must be respected. Most significantly, historic landmarks are only effective within the historic context that produced them.

Paris Las Vegas as seen from the Bellagio on a sunny summer day in the afternoon.
The Eiffel Tower, Las Vegas, Nevada. Image: Wikipedia

The Eiffel Tower is often used as a kind of logical defence for bad architecture; the claim is that it was rejected by Parisians when it was first built, but came to be loved later on. It follows that people grow to love old things simply through the impact of time; therefore, ugly things only need time to be loved. The absurdity of the claim is obvious when the Eiffel Tower is reproduced as an exact replica in a completely opposite context from its original place, in Las Vegas, Nevada, as the landmark attraction of a casino resort. We see that without the surrounding context of the Champ de Mars public garden and the Seine river, without the Parisian urban fabric framing it, without the historical importance of the tower as the centerpiece of a landmark universal exhibition, the Eiffel Tower framed by Las Vegas hotel blocks and Nevada desert is actually quite silly, although cutely ornate, in comparison. No one would feel any sadness if its demolition were announced today, because it ultimately means nothing in history. The Eiffel Tower of Paris, on the other hand, represents a golden age for France — it is the sole remaining structure of Paris’ universal exhibition, and has come to be the iconic logo of the city to the rest of the world. The Eiffel Tower no doubt played a major role in achieving Paris’ status as the most visited tourist destination of the entire world.

Despite its protected status, the Eiffel Tower continues to iterate on its purpose.

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Iteration on preserved structures allows them to find new relevance in the present and in the future. Here, the Eiffel Tower announces France’s turn in the European Union presidency. Wikimedia

Since context plays such a critical role in successful historic preservation, sometimes a set of purely ephemeral structures can achieve historic value. This is the case of the Midtown historic district in New York, where unlike anywhere else in the world large, bright advertising billboards are now mandated by the building code. The original purpose of those billboards has been replaced by a sort of symbiotic relationship — a billboard-centered attraction, which draws visitors to it like Santorini or the Eiffel Tower attract visitors. The change in advertisements and billboard construction is rapid, but one expects to return in a decade and find the same Times Square. That is a highly iterative and adaptive preservation of the pattern.1_times_square_night_2013

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Times Square historic district — It doesn’t really matter what the ads say.

* * *

We can infer from these successful applications of preservation that, while the features being preserved can be either naturally-occurring or man-made, they are observed and preserved from the environment instead of being designed and intended. They require an ecological perception that recognizes the relationships between things and also allows them to increase. In this way, new layers of patterns nested within the preserved patterns can appear, and can themselves benefit from preservation.

This condition for successful preservation, how far change and adaptation are possible within its framework, gives us a potent tool to analyze the planning codes of modern cities. Modern cities, including most of what’s called suburban sprawl, were created with preservation of their products already built-in, through zoning codes and building ordinances that defined a final or static purpose for land use. And even where the existing urban fabric had undergone a century of iteration, such as the boroughs of New York City, a planning operation of “downzoning” has sought to fix in place the current land uses.

It appears that much of what passes as preservation today is not so much the enhancement of a valuable feature that is the product of natural processes and growth, but a rejection of change. Everywhere we turn in local planning, not-in-my-backyard-ism is the dominant political force. Only when we recognize this as a common pathology across many different kinds of urban communities can we begin to inch towards a solution to many of the affordability and adaptation crises afflicting us.

The most important question that must be asked to find a solution through this pattern of rejection of change is: how can change be good at the local level? There is no doubt that increasing density of housing, jobs, commerce, recreation, and culture is good at the general global level, but it is at the local level that it is rejected, and the global level is nothing more than the aggregate of local politics.

Preservation has historically provided a part of the answer to that question by ensuring that the valuable parts of cities were not only kept throughout changes, but were even improved.

In the case of modern cities, constructed using automobile-centered, low-density, artificially-distant patterns of urban development, a question begs to be asked in the arguments of the preservationists—what about them, if anything, is even worth preserving? But a more important question would be, what is it about them that could improve through change instead of letting them decay or fall apart?

If the sole focus of a campaign to increase the housing supply in a city is to build more, anywhere, at any cost to the neighbors — a campaign justified out of a natural property right to build — then the neighbors will rightfully object to a threat towards a common pool resource of which they consider themselves the protectors. Such conflicts become power struggles over the city’s building codes and planning ordinances and, so far, the better-organized local homeowners have been winning decade after decade.

But what if we were to accept that it is also a natural right to prevent harmful change to a neighborhood? If we reframe the political debate so that it becomes about “what kind of change would improve this neighborhood?” then the neighbors are required to fire up their imaginations and look for potential answers.

* * *

A good deal of the answer has to come from architecture. For most of history, urban construction could be expected to be more attractive than the things it replaced, creating richer, more complex façades, and taking away the natural world in favor of something that at least took inspiration from nature. One could expect, when new construction began across the street, that the noise and dust of the construction site would soon be replaced by a work of art that would do wonders for property values in the immediate vicinity.

At some point within the last generation, architecture retreated to ideology instead of beautification, and the building industry took advantage of the situation to cheapen buildings to the point that, today, no amount of ideology can conceal the bare, off-the-shelf parts and lack of investment in most urban construction projects.

New construction condominium completed 2015, Montreal. Also seen everywhere else.
New construction condominium completed 2015, Montreal. Also seen everywhere else.

The logic of neighborly architecture is actually quite simple. If the patterns we use in new construction are symmetrical to the patterns in existing, surrounding constructions, the final pattern will connect all of them into a larger encompassing structure. Today, however, new buildings are largely designed with no integration of their context, even when designing an extension of a building. What matters is driving costs down (or up, in the case of high-profile starchitecure) at the expense of the costs imposed on the neighborhood through landscape destruction.

The street façade of London’s Royal Opera House was extended twice, once with symmetries of the column patterns in a new context, and a second time (on the left) with barely any symmetries at all beyond the bare materials.
The street façade of London’s Royal Opera House was extended twice, once with symmetries of the column patterns in a new context, and a second time (on the left) with barely any symmetries at all beyond the bare materials.

Another part of the solution has to come not from the builders, but from the public space managers. Once an automobile-oriented mobility network is in place, it can only trend in the direction of more traffic. Those who purchased their homes in new suburbs, at the height of their marketability, inevitably see decline after decline in their enjoyment of automobiles, as farther-removed suburbs are built, putting more cars in the way of their destinations.

The opportunity exists to take advantage of the enormous amounts of space used to buffer buildings from streets to create a second overlapping network of walkable public spaces, one that would be managed for the purpose of inviting walking instead of just supporting it out of regulatory necessity. This would have the effect of psychically liberating people from their cars, as they would see the opportunity to pleasantly connect journeys on foot instead of having to struggle with traffic. Such an effort requires investment not only in road alterations, but in a new way of managing spending and organizing public works. The traffic engineers currently tasked with building roads for optimal traffic flow are the worst suited to this task. The people who run the parks departments are the best suited, being focused on delivering relief from stress. And another group — comprising those people who, today, plan shopping malls — knows a lot about how to make a space “strollable”. Just imagine what they could do if they were relieved of the burden of maximizing commercial rents.

If it could be shown that, yes, things can change for the better in our neighborhoods — that change can actually improve neighborhoods by producing more sophisticated architecture and more opportunities to move around — then the argument for static preservation would fall apart. A positive feedback loop, where change succeeds so well that it invites more change, may emerge. We are already seeing this in historic core cities such as New York, where controversial redesigns of public spaces under “pilot projects” over the last decade have radically reshaped the human experience of the street, starting from one intersection at a time and building momentum. Each of these projects was conservative in scope (contradicting the “make no small plans” motto of urban planning) and preserved most of the city’s mobility grid; yet, once completed and accepted as normal, these projects made the city less dependent on that grid and more willing to trade it in for more space. Such a pattern is also a model of preservation, where what is preserved gradually becomes superceded by something greater, ultimately making it less necessary and no longer in need of preservation.

* * *

The challenge of creating a future for modern cities is greater than anything urbanists have ever faced, simply because modern cities were designed to be final, under the expectation that the future had arrived and the city was perfected. Removing the physical substance of this planning vision is a gargantuan task that should probably be evaded as much as possible; removing the physical product of the system is not sufficient to really transform modern cities into adaptive, growing ecosystems — the planning and coding process must be transformed completely, starting by rejecting their radical principle of finality. (Much like the structure of London returned after the Great Fire, so would the modern city return following its destruction.)

This, after all, is the root cause of the problem. For most of our history, building and planning codes existed to manage the process of change, which made reforming and adapting the system natural. Reforming a system whose express intention is to keep things the same means almost nothing can be salvaged from the system’s procedures — which will always produce a system meant to keep things static, even if they are in a new, different state. We would gain nothing in adaptive capacity and complexity from such an effort.

If, instead, we accept that the current physical state of things is worth preserving, but is not the final state of urban growth, then the search for improvements and protections through change will slowly accrue momentum.

The architect and scientist Christopher Alexander describes the natural process of morphogenesis as changing states while preserving as much as possible of the existing structure of things, thus minimizing the energy expended to change. Preservation is the transposition of this principle to a coordination solution among many people. The shortfall in its application, I suspect, is a problem of missing language. We lack the words to describe what, where, when, and how to preserve in this way. For a city such as the modern suburban autotopia, the absence of change and the novelty of it means our language must start from scratch.

Mathieu Hélie
Montréal

On The Nature of Cities

Wouldn’t it be Better if Ecologists and Planners Talked to Each Other More?

Art, Science, Action: Green Cities Re-imagined

If planners and ecologists found more ways to work together, would cities look different? Would they be better?

The idea of planning and designing urban spaces from an ecological perspective goes back to the very origins of the disciplines of ecology, planning, and design. Frederic Law Olmsted precipitated a landmark movement from “picturesque” to “natural” urban spaces at the same time as the nascent scientific field of ecology was beginning to take shape in its modern form.

The plan-as-experiment approach is ideally suited to joint teams of planners, designers, and scientists who are involved in all phases of an ecological design project.

In the 1960s, Ian McHarg famously exhorted urbanists to “design with nature”, a concept that has had a lasting influence on both the design and planning fields. The terms “ecological planning” and “ecological design” are ever more widely used, with many varied interpretations and applications. Many of these reside mainly within the planning, landscape design, or urban design/architecture disciplines. At the same time, the discipline of ecology as a branch of the life sciences has ventured further and further into cities and designed spaces, providing a rapidly growing body of information about how cities function as complex, human-dominated ecosystems.

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Human and non-human spaces overlap. Images: Ecological Planning Center, University of Utah

In theory, capitalizing on both of these trends in order to plan and design healthier, more sustainable cities should be a simple matter. Shouldn’t it? At first glance, one might recommend that the fields of ecology and planning simply communicate with one another. But, they don’t – at least not enough. The contact between the disciplines rarely occurs as a direct collaboration between practicing ecologists— whose job is to generate new scientific understanding—and practicing planners, whose job is to envision and plan better cities. The more frequent points of contact are either through education, where planners may take classes that convey ecological principles, or through professional interactions having to do with site and/or environmental impact assessment. Ecological planners use the best available information within their field to create places that account for social, environmental, historical, and geographic contexts. However, due to the slow and indirect paths flow of scientific information to non-scientists, they may not be aware of the most recent advances in the field of urban ecology, which has seen a rapid proliferation in the scientific literature. At the same time, ecologists making scientific observations in and about cities will have a very incomplete understanding of how cities grow and function without a thorough grounding in the local planning, political, and cultural context.

So, these fields clearly stand to benefit from one another, but how in practice can and should they interact? Opportunities for joint teams of planners and scientists to re-envision urban spaces together are rare in reality. But when they do occur, the outcomes can be very different than the status quo.

Ecological planning of an urban stream

To use a simple example, our university recently solicited a master plan to improve a stream that runs through campus property. Positioned at the boundary between a protected natural area in the Wasatch Mountain range and the highly urbanized neighborhoods of Salt Lake City, the University of Utah has long sought to establish its identity as a place at the urban-wildland interface in the U.S. intermountain west. Initially, ecologists proposed that the campus “restore” the highly degraded stream that traverses its wild-to-human-dominated gradient. Stream restoration, they argued, would bring ecological and environmental benefits, such as wildlife habitat and improvements in water quality. To achieve this, many scientists envisioned the removal of built structures and exotic vegetation in favor of more “pristine” plantings of native vegetation. For planners, however, a re-imagined campus stream had quite different connotations, including opportunities to improve the campus transportation network with bicycle and walking trails, and recreational spaces to enhance human access to the riparian zone. On the surface, these visions were incompatible: one aimed to optimize “non-human” habitat by isolating the space away from human use, and the other meant to increase visitation and enhance the function of the riparian zone for traffic and recreation.

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The urban-wildland transition of Red Butte Creek at the University of Utah. Image: University of Utah Red Butte Creek Strategic Vision

In the end, an ecological planning process that included both groups resulted in a different vision entirely. Faced with opportunities to increase human access to “wilder” spaces for education and to enhance well-being, many scientists will quickly acknowledge that there are numerous benefits to designing wilder spaces with human access in mind. From an urban ecological perspective, these benefits may outweigh the impacts of adding well-designed trails, access points, and built structures to a revitalized urban space. A combined vision of the campus stream that incorporated expert opinions in native plant and wildlife management, stream geomorphology, and nutrient cycling—but also allowed for construction of a new trail and other built structures—quickly became palatable to the scientists on the planning team. Notably, this can require a significant shift in ecological thinking outside the common paradigm, in which “pristine” is best and human access to wild spaces always results in ecological degradation. Although urban ecology has made substantial inroads into the mainstream of ecological science in recent years, the “pristine” paradigm is still quite prevalent in the United States.

At the same time, scientists were able to discuss the state and nature of ecological uncertainty with planners and designers. The high degree of scientific uncertainty in many environmental best practices, such as restoration methods and low impact development, is rarely discussed in conventional plans. However, deliberate strategies to reduce this uncertainty can be a central feature of ecological plans. In this case, the team discussed the knowledge gaps in stream restoration and stormwater management in desert cities. While reducing streamflow by increasing stormwater infiltration is widely accepted as a method of slowing stream erosion and degradation, studies of how best to do so originate largely from wetter areas that are not limited by rainfall. Salt Lake City, positioned in the Great Basin Desert of the United States, receives virtually no summer rainfall. Therefore, establishing new plantings, bioswales, and raingardens to increase infiltration with no or minimal irrigation is a challenge. However, rather than ignore or overlook these uncertainties, our ecological plan addressed them head on by treating each phase of plan implementation as an opportunity to test and monitor different stormwater management strategies, incorporating new knowledge and lessons learned into each iteration. Variously called adaptive management, resilience planning, or designed experiments, the plan-as-experiment approach is ideally suited to joint teams of planners, designers, and scientists who are involved in planning, monitoring, and managing all phases of the process, from conceptualization to implementation and performance evaluation.

As of this writing, the plan that resulted from the University of Utah’s planning process, led by the University’s Ecological Planning Center, is available for public comment. The first phase of implementation has already begun, with the design of a 15-acre parcel that is positioned directly along the stream. The resulting physical space is quite unlike anything that either scientists or planners had separately envisioned early in the process. Both replicated experiment and picturesque garden, this recreational and functional “landscape lab” will test the performance of two different bioswale designs that will replace an extensive, heavily irrigated, and intensively fertilized lawn. The site will include paths and seating spaces for occupants of nearby buildings, as well as the first segment of a new streamside bicycle and pedestrian trail. The plantings are meant to be water efficient and climate appropriate, but their establishment success, water use, and capacity to absorb runoff and pollution will be measured directly in fully replicated experimental plots. The results will inform future phases of plan implementation, with the goal of reducing campus irrigation and stormwater runoff using strategies that are increasingly tuned to the local environment and ecosystem. At the same time, the plan will bring larger numbers of visitors to the stream, which historically has not been safely accessible for students and university classes, let alone the larger Salt Lake City community. The impacts of recreational use will also be monitored, along with the responses and perceptions of visitors to particular aspects of the steam, the riparian area, and the surrounding landscape, including both designed and non-designed features.

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Schematics for replicated, experimentally controlled bioswale designs. Image: VODA Landscape + Planning

Scientists as stakeholders

Through this process, we note some significant areas in which scientists and planners were both pushed out of their usual “comfort zones” by the ecological planning process. For many types of scientists, the notion of creating urban spaces or “human habitat” can be discomforting. Traditionally trained to be objective observers, scientists involved in ecological planning will contribute to decisions that shape the environment in novel ways that are neither strictly “natural” nor entirely human-built. This may require a more active role in shaping decisions and places than is the norm in science (invoking many historical and ongoing debates about boundaries between science and advocacy).

In addition, planning decisions are inherently normative and context-dependent. There are no clearly right or wrong answers (although planners and urban designers often seek to implement “best practices”), and many decision-making criteria are value-laden and highly dependent on political and cultural contexts, the degree of inclusivity, and who is at the table and empowered to contribute. Many decisions and outcomes will seem “unscientific” and not entirely, or even largely, driven by technical or biophysical concerns. The role of people and communities is inherently at the center of urban ecological planning, leading to difficult choices about the balance among the needs of many constituencies. Currently, scientists have little training to contend with such choices, and have much to learn from methods and lessons in adaptive and community planning.

Planned uncertainty

For planners, the merger of planning with ecological science requires a shift from focusing on what is known to what is not known—from “best practices” to “best possibilities”. Ecological approaches to planning are not one-size-fits-all solutions, but must be tailored to the uniqueness of a place. Cities as social-ecological systems are complex, self-organizing, and adaptive, and may display unexpected and surprising behavior. This leads to the possibility that planning decisions intended to achieve a particular goal may result in unexpected and sometimes unwanted outcomes, or simply fail to perform as desired (for example, relocating a flooding problem to another location rather than reducing flooding, or unintentionally displacing low-income populations).

Ecological planning can diminish the likelihood of unwanted outcomes over time by targeting key areas of uncertainty with well-planned experiments and observations in which planners and scientists collaborate to share ideas, information, and options for adaptive planning and management. This may lead to different types of plans and spaces that intentionally include “riskier” strategies, with the understanding that under controlled and well-monitored conditions, “failures” can offer important lessons for the larger planning process. In essence, we assert that it is better to fail at a small scale and under relatively controlled conditions than by widely implementing plans and strategies before they are well-tuned, monitored for performance, and evaluated for local conditions. In the case of stormwater management near an urban stream, this means testing new and locally-tuned bioswale and landscaping configurations in a small area using the best available measurement and monitoring methods, with safeguards in place to mitigate possible flooding and overflows. In the long-term, this method has the potential to be more effective than importing designs and strategies from other regions and widely implementing them at scale, without fully exploring possible unintended consequences.

Looking ahead

Ecological planning as a partnership of planners and ecologists is, in itself, an experiment. Scientists and planners working together to plan with nature produce outcomes that are different than conventional planning and ecological science alone. But are they better? It’s probably too early to say. Can several decades of studying such relationships in cities contribute to planning more healthy and resilient urban spaces? Can active participation of ecologists in the planning process generate and disseminate ecological understanding more effectively? The is probably yes, but only the results of the experiments underway to monitor and document the outcomes will provide answers in the years to come.

To make these experiments more common, planners and scientists need spaces to work together. Universities are an obvious place to provide these, but this can also happen in professional planning contexts. Most importantly, these collaborations work best when scientists and planners share the same goal of making cities better places to live by applying our best understanding of how cities work and how natural and built spaces interact. For scientists, this means expanding beyond the creation of knowledge and into the creation of places. For planners, this means embracing the notion of places as experiments to produce knowledge that may go beyond their training in planning theory and practice. Place-making and knowledge-making have always been intimately tied together, but the paths from one to the other are commonly slow and indirect. Connecting them more directly provides a critical tool to improve the health and well-being of both the human and non-human components of cities and places.

Diane Pataki, Sarah Hinners, and Robin Rothfeder
Salt Lake City

On The Nature of Cities

Sarah Hinners

about the writer
Sarah Hinners

Sarah Hinners is a landscape and urban ecologist focused on bridging the gap between academic research and real-world planning and design applications. She is the Director of Research and Conservation at Red Butte Garden and Arboretum in Salt Lake City, Utah.

Robin Rothfeder

about the writer
Robin Rothfeder

Robin Rothfeder studies water resources planning, policy, and management in arid urban areas as well as history, theory, and practical applications in the emerging field of ecological planning.

Are You Connected?

Art, Science, Action: Green Cities Re-imagined

I am an unreserved admirer of landscape scenery and mountain vistas, space, and the connection between site and surroundings has always interested me. When I was first in Japan, I spent a lot of time visiting and enjoying parks. Aesthetics and presentation are very important for how we interpret and appreciate nature, not least in how it affects our emotions. While park design in itself could be an interesting lead-in to cultural values and traditions, it was the idea of shakkei, or borrowed scenery, that I found most interesting. It builds on the notion that distant landscapes and natural elements can be integrated into the experience of here. I remember a tiny pocket park in the middle of a Japanese city where, once inside, the city fell away and I felt transported out into the mountains.

Considering which circumstances enable us to benefit from ecosystems would highlight how management & thinking around different kinds of urban infrastructures need to change.

When you think about it, you realise just how complex a process it is to enjoy nature. Our experiences are embedded in and contingent on interconnected systems, and whilst the complexity of these connections may seem daunting I believe that thinking explicitly about context, in addition to content, can considerably further our ability to design and manage landscapes with multiple functions and values. When looking at a map or to your rights to manage or use land, boundaries may seem clear and land parcels appear neatly bound and easily separable. Once in the system, boundaries become blurred.

It's not about the bench. Photo: David Maddox
It’s not about the bench. Photo: David Maddox

In a recent article (Andersson et al. 2015), my colleagues and I explored how to think about context when planning for ecosystem services. The baseline for the discussion was that most ecosystem services can, not least for practical purposes, be described in terms of the ecological units that are necessary for their generation. While the scientific grounds for defining and labelling something as an ecosystem service providing unit (is it the individual tree or the whole forest?) can always be discussed, the ‘unit’ was meant to provide planners and designers with an idea of what the minimum requirement might be for getting a specific service. This is not to say that services and their units should be addressed or understood individually, rather it was meant to make sure that design is based on ecological understanding rather than assumptions about land use.

Thus, if we are—and we should be—interested in aspects such as access, utilization, experience, resilience, and values, we need to think beyond the units directly involved in providing services. Whatever value we place on or find in an object is a combination of the qualities of the object itself and of how it relates to other things. We have a long tradition of evaluating components of infrastructure by their spatial connections as manifested through movements and flows, but space and distance (the first easy context) do not always have to be travelled through. Standing stock still, they can be experienced through the feeling of embeddedness, of being connected, here and now, to something larger…

The idea of context dependence can be taken further. Let’s take the example of trees. When asked about urban green structure, most people would probably think of trees, either individually or as distinguishing features in parks or other green areas. However, the potential benefits derived from any given tree will vary with the context in which you find the tree. Starting with our own perceptions and preferences, there is clear evidence that cultural context or perceptions matter. Significantly. A rich literature on sacred trees attests to how trees may add to sense of place and community cohesion, but there are also contrasting examples (e.g., Kronenberg 2015) where the cultural setting and history have caused urban trees to have primarily negative connotations.

Many other benefits of having urban trees are linked to larger environmental factors. For example, the much appreciated cooling effect of trees become increasingly important as temperature increases, especially during extreme heat spells. Other benefits, again, are only made possible through the aid of human technology and know-how. The syrup produced by Sugar Maple trees in the U.S., Canada, and elsewhere, depends on the technical extraction of maple syrup from the tree, followed by processing and, finally, delivery, in order to realize the food provisioning service potential of the trees. The social or socioeconomic context is similarly important to service provisioning by trees. For example, a group of trees may provide services of recreation and education if located and maintained within a park, but they depend on the park to attract people. If no residents visit the park, or if infrastructural or institutional accessibility is poor, then there is no recreation service. The same grouping of trees may also provide ecosystem disservices, such as providing shelter for illicit activities, if located in a deserted urban vacant lot instead of in a park (as convincingly demonstrated by Lyytimäki and Sipilä (2009)).

Why is this important? When you think about it, this perspective is rather intuitive—if not always explicit. This is how we see the world, if not how we reflect on it. Nevertheless, this pattern of thinking does not always inform how we try to realise, consciously or not, ecosystem services in our cities, at least not to the degree one might wish. Some societal services and functions—like much of our infrastructure—are understood and managed as interconnected parts of a larger system; transportation, communication, and education are all embedded and relational in the sense that they connect to and derive value from other parts of the system. Yet this has not been an active thread in the ecosystem service discussion. With the exception of cultural ones, ecosystem services have been treated like ecological functions that people happen to benefit from—something nature provides and that we receive.

However, as we are arguably part of nature and most ecosystem services are co-produced by people, a more careful consideration of just how and under what circumstances we actually benefit from ecosystems would highlight how management and thinking around different kinds of urban infrastructures need to change. Green and blue spaces, the units of ecosystem service production, are embedded in physical landscapes layered with social and cultural meanings and understandings. All these aspects play a role in the realisation of service-providing potential and most definitely for our understanding and valuation of these services.

What role do perception and perceived qualities have in a discussion that tend to be dominated by ‘objective facts’ and hard figures? And how can the local be embedded in the neighbourhood, city, region? Now these are questions worthy of their own treatise, and questions that have already been addressed at TNOC. Nevertheless—risking over-simplifying the complexity of the challenge and being breezily vague—I will conclude with a thought. Aesthetics and experiences already are prominent concerns in many cities, including thinking about how to connect local features with larger scale character, everything from the design of a new building to fit in with past architectonical styles and neighbourhood landscaping, to planning sightlines, pedestrian walkways and enticing entrances. If we have managed to bring in the human understanding of both tangible and intangible connections here, why not for other ecosystem services?

Erik Andersson
Stockholm

On The Nature of Cities

Andersson, E. et al., 2015. Scale and Context Dependence of Ecosystem Service Providing Units. Ecosystem Services, 12, pp.157–164. Available at: http://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S2212041614000850 [Accessed September 26, 2014].

Kronenberg, J., 2015. Why not to green a city? Institutional barriers to preserving urban ecosystem services. Ecosystem Services, forthcomin(forthcoming).

Lyytimäki, J. & Sipilä, M., 2009. Hopping on one leg – The challenge of ecosystem disservices for urban green management. Urban Forestry & Urban Greening, 8(4), pp.309–315. Available at: http://dx.doi.org/10.1016/j.ufug.2009.09.003 [Accessed November 2, 2012].

 

Resilience isn’t only about infrastructure. How can we better support community-based environmental stewardship in readiness, response, and recovery from disturbance?

Art, Science, Action: Green Cities Re-imagined
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.
Weston Brinkley, Seattle To help cities perform their core function as social networks, we must support grassroots stewardship, foster true empowerment, and advance equity.
Katerina Elias-Trotsmann, Rio de Janeiro Rio is trying to support community-based environmental stewardship by assessing community resilience, enhancing response, and accelerating recovery.
Sumetee Gajjar, Bangalore The biggest disaster being averted by community initiatives is that of non-engagement with nature by city residents.
Jonathan Halfon, New York In the face of unprecedented challenges such as climate change and sea level rise, we need to transition back to an empowerment model focused on finding local, creative solutions.
Heather McMillen, Honolulu & New York What would the world look like if we worked to solve problems by acknowledging local adaptations as social innovations?
Luciana Nery, Rio de Janeiro Rio is trying to support community-based environmental stewardship by assessing community resilience, enhancing response, and accelerating recovery.
Raul Pacheco-Vega, Aguascalientes We need to think beyond climate policy and create an integrated urban development set of policy tools, programs, and projects that will then build resilience.
Renae Reynolds, New York Levees break and barriers fail, yet what endures is the will and persistence of people.
Hita Unnikrishnan, Bangalore Enabling the inclusion of urban commons in planning measures is a gap that must be filled for greater resilience of cities.
Paula Villagra, Valdivia Land use planning must accommodate specific land use types—such as urban wetlands—to increase community resilience.
Karen Zumach, Minneapolis In North Minneapolis, the community views replacing the trees lost in a 2011 tornado as a duty. It’s about their community.
David Maddox

about the writer
David Maddox

David loves urban spaces and nature. He loves creativity and collaboration. He loves theatre and music. In his life and work he has practiced in all of these as, in various moments, a scientist, a climate change researcher, a land steward, an ecological practitioner, composer, a playwright, a musician, an actor, and a theatre director. David's dad told him once that he needed a back up plan, something to "fall back on". So he bought a tuba.

Introduction

Abundant evidence attests to the key importance of green infrastructure in protection from and resilience to disturbance events—hurricanes, floods, tornadoes, wildfire, and other disasters. Now, there is growing focus on the periods between disturbance events: the time of recovery from the last disturbance that grades into preparation for the next. There is likewise a growing appreciation for the role communities play. Natural resource stewardship activities, including tree planting and other community greening efforts, can help restore nature, facilitate healing, and revitalize neighborhoods. While the immediate aftermath of an event necessitates a focus on swift response and mitigation, mid- to long-term recovery efforts offer an opportunity to adapt, learn, and cultivate community resilience.

This is the focus of the current roundtable: what can we do to better support—or in some cases, start supporting—communities as they recover and build resilience through engaging with nature? The recommendations might include the kinds of things we are not currently doing, but should. And they might also be the things we are already doing, but should do more of. What is the way forward for building community resilience with programs in green infrastructure and nature-based solutions?

This roundtable is an outgrowth of a workshop held in 2016, convened by the U.S. Forest Service and supported by TKF and others. 

Weston Brinkley

about the writer
Weston Brinkley

Weston is as a policy and research consultant working on the social dimensions of urban natural resources. He currently chairs the City of Seattle's Urban Forestry Commission and holds adjunct teaching positions at Seattle University, the University of Washington, and Antioch University, Seattle.

Weston Brinkley

Community social networks are the strongest representation of our human systems. However, we too often act as if the manifestation of our societies is our built infrastructure, instead. Treating our cities and towns as a series of physical infrastructure features limits our ability to sustain their core, enduring function as social networks. Resiliency is maintaining and fostering these community and social networks in the face of disturbances.

To help cities perform their core function as social networks, we must support grassroots stewardship, foster true empowerment, and advance equity.

Traditional infrastructure is too discrete to be completely resilient. It is also expensive and insufficiently redundant in the necessary way—namely, to handle disturbance shocks to our systems. Not only are human systems networked, they can help network hard infrastructure, conferring resilience on other systems.

Communities provide the mechanisms for such resiliency. Networked social systems are bolstered by increased diversity, density, and interaction. These drivers maximize the effectiveness which has generated resilient resource mechanisms such as community solar power, tool libraries, and, of course, community gardens. While each of these is a physical feature, the real innovation that sparked their successes was an advancement in social organization and empowerment. These examples of empowering communities to develop their own resilient, networked systems could be realized in countless ways.

This type of social collaborative achievement is perhaps only just beginning. We’ve recently seen dozens of “disruptions” to typical urban functions through new technology, providing services and added capacity using existing infrastructure, such as vehicles and homes. A prime example is the development of neighborhood scaled Buy-nothing Groups. These social networks allow for extremely efficient distribution of goods, and the additional capacity and preference matching facilitated by such social networks could be a critical tool in advancing resilient communities.

Support grassroots stewardship

We know that the most enduring social networks are those that have formed naturally through reinforcement of our existing social structures. The expression of these ingrained social structures are grassroots efforts. The appeal of such efforts includes their reach and depth within communities. Research has shown that environmental efforts are often undertaken out of social desires for community building and personal connection. The ability to connect to the core of community needs and express those needs through community driven action is what sets grassroots efforts apart, and perhaps positions them to be major contributors to environmental resiliency.

It’s important to remember that movements don’t start from government offices, and are rarely generated from within formal organizations of any kind. Fostering environments that not only allow, but encourage and incentivize organic community networks, is critical. Therefore, we must support effective, community-generated networks and social structures before imposing new ones.

Foster true empowerment

For community-level social networks to advance in the face of institutional inertia that perpetuates infrastructure systems, we have to develop a community first approach. We must allow communities to do more. Ongoing development of global advances in urban-based democracy, such as the Right to the City and Participatory Budgeting movements, are prime examples of fostering effective community empowerment. These approaches should have both strong application and new corollaries when it comes to resiliency and disturbance preparedness.

 In another example, volunteer environmental stewardship efforts are already massive forces for change in our communities. Forest restoration, trail maintenance, and community garden development are salient examples of resiliency efforts supporting flood protection, access and mobility, and food security in the face of disturbance. Civic tree planting and stewardship has repeatedly been shown to be the most cost effective approach to tackling many water and public health challenges.

Civic or environmental volunteerism is a social network that provides tremendous resiliency to communities. Yet the range of activities we let communities or volunteers engage in is currently limited. Communities should be empowered to do far more than plant a tree or adopt a drain. Our infrastructure, from energy to food to transportation, is ripe for additional community involvement. Beyond involvement in planning decisions, citizen participation should run the spectrum from learning, to doing, to taking ownership. Therefore, we must expand the type of projects and level of participation that communities are allowed to undertake when it comes to community infrastructure and the environment.

Advance equity

Vulnerable and unique communities are the ones shown to be most susceptible to disturbance, and therefore most in need of resiliency solutions. Traditional infrastructure doesn’t respond well to identifying vulnerable populations or prioritizing opportunities for community development. Its inflexibility, even its impartiality, underserve too many communities, while failing to take advantage of new ideas or advancements developing from unique places. However, social networks are ripe for not only being developed within and amongst a wide range of communities—they are necessarily malleable, providing better matches for community needs.

If networked social systems are bolstered by increased diversity, density, and interaction, then a diversity of ideas more easily transferred will strengthen social networks and increase resiliency. Networking new communities into our resiliency and disturbance preparedness conversations is critical to increasing the diversity of solutions and approaches. This not only provides stronger and more effective networks overall, but broadens our opportunities for solutions. For these reasons, investing in community driven social systems first is critical for resilience. Therefore, we must remove gaps in equity by first supporting communities with the greatest resilient growth opportunities.

Katerina Elias

about the writer
Katerina Elias

Katerina is a Research Analyst at WRI Brasil and is based in São Paulo. She focuses on urban climate resilience and community response.

Katerina Elias-Trotsmann and Luciana Nery

Communities are both the first to be affected and the first to respond to climate impacts; as such, communities are key agents and multipliers of urban resilience. Community preparedness is a necessary aspect of urban resilience that cities are beginning to prioritize as a solution to bolster climate resilience. Encouraging and enabling a culture of resilience enhances the preparation capacities of citizens and their community as a whole. They are able to maintain core functions during shocks and, most importantly, to rebound and flourish after them.

Rio is trying to support community-based environmental stewardship by assessing community resilience, enhancing response, and accelerating recovery.

As climate change impacts are felt differently according to geography, topology, infrastructure provision and social inequality, effective climate-resilience strategies are therefore place-based, suitable to neighborhood qualities and characteristics. The role of communities is thus essential to successful climate change adaptation and resilience building. To that effect, city plans should aim to enhance citizens’ and community resilience to climate change.

Why should cities invest and encourage a culture of community resilience?

Investing in communities vulnerable to climate change impacts can reduce the damage brought on by extreme weather events and the need for government relief funding, and can mobilize more resources within and into communities. It is estimated that every $1 spent on resilience efforts yields $4 in economic benefits, not including the thousands of prevented injuries and hundreds of saved lives.

The need for urban resilience in Rio de Janeiro became clear in April 2010, when heavy rains hit the city; 66 people died in landslides and thousands were displaced. The storm that hit the city had not been detected by any radar, and even if it had been, it would not have been possible to warn the population and give them instructions for evacuation so late at night. That tragedy prompted the updating of slope-safety maps, the installation of early warning systems in many favelas, frequent drills for disasters, and the creation of the Rio Operations Center, intended to integrate all the crisis management teams.

The city of Rio de Janeiro was chosen to be part of the 100 Resilient Cities initiative in 2013 and released its resilience strategy in 2016. However, engaging communities in environmental stewardship remains a challenge; a lack of understanding of local capacity, existing social tensions within and between communities, and the need to increase community capacity to manage risks are key obstacles to overcome in promoting environmental stewardship.

For a city such as Rio, investing in local community capacity is the first step in encouraging a culture of community-led resilience. Below, we outline three ways the city is trying to support community-based environmental stewardship with the focus on improving local community capacity: assessing community resilience, enhancing response, and accelerating recovery.

Assessing resilience

A key innovation of the Resilience Plan of the City of Rio entails measuring community resilience. The Urban Community Resilience Assessment (or UCRA), developed by the World Resources Institute, helps cities include individual citizen and community capacities into broader assessments of urban resilience. This tool was developed with the input of community leaders, and a pilot trial has already run, with 400 respondents from two favelas in Rio de Janeiro. By assessing social cohesion, familiarity with local risks, warning systems, proximity to ecosystems, and disaster readiness, the UCRA provides a snapshot on preparedness behaviors, risk perception, and strength of community relations. This helps cities rapidly identify public policies and concrete actions that they can take in relation to the specific traits of each community, considering its geography, history, culture, and habits.

Enhancing community relations

The second point concerns governance, trust, and participation between the communities and the local government. Rio has placed strong emphasis on building relationships of trust between the local at-risk communities, the Civil Defence (the disaster risk reduction agency) and the Rio Operations Center. The Civil Defence, for instance, has developed a Resilient Communities program together with the UN’s Office for Disaster Risk Reduction and 22 community groups from 13 favelas. One effective strategy has been organizing and running emergency simulations in local schools, along with a one-year curriculum on crisis preparedness, first-aid, and resilience.

Investing in local capacity

Finally, Rio’s municipal resilience plan extensively emphasizes the need to invest in local community capacity to deal with climate change and local risk management, with year-round measures and the commitment of community leaders.

For example, the city of Rio de Janeiro has been working with over 100 informal communities over two decades to plant trees to reduce the impacts from the urban heat island effect, strong rains, and landslides in a program known as the Reforestation Team Effort (Mutirão de Reflorestamento). To date, more than 4 million trees have been planted, equivalent to an area of 2,500 football fields. The city government works directly with local communities through a remuneration scheme, engaging them in the entire process from cultivating seedlings to planting and managing restored areas. This government-run scheme therefore not only contributes to risk reduction, but enhances livelihoods.

Luciana Nery

about the writer
Luciana Nery

Luciana Nery is Deputy Chief Resilience Officer of Rio de Janeiro and wishes to incorporate the lessons learned at the Olympics for the resilience of the city.

Sumetee Gajjar

about the writer
Sumetee Gajjar

Sumetee Pahwa Gajjar, PhD, is a Cape-Town based climate change professional who has contributed to scientific knowledge on transformative adaptation, climate justice, urban EbA and nature-based solutions. I currently work at the science-policy-research interface of climate change, biodiversity and vulnerability reduction, in the Global South. My research interests continue to be focused on urban sustainability transitions, through collaborative governance, just innovations and climate technologies.

Sumetee Gajjar

Resilience through caring for nature in times of transition

Resilience is often discussed in terms of recovery from or response to disasters, and of communities which are more vulnerable to the impacts of a range of environmental disasters. However, there are aspects of city living, especially in developing countries, which expose residents across different social groups to ongoing and daily environmental stresses. These may not fall immediately in the category of disasters, but their cumulative impact over a few years can have disastrous impacts on city residents’ health and well-being. Urban floods affect several city wards and garner significant media coverage and political commitments to avoid similar events in the future. City planners and decision-makers’ response to urban floods in India rarely encompasses nature-based solutions. Real estate development continues unabated, drains are cleared and their capacity is increased, and other technical solutions are sought—solutions in which communities have a minor role to play.

The biggest disaster being averted by community initiatives is that of non-engagement with nature by city residents.

At the same time, communities continue to face lower-intensity, chronic risks through consumption of polluted water; water scarcity during drought years; dangerous road conditions; and poor air quality due to vehicular emissions in established parts of a city, and to new construction and open fires in fast urbanizing city peripheries. Given the way in which rapidly transforming cities of the Global South are managed and governed, it is hard, if not impossible, to hold specific institutions accountable, or to expect redressal. In particular, pollution of ground water is of critical concern, as it is linked to practices and behaviours of multiple actors, some of whom benefit from regulatory slippage, while others are unaware of their contribution to poor water quality.

How, then, do we support communities, who embattle city conditions to avert disaster, in building resilience? Resilience is certainly not just about infrastructure. In fact, aspects of resilience such as flexibility, adaptability, safe failure, and learning are to be found in solutions that are, at their best, a combination of infrastructural approaches and sustained human engagement around a matter of public concern. Such initiatives end up creating a sense of place and ownership towards nature in the city, and can be leveraged to approach environmental issues which are otherwise difficult to raise and discuss.

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New apartment buildings encroach unashamedly, increasing flood risk for the entire area. Real estate development at this scale is mostly beyond citizen groups’ sphere of influence. Photo: Sumetee Gajjar

To reflect a bit more on this, I draw upon my experience of being part of Jal Mitra, a volunteer group established to conserve a lake and its surrounds in North Bangalore. Initially called Guardians of the Rachenahalli Lake, this group was convened for the first time on August 1, 2015. The last year has produced multiple lessons on channeling the positive force of citizens’ time and commitment to cope with the stresses of living on the expanding edge of an Indian megacity. A humble endeavour, which thrives on volunteered weekend time, Jal Mitra has grown to more than 100 members and has executed quarterly plantation drives involving school children, cleared alien vegetation, constructed a perambulatory dirt track for joggers and cyclists around the lake, facilitated multiple users of the lake waters, and hosted awareness events on public holidays. Volunteers monitor breaks in the fence, encroachments by builders, instances of waste dumping, and other forms of pollution; they also take it upon themselves to inform relevant government agencies in the event of such activities.

Jal Mitra continually notifies additional residents of local apartment buildings to help grow the circle of awareness. Jal Mitra engages with the private sector to contribute through corporate social responsibility, and with local landlords to build sanitation facilities for residents of informal settlements. The neighbourhood has witnessed major public works, including the laying of high capacity storm water drains, bridge construction, and the resurfacing of roads over a period of two years. During this period of diverted routes over muddy lanes and around dug up ditches, residents were regularly exposed to vehicular congestion and potential accidents, including life-threatening falls. The potential risk of a disaster in these circumstances was a deeply erosive force on collective well-being. In this context, the existence of a community group that is dedicated to sustaining a local natural asset, for no personal gain, is as strong and positive a force as the lack on such a group during infrastructural upheaval.

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Plantation drive on a Sunday morning, organised by Legacy school teachers and parents. Photo: Sumetee Gajjar

Environmental stewardship at a local scale in Bangalore is rarely able to shift development pathways that continue to isolate lakes from natural streams, or to prevent tree-felling for road expansion. Disturbances to nature are common, and usually irreversible. The biggest disaster being averted by community initiatives is that of non-engagement with nature by city residents. Because when that happens, the remnants of open spaces (green and blue), which are yet being cared for, will finally disappear.

Jonathan Halfon

about the writer
Jonathan Halfon

Jonathan Halfon is a Community Planning and Capacity Building Coordinator based at FEMA Region 2 in New York City, where he has focused on integrating nature-based systems and Smart Growth concepts into local long-term recovery and resilience planning.

Jonathan Halfon

To invest in resilience, capitalize on locals

In the 1960s, United States President Johnson used the idea of the Great Society as the basis for a set of ambitious federal initiatives aimed at rebuilding urban centers, protecting natural resources, and reforming education. Like many movements, the Great Society employed a simple idea to drive forward a host of corollary activities. The country’s material progress, impressive infrastructure achievements, economic prosperity, and scientific advancement were not goals unto themselves, but rather a reflection of the many ways a progressive society can lead to advancement for all.

In the face of unprecedented challenges such as climate change and sea level rise, we need to transition back to an empowerment model focused on finding local, creative solutions.

The Great Society Johnson envisioned empowered everyday citizens to make a difference. The federal programs associated with the Great Society hinged on the idea that local progress would come, not through Washington pushing out one-size-fits-all solutions, but from a creative federalism that relied on cooperation between the federal government and local leaders. Many of the programs developed were designed to empower local leaders to take more ownership in their communities, and in doing so build local capacity to find creative, place-based solutions to the challenges of the day.

For much of the latter half of the 20th century, public policy shifted away from this model in favor of a more hands-off approach to local issues. The time is right to transition back to this local empowerment model of the Great Society. In the face of unprecedented challenges such as climate change and sea level rise, finding homegrown creative solutions and investing in local leaders is more imperative than ever.

Resilience should not be seen as a static, singular goal. Just as the Great Society fostered a broad array of policy ideals, community resilience cannot be achieved by focusing only on the built environment. To truly build resilience at the local level, we need to broaden the definition to include the many interdependencies between social and natural systems and the built environment. The dynamic nature of these systems make them inherently unstable. We cannot set up rigid structures to manage them, and certainly not in a post-disaster environment where many systemic inputs have been rearranged by new, outside forces.

Because of their disruptive nature, disasters generate a tremendous opportunity for creativity. Nonprofits step into the breach. Private interests reach out to new partners. New ideas take hold in communities and unexpected leaders find a voice. We need to build structures, locally and nationally, that are always adapting and incorporating the needs of the whole community and that are able to harness post-disaster opportunities to improve upon the status quo.

To that end, the National Disaster Recovery Framework (one of five National Planning Frameworks established by President Obama to achieve a more resilient nation) was developed. The NDRF was deployed for the first time on a large scale after Hurricane Sandy in 2012. The NDRF creates a coordination structure for the federal government that is in effect at all times with the express goal of empowering communities, accelerating the local recovery process and helping communities better prepare. Among other things, the NDRF can bridge the divide that often exists between local government and federal agencies, escalate community recovery concerns and help deliver resources that are not traditionally thought of as part of recovery, including funding work related to green infrastructure and the incorporation of nature-based solutions.

Too often, the protection of natural resources, the consideration of open public spaces and the inclusion of green infrastructure are seen as secondary considerations (or in some cases as oppositional) to traditional disaster response and recovery activities. The NDRF offers a valuable mechanism to provide federal resources and tools that encourage the incorporation of nature-based solutions into disaster recovery planning at the local level. Local communities can outline the role that natural systems and spaces play in the larger fabric of their community before a disaster strikes by including provisions that account for their protection in a local pre-disaster recovery ordinance. This is one of the most effective ways communities can avoid adverse impacts to natural resources and preserve open space after a disaster. More robust community involvement in the development of local hazard mitigation plans, the identification of co-beneficial projects and the integration of these plans into other local, non-recovery and resilience efforts can also help.

Traditional infrastructure (sea walls, etc.) is often seen as the principal driver of local recovery and of recovery success. By rethinking what we gain from our natural and social systems, we can start to reform recovery. If we consider things such as the eco-systems services co-benefits a modified recovery project could have, rather than only planning to put right what was damaged, we are on the path to smarter recovery. Another small change that can lead to improvements involves finding new ways to organize and incorporate existing local stewardship and advocacy groups into the recovery process. Connecting such stakeholders to national organizations with resources will further augment recovery gains.

Community resilience all starts with the insistence at the local level that including social and natural projects and programs is important to the long-term health and sustainability of a community before a disaster strikes. Doing this can open up funding opportunities not traditionally associated with disaster recovery. By broadening our definition of resiliency, adding to the systems we use to deliver aid, and rethinking who can and should be involved in planning for disaster recovery, we will have taken our first steps towards empowering citizens to have a more active role in protecting and enhancing their communities.

Heather McMillen

about the writer
Heather McMillen

Heather McMillen is the Urban & Community Forester with the Hawaiʻi Department of Land & Natural Resources.

Heather McMillen

Tending our gardens or testing our gardens?

Some of the most resilient communities I know are in places with little infrastructure. This struck me when I read about the City Resilience Index (a project supported by the Rockefeller Foundation), which highlighted how the utility systems and services in Arusha, Tanzania are unable to keep up with population growth, leaving water, sanitation, electricity, and other services challenged. Having spent some time in Arusha, I had a different perspective.

What would the world look like if we worked to solve problems by acknowledging local adaptations as social innovations?

I had observed the water and power going out and staying out for extended periods. I also observed that people seemed unfazed by this. They had reserves of water and fuel and were prepared with buckets, kerosene lanterns, and charcoal. They were familiar enough with their natural environments, despite being in a city, that they also knew how and where to find alternative sources of water and fuel. They had close connections to their neighbors and family members who functioned as support networks and shared and pooled resources. I thought about what happens when the water or power goes out in a city with remarkable infrastructure, such as New York, and how much more disruptive it is to daily life. Indeed, resilience is about more than infrastructure. It’s about relationships. What would the world look like if we worked to solve problems by acknowledging local adaptations as social innovations and/or part of existing and important social cultural norms? When we think about strengthening urban resilience, how can we recognize and build upon the flexible, innovative adaptations that many people live by?

Community-based environmental stewardship is an avenue for strengthening resilience because of its power to strengthen peoples’ relationships to place and to each other. An underlying hypothesis for my work is: strong relationships among people and place can promote community resilience because the feedback loops in tightly coupled systems are more effective at recognizing and responding to change. To strengthen community resilience through environmental stewardship, I believe it is important to:

Keep feedback loops and linkages in mind

These connections can be surprising. Liu and coauthors described the connections between the divorce rate in China and the degradation of panda habitat. My colleagues and I have written about how the experience of 9/11 affected and enhanced some communities’ ability to respond to Superstorm Sandy. Thinking outside the box, beyond the boundaries of the site and the community at hand, is critical. With a broad view, we have seen how the processes of creating and maintaining living memorials and community gardens helped stewards develop new or strengthen existing relationships at both the interpersonal level and the organizational level (McMillen et al. 2016). These become resources that are engaged in times of need.

Learn together

We need to broaden who we share experiences, insights, and lessons with about stewardship. We need to be open to other ways of knowing. This includes exchanges that are urban-rural, temperate-tropical, north-south. We also need to get better at listening to and learning from place (not just from people). This means being attuned to one’s environment, aware of its normal cycles and rhythms, and receptive to changes in those patterns. Learning together also means more cross-agency collaboration, including those that have not historically focused on greening or stewardship (e.g., FEMA). One local resident deeply involved in stewardship and disaster recovery suggested to me that FEMA recovery kits include planting materials and tools for communities so they can more quickly begin the work of re-greening together.

Engage the spirit

Although spirituality is typically left out of public discussions of environmental stewardship, for many people, these are inseparable. Spirituality is an important issue for resource managers and first responders because it can promote community resilience to cope with disasters and disturbances (Gómez-Baggethun et al. 2012; Berkes & Ross 2013). What if we more directly engaged or at least acknowledged the spiritual dimensions of environmental stewardship? Some of us are working toward this. In NYC, my colleagues and I described the material and verbal expressions of park visitors that demonstrated the value of urban green space for psycho-social-spiritual wellbeing (Svendsen et al. In Press). We have also documented how stewards of living memorial sites describe the therapeutic value of environmental stewardship. One woman reported “feeling good” through weeding, watering, and engaging in horticulture as a therapeutic outlet. Another steward referred to the sacred nature of the collaborative tree planting following 9/11, saying, “we were grieving. . . all of us felt like we needed to do something . . . Digging by hand was a manifestation of some kind of spirituality”. A better understanding of the sacred relationships with nature as a foundation for sustainable resource management and response to disturbance has great potential for strengthening stewardship specifically and resilience more broadly.

While communities I have worked with see the hypothesis I introduced above as an accepted truth, some of my colleagues question it because it has not been tested with an experimental research design. Is it enough to accept these other ways of knowing and proceed with a “no regrets” or “precautionary principle” approach that fully supports community-based environmental stewardship even if we have not rejected the null hypothesis that it does not support resilience? Or must this be proven in order to get the support of large agencies, institutions, and municipalities? If so, what would such a study look like? Would it be worth doing? Or shall we simply, in the words of Candide, “take care of our garden”?

Raul Pacheco-Vega

about the writer
Raul Pacheco-Vega

Dr. Raul Pacheco-Vega is an Assistant Professor of Comparative Public Policy at CIDE in Mexico. Raul’s research is interdisciplinary by nature, lying at the intersection of space, public policy, environment, and society. He is primarily interested in understanding the factors that contribute to (or hinder) cooperation in natural resource governance.

Raul Pacheco-Vega

When I think about resilience, I think of the work of Buzz Holling and Lance Gunderson, who coined the notion of panarchy. This concept borrows heavily from the biological sciences’ literature and offers a framework to think about how we approach external shocks and their impact on living organisms within an ecosystem of interest. According to the panarchy conceptual framework, systems can withstand external shocks by adapting through periods of slow and fast change. Different components of the system have different roles in this adaptive process, and operate at various scales.

We need to think beyond climate policy and create an integrated urban development set of policy tools, programs, and projects that will then build resilience.

Resilient organisms are able to adapt to stressors by learning how to cope and survive. Applying resilience thinking to urban systems, in particular cities, has become one of the most exciting (although perhaps over-used) models of urban governance. Adaptive urban governance seems at times a fad in the literature on cities. Given the realities of climatic change, if cities aren’t able to adapt to global environmental change, they will face the stark reality of droughts, sea level rise, abrupt changes in weather conditions, floods, and others types of disasters. Thus, it is imperative for cities to develop the ability to protect their citizens from these external shocks.

There are several elements to applying resilience thinking to adaptive urban governance. First off, we need to think about intelligent urban design that allows for the creation of buffer zones, robust infrastructure development that can withstand extreme weather events, a population that is well prepared for disasters, as well as mechanisms for timely triggering and deployment of disaster response teams. If a city isn’t properly planned from the start, and has zero information about the degrees and types of vulnerability that it faces, this city will demonstrate very little capacity to adapt, and thus we can’t expect it to be resilient.

Secondly, properly implemented resilience thinking necessitates a long-range, long-term plan not only for disaster response, but for general urban planning. Much of what cities do at the moment when facing extreme climatic events is in response to the emergency at hand, but they tend to continue planning for horizontal urban expansion without sufficiently considering that the more extended and expanded the urban boundaries are, the more challenging it will become for disaster response teams to reach beyond the urban perimeter to the peripheries.

Third, resilient cities can’t solely be driven by climate politics at the domestic and international levels. I’ve often frowned at (and complained about) the notion that climate change is THE single most important and most relevant environmental issue facing our planet. The case of contaminated water in Flint, Michigan (and recent similar cases in Pittsburgh and other cities across the United States) have clearly demonstrated that cities face multiple challenges, and that they need to rethink their approach to urban governance AND solve multiple problems, instead of focusing on adaptive capacity to climatic change. If municipal water utilities are unable to provide safe drinking water for their communities, how able will they be to adapt to climatic change? I believe that in order for resilience thinking to be properly applied to cities, we need to think beyond climate policy and create an integrated urban development set of policy tools, programs, and projects that will then build resilience.

Only then can we start thinking about building community resilience. First, we need to galvanize communities to understand that the environmental challenges facing cities are enormous, and THEN we can expect them to collaborate with the government at all three levels across the country in the construction of a robust, resilient city-national strategy.

Renae Reynolds

about the writer
Renae Reynolds

Renae Reynolds is a Project Coordinator at the US Forest Service Urban Field Station in New York.

Renae Reynolds

Socially resilient people = resilient systems and cities

Drawing on the experience of the past year and 4 months, as a coordinator of a research project titled the Landscapes of Resilience, I begin my answer to this question by reflecting on what my notion of resilience was at the start of the position and how my understanding changed over time. The vision of resilience I began with was, indeed, one that encompassed physical infrastructural change. Thinking about the physical devastation to people and property in previous natural disturbance events such as Hurricane Sandy and Katrina quite reasonably led to an internal reaction that would call for the elevation of structures, a fortifying of systems; indeed, I could easily conjure up imaginative and innovative ways that cities could become resilient to future disturbance.

Levees break and barriers fail, yet what endures is the will and persistence of people.

However, that image was very quickly tempered by the reality and challenges associated with achieving such enormous transformations to our built environment here in the U.S., as well as globally—the current state of our infrastructure can attest to how tremendously difficult such changes would be. Two years prior to working on the Landscapes of Resilience, I took a trip to Rotterdam as part of a group of community-based organizations and urban planning students who would explore and engage the ways that Rotterdam—a city built on land reclaimed from the ocean—and its citizens live with water. That trip allowed me to recognize the kinship of Rotterdam to New Orleans; for example, both lie below sea level. Both owe their existence to massive technological inventions: levees in New Orleans, and polders, dikes, surge barriers such as Oosterschelde, and water plazas in Rotterdam. Rotterdam was not short on highly technological solutions to resilience. Yet these two cities have another thing in common; at times, all the technological know-how we can muster cannot withstand the immense power of nature. Levees break and barriers fail, if they ever get built at all. Yet what endures is the will and persistence of people and the social resilience that we must recognize, value, and cultivate in the future.

Understanding the social dimensions of resilience was the main objective in the Landscapes of Resilience initiative. I was not only a member of a research team engaging people who live on the peninsula between Jamaica Bay and the Atlantic Ocean in New York City—as a fellow resident in this vulnerable landscape, I shared a common identity with them. I was not there when Hurricane Sandy hit, but I understand the pinprick of anxiety in the back of the mind when one considers the potential for another storm of its magnitude. This common understanding is what framed my work with the group of gardeners and land stewards that the project engaged. Through close and constant contact, I began to understand the importance not just of the internal motivations one gardener might possess to keep gardening after disaster, but the equal importance of the relationships and social connections a group of gardeners forges among themselves, and how those relationships can be fostered through collective decision-making, how commitment to a common pursuit can develop mutual trust, and how that trust can allow people to go beyond their initially conceived realm of possibility. An intimate understanding and will to invest in and support the social dimensions of resilience is key to supporting readiness, response, and recovery from disturbance.

Hita Unnikrishnan

about the writer
Hita Unnikrishnan

Dr. Hita Unnikrishnan is an Assistant Professor at The Institute for Global Sustainable Development, The University of Warwick. Hita’s research interests lie in the interface of urban ecology, systems thinking, resilience, urban environmental history, public health discourses, and urban political ecology as it relates to the evolution, governance, and management of common pool resources in cities of the global south.

Hita Unnikrishnan

Urban planning and urban commons

As I am penning this piece, the population of the metropolitan south Indian city of Bengaluru, where I come from, is rather divided in their opinions on a burning question: whether a proposed steel flyover—supposedly to be built to global standards in a globalized city—is really that crucial to Bengaluru’s image. The flyover connecting some nodal regions of Bengaluru is to be built by sacrificing more than 800 old, often-irreplaceable trees.

Community-managed structures, whether conceived with resilience as a goal or not, are integral to building a city’s adaptability.

This is not a new phenomenon, however. Infrastructural projects have historically been undertaken at the cost of damaging the fragile urban ecosystem, often with little thought to how both humans and animals may be drawing benefits from what is scheduled to be sacrificed. Grandiose promises of replacing the lost ecosystem, frequently at other, more distant locations, are made (the plan for the proposed steel flyover claims it will replace the more than 800 trees estimated to be lost with over 60,000 ornamentals), but these rarely come to fruition in a city starved for space. Other such examples of urban planning include the colonially pervasive fascination with bourgeois notions of aesthetics and recreation over more utilitarian uses of lakes and similar water bodies, modern privatization of those very lakes, and the chopping of old, valuable trees for projects such as the widening of roads. All of these activities share the hallmark of being non-inclusive and are potentially worrying in a city ill prepared to deal with adversity. For instance, Bengaluru today relies on water pumped from the river Cauvery, over 100 kilometres away, greatly reducing its water security. There exists an implicit notion that decision-makers know what is best for the city, as opposed to citizens who live and make a living out of the very resources that are being ill managed or sacrificed.

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A thriving home garden in one of the slums of Bengaluru—the plants grown include vegetables, fruits, ornamentals, and medicinal plants, as well as those that are culturally important. Photo: Hita Unnikrishnan
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A community well in a slum of Bengaluru—serves to meet domestic purposes of families living in the locality. Photo: Hita Unnikrishnan

Yet, if one were to be a flaneur walking rather aimlessly, observing what the streets of the city—both the old as well as the new—have to offer by way of visual experience, it is not hard to spot examples of communities nurturing and caring for nature in their own ways. While not on such large scales as the proposed infrastructural advancements, these relics of engagement with nature can nevertheless make one realize the immense potential of community-led stewardship in enhancing resilience of the city. For example, in walking through some of the more densely populated slums in Bengaluru, one would be hard-pressed to find a single home devoid of greenery in the form of medicinal or ornamental trees and shrubs, as well as those holding cultural significance. For many of these marginalized residents, these plants provide a first step towards treating minor ailments such as cuts and burns as well as for serious illness.

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An Ashwathkatte—a form of urban commons consisting of a raised platform with two peepal trees (sometimes also associated with a neem) and used for religious purposes. Photo: Hita Unnikrishnan

Remains of old, magnificent, formerly community-managed wells that, in some cases, still provide water to nearby localities, attest to the former success of these structures in enhancing the water security of the city. As our research has shown, the heart of Bengaluru once boasted over 1,500 wells, which have sadly dwindled down to about 49 (as of 2014) because of the pressures of urbanization and development. Remnants of urban commons such as village forests as well as communal grazing lands also provide a much needed green oasis in the concrete dominated city. Once managed by communities, with informal rules and regulations governing their access and use, they are integral to providing both utilitarian benefits to people as well as in sustaining local biodiversity and microclimates. In other words, community-managed structures such as these, though not conceived with the direct intention of enhancing urban resilience, nevertheless are integral to building the city’s adaptability.

Still, despite their critical roles, such spaces remain largely ignored by developmental processes, and far removed from the consciousness of larger urban populations. Thus, change must be brought about by factoring in the role of such urban commons in enhancing the strength and capacity of the city to withstand adverse changes—both at the level of urban populations as well as in larger processes of urban planning.

Paula Villagra

about the writer
Paula Villagra

Paula Villagra, PhD, is a Landscape Architect that researches the transactions between people and landscapes in environments affected by natural disturbances.

Paula Villagra

Resilience is also about binding and inclusive planning tools 

Urban planners should consider facilitating access to diverse ecosystem services, particularly in coastal areas, which are characterized by a rich diversity of natural resources useful for mitigation, regulation, provisioning, and restoration purposes. However, natural resources outside and within urban areas have been largely overlooked in urban planning and are often unregulated due to the limitations of regulation plans that function only up to the urban edge. Outside such political borders, rural areas lack regulations that can enhance recovery from disturbances.

Land use planning must accommodate specific land use types, such as urban wetlands, to increase community resilience.

This issue has been observed widely in Chile, were I developed studies on this subject and found that there are no statutory planning instruments to regulate land located outside of urban areas. This is especially problematic for enhancing coastal resilience, since many relevant natural resources are often located adjacent to coastal settlements but outside urban boundaries. For example, wetlands and dunes that act as flood buffers; forest and prairies that can provide food resources; and nearby hills that give refuge and security typically exist outside urban areas and within natural environments that cannot be regulated in a binding way.

We have also found that natural resources within urban environments have a restorative potential that is crucial for recovery in disaster-prone environments. For example, urban wetlands, including water presence, open space, and landscape design interventions, can be restorative to people subjected to a high level of stress after disaster. Hence, access to natural restorative environments may be crucial in cities prone to earthquakes and tsunamis, since catastrophic events can change one’s relationship to the landscape, with important implications for health and well-being. However, urban pressures often threaten the conservation of nature within urban areas. The need to build new highways and to increase housing provisions, and changes in land use that promote urban density, deteriorate urban nature as well as people’s relationship with it. This occurs due to the lack of regulations that specifically consider, for example, urban wetlands as a specific land use within urban planning. In the case of Chile, urban wetlands fall within the category of green areas, and thus lack the adequate regulation both for their conservation and for their use in recovery after a disaster.

Natural resources that provide buffers, food, water, refuge, security, and restoration after a disaster, within and outside of urban areas, need to be urgently acknowledged, considered, and protected through statutory urban planning documents at regional and local scales to improve community resilience after disturbances.

Karen Zumach

about the writer
Karen Zumach

Karen Zumach is the Director of Community Forestry for the non-profit Tree Trust, whose mission is to improve the community environment by investing in people.

Karen Zumach

North Minneapolis, May 22, 2011

The streets of North Minneapolis were once graced with a tree canopy that rivaled other parts of the city. People purchased homes in North Minneapolis because of the large trees that lined the streets. Beneath the amazing canopy, there grew an ever-larger disparity between those that have and those that have not. Once a burgeoning oasis for the middle class, North Minneapolis, a section of the city bisected by more than just a major highway, has also become the de facto “forgotten side of town”. Crime rates are high there. Poverty is more abundant. Houses are now owned by people who don’t live in them and the neighborhoods here have changed.

In North Minneapolis, the community views replacing the trees lost in a 2011 tornado as a duty. It’s about their community.

On May 22, 2011 the neighborhoods of North Minneapolis changed in a way that never could have been predicted. When the EF-1 tornado came through on that May afternoon, everything was altered. The green, leafy canopy that covered the societal issues of North Minneapolis was removed and people were forced to take notice. Resilience had been just a word to the residents and decision makers of this community. Now it had context. Community resilience came alive immediately after the storm: neighbors helped neighbors, people showed up. They were going to bounce back—together.

For me, the day after the tornado came through; I had to learn to talk about trees in a different way. Our organization had plans to plant trees that following week at an elementary school just on the outskirts of the path the tornado took. To the people (and most importantly, to the children) affected by the storm, they weren’t towering superheroes cleaning our air and mitigating stormwater runoff, sequestering carbon and keeping our homes cool. These trees that I revered had become weapons of mass destruction: destroying cars and homes and things that people relied upon every day. All I wanted to do was replant the trees—the sky in North Minneapolis was so big now, the residents there would be so hot in the summer, there would be no respite from the noise and the pollution and the concrete. But the residents of this area affected by the storm needed a roof that didn’t leak or a car that could take them to and from work. We all had to learn to talk about the recovery of this area in a different way. And we had to learn to wait.

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Thomas Avenue N, Minneapolis, 2010.
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Thomas Avenue N, Minneapolis, 2015

Tree Trust began offering trees to residents impacted by the storm within months. At first, the interest was strong, especially amongst the residents that had minimal property damage but significant tree loss. Over 3,500 properties experienced some type of damage due to the storm. 6,000 trees were lost on public property and an untold amount was lost on private property. As I said, the sky became so big, and I just wanted to find a way to fill it.

Five years later, I feel like we’re able to talk about trees and their importance in our communities with these neighborhoods in a way we couldn’t before. Trees are missed now. The summers are hotter. The noise from the road is louder. Air pollution in this part of the city is being studied more and the results are making people take notice. For the people in these communities affected by the tornado, trees now matter. There have been over 5,000 trees planted in North Minneapolis since the tornado, many of them just starting to cast shade in areas where large trees once stood. It will be a generation before these trees are back to their reigning glory of covering the streets, cooling the homes and purifying the air as those did before the storm.

Tree Trust continues to offer trees to property owners affected by the storm. As each year goes by, we hear the stories: “We need trees”. Some residents want two trees, some want ten. Some know full well that they will never live to see their towering beauty, but they insist on planting because they know that someone planted the trees that graced their streets before the storm and it’s their duty to try to bring them back. It’s about their community.

Once the necessities are tended to—that is the time to connect with the communities more directly at the neighborhood huddles and church groups to talk about trees, while those who can recall the green, leafy streets and the feelings they induced are most able to talk about them and fight for their return. Their experiences of loss should not be understated and those are the stories that create the narrative of a community’s resilience.

Where Did All the Streams Go?

Art, Science, Action: Green Cities Re-imagined

A review of Hidden Waters of New York City: A History and Guide to 101 Forgotten Lakes, Ponds, Creeks, and Streams in the Five Boroughs. By Sergey Kadinsky. Countryman Press, Woodstock, VT. ISBN: 9781581573558. 336 pages. Buy the book.

There is something about a stream that just won’t let go of the imagination. People somehow accept other aspects of the environmental destruction required to make cities. Most folks don’t recall the legions of forests and acres of meadows that have been bulldozed for townhouses or that the soil must be encased in asphalt to make it easier for cars and bikes. Urbanites might find it sad, but understandable, that trillions of former wildlife inhabitants—birds, bees, bears, beetles, bobcats—have been swept from the cityscape to make room for people and our pet animals instead. But everyone wants to know, once they start to think about it: what happened to the streams?

A remarkable number of streams and stream fragments still exist in New York City, and Kadinsky tries to find every one of them.
Sergey Kadinsky’s new book provides 101 answers to that question for the five boroughs of New York City. For the 8.6 million citizens and the 50 million visitors to the city each year, Kadinsky’s book is your best guide to the lost and underappreciated hydrological features of New York City—not only streams, but also ponds, lakes, creeks, and the occasional spring. His is the modern incarnation of the same spirit that drove James Reuel Smith, a former merchant in lower Manhattan, to buy a bicycle and an early camera, and ride around snapping pictures and penning nostalgic accounts, which resulted in Springs and Wells of Manhattan and the Bronx from 1916 (later republished by the New-York Historical Society in 1938). Kadinsky trades Smith’s bicycle for the subway and buses, but their impetus is the same.

hidden-water-coverSmith and Kadinsky are not alone in being drawn to running water. Paul Talling’s Lost Rivers of London, Joel Pomerantz’s Kickstarter-funded maps of the streams and springs of San Francisco, Mary Miss’s artful explication of the White River in Indianapolis, Jessica Hall’s creek freak investigations in Los Angeles, Steve Duncan’s fearless expeditions into the sewers, Robin Grossinger and Erin Beller’s detailed studies of the streams of Silicon Valley (formerly “The Valley of Heart’s Delight”) and our own work on the Welikia Project in New York, testify to the same obsession. Maybe e.e. cummings said it best, writing in his Greenwich Village apartment not far from the former shores of Minetta Water in Manhattan: “For whatever we lose (like a you or a me), / It’s always ourselves we find in the sea.”

A remarkable number of streams and stream fragments still exist in New York City, and Kadinsky tries to find every one of them. His book is divided by borough, with convenient finding aids on the page edges. Place names are written in bold text to catch the eye, and numerous figures of historic maps and images (unfortunately all in gray scale and rather small) provide context. After giving a brief historical walking tour of each stream or pond, their descriptions end with directions, places to see, and recommendations to learn more. At the end of the volume, Kadinsky includes a bibliography organized by borough and waterway, including valuable references to long-lost newspaper accounts and historical volumes.

Kadinsky’s descriptions of waters invoke the flow of time. Gabler’s Creek in Douglaston, for example, reminds us not only of the fight to preserve the narrow ravine of Udall’s Cove Park Preserve in the 1970s, but also the construction of Overbrook Street in the 1930s, and the Battle of Madnan’s Neck in the 1650s, which drove the last Native Americans from their homely abodes along Great Neck Bay. In the Bronx, Rattlesnake Brook still rambles down through Seton Falls Park, over an eighteenth century diversionary waterfall, and through a nineteenth century ice pond, once used for winter skating and summer cooling, before slipping into an underground pipe, to emerge down by Co-op City and slip silently, and mostly unnoticed, into Long Island Sound.

Perusing Hidden Waters is fun for both the armchair historian and the modern urban eco-adventurer. Without sermonizing, there is a distinct historical rhythm to these accounts. Most begin with a colonial description of a typically beautiful, formerly long-lasting, watery feature of the environment, many of which formed during the last Ice Age—that has been co-opted for industrial purposes. Nineteenth century New Yorkers largely regarded waterways as places to get power, launch vessels, and/or dispose of sewage and garbage. Once these ponds, streams, and other waters were fouled, the city government and private actors, on the hunt for more land to develop, filled and paved them, a process that played itself out in fits and starts from the late 19th century through most of the 20th century. The natural waters we have left now are largely the result of neglect—so little time, so many streams to fill—until the environmental movement of the late 20th century finally created the legal and regulatory tools to stop their destruction.

And now it’s the 21st century’s turn to do something for the wet nature of the city. Kadinsky’s day job is with the New York City Department of Parks and Recreation, which has its own natural resources group, and is engaged in a large number of stream, pond, and wetland restoration projects across the five boroughs. The city even has a wetlands strategy. Contemporary New Yorkers are perhaps more willing than our peers in the past to see nature as part of the infrastructure of the city. Climate change is part of that: green, wet places help cool the city and, at the shore’s edge, may contribute to blunting the adverse effects of wave energy and storm surge. Returning precipitation and snowmelt to the ground also has an effect on water quality. The city has only so much room for water treatment plants and infrastructure; the soil is an efficient sop that keeps water out of the treatment system; and water in the ground will help fill ponds and make streams perennial again. For a city that drinks more than a billion gallons per day, returning a modicum to nature seems like the least that we can do.

One of us (Sanderson) remembers giving a historical walking tour and stopping at the intersection of Maiden Lane and Pearl Street in downtown Manhattan, only a few blocks from Wall Street, in the shadows of skyscrapers, to describe the stream that once flowed there. Maiden Lane got its name from the Dutch washing women who used to leave the palisades of New Amsterdam to do their laundry along the “Maagde Paetje” or Virgin’s Path. In the old sources, the stream is invariably described as sparkling over a bottom of smooth pebbles. As I was describing this on a dank, unpebbled street corner at the height of rush hour, one of the guests on the tour abruptly interrupted, and asked, in a rather loud voice: “where has the stream gone now?” I pointed to the manhole cover in the middle of the street and the storm drain at her feet. For most of the city, gutters are our streams, and the water isn’t hidden when it rains; rather, it pours out in fast, furious floods and swirls down into dark places not to be seen again. I told the ensemble about all the ways that we can bring streams back, by daylighting them, revegetating them, or, at the very least, in our mind’s eye, re-imagining them. The woman looked less than convinced. But at least someone wanted to know and was ready to shout into the cacophony: what happened to the streams?

Eric W. Sanderson and Christopher Spagnoli
New York City

On The Nature of Cities

Christopher Spagnoli

about the writer
Christopher Spagnoli

Christopher Spagnoli Program Assistant at Wildlife Conservation Society's Conservation Innovation program. Since 2014 he has worked on the development of the Welikia Project and Visionmaker.nyc.

The Co-City: From the Tragedy to the Comedy of the Urban Commons

Art, Science, Action: Green Cities Re-imagined

“Urban commons: the goods, tangible, intangible, and digital, that citizens and the Administration, [through] participative and deliberative procedures, recognize to be functional to the individual and collective wellbeing…to share the responsibility with the Administration of their care or regeneration in order to improve [their] collective enjoyment”

—From Section 2 of the “Regulation On the Collaboration Among Citizens and The City for The Care and Regeneration Of Urban Commons”, City of Bologna, Italy

When the ecologist Garret Hardin wrote his much celebrated essay in 1968, “The Tragedy of the Commons”, no one would have imagined that the concept of the commons would apply to the built environment. Yet today, the “urban commons” is increasingly embraced by scholars, activists, citymakers, policymakers, and politicians. These urban commons can include a range of resources in cities—including parks, community gardens, streets, neighborhood infrastructure, vacant lots, and abandoned buildings. The urban commons also include the intangible aspects of city living, such as culture and heritage. Characterizing these resources as urban commons re-imagines the city as a collection of shared resources and its residents as potential collaborators in generating, utilizing, and managing these resources.

When widely and intensely shared urban resources increase solidarity and generative potential, they can invert the tragedy of the commons paradigm.

But why exactly are these urban “commons” or common goods? These terms are not always subject to precise definition. The term urban commons, in fact, can give rise to more questions than answers. What is the difference between natural resources (traditional commons) within cities and abandoned buildings or vacant lots that are turned into a common pool asset by urban residents? What is the difference between privately governed open access spaces and cooperatively governed open access spaces—are they both types of urban commons? Can certain kinds of infrastructure—broadband infrastructure, do it yourself “mesh” networks, new forms of energy (like microgrids), housing cooperatives, etc.—be considered common goods? These are important questions to answer if this framework of the urban commons is to have any lasting impact on our discussions about what cities can or should become as we undergo intense urbanization in the next few decades.

Let’s begin with Hardin’s original, though simplistic, conception of the commons—an open access natural resource. Hardin’s tale of “Tragedy” unfolds in an open pasture in which individual herdsmen bring their cattle for grazing until their combined actions lead to overgrazing, essentially depleting the resource entirely. There are, of course, traditional, open access natural resources in urban environments, around which cities have been built and are now part of their ecological landscape. Lakes, rivers, and wetlands in and around cities are certainly a type of “urban commons”, as Harini Nagendra’s wonderful work and blogging illustrate. The degradation and destruction of these resources as a byproduct of urban development is a concern for the sustainability of cities at a time of obvious climate change. New Orleans, for instance, was built on a marsh and is surrounded by the Mississippi River and Lake Pontchartrain. It is not difficult, for instance, to trace the loss and destruction of coastal wetlands over the course of a century (or more) to the devastating flooding that occurred in New Orleans as a result of Hurricane Katrina.

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New Orleans, surrounded by Mississippi River and Lake Pontchartrain, CC BY-SA 3.0

Moreover, much of the infrastructure of a city is an open-access commons—including its streets, parks, plazas, and squares. It is not difficult to imagine how many of these open access, public spaces can result in an urbanized version of Hardin’s Tragedy—overconsumed, degraded, or destroyed. This “tragedy” was arguably reflected in the decline of many open spaces in U.S. cities in the 1970s and 1980s, which left many streets, parks, and neighborhoods unsafe, dirty, prone to criminal activity and virtually abandoned by most users. Much of this decline in the urban commons was attributable not only to over-consumption and degradation, but equally to the onset of local fiscal crises and decline in city appropriations to care for and regulate these spaces, arguably sealing their fate for at least a decade or more.

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Central Park in the 1980s, New York City, image in WestSide Spirit
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Urban decay in Detroit, images courtesy of detroiturbex.com by Albert duce – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0

Most of the focus on the urban commons, however, is not about threatened or endangered natural resources in cities, nor about the tragedy of the urban commons. The push to recognize the built environment as constituting a variety of urban commons is more about opening up access to, and generating, essential resources for a broader class of individuals than is fostered by current urban growth and consumption patterns. This recognition resists the threat of enclosure of the city resources and assets— parks, public spaces and institutions, vacant and abandoned land, underutilized structures, among others—by either public or private appropriation and control. Exclusive public or private management and control tends to monopolize these resources and subject them to domination by elite interests or to the speculative market. The enclosure of these elements of the urban mosaic by narrow interests and capital markets prevents the kind of sharing and pooling consistent with the idea of a commons as a collective, shared resource.

Let’s return for a moment to parks, streets, neighborhoods, and other infrastructure in cities and flip the script from Hardin’s “tragedy of the commons” to what Carol Rose calls the “comedy of the commons.” These open access spaces in cities are where the proximity of different kinds of people coming together creates the culture and “vibe” of a city and strengthens social ties within communities. It is this interaction among urban dwellers that makes public space so valuable in cities, and in communities. This openness is crucial to the ability of great cities to thrive amidst tremendous human diversity. As such, increased use and even congestion in open access, interactive spaces are what gives urban commons their value as a shared resource. The more of the public that participates or joins in to utilize the resource, the more valuable the resource is to the individuals or communities that use it. As Carol Rose argues, rather than tragedy in these spaces, we are more likely to find that the “more the merrier” is a better description of high consumption activities in the urban commons. In other words, the more that people come together to interact, the more they “reinforce the solidarity and well-being of the whole community.” Thus, instead of the potential for overconsumption and ruin, we can also imagine the potential for solidarity and the generative potential of the urban commons to create other goods that sustain communities.

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Davie Street community garden, Vancouver, by Geoff Peters from Vancouver, BC, Canada – Dining in the Davie Community Garden, CC BY 2.0

The most transformative vision of the urban commons is a recognition that common goods can be cooperatively or collaboratively produced and managed by urban residents in ways that are more attuned to the needs of those users and more inclusive of their input. When residents clear vacant lots and construct community gardens and urban farms on them, they not only facilitate and reinforce their solidarity, but they also produce a host of other goods (public safety, outdoor green space, fresh food) necessary to function and to flourish in healthy, sustainable communities. When activists occupy and squat in foreclosed and abandoned (and often boarded up) homes or public housing units as a means to convince municipalities to clear title and transfer these homes into communal forms of ownership and management, they do so to take the properties out of the speculative real estate market and create limited equity housing or long-term affordable rentals. Transferring previously held structures to a community land trust, or converting them into deed-restricted housing, would keep these properties perpetually affordable for low- and moderate-income households and would allow the residents to self-manage them as an urban commons.

Housing cooperatives have a long history in American cities. However, the use of community land trusts (or CLTs) and other cooperative ownership structures that separate land ownership from land use transform what might otherwise be a collection of individuals owning property (in the typical cooperative ownership model) to a collaboratively governed institution which manages collectively shared goods. Land owned by a CLT is removed from the real estate market and put into a legal structure that is democratically governed by a diverse membership open to people from across the city or a specific community. For example, community land trusts can manage housing, commercial real estate, green space, small businesses, and indeed an entire urban village as in the celebrated example of the “urban village” managed by Dudley Street’s Neighborhood Initiative in the Boston area.

Image: The NYC Community Land Initiative
Image: The NYC Community Land Initiative

The emergence of collaboratively generated and cooperatively managed regimes to take care of and regenerate the urban commons is very reminiscent of the groundbreaking work of Nobel prize winner Elinor Ostrom. In her classic work, Governing the Commons, Ostrom identified groups of users all over the world who were able to cooperate to create and enforce rules for sharing and managing natural resources—such as grazing lands, fisheries, forests, and irrigation waters—using “rich mixtures of public and private instrumentalities.” In such frameworks, we see novel applications of collaboratively managed infrastructure and goods and services that have typically been provided as either public or private goods. There are many emerging examples of the creation of common goods in the environmental, housing, digital, and cultural arenas.

In New York City, there is an emerging “real estate investment cooperative” (or REIC) to finance the transformation of vacant publicly owned buildings for community, commercial, and manufacturing spaces. All of the spaces that the NYC REIC finances will be transformed into permanently affordable space. There are also efforts underway to create new forms of collectively owned and cooperatively managed urban infrastructure, particularly in socially and economically vulnerable communities. For example, community wireless mesh networks (as in Red Hook, Brooklyn) can bring internet service to communities and populations that lack broadband access. These networks can help to bridge the digital divide and promote what some call “network equality”, as well as providing resiliency in case of a climate event. Similarly, and also to address resiliency to climate change in neighborhoods less likely to withstand climate change impacts, some communities (as in West Harlem New York) are exploring installing cooperatively owned microgrids as a way to transition towards more resilient communities.

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Community Mesh Network

Finally, beyond particular urban commons, the city itself is a commons—a shared resource that is generative and produces goods for human need and human flourishing. The city as a commons means that the city is a collaborative space in which urban inhabitants are central actors in managing and governing city life and urban resources—ranging from open spaces and buildings to neighborhood infrastructure and digital networks. Moreover, the city (as a public authority) can and should be one partner in a polycentric system creating conditions where urban commons can flourish.

This idea of the city as a commons is motivated by the ongoing experimentation process of establishing Bologna, Italy, as a collaborative city, or “co-city.” As part of this process the city of Bologna adopted and implemented a regulation that empowers residents, and others, to collaborate with the city to undertake the “care and regeneration” of the “urban commons” across the city through “collaboration pacts” or agreements. The regulation provides for local authorities to transfer technical and monetary support to reinforce the pacts and contains norms and guidance on the importance of maintaining the inclusiveness and openness of the resource, of proportionality in protecting the public interest, and of directing the use of common resources towards the “differentiated” public. The specific applications of the Bologna regulation are just now undergoing implementation, as the City has recently signed over 250 pacts of collaboration, which are tools of shared governance. The regulation and other city public policies foresee other governance tools inspired by the collaborative and polycentric design principles underlying the Regulation.

The Bologna regulation, and the related co-city protocol designed by my colleagues at the Laboratory for the Governance of the Commons (“LabGov”) are illustrative of the kinds of experimentalist and adaptive policy tools which allow city inhabitants and various actors (i.e., social innovators, local entrepreneurs, civil society organizations, and knowledge institutions willing to work in the general interest) to enter into co-design processes with the city, leading to local polycentric governance of an array of common goods in the city. This process of commons-based experimentalism re-conceptualizes urban governance along the same lines as the right to the city, creating a juridical framework for city rights. Through collaborative, polycentric governance-based experiments we can see the right to the city framework be partially realized—e.g., the right to be part of the creation of the city, the right to be part of the decision-making processes shaping the lives of city inhabitants, and the right of inhabitants to shape decisions about the collective resources in which all urban inhabitants have a stake.

Sheila Foster
New York City

On The Nature of Cities