From City of Light to Ville Verte: How a Comprehensive Approach to Climate Change Adaptation is Making Paris the World’s Green Innovator

Art, Science, Action: Green Cities Re-imagined
Through many ambitious and innovative efforts, small and large, Paris is greening to adapt to the worsening impacts of climate change, increasing its livability even as the warming planet begins to threaten the healthfulness of urban existence.
On a recent visit to Paris after an absence of more than a dozen years, I was struck by the comprehensive and visionary approach to urban resilience and livability that is transforming Paris into the global leader in innovative urban greening. Since my childhood, I have been entranced by the beauty and scale of Paris and its streets and parks, and over several visits encompassing a half century have come to understand and appreciate the richness and vitality of its urban form, design, and function. But a studied and formal classicism is giving way to a decidedly informal and experimental vison and taking much less staid and more creative approach to parks and open space—driven by the urgency of the impacts of climate change.

Canal Saint-Martin and its green edges, Photo: Adrian Benepe

My main reason for visiting Paris was to attend The Nature of Cities Summit, an international conference very thoughtfully organized and curated by The Nature of Cities, which could not have been held in a more appropriate place—especially in light of very recent and dramatic evidence of the impacts of climate change and global warming. The realities of climate change have drawn attention to the need to tear down the traditional boundaries between the built and natural environment. Now, the importance of integrating the two into a coherent—if sometimes visually confusing—urban fabric is clear: to deploy nature and natural infrastructure as adaptive tools to address challenges solely the product of human invention. 

Over the past decade, Paris has led the way in urban greening, creating and renovating new and existing infrastructure to establish itself as a “ville verte”, in addition to its more common moniker as the City of Light. None of this is surprising—Paris’ Mayor, Anne Hidalgo, recently served as Chair of C40 Cities, and of course the critical international climate accord, the Paris Climate Agreement, was signed by 195 countries in the city for which it is named. The city has entered in to collaborative research and policy initiatives with international organizations focused on climate change and urbanism, including C40 Cities and Bloomberg Associates. The strides they have made in taking a city known more for its architectural cohesiveness and street layout than for a preponderance of parks and green spaces in the center city (its two largest parks, the Bois de Vincennes and the Bois de Boulogne, are at the very outer edges of the city) deserve global attention, and provide a template for other cities to follow. Indeed, their example is all the more important in these days of historic heat waves that last longer and hit temperatures never before recorded—Paris and most of Western Europe recently experienced their hottest temperature in recorded history—almost 109°F (42.6°C) in Paris in late July, 2019. 

Paris Mayor Anne Hidalgo, Photo: Christophe Morin/Bloomberg
Parisians seek relief where they can find it during the recent record heat wave. Photo: Gerard Julien/AFP

Excessive heat is the deadliest and most ubiquitous of the impacts of climate change, and Paris is one of the global cities leading the efforts and innovations to counter urban heat, and leading the deployment of comprehensive resilience plans devised and implemented to maintain the city’s livability—and basic human survival of extreme weather incidents. High-density, asphalt-laden neighborhoods create “ilots de chaleur urbain”—urban heat islands—that amplify temperatures and keep storm water runoff above ground, worsening flooding. During a prolonged 2003 heat wave, more than 15,000 people died in France—and 40,000 across Europe—from heat-related causes, and, with only preliminary results in, at least 5 deaths were directly related to the recent Paris heat wave. These are some of the challenges created by existing infrastructure—such as black asphalt streets that absorb heat and large expanses of impermeable, tree-less surfaces—that can exacerbate the impacts of climate change. Some cities, such as Paris, are finding ways to rethink, and in some cases, totally reinvent the fabric of their environments to make a strong effort at adaptation.

Paris is not alone—other cities have taken aggressive action to green their streets and open spaces. Boston has a quality park within a 10-minute walk of all of its residents, and the current administration under Mayor Marty Walsh continues to prepare its city to prepare for the cascading impacts of climate change effects, while making itself more livable. Washington DC, ranked #1 on The Trust for Public Land’s ParkScore index, grew its investment in its park system significantly, formally adopting the 100% promise to reach 100% park access by 2050. The city already has 98% of its citizens living within a ½ mile of a park, parks that have a varied and extensive array of amenities, and that are well maintained, with parks spending at $270.40 per resident. New York is another leader in green infrastructure, and it is the city that provided the example from which Paris has built, and taken one step further. It is New York’s green schoolyards program, a joint creation of the mayoral administration of Michael Bloomberg and The Trust for Public Land, which Paris has taken as direct inspiration for its own ambitious effort to greatly augment the benefits of schoolyards, which it calls the Oasis Schoolyards Project (Openness, Adaptation, Sensitization, Innovation and Social ties).

“Oasis Schoolyard” at the Ecole Maternelle Charles Hermite. Photo: Henri Garat

The Oasis Project is a key part of Paris’ resilience plan, though under Mayor Hidalgo’s leadership it is just one of a multitude of other efforts aimed at readying the city for both the short-term and long-term climate change impacts. The city’s official plan, adopted in 2017, “Stratégie de Résilience”, locates the challenge at hand in a tradition of change unique to urban environments, while recognizing its immensity. Under this plan and others, the main objectives of the city of Paris include ensuring no resident lives more than seven minutes from a green space by 2020. 

Deputy Mayor Pénélope Komitès, a key leader in implementing the plan, and the official overseeing parks in Paris, sat down with me and spoke in-depth about some of its other components, which includes building two new parks that are energy self-sufficient and 30 hectares (74 acres) of new parks and gardens across the city. Some of these parks will be open 24 hours during the summer. This is particularly important, especially in the context of data showing that summer nights are warming faster than days, preventing the human body from naturally regulating its temperature during the nighttime hours.

Deputy Mayor Penelope Komites in her office with furniture made from fallen trees by Parisian foresters. Photo: Adrian Benepe

The goal of the Oasis Schoolyards Project is simple: radically remake the asphalt lots that currently serve as school playgrounds into green, community assets. The City worked with Bloomberg Associates to help prioritize which of the 700 schoolyards to begin transforming into Urban Oases. Bloomberg Associates helped analyze five years’ worth of satellite thermal imagery to create the most detailed map of Paris’ hottest neighborhoods. That data was combined with other environmental and social data to create a digital mapping tool to help identify and prioritize schoolyards for the Urban Oases program.

By the beginning of the 2019 school year, Paris hopes to have thirty schoolyards transformed, and by 2040, they want every school to have an oasis. More than 173 acres (70 hectares) of the city surface are occupied by these schoolyards, underscoring the potential for this program to have positive impacts on the health of not only its young, but all of its citizens, since the oases become open to the public outside of school hours. This is especially important for vulnerable populations, such as the elderly, who are at greatest risk during periods of high heat. Studies show that parks can cool their immediate area by between 7 to 12 degrees Fahrenheit (3.9-6.7 degrees Celsius), and that this cooling radius can extend past the borders of the green space and reduce the temperature of the surrounding neighborhood. Providing nearby parks to cool off in is not a luxury, but a life-saving step cities can take to protect their more heat-vulnerable residents. The oases are designed to have permeable surfaces—a far cry from the current asphalt that absorbs heat and repels water—and more vegetation, in addition to shaded areas, and water features that will both provide entertainment and critical cooling on the hottest of days. 

As with all ambitious efforts, the process is as important as the product. The students and adults of each community are included in the planning process as part of a co-design methodology, giving ownership of those spaces to those that know and use them the most, while educating them and spreading awareness on matters of sustainability and environmental mindfulness, which are quickly becoming essential components of the toolkit with which we equip our young to cope with this radically changing climate. 

Carine Bernede, Director of Green Spaces and the Environment for the City of Paris, and the leader of the Oasis Schoolyards Project, also briefed me on a number of smaller scale initiatives aimed at greening the city. These smaller projects, such as the city’s “rues végétales,” what we call in the US “green streets,” are quickly implemented, intuitive, and achieve impact without major impact on public funds. Implemented at scale across the city, the rues végétales have the potential to clean polluted air, absorb storm water, and bring nature into the heart of the city. Some of these are city-managed improvements that turn blank sidewalks into green corridors that capture storm water runoff and add shade trees to cool the street, others are citizen-sparked greening of tree pits or odd corners of sidewalks.

Rue de Sully, now a “Rue Vegetale”. Photo: Adrian Benepe

Paris is also deploying urban agriculture to further green the city, mostly on roofs and parking lots. Usually done in partnership with museums, social organizations, schools, libraries, and other institutions, some projects are community-led and maintained, with special permits given to residents to have their own neighborhood “farms.” In an effort to spread the practice’s adoption, the city is streamlining the bureaucratic channels required for approval of permits. Individuals are able to fill out an application online to initiate and manage their own greening projects and get approval in a few days. There are, of course, some rules, including no pesticides being used, but in general, the process is easy and meant to encourage residents to be co-stewards of their environment. If the sites are deemed to be lacking in maintenance, however, the permits can be revoked. 

La Petite Ceinture. Photo: Adrian Benepe

In addition to these smaller-scale initiatives, the city has undertaken and in some cases completed the redevelopment of 8 major “places” to reduce the amount of space occupied by cars, and make them more pedestrian-friendly. Included among the list of redesigned squares are some notable landmarks, such as Place de La Bastille, Place de Nation, and Place du Pantheon. In other spaces, such as adjacent to the Pantheon, the city simply removed traffic lanes and parking areas and replaced them with a “pop-up” sitting area made of repurposed blocks of stone and large wooden benches. Equally audacious has been Paris’ bold moves to remove major traffic arteries from the banks of the River Seine, replacing them with green spaces and paths for cycling, running, strolling, and contemplation. Another ambitious plan is the transformation of about half of the abandoned, mostly below-grade, 30-kilometer (18-mile) freight train line that runs in a circle around Paris, known as “La Petite Ceinture” (“The Little Belt”). Similar to the Paris’s own pioneering adaptive re-use of its elevated freight line as a park, known as La Coulée Verte or the Promenade Plantée, and to other transformations it inspired in the US such as the High Line in New York City, Atlanta’s Beltline, Chicago’s 606, and the planned QueensWay in NYC, this project is adaptively re-using portions of the rail line as a very informal, very wild walking and cycling space, with only modest interventions to get people up and down to the tracks.

Cyclists and strollers have replaced cars on the banks of the River Seine, Photo: Adrian Benepe

More recently, Paris has announced a plan to plant small forests in open spaces, such as the plazas at the Hôtel de Ville (City hall) and along the Seine. Despite the city’s emphasis on greenery, Paris actually has few trees in comparison to metropolises like New York—500,000 to New York’s 6 million. To augment the urban forest, Paris will add at least 20,000 trees by 2020, many of them in these small woodlands beginning to take root in the city’s open spaces.  

Through these many ambitious and innovative efforts, small and large, Paris is working to adapt to the worsening impacts of climate change. By greening the existing infrastructure of the city, and creating new parks and other open spaces, the city is strengthening its capabilities to withstand rising temperatures and more frequent and intense floods, and maintaining its livability even as the planet begins to threaten the healthfulness of urban existence. The recent onset of historic heat waves present major tests to the city of Paris, and these tests will only continue to grow more challenging, which is why it is all the more important Paris pursues and exceeds the goals the city has set for itself—and serves as a model for the rest of the world. 

Adrian Benepe
New York

…with additional writing and research by Thomas Newman, National Programs Coordinator, TPL 

On The Nature of Cities

Oh, For the Love of Bicycles! A Walking Reflection about Moving on Two Wheels through Urban and Rural Areas

Art, Science, Action: Green Cities Re-imagined
There’s something intrinsically delightful about watching a 70-something-year-old grandmother riding free and easily in a wide, dedicated bike lane on her old-fashioned, big-wheeled bicycle, her woven basket spilling over with fresh baked bread.
Walking may be my main form of transportation these days, but I often daydream about wheels…bicycle wheels…and the way they move people through urban and rural spaces.

Most of our 14,000-kilometer journey to date is speckled with memories of two-wheeled riders, and my longing to join them in their pedaling outings.

I have frequent flashbacks of the group of smiling Burmese school girls with crisply ironed white shirts and long green skirts cycling unperturbed in the narrow shoulder of a busy truck road. I wince when I remember the Bangladesh and Indian men laboriously squeezing their heavy-loaded bicycles and tuk-tuks through small gaps between the throngs of people, cars, buses and cows. I imagine future adventures when I talk with long-distance cyclists about the gear in their panniers and the ups and downs (both on the physical terrain and their emotional state of mind) of riding on the barren stretches of the old Silk Road in Central Asia. Along Turkey’s Black Sea coast, I sigh with relief when we finally find sidewalks and bike lanes, and we can step off the asphalt into safer, more human-friendly zones.

Big cycle statue with animated-type of figure looking out to the Caspian Sea, Iran (Maybe this could be the feature photo?): Where will the next bicycle lane take us? Photo: Bangkok to Barcelona on Foot
Street chaos: Finding a gap in the street chaos is an everyday challenge for cyclists and tuk-tuk drivers in Bangladesh. Photo: Bangkok to Barcelona on Foot
Bicycles as cargo trucks: It’s a constant surprise to see how bicycles are used in different parts of the world. Anything with wheels helps locals transport all sorts of the things in India. Photo: Bangkok to Barcelona on Foot
But, it’s in northeastern Italy, the country our walking route has most recently led us to, where I’m charmed into a stupor by the retro-style, touring bike culture. There’s something intrinsically delightful about watching a 70-something-year-old grandmother with whitish-gray hair riding free and easily in a wide, dedicated bike lane on her old-fashioned, big-wheeled bicycle, her woven basket, secured to the handlebars, spilling over with fresh baked bread. 

Like in other places, the Italian scene of a happy, waving cyclists and senior citizens doing things they have done their whole lives, like riding to the market, sparks a chain of walking reflections that loop around each other.

Older man on a bike, with two older women walking: Italy’s cycling culture and the country’s numerous bike and walking lanes invite people of all ages to move around their cities and towns by foot. Photo: Bangkok to Barcelona on Foot

“How fun is it to ride a bike to the market! These people are so lucky to have such a nice network of bike lanes through their town. It’s such a joy to walk in a place that makes room for walkers, runners and cyclists! Oh, the bike lane ends here, at the edge of town. Uf! That’s too bad. Now we have to go back to the almost non-existent shoulder with cars nearly touching our elbows,” I think. “It’s too bad the local governments don’t link their cycling routes, and create more inter-town bicycle lanes. What if I want to go to the other town’s market? I would have to brave the road without a shoulder and with trucks and vans. Really, life doesn’t stop at your own city’s border. It’s great that these small towns have invested in these bike lanes (some of which look pretty new judging by the painted white lines and smooth surfaces), but why don’t town officials think this all the way through and work with surrounding communities to share the costs and rewards of expanding their bike networks? What if every town everywhere in the world set aside some money every year to develop and increase walking and cycling lanes so people everywhere can enjoy seeing their slice of the globe by the power of their own feet? Now, that would be a movement I could support! It won’t happen. People will say there is not enough money to do it. But, if it happened little by little…”

Bicing station: Bike-sharing has become so popular in Barcelona that some days it’s hard to find a bike at some docking stations. Photo: Bangkok to Barcelona on Foot
Street light with parking sign: As city cycling gains popularity as a fitness sport and mode of transportation, city officials worldwide will have to reconsider their bicycle parking, safety and overall traffic strategies. Photo: Bangkok to Barcelona on Foot

I drop my head, shut down my string of thoughts, and focus on the oncoming traffic. Italian drivers, like drivers in other countries, give me strange looks. They sort of expect cyclists to be there; Italy has a large cycling community, and it’s common to see cycling groups out for morning or late-day rides. Long-distance walkers, however, are an uncommon lot. 

Reflecting on other cycling moments

In the quieter walking moments, my thoughts return to the luxury of having wheels…bicycle wheels… and other cities where bicycles are now part of the fabric of everyday life, and part of my view of urban life.

I’ve been lucky enough to call places like San Francisco, Munich and Barcelona home for a while. For better or worse, by experiential default, they are the cities I use to compare and measure every other cities’ effort to do anything, including developing sustainable alternatives to car traffic while also promoting citizen well-being. 

When I lived in San Francisco in the late 1990s and early 2000s, I was surprised by the Critical Mass rides in which hundreds of cyclists would pedal around the city on the last Friday of every month. I remember (not always fondly) having to sometimes change my car route to skirt around the blockages the cyclists would cause in the downtown area. Today, wiser to world’s ways, I regret not having joined them when I lived there. The Critical Mass folks caused a shift in the way San Francisco and the Bay Area, hubs for all sorts of athletic endeavors, had to think about bicycle usage, rider and driver safety, and traffic on city blocks.

In 2008, Munich blew me away with its volume of day-to-day bicycle commuting. I used to stand on a corner on Ludwigstraße, one of the city’s main streets, and marvel at the polite order in which cyclists queued up at the streetlight. My jaw dropped when I saw bicycle police give tickets to cyclists going in the opposite way of the designated flow of bicycle traffic. Munich people take their cycling habits and rules pretty seriously, so seriously that I felt I couldn’t possibly learn or understand proper bicycle etiquette in the short year I had an address there.

As I was remembering Munich, an email popped into my inbox, and the link pointed to a report about an increase in global bicycle and run activity and commuting. Strava, a social fitness network primarily used to track cycling and running via GPS data, reported in November 2018 that “Cyclists covered more than 5.2 billion miles in 2018 — far enough to get from Earth to Pluto. Runners covered 944.8 million total miles with an average distance of 5.1 miles per run.”  Additionally, compared to 2017 levels around the world, run commuting grew 70% and bike commuting grew 42%; in the United States, Strava’s users uploaded more than 11 million bike commutes (a year-over-year increase of 30.8%), and 3.6 million run commutes (a 56.8% increase from the previous year), according to the company.

These kinds of data points give me pause. How are cities managing this increased bicycle and foot traffic? Putting in bike lanes and allotting safe places where people can pedal and go by foot are obvious first steps. But, to create something sustainable, long-lasting, and accessible-to-all, city officials need to have a bigger vision. They also need to willing to make important economic, political and popular tradeoffs, such as foregoing building an extra car lane or eliminating auto parking spots in favor of widening the existing bike lane in a crowded neighborhood.

Back home, I’ve seen first-hand how Barcelona’s overall bike demand and, specifically, its bike-sharing program, Bicing, have evolved in about a decade. 

Although it started with a meager 15 stations, 200 bicycles and a few bike lanes, Bicing got 30,000 subscribers in its first two months, according to a Treehugger article. When I checked the Bicing website recently, the numbers, as of September 2018, have climbed to 105,545 users, 420 stations and 6,000 bikes in circulation. What’s interesting, too, is the perception of the many more bicycle shops that have popped up in different neighborhoods the last decade; they obviously are catering to the increasing number of people who prefer to have their own bicycles and to the many tourists who now use rented bicycles to visit the city.

To their credit, Barcelona’s city government noticed this pent-up demand, and in 2015, launched the “Bicycle Strategy for Barcelona”, a measure aimed at “encouraging more bicycle use as a habitual mode of urban transport.” The strategy’s core mission is a noble one: Expand and improve the cycling infrastructure; improve signage to guarantee safer journeys, and take actions to ensure harmonious co-existence with other people using the public highway, both pedestrians and other road vehicles, according to the website.

But it’s not just words on paper. There appears to be a commitment to make this happen. “Barcelona City Council aims to provide 308 kilometers of cycle lanes by 2018, which would mean an increase of 165% on the figure quoted in the 2015 Strategic Bicycle Measure (a network of 116 kilometers). This means that by 2018, 95% of the city’s population would have a cycle lane within 300 meters of their home,” I read on the city’s website.

Think about that­–95% of Barcelona’s estimated 1.7 million residents will be within 300 meters of a bike lane! That’s, basically, a bike lane within one Manhattan city block from nearly everyone’s front door.

I can’t help but to be curious about how many new bike lanes will crisscross my old neighborhood when I get back to Barcelona. And, I’m already thinking about the bike I’m going to a buy and use to rediscover my own city…it will probably be a foldable one that fits under my desk.

For now, though, we’ll press on without wheels (sigh!). Hopefully, cyclists won’t mind if we share their lanes. They are gems we are always grateful to find. I would love to hear about other cities’ bicycle strategies and their plans to expand and manage bike usage within their cities and surrounding areas. Tell me what you’ve heard or know in the comments’ section.

Jennifer Baljko
Bangkok to Barcelona

On The Nature of Cities

London National Park City is a Reality

Art, Science, Action: Green Cities Re-imagined
The instigator of the National Park City Concept, Daniel Raven-Ellison, emphasised that the concept would lift people’s ambition, challenging existing norms by asking, “What if …” and “Why not…”, to create new and better opportunities for city living.
During the past week the eyes of the world have been on London, to see a new Prime Minister installed at Westminster. But the week has also seen a momentous decision made for a sustainable and liveable future for London. The city was designated as a National Park City, the first of its kind in the world. It took place at a National Park City Summit held at City Hall on Monday 22 July 2019 where the Mayor of London, Sadiq Khan signed a Charter proclaiming London’s new status, saying that this is the “boldest action of any city in the world and a real milestone in London’s history”.

The Summit brought people together from many walks of life including international and national agencies dealing with environment and city planning, representatives of local government, academics and teachers, health professionals and a great variety of organisations dedicated to finding positive visions for a greener, healthier, and wilder city. The instigator of the National Park City Concept, Daniel Raven-Ellison, emphasised that the concept would lift people’s ambition, challenging existing norms by asking, “What if …” and “Why not…”, to create new and better opportunities for city living. 

A defining quality of a National Park City is to stimulate an atmosphere in which millions of people take everyday actions to improve the quality of their lives and enhance the fabric of the city. Many of these are already happening, but we have the potential to achieve so much more. Everyone in the city can both benefit and contribute. 

“It’s one vision to inspire a million projects.”
— Sir Terry Farrell, internationally acclaimed British architect and urban designer

London National Park City launch

As a National Park City, London will be:

  • a city which is even greener in the long-term than it is today and where people have every opportunity to connect with nature in their daily lives
  • a city which protects the core network of parks, green spaces, lakes and rivers 
  • a city that is rich in wildlife
  • a city where every child benefits from exploring, playing and learning outdoors
  • a city where all can enjoy high-quality green spaces, clean air, clean waterways and where more people choose to walk and cycle.
  • A city where culture and nature coalesce. 

Tony Juniper, Chair of the UK Government agency Natural England, recognised the vital significance of this new concept, which will stimulate the magical connection between people and nature, saying that urban dwellers need to be at the heart of the arguments for nature conservation. Similarly Jonny Hughes, Chair of the IUCN Urban Alliance, argued that the Charter was a profound milestone providing a compelling vision for the future of cities. He saw eco-urbanism as a key feature in the National Park City concept. Kobie Brand, Director of the ICLEI Cities Biodiversity Centre in Cape Town called it a joyful day promoting cities with nature. She made a commitment to encourage all ICLEI Members throughout the world to join this new movement. Kalee Kreider from the National Geographic Society in Washington DC welcomed this extraordinary moment which will transform our approach to cities. Kevin Halpenny, a Board Member of World Urban Parks, called it a paradigm shift, a clarion call for the natural world. 

Part of the London National Park City map.

These luminaries from around the world were joined by people from London who are already immersed in a huge variety of projects aimed to transform public attitudes. They included young ambassadors for the natural world who are well aware of the global unravelling of nature and are determined to ignite the passion of Londoners to protect and enhance the natural world in this great city. Action for Conservation is one of these new organisations, which believes that children and young people deserve to be connected with nature. It runs camps to train ambassadors and is aiming to have 100 volunteer rangers working to make this happen.

Alison Barnes, CEO of the New Forest National Park in the UK, gave her strong support for the concept of National Park Cities with many wise words about the values that will emerge from new opportunities for public participation and involvement. It seems that traditional National Parks may have things to learn from this new concept. 

David Goode signing the charter.

Monday was a very special day that will be remembered by everyone who was there for many years to come. There will be many others who will wish they had been there.

On the day before, a few of us gathered to launch a Universal Charter for National Park Cities with a new International Foundation. It’s early days yet, but already there are cities around the world preparing themselves for the journey. We heard from David Speirs, Minister for Environment & Water in the Government of South Australia, who provided an excellent account of all the initiatives being pursued by the City of Adelaide. As he says, it has the momentum to become the next National Park City, but I suspect there will be many others in the race. World Urban Parks would like to see 25 National Park Cities by 2025. I would be surprised if there are not many more.

Readers might like to refer back to my 2015 TNOC blog on moves to make London a National Park City.

David Goode
Bath

On The Nature of Cities

We’re Not “Solving” Wicked Challenges through Design and Science. Is That Ok?

Art, Science, Action: Green Cities Re-imagined
When it comes to addressing wicked challenges, designers, policy makers and scientists alike should challenge themselves to work more synthetically to frame built works as a mode of hypothesis testing that feeds larger, more generalizable insights. Staging small scale, safe-to-fail interventions as “experiments” is a way forward.
Many of us are drawn to the process and potential of transdisciplinary projects through a desire to deepen the scope and impact of our work. Though landscape architects and planning practitioners claim to be capable of achieving socio-ecological impact, their proposals and built projects too often lack necessary grounding in solid science. Conversely, many modes of academic research can lack immediate and relevant applications in the world. How this divide between design and science might be more effectively bridged, is a topic of frequent debate and discussion within praxis as well as here at TNOC. (Recent notable efforts from Philip SilvaAna Faggi, Timon McPhearson, and Jason King, among others; and was the key organizing principal of the recent TNOC Summit.)

Adapted by Daniel Phillips from Cedric Price’s “City as an Egg” diagrammatic analogy

A recent fiery piece by Billy Flemming in Places Journal entitled Design and the Green New Deal, seems to have similarly struck a deep and resonant chord within the discourse of landscape architecture, arguing that the discipline’s very reason for being warrants a timely re-examination. Indeed, it serves as a call to action for all of us who hope to make meaningful change in the world through our research and practice: To think bigger, get political, and offer our skill sets and capacities to the pressing issues of the day. Polemics like these form a gathering recognition that many responses to issues like climate change, environmental justice, and urban resilience will inevitably find expression in spatial projects throughout the landscapes we occupy. Yet these challenges are all arguably “wicked” in nature. So how should they be approached?

The notion of “wicked challenges”, often attributed to the work of Rittel and Webber (1973) forms an important heuristic device around which many contemporary transdisciplinary projects have orbited. Wicked challenges are framed in distinction to challenges that could be labeled “simple” and “complex”. Whereas simple challenges (e.g., filling a cavity in a tooth) are those in which both the question and answer are well understood, complex challenges (e.g., landing a man on mars) are those which the question is understood but not the answer is not yet known. Wicked problems (e.g., Brexit, climate change, addressing the urban stream syndrome) are defined by uncertainties on both sides, and therefore rely heavily on the ways in which the challenge is effectively framed. Wicked challenges are further characterized by the fact that they have “no stopping rule”—that is, every proximate answer leads to more questions—and that every wicked problem can be said to be a “symptom of another problem” (Farrell and Hooker 2013, 684–687).

Addressing wicked problems therefore requires us to develop new tools and frameworks for approaching them. The Design-in-Science (DIS) framework, originally formulated by Joan Iverson Nassauer and Paul Opdam offers such a tool. Referenced in a landmark paper from 2008, this approach calls for increased transdisciplinary research between landscape ecology and landscape planning. Their goal, arguably, was to find ways to reconcile the agency of design with the authority of science to better address wicked challenges that occur within human dominated ecosystems. The DIS framework has since become a prominent node in a constellation of similar approaches referred to variously as “participatory landscape planning” (Hulse, Branscomb, and Payne 2004; Johnson and Campbell 1999; Johnson et al. 2002), “designed experiments” (Felson and Pickett 2005), “research-through-designing(Lenzholzer, Duchhart, and Koh 2013)“ecology with design” (M. J. Grose 2014; M. Grose 2017), “Design-Related-Research” (Nijhuis and Bobbink 2012), and Transdisciplinary Action Research (Thering and Chanse 2011; Stokols 2006). Importantly, the framework defines and employs Design (as both a noun and a verb) as an operative “boundary concept”, and proposes an “iterative loop” of evidence-based (and evidence-generating) design inquiry.

Design as a link between science and landscape change. From Nassauer and Opdam (2008)

The DIS framework as a tool for addressing “wicked” problems

To understand the value of DIS as a useful tool for confronting wicked challenges, it may also be instructive to explore the reflexive modes of inquiry it implies. First, it should be recognized that Science(in a post-positivist era), and Design(understood as a mode of thinking and action rather than merely a professional practice) are not as far apart in their core cognitive processes as they used to be (Farrell and Hooker 2013; Innes and Booher 2016). Luckily, we are moving gradually away from the hubris that sustained us in the past—namely that designers “solve” problems, and that scientists discover immutable “truths”. 

It was Karl Popper who famously observed that the foundations of science are not anchored to a stable bedrock of proven truth, but rather, driven just deep enough into the swamp of possibility to continue one’s research (Popper 1959). In confronting our collective fallacies as practitioners and scientists, we are increasingly finding middle ground and focusing on the processes that we might share—the ability to frame and ask questions, totask the void in pursuit of new insights, and advise (or take) action in line with the insights we discover. To do this, each are increasingly reliant on the mixing of Inductive, Deductive, and Abductive modes of reasoning to arrive at plausible assumptions about the nature of the problem at hand (Deming and Swaffield 2010).

A wicked problem: The “urban stream syndrome” from Walsh et al (2005)

This interplay is especially important when it becomes necessary, on the one hand, to tease out from a wicked problem a series of more tame ones, and on the other hand, to recognize that in every tame one, a series of those which are wicked always exist. As stated by Nassauer and Opdam (2008), “Undoubtedly effective transdisciplinarity will require that new norms, not solely dependent on disciplinary conventions, evolve for credible research” (634). Situating Designin Science, therefore isn’t marked by an erosion of boundaries between these disciplines, but rather by an attempt to seek moments of permeability and alignment across boundaries that are mutually beneficial and actionable.

Strategic alignments between design, science, and policy can minimize the tradeoffs that occur regarding the credibility, saliency and legitimacy of new knowledge. To further illustrate the interplay of design and science, I will sketch out a series of brief speculative scenarios, with attempts to highlight the various epistemologies involved.

In the first scenario, we might imagine an alignment of science and policy, but without design. Policy makers with a high degree of agency and influence in the regime-level decision making processes, solicit scientific research to gain deeper knowledge about a specific phenomenon that they are trying to better understand or plan for. The question at hand might be related to where the next wastewater treatment plant should be built. The scientist, or team of scientists in question, deploy(s) a rigorous purpose-built methodology resulting in new data that is not only highly credible, but highly salient (as it was driven by a specific purpose or policy implication at its outset). Yet without the critical role of design, and design thinking, the team might never attempt to divergently reframe or challenge the nature of their task itself. What if the goal shouldn’t be just about defining service areas for existing technologies? What other (unexpected) opportunities might we be overlooking? What about the urban streams themselves? By excluding design from the equation, the science/policy team never pose or ponder relevant “what if” scenarios that could be attenuated to local phenomena or needs. Further, if the process of collecting data is not attentive to normative dimensions of everyday landscapes and people within them, the resulting prescriptions might risk not being adopted, or worse—actively resisted within the context they are being proposed. Here, questions of legitimacyare paramount—defined as the degree to which various public stakeholders perceive the process to be “unbiased and meeting standards of political and procedural fairness” (Cash et al. 2002, 5). Despite being both credibleand salient, eschewing participatory modes of design engagement may stifle this team’s potential to affect broader landscape change. 

In a second scenario, there exists a strategic alignment of design and policy, but without science. Designers, informed by a particular program or brief, propose a series of speculative responses, perhaps even drawing upon general ecological principles as an evidence base in science. The process is transparent, participatory, and imaginative. Policy makers place trust in the creative process and the capacity to think beyond rigid conceptual frames to imagine and propose a series of ‘what if’ scenarios that are both salient and legitimate. This could be further exemplified in urban planning and design practice when a beautifully conceived solution is installed in the “right” place but fails to build sufficient capacity and rigorous methodologies to monitor the quantitative and qualitative impacts of their efforts over time. The project becomes easily dismissed as “greenwashing”, where designs or landscape changes appear ecological without actually functioning ecologically. Further, they fail to generate any new knowledge that can be used or replicated elsewhere.

In a third scenario, we have a strategic alignment of science and design, but without policy. This team works together within a protected niche—fuelled by independent funding from public grants and private institutions and have internal capacity to control the parameters and goals of their research and inquiry. Seasoned interdisciplinary teams use lab and field-based tests to frame, test and refine research and eventually build a compelling public value proposition that is both legitimate and credible. But they fail to translate these insights into relevant and feasible retrofits to the existing status quo. In this scenario the proposed responses may never move beyond the stage of a brilliant hypothetical that never actually comes to pass. Or alternatively, they propose localized responses that can only survive with constant inputs from the initiators themselves, and thus fail to effectively upscale in a way that is sustainable.

Finally, we have a strategic alignment of design, science, and policy at a time when a relevant window of opportunity opens up in an existing regime. Regime level actors are hungry for new ideas, and front line innovators have built the transdisciplinary capacity necessary to propose viable alternative responses. Scientists consult the evidence base to form valid and plausible assumption about the basic viability of responses. Designers work in collaboration with scientists to frame built works as a mode of hypothesis testing that feeds larger, generalizable insights. These insights fuel the upscaling of more widely distributed intervention which are informed by collaborations with various local civil society organizations and stakeholders on the ground.    

The author and collaborators Priyanka Jamwal and Shubha Ramachandran setting up a small scale wastewater demonstration project in Bangalore, India.

A key takeaway is this: When it comes to addressing wicked challenges, designers, policy makers and scientists alike should challenge themselves to work more synthetically to frame built works as a mode of hypothesis testing that feeds larger, more generalizable insights. Staging small scale, safe-to-fail interventions creates insights for design iteration and also allows critical engagement stakeholders at early stages in the development projects. Over time, a compelling evidence base on which to base the form and function of new landscape patterns can emerge. Small interventions, once merely speculative or provisional, becomes more widely replicated and accepted. Some may dismiss as incrementalism, when huge leaps forward are sorely needed. 

Urban rapid prototyping via socio-ecological interventions in Rome, Italy, The Commonstudio

Transdisciplinarity is especially relevant to contemporary discussions surrounding the science and practice of green infrastructure in cities. Embedded within the semantics of framing “problems” is an implicit suggestion that cures to complex urban illsmight exist. Yet, one of the very conditions that defines the city as an ecosystem are the many irreversible histories it contains. The re-framing of socio-ecological challenges and their many reverberations as wicked problems allows us to collectively confront, and perhaps even accepttheir ultimate insolubility.  For example, there will always be a preponderance of pavement in human dominated ecosystems. Restoring the function of these constructed ecologies to pre-urban, or pre-human states of health will always prove to be a logical impossibility. Even in a future world without us, the biophysical constructions we call cities will continue to impact the patterns and processes of the landscapes and watersheds in which they have emerged. 

As designers, scientists, and policy makers, we cannothope to ever truly “solve” these wicked problems, but through our combined efforts, we cantry to better understand their nature. 

And that’s ok! If we refuse to resign ourselves to cynicism, we can allow this realization to become the fuel that drives the process of relentless incrementalism and continued experimentation. With few exceptions that’s how the process of changing the world has always occurred—aggregated efforts which compound across vast scales of space and time.  My hope is that projects, methods and partnership models such as the ones to be explored more thoroughly by many of the contributors of TNOC, will continue to demonstrate the power and potential for new modes of cross-cultural, cross-disciplinary engagement which bridge the “design-science divide” and point to new horizons of action—even if those actions are initially tiny in their scope.  They make these challenges we face a bit less wicked, and maybe that’s enough.

Daniel Phillips
Detroit

On The Nature of Cities

References

Cash, David, William C. Clark, Frank Alcock, Nancy M. Dickson, Noelle Eckley, and Jill Jäger. 2002. “Salience, Credibility, Legitimacy and Boundaries: Linking Research, Assessment and Decision Making.” https://doi.org/10.2139/ssrn.372280.

Deming, Elen M., and Simon Swaffield. 2010. Landscape Architectural Research: Inquiry, Strategy, Design. John Wiley & Sons.

Farrell, Robert, and Cliff Hooker. 2013. “Design, Science and Wicked Problems.” Design Studies 34 (6): 681–705.

Felson, Alexander J., and Steward T. A. Pickett. 2005. “Designed Experiments: New Approaches to Studying Urban Ecosystems.” Frontiers in Ecology and the Environment 3 (10): 549–56.

Grose, Margaret. 2017. Constructed Ecologies: Critical Reflections on Ecology with Design. Routledge.

Grose, Margaret J. 2014. “Gaps and Futures in Working between Ecology and Design for Constructed Ecologies.” Landscape and Urban Planning 132 (December): 69–78.

Hulse, David W., Allan Branscomb, and Susan G. Payne. 2004. “ENVISIONING ALTERNATIVES: USING CITIZEN GUIDANCE TO MAP FUTURE LAND AND WATER USE.” Ecological Applications: A Publication of the Ecological Society of America 14 (2): 325–41.

Innes, Judith E., and David E. Booher. 2016. “Collaborative Rationality as a Strategy for Working with Wicked Problems.” Landscape and Urban Planning 154 (October): 8–10.

Johnson, Bart R., and Ronald Campbell. 1999. “Ecology and Participation in Landscape-Based Planning Within the Pacific Northwest.” Policy Studies Journal. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1541-0072.1999.tb01983.x.

Johnson, Bart R., Janet Silbernagel, Mark Hostetler, April Mills, Forster Ndubisi, Edward Fife, and Marycarol Rossiter Hunter. 2002. “The Nature of Dialogue and the Dialogue of Nature: Designers and Ecologists in Collaboration.” In Ecology and Design: Frameworks for Learning, edited by Kristina Hill Bart R Johnson, 305–56. Island Press Washington, DC.

Lenzholzer, Sanda, Ingrid Duchhart, and Jusuck Koh. 2013. “‘Research through Designing’ in Landscape Architecture.” Landscape and Urban Planning. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.landurbplan. 2013.02.003.

Nijhuis, Steffen, and Inge Bobbink. 2012. “Design-Related Research in Landscape Architecture.” Medicinal Chemistry Research: An International Journal for Rapid Communications on Design and Mechanisms of Action of Biologically Active Agents 10 (4): 239–57.

Popper, Karl R. 1959. The Logic of Scientific Discovery. Routledge.

Rittel, Horst W. J., and Melvin M. Webber. 1973. “Dilemmas in a General Theory of Planning.” Policy Sciences 4 (2): 155–69.

Stokols, Daniel. 2006. “Toward a Science of Transdisciplinary Action Research.” American Journal of Community Psychology 38 (1-2): 63–77.

Thering, Susan, and Victoria Chanse. 2011. “The Scholarship of Transdisciplinary Action Research: Toward a New Paradigm for the Planning and Design Professions.” Landscape Journal 30 (1): 6–18.

Walsh, Christopher J., Allison H. Roy, Jack W. Feminella, Peter D. Cottingham, Peter M. Groffman, and Raymond P. Morgan. 2005. “The Urban Stream Syndrome: Current Knowledge and the Search for a Cure.” Journal of the North American Benthological Society 24 (3): 706–23.

Closer to Home, Higher the Walls

Art, Science, Action: Green Cities Re-imagined
Gates, fences, walls. There are stories behind them. There are people behind them. Do you see them?
We noticed an extraordinary thing walking across Asia and Europe since January 2016: the absence and presence of fences.

It may not be extraordinary in the “I climbed Everest” kind of way. But, for us, it’s extraordinary in the “I walk slow enough to see how fences change” kind of way.

Why do fences matter? Because they show us what matters to people, cities, cultures, and countries.

Our 16,000-kilometer-walk-home is many things, and one of the things it has become is a social anthropology experiment. Observing, wondering, and questioning how people behave, interact, share, speak, and move through their cities, suburbs, and rural spaces has fascinated us since we set out from Bangkok in January 2016.

For more in the Bangkok to Barcelona series, click here.
As we shifted from Asia, Central Asia, the Balkans, and Western Europe and moved closer to Catalonia, the presence of fences—and the height of fences—is noticably different.

In many parts Asia—Thailand, Burma, Bangladesh and India, come to mind—there are very few fences. 

Houses are typically built right up on the edge of the road; the lucky ones, have gravel shoulders seperating the asphalt and their living rooms or shops. In quieter farm areas, men and women work their fields, take their animals out to pasture, sweep the dust from their front doors (only to have trucks and buses blow it back a few minutes later), or head to work or school on rickety bicycles or mopeds. In cities, the pulse is frantic, chaotic, throbbing, surprising. All of life—from the joyous wedding ceremonies to the vibrant fruit and vegetable markets to the distressing poverty that forces people crippled with disease to roll their leg-less trunks through filthy streets—happens right there on the street. 

Fences are not for the common people. Instead, they are decoration for temples, and sometimes schools. They seem to be inviting people inside. “Come, step through the gate. Find refuge here, find comfort from the noise, grime and hardness of life outside the fence,” I could feel them whisper, as we crossed the threshold and sought shade from the increasing heat.

Further on in Central Asia, through Old Silk regions, the “stans” of former Soviet places, wide-open spaces separate towns, and wooden pickets or some makeshift wired fence are typically used to protect sheep, goats and cows from predators. Sometimes, potato gardens are what need protecting in the daytime hours, from those same sheep and goats penned in at nightfall. 

People, squeezing by on sustanenace animal farming, do the best they can to make their main sitting room and, if they are able to expand, the room where visitors can sleep, look comfortable. Beautiful, big rugs with exotic curves woven into the tapesty are on the floor and walls,  guarding the family from the deep freeze of harsh continental and mountain winters. These people are settled now, but their traditions still ring with the kindness of nomads. They pull their dogs back, and open their doors to strangers.

This fenceless life through big chunks of South and Central area creates a different human dynamic than the one we are accustomed to in the West.

Without physical boundries separating passerbys from their grandmothers and children, people are often curious about us and want to know how we found ourselves there, in front of their houses. Without a common language, they are brave enough to approach us and talk to us. They most generously invite us into their homes, and the ceremony of getting to know one another unfolds over tea, bread and whatever else they can share. We are guests, and many of them feel it is their responsibility and duty to offer hospitality, take care of us, and treat us with respect and kindness. 

Some of this vibe started to shift as we moved through Turkey, Greece, and the more developed parts of the Balkans, namely Croatia and Slovenia. There, houses are a bit further off the streets, with well-manicured gardens with blooming roses and blossoming fruit and nut trees winding up the entranceways. 

Short, thigh-or-waist-high decorative iron or wired metal fences line the perimeter of houses and gardens. Metal gates, with customized details or welded out geometric patterns, close around the driveway. There is something subtle about the fence placement. Instead of keeping people out, they appear to reflect pride that comes with hard work, something that says, “Look at us. We’re doing pretty well for ourselves. We worked hard, we sacrificed, we saved money, and now we have a nice house and a pretty garden.” 

More importantly, people in these southeastern European regions, still feel within arm’s reach. Although there is inkling of “This is mine, not yours” emanting from the properties, people sitting on their porches don’t appear to feel threatened by us, the strangers strangely walking through their town, some faraway place from the usual tourist destinations. They look up from pruning their rose bushes or having coffee with friends, and tell us to join them, at least for a little while. Invitations to enter their homes become a less common occurence. We are invited passed the gate, beyond the rose bushes and up the front stairs. But, it stops at the doorway of the house, the more private and intimate parts of their lives.

By the time we reach Italy, neck-high fences become commonplace. They are marked with signs about the presenence of video surveillance cameras and security alarms; indeed, nearly every private and public building bears this warning. And, there are dogs in almost every yard of nearly town we cross—two, three, six of them, howling and growling at our unexpected and uninvited arrival. Signs on fences also bellow “Beware of the dogs”, and some also chide “Beware of the owners”, which we didn’t always read a a joke. 

Northern Italy is obviously richer and far more industrialized than other places we have walked. People have—and feel that they have—more valuable things that need to be better watched over. They have fancier televisions, computers, cars, jewelery, lifestyles that could be temptations to “those less fortunate people” who would steal their way in the capitalistic loop spinninng the world around.

Despite the “We’ll call police” threat the fences invoke, Italians are social people. Along with the many congratulatory “bravissomos” handshakes extended to us along the Po River, came several unexpected and always-welcome, come-sit-down invitations to share life together in the form of a coffee, a meal (which usually included pasta, wine, and cheese) or a night inside out of the cold dampness. 

These invitations surprised us. We thought the most kindness we would get would come in the form of a “bongiorno” or hello, maybe a smile and wave. We figured we would be too familiar to Italians, just another couple of backpackers wandering about admiring the countryside and enjoying good food in the bigger towns and cities. It was a Bosnian woman, who escaped war during her teenage years and now is a raising a family with her Italian husband, who provided deeper insight. “People here won’t invite you inside their homes because they have no idea what it feels like to be hungry,” she tellls us, leading the way into her home and into our hearts. “They have never done anything out of the comfort zone, and they have never experienced real thirst or hunger.” 

What we expected to find in Europe caught up with us in France. 

Coming down from Alps and cutting across the southern part of France, we start noticing the very high walls delinating gardens, homes, and lives. Some houses originally had shorter, waist-high concrete walls, just enough to mark property division. But, over the years, many people have extended those original walls with more concrete or bricks. They planted trees and thick bushes, which now have grown many meters high and are wide enough to prevent any view of the house or the kind of life lived behind the barricade. Newer houses have walls that often are more than two meters high (more than six feet), and the message seems clear to us: You stay on your side of the wall, and I will stay on my side.

This made France feel like one of the most unwelcoming places we have stepped through in our entire 3.5-year walk. It’s hard to shake off the sensation of intentional distancing they want to keep, not just from strangers and people they don’t know, but from each other, from their neighbors. 

In France, we find ourselves confused. Having walked through two continents and passing hundreds, thousands of villages, towns and cities overflowing with people, we can understand the need for quiet, silent, and safe places to think, live, and rest. On the other hand, we are troubled by the growing sense of isolation, disconnect, and separateness we see dividing our global community, and are disillusioned by this widening wave of “protecting what’s mine.”

Gates, fences, walls. There are stories behind them. There are people behind them. Do you see them?

Jennifer Baljko
Bangkok to Barcelona

On The Nature of Cities

Neighborhoods that Change in Non-linear Ways—Urban Planning for Succession

Art, Science, Action: Green Cities Re-imagined
Can we shift the fundamental question of planning from “should our neighborhoods change?” to “how should our neighborhoods change?”
For most of urban history, urbanization was a nonlinear process. Lots filled in as needed over time, in a process some call incremental growth, or organic growth, seemingly randomly and chaotically. It was iterative, driven by acute feedback and extreme scarcity. Even the shape of lots was refined over time, leaving no corner unused and a cadastral plan looking like cellular tissue.

After World War I, just as the petrochemical industry was hitting its golden age, the world embarked on a new experiment of linear urbanization. The need to support motorization meant buildings, streets and lots had to be designed, financed and constructed simultaneously. Modern urban planning was invented along with this process. Every part of a new neighborhood was standardized and codified to meet transportation and financing requirements. 

The transition from nonlinear to linear urbanization started with streetcar-oriented suburbs but finished when the automobile was fully democratized. The last living examples of nonlinear urbanization are hence found just before, and they are dramatic to witness.

In this article I will explore the phenomenon of ecological succession and how it realizes itself in the context of nonlinear urbanization. With succession understood I then provide a critique of transect-based planning as a continuation of linear urbanization and propose a new way of drafting city plans based on random lifecycles.

This is São Paulo’s Paulista Avenue on the day of its inauguration, 1891. Many people showed up to visit a whole lot of nothing. Within a few years the place had been settled with spacious mansions surrounded by elaborate gardens as the city’s wealthy elites escaped the overcrowded city center.  Source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Jules_Victor_AndréMartin-_Avenida_Paulista_no_Dia_de_Sua_Inauguração,_1891.jpg
Yet business kept moving southward, and by the 1950s the central business district was relocating to Paulista, particularly the cultural and media industries which took advantage of its high altitude to set up their transmission towers on their already towering buildings. Source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Avenida_Paulista_1902.jpg
Source: http://netleland.net/hsampa/mansoesPaulista/mansoes.htm
In the 1970’s Paulista was the undisputed economic heart of the city, and the country with it. That meant the street had to be re-designed to accommodate more cars and more traffic, which would eventually reach apocalyptic levels and stay there. Source: http://www.sorimoveis.com.br/index.php/fotos-de-sao-paulo/sao-paulo-antiga
Then growth kind of peaked. The business district moved on further south. The few remaining mansions became a protected artifact of what had once been the street’s main land use, which sometimes involves weird marriages. Source: https://acervo.estadao.com.br/noticias/acervo,avenida-paulista-completa-125-anos,12597,0.htm
The dramatic transformation of the Paulista neighborhood from idyllic suburb to central business district is an extreme example of the phenomenon called succession. Source: http://netleland.net/hsampa/mansoesPaulista/mansoes.htm

Defining succession

The main concept behind ecological succession is that an ecosystem complexifies when simple organisms complete their lifecycles and establish the conditions for higher-order organisms to thrive. One community thus follows another. 

The successional economy is the entrepreneurial analog to a successional ecology. Small businesses in “emerging economies” create the capital and networks upon which larger companies form. It can also go the other way. For instance, there are businesses that can only emerge on the remains of larger defunct predecessors. The Belgo building was once a luxury department store, then a garment manufacture, and now is filled with art galleries, independent restaurants, a yoga studio, and various small offices. This was what Jane Jacobs meant when she wrote that neighborhoods need a mix of new and old buildings to be alive. Some businesses cannot survive in expensive new buildings, and some can only exist by recycling business failures.

The “retail apocalypse” currently shuttering malls and big box stores is the successional economy analogue to forest fires—extreme fragility linked together in catastrophic failures triggering an ecosystem “disturbance”, sending the ecology backwards in lifecycles.

A cycle of disturbance that sends an ecology backwards in successional communities ultimately ends with its return to a its climax community. Gentrification is tragically the end steady-state of disturbance-triggered economic succession, the trees slowly taking back the regenerating land, suffocating uncompetitive economic activities. Being strategically situated on Montreal’s downtown shopping artery, the Belgo building is being renovated for higher-tier retail such as bank branches. Gentrification is a natural and unavoidable process caused by the disturbance that precedes it, thus fighting it necessitates chaotic intentional disturbances (controlled burns) to maintain the status quo. Since new fires will get triggered in other economic sectors naturally, a city’s regenerative force should focus there first.

Against linear planning: the New Urbanism

Linear urbanization was intensely criticized just as it achieved increasing rates of growth and efficiency and came to dominate the landscape. It eventually standardized on a few widely-denounced but dominant typologies: housing subdivisions (whether of detached single-family houses or condominium towers), shopping centres, and business parks connected by arterial roads. What makes them financially successful is also what makes them so controversial: the larger the quantity of identical buildings sold, the more economical they are. This is the dominant pattern of the world’s fastest growing cities in China and the Middle East today.

New subdivisions being developed in Dubai. Source: https://commons.m.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Dubai_Marina_on_1_May_2007_Pict_5.jpg

Unfortunately, the mass production efficiencies of these developments also make them extremely vulnerable to disturbances, as we are seeing happen to the retail zones.

Some people perceived this threat long before the fires began. New Urbanism arose from this question: what would be better than a subdivision or a mall? New Urbanists carefully observed how traditional towns of America functioned and concluded that the improvement on a subdivision should be a more complex subdivision/mall hybrid, based on traditional building codes instead of modern zoning. 

Hybridizing the subdivision into a mixed-used development meant an increased financial and legal burden for the developer, required a much longer commitment and exposure to economic cycles, and saw limited adoption. It also changed nothing about the fundamental relationship between developer and community—the developer financed the initial infrastructure to meet local codes and then transferred maintenance liabilities, and the effective lifecycle of the development, onto local taxpayers.

To its credit, the New Urbanism’s ideal was modeled as a “transect”, a concept borrowed from ecology. It models transitions from one community to another as a sequence of distinct geographical “zones”.

Source: https://transect.org/transect.html

What is missing from the new urbanist transect is its “geological” dimension—how does one layer arise out of the previous one? We move across zones in space, but never in time. Without removing the structure of the previous zone and starting over, we cannot “upgrade” a zone. We must assume that a zone comes into existence fully-realized and functional. 

Suburban development (T3 zones) proceeds as such—level the rural structure, subdivide it and sell it back as lots for houses, offices, malls or warehouses, in a process made maximally efficient using economies of scale and linear repetition. 

The New Urbanists thought the same could be done for the urban zones, but the financial risks are an order of magnitude higher. This means besides some limited success making planned towns (“T4 General Urban Zone”) with committed landlords, New Urbanism has failed at its stated objective of ending suburban sprawl. Linear urbanization spreads much faster.


That we can show T5 and T6 zones exist geographically, from a historic trajectory that was pre-capitalist and could not take on large-scale risks, means they had to appear through a successional process. What needs to be added to the transect is the vertical axis of time.

A trip back in time

If we were to roll back the clock and model, for instance, lower Manhattan “devolving” back to its suburban and rural origins, we would see that the T5 and T6 patterns are rooted in a suburban pattern of garden houses and townhouses that has nothing in common with today’s suburb.

Lower Manhattan (New York), circa 1851 . Source: http://www.old-maps.com/NY/NY-BirdsEyeViews_NYC.htm
New York City in 1989. Source: http://stevenwarranresearch.blogspot.com/2014/06/1898-history-of-real-estate-building.html
African Burial Ground in what is now lower Manhattan, New York. Source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:African_Burial_Ground_Manhattan.jpg

What this implies is that, much like today’s existing T6 zone has a past that is nothing like today’s T3 zone, today’s T3 zone has a future that is nothing like today’s T6 zone. This future needs to be invented to scale to the existing morphology of subdivisions, shopping centres, and business parks, before they experience their own version of a forest fire.

The successional infrastructure of nature

Source: https://radicalmycology.com/educational-tools/other-fungi/mycorrhizal-fungi-101/

What triggers succession in natural systems? For a long time succession was seen as phenomenological, we witnessed it happening but didn’t understand how or why. There is recently emerging a theory around fungal networks that promises to integrate ecology and network science to explain the phenomenon.

Forest topsoils have been shown to consist of extensive networks of “mycorrhizal” fungi that colonize roots and communicate nutrients and threats from tree to tree, mushrooms being the “fruits” of these underground systems. A single individual fungi can span many square kilometres.

Compost scientists such as Dr Elaine Ingham are teaching that the successional habitat of plants is related to their mycorrhizal relationships. Weeds bloom in the absence of fungi, when bacteria outweigh fungi 10:1. Trees prosper when fungi outweighs bacteria 5:1, up to 1000:1, where this balance of nutrients in the soil stresses plant species that arrive earlier in ecological succession.

The ecological role of weeds is to grow roots that provide an anchor for fungal networks to bootstrap, while increasingly interdependent plant species colonize those networks and grow the land into an underground of increasingly dense and complex communication networks, which then makes weed growth more difficult and longer-lifecycle plant growth more successful. 

This fact eluded us until now because human civilization evolved in a context where we needed to go backwards in plant lifecycles, by clearing forests to plant orchards, row crops and vegetables. Fire was the first technology employed at large scale to achieve this, tillage the second. Both technologies sever fungal threads in the topsoil and allow bacteria to proliferate, which makes agriculture of edible plants possible.

Tragically, our abuse of these two technologies have produced extreme disturbance leading to soil desertification, caused by an endless war on weeds and pests using an increasingly burdenful mix of petrochemicals and unsustainable land management practices, and ultimately becoming a major factor in global climate change. The theory of soil ecology is the reaction that this crisis demanded, and it can be applied beyond soils and plants to the human urban ecology.

What comes first, fungus or plant?

Humanity’s ecological history begins in old-growth forests and ends with the threat of desertification because of our need to disturb ecologies, but its urban history celebrates the achievement of its most dense and complex systems. 

The urban equivalent of an old-growth conifer forest is the skyscraper district. The extreme concentration of daytime residents needed for them to emerge requires multiple overlapping mass transit lines. Manhattan famously has two such districts of overlap, downtown and midtown. Which came first, transit density or building density? There is no agreement, which suggests a successional relationship.

The Japanese model of railway operation, where railway companies operate commercial real estate around stations and thereby extract the most valuable rents created by their networks, approximates the behavior of a mycorrhizal network even more closely. The network both conducts energy from distant parts and creates energy at its connections. It is both self-sustaining and interdependent.

These examples highlight the chicken-or-egg-first problem of building transit for districts or districts for transit, which is at the core of urban sustainability objectives. We need energy-efficient transit, but we’re stuck with urban growth that can’t sustain it.

Nature solves the problem thusly: short lifecycle plants are less dependent on networks than long lifecycle plants. Long lifecycle plants feed network growth more, until the climax ecology is achieved.

When that symbiosis failed to take hold or was harmed by politics, some American cities, confronted with the extreme disturbance of their neighborhoods by decades of policies expecting immutability, suffered a never-before-seen phenomenon of urban desertification. The solution they are now embracing is “weedy” urbanisation, figuring that even temporary container shops with portable toilets are preferable to a cratered block. They bring life and support for neighboring growth.

Lifecycles replace transects

Modern urban planning has no concept of lifecycle, it assumes all change to be permanent. As we see with the New Urbanist transect, even the best-intentioned urban planning also struggles with the confusion of time processes with spatial processes. New Urbanism sought to imitate the outcome of traditional cities while shortcutting the process they were built from, as if trying to plant a forest in a desert. This paradoxically succeeded best in a context that had no traditional precedent: resort towns.

What does planning that integrates lifecycle look like? It begins from the assumption that everything must eventually be replaced, either to: 

  • an equivalent lifecycle from the natural end of its purpose or material structure, or to 
  • a lower lifecycle from economic disturbance due to recession, bad policies or war damage, or to 
  • a higher lifecycle from economic pressure created by the neighboring ecology and increasing network density.

Successional planning is non-linear because it does not assume order in the rate of replacement. We do not know precisely when each part must be replaced, but we know the half-life of groups of parts. The most accurate plan thus plans for a random half of the system to be replaced. 

Randomness is part of the plan. To not do this is to invite randomness as a pretext to prevent change. When faced with an inevitable maintenance crisis, an easy argument is to claim we must rebuild this block, street or bridge exactly as before because it has become too urgent. If a plan already exists to upgrade it when its lifecycle ends, it becomes a maintenance opportunity instead.

Planning for a half-life has interesting implications. For central business districts, it means facing the fact that large-scale, noisy reconstruction of towers becomes a permanent feature, to be mitigated for life to function normally on a day-to-day basis. At the other end of the scale, it means approaching new neighborhoods with the assumption that some lots may never be built on, or some blocks never filled in, if demand or financing evaporates. New neighborhoods can be planned with the option for half of their space to remain unbuilt, making their contribution to the city as green space. This cannot be financed under conventional planning systems, because a development’s construction is intended to be paid for with land sales, and its maintenance with land taxes.

Finally, lifecycle means the rate of growth of the city expresses itself through planned or unplanned changes. What if the end of a house’s lifespan means city-sponsored demolition, as happens in the “rust belt”, following a severe socio-economic disturbance? Or growth pressure is pulling it up a level or two of transect due to booming capital flows, as California is seeing? Coming full circle, it means cities need a plan for each neighborhood to go up, down, or the same in their transect zone, instead of the assumption that the transect zone itself is the plan and must be encoded and enforced.

Neighborhoods are destined to change

Behind the two fracture points of modern planning, NIMBYs and gentrification, is one fundamental question: should neighborhoods change? NIMBYs and anti-gentrification activists agree that they should not. The modern planning system was invented to enforce that agreement.

Introducing change into such a system is to work against its nature. Whether the rules are coming from the national government, the municipal bylaws or property owners’ associations does not matter. What matters is the intent of the rule, to keep things ordered as they are. This is where “accessory dwelling units” get their significance.

We have witnessed a massive conflict emerge over the euphemistic accessory dwelling unit (studio apartment). In jurisdiction after jurisdiction, the pressure of real-estate demand is splitting the constituents: is this what we want in our backyard to keep rents from rising?

If you wonder whether a struggle to add a few permissions allowing property owners to build studio rentals on their properties is worth the pain, realize what this change implies; it shifts the fundamental question of planning from should our neighborhood changeto how should our neighborhood change.

This is not a simple addition of studio rentals but a generational shift in neighborhood planning. When the next generation finds itself occupying a neighborhood filled with studio apartments, there won’t be a need to shift question again, only to provide new answers. Since accessory dwelling units have some of the shortest lifecycles of any dwelling, this change will bear its fruits soon enough to lead to more extensive succession.

Mathiew Hélie
Montreal

On The Nature of Cities

Water Sensitive Urban Design Goes Mainstream in Victoria, Australia

Art, Science, Action: Green Cities Re-imagined
Melbourne has long been at the forefront of sustainable stormwater management through WSUD. WSUD, in formal definition, is “the design of subdivisions, buildings and landscapes that enhances opportunities for at source conservation of water, rainfall detention and use, infiltration, and interception of pollutants in surface runoff from the block”.
Victoria, in south-eastern Australia, has long had a reputation as a garden state, even to the extent of describing it as such on car registration plates in the past. Victorian cities boast many parks, large and small, which are highly valued by their residents but threatened by drought and climate change. The design of these parks reflects the contemporary social values: some are formal with exotic plants, while others are wilder places with indigenous vegetation. All contribute to the nature of the city, and the wellbeing of its residents. 

Recent changes to the Victorian Planning Provisions will ensure that Victoria continues to have beautiful green spaces for all to enjoy by enshrining in the planning scheme the need to manage stormwater sustainably including the provision of cooling, local habitat and amenity. Big-pipe solutions alone for stormwater drainage won’t meet the planning requirements anymore. Water Sensitive Urban Design (WSUD) has become mainstream!

Integrated water management is one way of increasing a city’s resilience to the effects of climate change and ensuring the ongoing survival of green spaces. Victoria has taken the bold step of enshrining integrated water management into its Victorian Planning Provisions for almost (some exclusions apply) all forms of urban development. Amendment VC154—Stormwater management was gazetted in October 2018. Two new clauses were added to the Victorian Planning Provisions, 19.03-3S and 53.18, and existing clauses changed to support them. The overall objective of the amendment was to manage stormwater “in an integrated way to mitigate the impacts of stormwater runoff on the environment, property and public safety, and to provide cooling, local habitat and amenity benefits”. 

This is the first time that issues of thermal cooling, habitat diversity and amenity have been addressed in stormwater management. The objective of the new clause 19.03-3S is to “sustainably manage water supply, water resources, wastewater, drainage and stormwater through an integrated water management approach”. The clause specifies the strategies required to achieve integrated water management. Planning and co-ordination are critical, taking into consideration the catchment context and ensuring that land for water management is set aside at the subdivision design stage. Other strategies include the minimization of “drainage, water or wastewater infrastructure and operational costs”, “filtering of sediment and waste from stormwater prior to discharge from a site”, and the integration of water “into the landscape to facilitate cooling, local habitat improvements and provision of attractive and enjoyable spaces for the community to use”. In other words, this new planning provision is mandating WSUD in most new developments in Victoria that require a planning permit. How wonderful is that!

Other clauses of the Victorian Planning Provisions have also been changed to support integrated water management in Victoria. A Planning Advisory Note (No. 75:) provides useful background to Amendment VC154 leading to these changes. It describes Clause 19.03-3S as a policy change that embeds integrated water management objectives and strategies in urban land-use planning. Clause 19.03-3S is accompanied by new clause 53.18, and changes to existing clause 56.

New clause 53.18 Stormwater management in urban development specifies the exclusions, related predominantly to lower density, rural and conservation land. The wording of the objective for the clause is quite clear in its intent: To ensure that stormwater in urban development, including retention and reuse, is managed to mitigate the impacts of stormwater on the environment, property and public safety, and to provide cooling, local habitat and amenity benefits. A clear win for nature in the city.

Melbourne photographed from Mt Dandenong, to the east of the city. It shows the city surrounded by suburbs. Source: Public Domain, https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?curid=9360304

Melbourne has long been at the forefront of sustainable stormwater management through WSUD. WSUD is an Australian term, “something of a catch-all term for environmentally sustainable water resource management in urban areas” (here, p. 1). It has been formally defined as “the design of subdivisions, buildings and landscapes that enhances opportunities for at source conservation of water, rainfall detention and use, infiltration, and interception of pollutants in surface runoff from the block” (here, p. 13). Its practice has developed progressively since the 1960s, in response to concern about the environmental impact of stormwater discharge on creeks, rivers and coastal waters, with its economic and social consequences, doubt that aging infrastructure could support further urban development, and recognition of the potential of stormwater as a resource. This action was led by the states. Western Australia introduced the first WSUD guidelines in 1994, building on a concept of water sensitive residential design proposed by David Hedgecock and Mike Mouritz. Within 5 years, best management practice environmental guidelines for stormwater management were released by Victoria and Queensland, and by the other states and territories by 2010. The reach of WSUD has now extended beyond the capital cities to outback Australia. 

In 2002, the federal government, through the Urban Stormwater Initiative of the Living Cities Program, formally proposed WSUD as a strategy to achieve environmentally sustainable development, which is “to consider lifestyles, and their supporting infrastructure, that can endure indefinitely because they are neither depleting resources nor degrading environmental quality” (here, p. 1). To achieve this, WSUD integrates best management practices (BMPs), e.g. rainwater tanks, roof gardens, swales and buffer strips, gross pollutant traps, sedimentation basins, constructed wetlands, porous paving, bioretention and infiltration devices, to collect/retain/detain, treat and/or store stormwater in the landscape. The result is multifunctional landscapes that offer visual and recreational amenity, protect the water quality of local waterways, reduce run-off and peak flows to these waterways, and minimise impervious areas and development costs of drainage infrastructure. More recently, the remit of WSUD has extended to include aquifer storage and recovery, grey water reuse, dual reticulation of treated wastewater, sewer mining, xeriscaping, water conservation and urban heat island mitigation, more closely reflecting the original concept of Hedgecock and Mouritz in Western Australia. Thus, WSUD aspires to provide multiple water sources at allotment/local, neighbourhood and regional scales, using a mix of strategies, predominantly visible structures in the landscape, often in treatment trains (a sequence of BMPs). In Australia, this is described as green infrastructure. 

To support clause 53.18, clauses 52, 55, 56, 58 and 73 have been changed, involving objectives and standards. Clause 56 was a gamechanger for stormwater management in new residential estates. Five years before, Sara Lloyd had highlighted the importance of best planning practices, integrated with BMPs, to achieve sustainable stormwater management. In 2002, Melbourne 2030 Planning for Sustainable Growth was published by the Victorian government. The plan proposed Neighbourhood Principles for residential subdivision that would promote livability. In response to the principle of environmentally friendly development, which included water conservation, local management of stormwater and wastewater treatment, Clause 56 was added to the Victorian Planning Provisions in 2006.

Victoria Park, Docklands, Melbourne. Grassed area is retention basin for stormwater generated onsite. It functions most of the time as green space for active and passive recreation in an area on the western edge of Melbourne’s CBD. Photo: M. Dobbie
Constructed wetland, The Waterways, Keysborough This constructed wetland treats stormwater generated onsite by an extensive residential subdivision. Water from the wetlands passes to Mordialloc Creek, which empties into Port Phillip Bay. Photo: M. Dobbie)

Since 2006, the suburban landscape of Melbourne has changed as residential development has included constructed wetlands to harvest and treat stormwater onsite, often with bioretention swales along roads and other WSUD devices. These met the relevant BMPs relating to retention of suspended solids, total phosphorus, nitrogen and litter. Amendment VC-154 expands the requirements of Clause 56 so that WSUD will provide urban cooling, habitat for local wildlife, and landscape amenity. We can expect more changes in Victorian urban landscapes, as WSUD greens our cities. 

Meredith Dobbie
Victoria

On The Nature of Cities

Imagine A City Where No One Sleeps Outside: Eden Village, A Model to End Homelessness

Art, Science, Action: Green Cities Re-imagined
Two major obstacles separating homelessness and a home are acquiring the first and last month’s rent required by landlords, and a deposit to a local utility company. With no rental security deposit required at Eden Village, or need for a utility deposit—as well as low rent—these obstacles are lowered.

When Dr. David and Linda Brown retired, they moved into a loft in downtown Springfield, Missouri. Very quickly they got to know and become friends with their new urban neighbors. But rather than visiting in with these neighbors in their apartments or lofts, their conversations were always on the streets, as the streets were where they lived. The Browns’ new friends were homeless. 

Soon recognizing gaps in services for their new friends, one of which was no place to be in the evening, in 2010 the Browns, along with several others from the greater Springfield community, opened The Gathering Tree. It is a place for persons who are homeless to gather in the evening to rest, have a hot cup of coffee, play a board game, watch a movie and simply enjoy fellowship with their neighbors.

After successfully running the Gathering Tree for seven years, the Browns decided to take on filling the most important gap in their friends’ lives: a safe place to lay their heads at night. Within the span of just two years from the first dollar raised to handing out the first key, the Browns, along with supporters, staff, volunteers, and community partners, had created Eden Village. Eden Village is a community of 31 tiny homes and a community support center that provides a permanent home and services to the chronically, and disabled homeless. The Gathering Tree organization in Springfield, Missouri, USA aims to create a city where, “No one sleeps outside”, through its tiny home community, Eden Village.

“The causes of homelessness cannot be successfully treated until the fundamental needs of the individual, food, clothing and shelter, are met.”
Eden Village

A model to permanently house the chronically disabled homeless

On average 210-215 people sleep outside in Springfield, Missouri each night. To begin to put an end to this, the Gathering Tree purchased an abandoned mobile home park, made improvements, and planned to place 390square-foot tiny homes on site. Twenty-five have already been completed at the time this was written. Eden Village includes a community center at its entrance, which houses a medical, and mental health clinic, mental health and social service offices, business office, community room, and kitchen. Often preyed upon, it is thought that the residents will be safer with a thumb print entry to the gated community. All visitors must be checked in as well. 

Eden Village is a master-planned, gated community to house our friends with dignity in a place they can call home, permanently. 
— Nate Schlueter, COO Eden Village

Costs are kept well below traditional models for low-income housing as infrastructure such as streets, water, sewer, and electric are already in place. Additional savings are created by placing half of the homes on one of two municipal electric meters, saving the minimum monthly hook-up charge of $19 per meter which would have been times 31 homes per month. There are also plans for a solar array large enough to meet the energy needs of the entire community which will take the monthly expenses even lower. 

Two major obstacles between the homeless and a roof over their heads are acquiring the first and last month’s rent required by landlords and a deposit to a local utility company. Saving money for these deposits is nearly impossible while living on the streets as these folks are enduring the expense of eating out every meal and other inefficient expenses to keep them alive on the streets. With no rental security deposit required at Eden Village or need for a utility deposit, as well as low rent, the obstacles are removed and it becomes easy for residents to move in immediately. 

Each resident pays $300 per month (inclusive of utilities) to live at Eden Village. All residents receive a modest social security check that more than covers the monthly rent. Paying rent is believed to give the residents a sense of ownership and dignity. This also helps to ensure the long-term sustainability of the community. 

Support for the residents equals savings for the city

Case workers and mental health professionals have been permanently assigned by a local hospital and mental health organization to Eden Village. Bringing medical professionals and case workers to the residents rather than expecting those in need to take the typical 1 ½ hour bus ride to see their case worker or to seek medical care makes it more likely they will receive the care they need in a timely manner rather than waiting until their issues are critical. 

“The onsite clinic will be able to triage and take care of things that typically take our homeless friends to the emergency room for unnecessary issues and/or triggers police, fire and ambulance services and the costs associated”, says Schlueter. 

In the long run, it will be less expensive to assign medical professionals to Eden Village. According to Schlueter, these services cost the city of Springfield upwards of $30,000 per homeless person in social resources and capital per year. 

Eden Village also enjoys local municipal support as officials and administrators see long-term savings and less demand on services.

Home Team

Building friendships. It is the Gathering Tree’s intent that those who sponsor a home create a “Home Team” for their resident. “The Home Team becomes a friend to the resident and walks through this new journey in life with the resident”, says David Brown. 

“Poverty is not just an economics issue but also a relationships issue.”
— Tim Stagner, Pastor, Vineyards Church

The first goal of the friendship is to help the resident adjust to living inside a home again. This usually takes a month for every year they have been on the streets. Most of the residents have been homeless for 5 to 10 years, so it takes a while for them to adjust. The Home Team will help guide and remind them of how to do some of the basics in the beginning like remembering to turn off the stove, doing laundry, and keeping the house clean. 

Having their basic needs met, residents are free to hope and dream again because they are out of “struggle and survival” mode. “We tell the residents that they are now CEOs of their own lives, but we are going to provide you with a board of directors”, says Schlueter.

A sense of community

The goal of building community and connecting the residents to it is layered throughout the village. Connections begin with the front porch. Each home has a covered front porch with two chairs facing the neighborhood. The porches have become integral to community building, as residents are often seen gathering on porches and waiving to neighbors. 

Picnic tables and grills alternate with raised community garden beds in between every house. Permaculture is planned and will run the length of the community. Eden village also provides residents with the opportunity for skill building and community participation. Fruit trees have been planted on site, and a community garden grows vegetables needed for the preparation of a popular dish and product produced at Eden Village: salsa. Residence are provided with classes on growing, harvesting, preparation, and canning and selling/marketing to create a dignified income for those who wish to participate. 

Planned activities in the community center are available for those interested. A community laundry facility promotes folks engaging one another in the community center. All of these elements are designed to promote getting out and connecting to the Eden Village community. 

External connections to greater Springfield begin with the home teams. Home team members can be seen visiting frequently, although Eden Village recommends visiting at least once per month.  

Architecture and Inspiration: not your typical DIY tiny home

The approach taken to provide a dignified home for the residents was to make homes look “just like ours” says Schlueter. Each home greets the internal walking street with a front porch, promoting interaction and a sense of connection to the Eden Village community. As you enter the home you arrive in an open-feeling space that holds a fully-functioning kitchen and a modest living space. The ceilings are lofted, allowing natural light to flood the space from a clerestory window above the kitchen cabinets. To the rear of the house is a hall closet, full bathroom, and lovely bedroom with a built-in dresser and two closets. The 390 square-foot tiny homes are nothing like those you see on television. The television version is much smaller and embraces quirky spaces and kitschy décor. The Eden Village homes have a few similarities to the craftsman style with a “Sears and Roebuck” approach—affordability through mass production. The homes are pre-manufactured, delivered and set up in village in the same manner in which a mobile home would be delivered. 

This old house is a classic America style. www.thisoldhouse.com

All of the homes in Eden Village are the same floor plan; however, the plan is often flipped, and each is painted differently inside and out to reflect the preferences and personality of the individual resident. As the home team gets to know the resident in the months or weeks in advance of the pre-manufactured home arriving on-site, color choices and décor become obvious.

Linda Brown coordinates furnishings and décor with donors and each resident. The homes are extremely elegant, personal, and have a comforting feeling.  Visitor reaction to the style, decor and quality of the home is overwhelmingly positive. Most articulate a desire to live in one of the homes.  

Red House. Courtsey Eden Village

Drury University’s Design-Build program studies resiliency and client-centered design

Urbana Sears house.

Drury University’s Design-Build Program was given the opportunity to study improving the resiliency of mobile homes and how architecture could support and improve the lives of the residents in Eden Village. Fourteen architecture students in their Fifth-year Explorations Studio spent eight weeks researching and designing followed by an eight-week build of a tiny home for the village. 

Paired with a future resident, the students were given a once in a lifetime experience. The chosen client was their age (22 years old), talented, intelligent, funny, and he also happened to be deaf. “MJ” had been living on the streets since he was seventeen. Getting to know MJ and realizing that the only difference between themselves and MJ was a set of circumstances, was  eye-opening, and perhaps a life-changing experience for the students. 

Drury University Jordan Valley Community Health Center Tiny House by Traci Sooter

As a result of their research, the students determined that a visual-centric approach to the design would best support a person who is deaf. Examples of this approach are constant visual control  of the interior environment and wall color choices that provide good contrast for hands while signing. Many other design decisions were made based on MJ’s needs, personal preferences, and interests, such as his love of reading. One example is the “library” of shelves in the living space that turns and transitions into a reading nook. The placement of the nook provides visual control of the front door and living space and a view out a window as well as easy viewing of the television. A custom game/dining table was designed and built by the students to be stored under the nook. 

While the front porch is the same size as all of the other homes in the village, the staircase reaches out into the community inviting guests as it wraps the front and south side. This welcoming staircase doubles as seating for passersby who want to pause and visit for a while. Planter boxes at each end of the stairs, one of which provides a lockable place for bicycle storage, create an additional sense of comforting space. 

Reading Nook & Chess table, by Traci Sooter

As Eden Village is located in “tornado alley” of the Midwestern United States, tornado resistance was an important design goal. The students detailed the wall system to meet FEMA (Federal Emergency Management Agency) specifications for a wood storm shelter to achieve tornado resistance and remain affordable. Using typical wood framing materials has the added benefit of familiarity to local trades, and readily available materials. The home is resistant to tornadic wind loads and the impact of flying debris through the combination of the FEMA wall assembly and engineered connections from roof to ground. 

Bedroom, by Traci Sooter

The students named the home the SIGN house: Sustain, Integrate, Gather, Nestinspired by our client’s communication using American Sign Language, Eden Village’s inclusive philosophy, the visual-centric design approach, and tornado-resistant attributes. (click for video tour here)

Replicating the Eden Village model starts with the right property

The Eden Village model could be easily replicated in cities across America and the world. The most important step is choosing a property that is properly zoned. 

Bathroom, by Traci Sooter

Too often, efforts across the United States similar to Eden Village die or are stagnated for years because well-intentioned folks choose a piece of property that is not zoned correctly. Zoning hearings are then triggered and lead to official posted notices and community devised flyers mailed to neighbors that call for “you should be against this” attitudes. This often leads to the development of a “not in my backyard” movement and a fight that can create delays that can last for years or completely kill the project.  

To avoid a “not in my backyard” movement, the Gathering Tree staff researched local zoning laws and found that zoning for mobile home parks or highway commercial gave them the legal right to put in an RV (Recreational Vehicle) park. All the tiny homes in Eden Village are mobile and under 400 square feet which makes them legally a recreational vehicle, and therefore compliant for this zoning. A home near this square footage is the perfect size for a single person and has enough room for all of the amenities of a typical home: living, dining, kitchen space, bedroom, and full bathroom. 

The Gathering Tree located and purchased an abandoned, blighted, mobile home park that would hold 31 tiny homes and a community center. Although well within their rights to begin construction and start setting the mobile homes immediately, the staff of the Gathering Tree went door-to-door in the neighborhood, sharing their vision and intentions with the neighbors. The Eden Village staff were met with great enthusiasm and support from the neighborhood as the new community center and tastefully-designed tiny homes would be a great improvement to the blighted site. 

Avoiding planning and zoning hearings and a potential “not in my back yard” movement enabled Eden Village to hand out the first key to a resident after only two years from the first dollar raised. Most similar projects across the United States take eight to ten years to get off the ground. When there is not a “not in my back yard” movement people are excited about tiny homes, giving folks a second chance, and helping homeless people move into a permanent home. (Schlueter)

Community support is key to the success of  Eden Village. Funding for the community center and improvements to the infrastructure came from local and national grants. Funding for the homes came from local businesses, organizations, churches, families and individuals who sponsored the houses. 

With the exception of the Drury University house, each house is pre-manufactured and delivered to the site. Each home costs approximately $37,000 delivered to the site. (Brown)

Who lives at Eden Village? 

A resident of a Eden Village tiny home is an adult from Greene County, Missouri, USA who has an Axis I mental health diagnosis or physical disability, has a history of involvement in the Criminal Justice System, has a history of homelessness and as a result of these previous issues, are high utilizers of Green County resources such as 9-1-1 calls, ambulance services, emergency room services, police engagement, county shelter services, incarceration for violations like trespassing, vagrancy, public intoxication, panhandling, etc. Combining all of these issues results in being disqualified from the majority of all other housing options. The individuals selected to live in Eden Village truly are the most vulnerable to dying on the streets and most expensive consumers of public services in Springfield.

Residents who will be living in the Village are individuals who due, to their  background as listed above and other extenuating circumstances, are incapable of “graduating” from a program and gaining full time stable independence. Residents may live at the Village, forever, as long as they are a good neighbor to the rest of the village community. 

Eden Village is nearly complete awaiting the delivery of the last few homes. However, they already have their sights on phase two and 50 more homes for their friends. With wide spread community support and many grant sources available, Eden Village hopes to have enough housing within 10 years so that Springfield becomes a city where no one sleeps outside. (Schlueter)

Traci Sooter
Springfield

On The Nature of Cities

What prevents us from creating cities that are better for people and nature? It doesn’t seem like a lack of knowledge—don’t we have enough research knowledge to act on better policy? So, what is the impediment?

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.
Adrian Benepe, New York Money and politics. Many public officials and local governments, view parks and open space as simple amenities, a luxury to address after all the “vital” services have been addressed. But more civic leaders are coming to see parks and open space as crucial components of urban infrastructure, a desirable quality of life, and a civil and equitable society.
Paul Downton, Melbourne In our complicated human world, with competing demands, shrinking resources and an increasing population, the promise of a technological, “smart” fix offers a kind of salvation. But reliance on algorithms can mean abdication of responsibility.
Ana Faggi, Buenos Aires There is always large inertia for change. People, including politicians, institutions and the community have difficulties to move beyond short time thinking, and multiple agendas always slow progress.
Sumetee Gajjar, Cape Town While there is sufficient research and knowledge to produce cities which are good for people and nature, not all of it is applicable across the different urban contexts of both developed and developing countries.
Russell Galt, Edinburgh Conservation and development must be brought firmly into alignment. Mother Earth’s most effective foot soldiers may be those gunning for change outside of the environmental sector.
Rob McDonald, Washington The way around the barriers to better cities is not more scientific knowledge and studies, as much as it pains me as a scientist to say it. What is needed is more inspiration, a passion to achieve a shared vision of what a thriving, green city could look like.
Huda Shaka, Dubai To create better cities we—planners, designers, and policy-makers—need to find a way to work much closer with the residents and users of the city. Otherwise, even the best-intentioned plans may have poor outcomes. Data alone is insufficient. We require transparency and freedom of expression in all arenas.
Vivek Shandas, Portland Vision, Ethics, Tools, Champions, and Community are the drivers of what cities are. Each are essential though free-standing and exclusive; they work in concert to align the multiplicity of human-made systems to create the landscape that advance urban nature.
Phil Silva, New York Villainy, lag, inaccessible knowledge, lack of respect for different ways of knowing. These all play a role. We may have all the “research knowledge” we need in order to get to work, but we still need all the practical knowledge we can get. Practitioners, in turn, need help getting the knowledge the produce out in the open and available to their colleagues all around the world. 
Naomi Tsur, Jerusalem One of the main problems is that the valuable, evidence-based research carried out by academic institutions around the world is rarely being translated into policy decisions for cities. I believe that a true partnership between academia and the not-for-profit sector, the latter acting not only as sponsors of research, but also as the defenders of its conclusions, is one way to impact public policy.
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

There is a feeling among many—and certainly among readers of TNOC—that in broad brush, at least, we know what we need to do to make cities better for people and nature. That is, there is a belief that if we strive to make cities more “green” though various types of green and blue infrastructure, then cities will become more resilient, sustainable, and livable. In addition, these benefits must be available to all, and so cities become more just and equitable in the provision of the benefits of green. Yet, cities often, even typically, lag in their efforts to be more resilient, sustainable, livable, and just through greening. This failure suggests we aren’t making cities better for both people and nature, even though we largely have the knowledge to do so. Why? If green is so good, what’s the impediment?

We asked a mix of scientists, practitioners, and former public officials. There are some common threads in their responses. First is that research and data, and perhaps even “knowledge” is, by itself, insufficient. We need to have vision and awareness. Now, of course, vision and awareness needs to have a foundation in grounded knowledge, but data and facts are not enough. The ideas of green cities need compelling visions of what our cities need to be, and we need to engage with everyone to create and promote these visions, even people who don’t agree with us. One element of such visions is that they need to better make the the case that “green” (in a broad sense) is part of the “must haves” of cities, alongside other vital city elements such as housing and transportation. In this case green isn’t just about, say, biodiversity, it’s about how green infrastructure, including biodiversity, are fundamental to cities that are resilient, sustainable, and livable.

Second is that while we mostly have enough research knowledge to act, it doesn’t necessarily apply everywhere. Specifically, research and knowledge derived from the North may, or may not be fully useful in the South. We shouldn’t assume that it is, and so need to develop a knowledge base that is more nuanced to regional differences and needs.

A third common thread is that in the generation and spread of useful knowledge for cities, we all have to become activists for change toward better cities. Scientists need to get engaged with practice. Practice needs to spread their ideas more actively, in the spirit that there are many “ways of knowing”. Governments need to listen more. People need to rise up for what they want. 

Finally, we need transparency and engagement across sectors of the public realm: government, institutions, civil society, education, the media, and the people. Only with such transparency can ideas and their intellectual basis truly thrive. It is in the darkness of a lack of transparency and openly available knowledge that corruption (at worst) and poor decision making (at least) thrive. 

Adrian Benepe

about the writer
Adrian Benepe

Adrian Benepe has worked for more than 30 years protecting and enhancing parks, gardens and historic resources, most recently as the Commissioner of Parks & Recreation in New York City, and now on a national level as Senior Vice President for City Park Development for the Trust for Public Land.

Adrian Benepe, New York

Money and politics. Many public officials and local governments, view parks and open space as simple amenities, a luxury to address after all the “vital” services have been addressed. But more civic leaders are coming to see parks and open space as crucial components of urban infrastructure, a desirable quality of life, and a civil and equitable society.
I work for a national non-profit organization (NGO) in the US. The Trust for Public Land (“TPL”) creates parks and protects land for people to help ensure healthy, livable communities for generations to come. National Programs guides the organizational strategy in the fields of Climate, Health, Equity, Community, and leads our national campaigns, such as our 10-Minute Walk to a Park Campaign. We work in tandem with our field offices, who deliver best-in-class park projects and land protection that bring a myriad of benefits to the communities they serve. We also have a Research & Innovation branch that collects vast quantities of data to create multi-layered GIS maps that can guide our—and our public and non-profit partners’—strategies nationally, regionally, and locally in park creation. TPL is also the premier organization for raising public funds for park protection and creation. Just recently, our Conservation Finance spearheaded a successful ballot measure in New Orleans which will generate $443 million for city park agencies over the next 20 years. In 2018,  our successful ballot measures created $7.2 billionin public funding for parks and conservation.

Virtually everything we do is in collaboration with others, from many levels of government and the public sector in the US, to different kinds of funding organizations which provide philanthropic gifts and grants from individuals, foundations, and corporations, to other non-profits, corporate entities, and people.

While about half of our work is dedicated to conserving land for public use in rural areas—often turned over to national and state parks, the other half of our work is in cities. In urban areas across the US, we help cities acquire land, improve existing parks, and create new parks, public spaces, and trails. In some cases, we design and build the new parks and execute the construction or renovation of parks.

There are numerous obstacles to our work, as beneficent as it may appear to most. The classic obstacles are money and politics: Simply put, many public officials and local governments, feeling overburdened by demands or public safety, mass transit, transportation, health, affordable housing, education, sanitation, and other municipal and societal needs, often view parks and open space as simple amenities, a luxury to address when revenues are flush and all the “vital” services have been addressed.

Increasingly, however, civic leaders have come to see parks and open space as crucial components of urban infrastructure, a desirable quality of life, and a civil and equitable society. They also understand that parks, open space, and trails are critical to physical and mental health, to environmental sustainability, and to climate change mitigation and adaptation. Finally, progressive city leaders understand that government can no longer do everything by itself—that collaboration with all levels of the public, private, and non-profit sectors, and particularly with citizens, is not only important to creating livable cities, but is now indispensable.

Breaking down barriers between governmental silos and between government and the many potential collaborators is the key to successful cities that are better for people and nature. From my own experience both in my daily job and in my volunteer activities, and in my prior work as Commissioner of the New York City Department of Parks & Recreation, here are a few examples of how cross-sector collaborations are crucial to better cities:

  • Public-Private Partnerships (PPPs): In four decades in government and the non-profit sector, I have seen the tremendous, liberating benefits of PPPs. From the birth of the Central Park Conservancy in 1981, to the present day where more than 200 such organizations are now helping to improve and manage parks. According to TPL’s research as part of ParkScore and City Park Facts, these organizations, many known as “conservancies,” currently raise in excess of $750 million a year in private charitable funds to assist in the management, maintenance, and renovation of public parks, and they are part of the recent increase in expenditures on parks that have helped to improve parks in cities across the country. Absolutely key to the success of these collaborations has been government being willing to cede some aspects of power and management to their non-profit partners, incentivizing them to devote volunteer labor and charitable gifts to services that were once the sole province of government authorities—with decidedly mixed results.

Another example of collaboration is how TPL works in cities to renovate existing parks and build new ones. In more than 20 American cities, TPL has helped to create or renovate thousands of parks and trails, including transforming more than 200 New York City asphalt schoolyards into green community playgrounds. In each case these projects involve cross-sector collaboration between TPL and NYC government agencies, using a combination of public funds and private gifts, and engaging school children and neighborhood residents in a “community engagement”-focused design process.  The result are improved spaces that help improve the local environment for underserved areas, while creating beautiful new community spaces that are less likely to suffer vandalism and neglect because of the “ownership” by the residents who were full partners in the playgrounds’ conception.

  • Public-Public Partnerships: Some of the best examples of new and innovative parks and public spaces have resulted from partnerships between various levels of government—in the US, that largely means city, county, state and federal. Two of NYC’s largest and most impactful new parks—Hudson River Park and Brooklyn Bridge Park—were the result of creative collaborations between the City of New York and New York State. In both cases, quasi-governmental development and management agencies were formed, with boards composed of members named by government leaders and including local elected officials. But they were liberated from some of the Gordian knots of bureaucracy, and were able to function more like the private sector in terms of issuing contracts and entering into partnership. Also, in each case the authorities set aside portions of the future parks as income-producing properties, to fund the enormous operating costs of these new waterfront parks. For example, in the case of Brooklyn Bridge Park, 10 percent of the former shipping piers and wharves area was set aside for the development of hotels and residential buildings at the edge of the future park. Those site now generate up to $16 million a year in ground rent, which is used to fund the operating expenses and capital upkeep of the park.

The above are just two of thousands of examples of the beneficial—indeed vital—need for collaboration in the interest of making cites that are better for people and nature.

Paul Downton

about the writer
Paul Downton

Writer, architect, urban evolutionary, founding convener of Urban Ecology Australia and a recognised ‘ecocity pioneer’. Paul has championed ecological cities for years but has become disenchanted with how such a beautiful concept can be perverted and misinterpreted – ‘Neom' anyone? Paul is nevertheless working on an artistic/publishing project with the working title ‘The Wild Cities’ coming soon to a crowd-funding site near you!

Paul Downton, Melbourne

In our complicated human world, with competing demands, shrinking resources and an increasing population, the promise of a technological, “smart” fix offers a kind of salvation. But reliance on algorithms can mean abdication of responsibility.
Smart may be dumb

Many cities have a handle on the rhetoric and cities which have achieved actual progress enjoy well-deserved time in the limelight, but it is hard to argue that the world’s cities are becoming better places for people or nature. Many are getting worse.

There doesn’t seem to be a lack of knowledge (we’ve known about air pollution as a problem for over a century), but the overwhelming amount of data has been too much, perhaps, for decision-makers to deal with. One result is that the current go-to hi-tech answer to the challenge of taking this knowledge and applying it to improve cities is to be “smart”.

But smart city approaches are fraught with danger. They depend on ubiquitous data collection of varying levels of intrusiveness. These approaches are commercially generated and treat citizens as consumers. They offer tidiness and efficiency but rarely ask for agency on behalf of citizens, just consumption and production by customers. Some smart city apps are scary, promising to intercept unwanted activity before it happens. Thought crimes, anyone?

In our complicated human world, with competing demands, shrinking resources and an increasing population, the promise of a technological fix offers a kind of salvation. But reliance on algorithms can mean abdication of responsibility. We all know instances of people excluded or unfairly treated because the logic of a computer system failed to align with the real world of being human. Then there’s the curious, evolving insistence that we all must possess a smart phone…

Arguably, if we’re already dragging our feet on making better cities because it’s so difficult, abandoning the use of any promising technology is irresponsible. Realistically, what is the alternative?

Politics. Not the politics of marching to left/right whose-side-are-you-on power play, but community level politics focussed on involving people in their immediate neighbourhood, local politics that builds from the daily concerns of individuals determined to make their place better for people and nature.

The research knowledge generated by experts needs to be out in the broader community so that it can be digested and understood as part of daily life. Ideas and actions at the community level need to inform, and be informed by, that expertise. It can happen.

It’s a big ask when so much of city government is determined by the interests of land ownership and capital, but there may be no supportable alternative. If the wider population isn’t engaged and able to contribute in an informed and substantive way to decision-making, then city management ends up being reactive and, at worst, in opposition to its own citizens.

The research and knowledge base is good and getting better, but it isn’t disseminated for the same reason that ownership and control of urban areas is concentrated in the hands of a few. Knowledge is power and those who have it don’t generally give it away without a fight.

There is increasing excitement about the capacity of large corporations like IBM to provide complete, city-wide smart solutions that greatly reduce the role of elected officials or, in the case of Alphabet (“Give us a city and put us in charge”) to develop and own entire urban areas built around the use of AI and smart technology.  That’s not an excitement I share, rather, I get a creeping sense of dread and a feeling that we’re slipping further into the kind of divided dystopian future that science fiction writers have long warned us against.

Ana Faggi

about the writer
Ana Faggi

Ana Faggi graduated in agricultural engineering, and has a Ph.D. in Forest Science, she is currently Dean of the Engineer Faculty (Flores University, Argentina). Her main research interests are in Urban Ecology and Ecological Restoration.

Ana Faggi, Buenos Aires

There is always large inertia for change. People, including politicians, institutions and the community have difficulties to move beyond short time thinking, and multiple agendas always slow progress.
To answer this question I would like to share with you two openings related to the revitalization of public space that took place the same day in Buenos Aires city (13 April 2019).  

The first one is a bottom up project at a neighborhood-scale; a square in Floresta, a typical neighborhood with few square meters of green space per inhabitant. Since the 1980s, a group of residents has struggled to transform a site dedicated to the management of urban solid waste to a green area for recreation. These people have been trying to convince municipal managers for more than 30 years of the importance of this transformation. The process was delayed not only by the political ineffectiveness, also through conflict of interests of different sectors of the civil society who were unable to join a collective project. Finally, the square was completed, although with a smaller area than was proposed at the beginning, since a school was built on the area. Today it is a space that offers multiple recreational activities for different age groups.

Square in the Floresta neighborhood. Photo: Ana Faggi

The other project that responds to a top down governmental initiative took 15 months to complete and refers to the pedestrianization of the famous Corrientes Avenue. Such a project is comparable to initiatives already implemented in the Gran Vía of Madrid and Times Square in New York and sought to relocate the Avenue Corrientes as one of the great cultural and entertainment attractions of Argentina and Latin America. The avenue combines the largest concentration of theaters, a large network of bookstores and restaurants. Years ago, because of its deteriorated state, Corrientes was not an inviting place to walk, the insecurity and the economic crisis had taken away it attraction. This revitalization seeks to attract more tourism, which generates a lot of work in the City, including hotels, restaurants and entertainment.

Corrientes Avenue at night. Photo: Ana Faggi

The project began in January 2018 and consists of a comprehensive intervention that includes two lanes with night pedestrianization and two exclusive lanes for buses and taxis and the incorporation of rest areas. After 15 months of work, during which the avenue was more like a workshop than a cultural pole, Corrientes operates with two lanes for public transport and another two for private vehicles, with a dividing central mason. Vehicles will be able to circulate until 19:00h in the afternoon. From that time and until 0200h in the morning, that last section will become pedestrian. Many people opposed this work due to the inconvenience it caused—such as the decrease in theater audiences due to the difficulty of going to the area—its high cost at a time when the economic situation is bad in the country—as well as the rejection of the owners of the parking lots and some doubts of urban planners .

These two examples show that in projects there is always large inertia for change. People, including politicians, institutions and the community have difficulties to move beyond short time thinking. To this we must add that each project is triggered by multiple forces that can put the stick in the wheel of initiatives that are known to be successful in other parts of the world or that respond to participatory processes who seek the common good.

However, it makes clear that the engine to generate changes can be faster if there is the political power to make them.

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, Cape Town

While there is sufficient research and knowledge to produce cities which are good for people and nature, not all of it is applicable across the different urban contexts of both developed and developing countries.
This question can first be addressed in terms of defining what is better for people and nature in cities. In the urban planning contexts of more developed countries, the concept of “green cities” has acquired an association with resilience, self-reliance, and the three pillars of sustainable development, achieved through eco-architecture, bicycle pathways, public transport, closed loop industries, and among more involved citizenry, environmental education and civic participation in conserving nature. There is arguably, sufficient research, history (even if recent) of implementation, and policy response to uphold this understanding of cities which are better for people and nature … in the Global North.

Would it be fair to question whether the same solutions apply to cities and city-regions of the Global South? The Food and Agriculture Organisation of the UN adopts a wider, people-centred foundation for green cities. Such a definition gives rise to the five principles of food security, decent work and income, a clean environment and good governance for all citizens, especially the poor and the rural migrants, for developing and implementing UPH (urban and peri-urban horticulture) in multiple cities of Africa, Latin America and the Caribbean. Traditional ways of greening, such as horticulture, may not be visible. However, through innovative methods of action-based research, they can be potentially accessed and enhanced using technology.

The above project is one example of solutions which better cities in the Global South could harness. Other examples include cleaning and revitalisation of urban rivers, as well as surrounding land, to achieve a clean environment, provide employment, and connect people with nature. A case in point is the UNA: Rivers Project, whereby ICLEI Africa partially funded the rehabilitation and restoration of a site in Addis Ababa (Ras Mekonnen) with UN-Habitat and City of Addis Ababa. The site was historically used as an informal waste dump site, with much of the waste ending up in the river and affecting people drinking the water further downstream. The Minecraft Tool was used to plan for effective rehabilitation of the ecological functionality of the site, whilst at the same time providing access to nature in Addis Ababa and bringing nature, and nature’s benefits, back into the city.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gl5hPfAUw1Y&feature=youtu.be

 

It will probably be more accurate to describe the above as practice projects, rather than policy or research, although the knowledge domains of both research and policy can learn from studying such projects. For example, the wider and longer term impacts of the FAO projects, already in implementation since 2010 would serve to inform future project designs, as well as identify which policies support their success, and which drivers undermine their effectiveness. Similarly, a longer term view of rivers restoration projects would require revisiting the sites at regular intervals, and monitoring their physical condition, the ongoing governance mechanisms, and broader aspects of well-being, including health and employment status of neighbouring communities. The range of nature-based solutions being applied in developing country contexts, whether autonomously, or through grant-funded work, can be studied and strengthened, to identify the methods (governance, technological, civic, and cultural) through which their continuity is ensured. Researching these solutions could generate knowledge that feeds into context-specific policies in the Global South.

A potential mode of knowledge generation is self-reporting by cities on their paths towards greening or sustainability, which can become the basis for further investigation, using statistical or empirical methods. This would involve as a first step, making cities aware of various approaches for integrating nature into urban and regional development and planning. One such new initiative is the CitiesWithNature platform, with a dedicated knowledge and research hub, that will showcase existing research and generate new ideas for further research on urban nature, nature-based solutions and biodiversity. It will draw on the work of a range of global grant-funded research and implementation programmes, organising and translating knowledge in a relatable manner for local governments and practitioners.

Therefore, in response to the question asked of the round table, while there is sufficient research and knowledge to produce cities which are good for people and nature, not all of it is applicable across the different urban contexts of both developed and developing countries; new research is always relevant as it helps donors, practitioners, and administrators reflect on successes and failures of previous programmes, research projects and implementation methods; and cities and city governments can benefit from mapping and measuring their trajectories and learning from the experiences of others, while trying to integrate nature into their plans and agendas.

Russell Galt

about the writer
Russell Galt

Russell Galt works for the International Union for Conservation of Nature (IUCN) where he serves as Head of the Urban Alliance - a broad coalition of IUCN Members concertedly striving to bring cities into balance with nature.

Russell Galt, Edinburgh

Conservation and development must be brought firmly into alignment. Mother Earth’s most effective foot soldiers may be those gunning for change outside of the environmental sector.
Cities should function as the artificial reefs of the terrestrial world, festooned with foliage and babbling with birdsong. Entire cityscapes should be adorned with nature, delivering effective solutions to societal challenges. Yet, despite all the “research knowledge” attesting the benefits of urban nature, most cities have barely begun to realise their ecological potential. Predominant patterns of urbanisation are failing both people and wildlife. We have a global environmental emergency on our hands, so something has to change. But what? 

I believe that conservation and development must be brought firmly into alignment. In seeking to do so, the doctrine of New Urbanism offers a helping hand. Its promotion of integrated transit and active travel networks can be exploited to enhance ecological connectivity—for example, Edinburgh’s extensive cycle network provides a web of ecological corridors that criss-cross the city. Its promotion of locally adapted vernacular buildings can be exploited to promote the ecological tenet of naturalness—for example, many of Singapore’s iconic biophilic buildings harbour rich native biodiversity. Finally, its promotion of mixed use, diverse neighbourhoods catering to a range of income groups, ages and sectors, can be exploited to promote the ecological tenet of structural diversity—for example, London’s multifunctional greenspaces, comprising forests, shrubs, wildflower meadows, grassy lawns and wetlands, render an assortment of ecosystem services, whilst offering a diversity of niche spaces for different species to fill. (Further reading.)

Aligning conservation with development will necessitate: articulating a bold and compelling vision of a healthier and greener urban future; putting nature on the balance sheet; redefining progress; and doggedly defending our human right to a safe, clean and wildlife-rich environment. Business, government, academia and civil society all have critical roles to play. Indeed, Mother Earth’s most effective foot soldiers may be those gunning for change outside of the environmental sector.

Rob McDonald

about the writer
Rob McDonald

Dr. Robert McDonald is Lead Scientist for the Global Cities program at The Nature Conservancy. He researches the impact and dependences of cities on the natural world, and help direct the science behind much of the Conservancy’s urban conservation work.

Rob McDonald, Washington

The way around the barriers to better cities is not more scientific knowledge and studies, as much as it pains me as a scientist to say it. What is needed is more inspiration, a passion to achieve a shared vision of what a thriving, green city could look like.
I believe that there are three main barriers preventing us from creating cities that are better for people and nature.

  • Public concerns: Nature in cities is sometimes messy and problematic. Think about fallen limbs causing power outages, or trees and untended parks providing spaces for criminal activity. Until public concerns about these issues is addressed, the public will not whole-heartedly support our vision of a thriving, green city.
  • Silos: The opportunity to return nature to cities touches virtually every part of the urban landscape—from city streets and parks to private residential and commercial property. Yet the formally designated responsibility for nature often falls on just one municipal agency, such as a city’s Department of Parks and Recreation. As a result, it can be difficult for cities to efficiently identify opportunities to restore or expand urban nature that might be presented by the on-the-ground work of different municipal agencies.
  • Lack of financial resources: Trees and parks are often considered a “nice to have” item when compared to other critical municipal needs such as police and fire protection, education, roads, and other public services. This perspective, combined with the annual budget cycle of most cities (as opposed to longer-term planning considerations) leaves urban nature programs minimally funded, and often at risk of reductions.

The way around these three barriers is not more scientific knowledge and studies, as much as it pains me as a scientist to say it. What is needed is more inspiration, a passion to achieve a shared vision of what a thriving, green city could look like. The inspiration can come from the top-down, as mayors and other municipal leaders reimagine what their city can be. Or, as often, the inspiration can come from the bottom-up, from a set of activists in a neighborhood creating and advocating for their own shared vision of a thriving, green neighborhood. Inspiration can motivate public support, overcoming particular public concerns. Inspiration can bust through government silos, if there are enough people demanding that change. And inspiration can usually motivate municipal leaders to find funding for urban nature.

Humanity is in the period of fastest city building in its history. We are designing the cities of the future now, and those cities will only have nature in them if humanity passionately wants that greener future. We will choose the urban world we create, and we will get the urban world we deserve.

 

Huda Shaka

about the writer
Huda Shaka

Huda's experience and training combine urban planning, sustainable development and public health. She is a chartered town planner (MRTPI) and a chartered environmentalist (CEnv) with over 15 years' experience focused on visionary master plans and city plans across the Arabian Gulf. She is passionate about influencing Arab cities towards sustainable development.

Huda Shaka, Dubai

To create better cities we—planners, designers, and policy-makers—need to find a way to work much closer with the residents and users of the city. Otherwise, even the best-intentioned plans may have poor outcomes. Data alone is insufficient. We require transparency and freedom of expression in all arenas.
From the perspective of Arab, particularly Arabian Gulf, cities, there are three main barriers to creating better cities for people and planet: availability of locally-relevant knowledge, public awareness, and public engagement.

There may be an extensive body of knowledge available on the theory and practice of city planning; however, there remains a knowledge gap in the Arab world. There is a scarcity of local data and locally-relevant research. Planning for human and natural wellbeing would benefit greatly from recent and rigorous studies on environmental quality, social habits and behaviours, and cultural preferences and norms. This is particularly true for the newer and more culturally and socially diverse cities of the Arabian Gulf. 

Similarly, a more accurate database of natural resources and their value to communities and the planet is required from an environmental perspective. Information as simple as habitat mapping or historical sea levels is difficult and sometimes impossible to access. In addition, the information may be available at a national level, and not at a city or regional level. This adds a layer of difficulty and uncertainty when assessing and interpreting the data.

Creating this knowledge requires capable research-focused educational institutions, as well as the funding and policy support to undertake the research. Some cities are starting to respond to this need through the support of world-class research institutions and the facilitation of data sharing through policy.

The second aspect is raising public awareness of the value and importance of our natural assets and the impacts of unsustainable planning and design.  This is an important part of creating the “demand” and grassroots pressure for a more people and nature friendly built environment. 

Most people I talk to recognize the symptoms of bad planning—obesity, stress, anxiety, loneliness, high resource consumption. What they fail to see are the causes, many of which relate to the built environment: air quality and noise pollution from cars and construction, lack of access to spaces for physical activity and chance meetings, disconnection from the natural environment…etc. Once people realise these connections, they also begin to realise the changes that need to happen to the way we plan, design, develop and operate cities and neighbourhoods. They become more aware of the decisions they can make to promote their wellbeing and that of others around them. 

Once again, this awareness will come from education, and from disseminating relevant data and information to the public. It will also come from an informed discourse on environmentally and socially responsible city planning, design and operation in public forums. This requires a degree of transparency and freedom of expression in the media, in public forums, at schools and in the workplace. Data alone is not sufficient.

Public awareness will have a limited impact unless meaningful public engagement becomes part of city planning. This is currently almost non-existent in Arab cities, particularly in Gulf cities. I would argue that even where it does exist in other parts of the world, it is not effective because engagement is often limited to information or consultation. To create better cities we—the planners, designers, and policy-makers—need to find a way to work much closer with the residents and users of the city, current and future. Failing to do this will mean that even the best-intentioned plans may have unintended consequences and the remaining majority will go through even if they are not in the best interest of people or planet.

Vivek Shandas

about the writer
Vivek Shandas

Professor Vivek Shandas specializes in integrating the science of sustainability to citizen engagement and decision making efforts. He evaluates the many critical functions provided by the biophysical ecosystems upon which we depend, including purifying water, producing food, cleaning toxins, offering recreation, and imbuing society with cultural values.

Vivek Shandas, Portland

Vision, Ethics, Tools, Champions, and Community are the drivers of what cities are. Each are essential though free-standing and exclusive; they work in concert to align the multiplicity of human-made systems to create the landscape that advance urban nature.
Five elements to support thriving urban nature

Anybody who rides a bike knows that several factors have to come together to support stable and continuous pedaling. Physical strength, capacity and conviction, adequate space, encouragement, and of course access to the bicycle itself. Each of these factors have to work in concert to enable an individual to balance themselves as they propel themselves through space. Not surprisingly, many of our everyday activities—cooking, sleeping, commuting, defecating—require a series of systems to align, and harness the necessary elements to enable everyday life. In places where these systems are misaligned or maladapted, we witness challenges in supporting everyday necessities.

If we know that exposure to nature everyday is important to our health and well-being, and urban ecosystem provide essential services for our survival, then why are we not seeing an abundance—indeed thriving nature—in all human settlements? What systems are not coming together to enable the provision of natures services to the places where the majority of humans now live? Indeed, why do some places have more urban nature than others?

Creating cities that are thriving ecosystems continues to face challenges due largely to rapid urbanization, landscape homogenization, and the systematic removal of legacy ecosystems. While extensive research points to urbanization, landscape homogenization, and systematic fragmenting and conversation of remnant ecosystems as reasons for the lack of nature in cities, these factors are often the byproduct of more fundamental processes occurring in our cities. As a way to unpack the complexity of narratives for supporting urban nature, I’ve endeavored to organize five elements that are both necessary and complementary. The five elements represent the basis upon which decisions about our landscapes are made. I argue that claims about “more funding” and “tempering development” are symptoms of the visions and ethics that underlie the physical manifestation of our cities. Below, I describe each of the elements, and describe their potential role in aligning systems that can support and enrich thriving urban nature.

An essential element for creating cities that are better for people and nature requires a Vision. The vision is as much a symbol as it is direction for a community. Second, Ethics in this context represent the norms, behaviors, and activities of a community as they recognize the importance that urban nature plays in our lives. In other words, what is considered “normal” in the context of a community. In many cases, educational systems—from preschool through college—are instrumental in establishing ethical norms. If the vision and ethics are in place, communities will likely support the building of Tools that help to characterize, understand, and maintain urban nature. These tools can come in a variety of forms, including programs by local organizations, online platforms, policies and plans, and protocols. The classic Dr.Suess story The Lorax is the quintessential Champion for nature. These are individual, organizations, and other entities that use their agency to advance the integration of nature into our cities. Finally, a Community provides a means for sharing the collective benefits, rituals, and recognition of urban natures.

The creation of laws in Ecuador, New Zealand, and several other nations that recognize that nature has rights is arguably the culmination of all five of these elements. Each are essential though free-standing and exclusive. Similar to riding a bike, they work in concert to align the multiplicity of human-made systems to create the landscape that advance urban nature. We all have a role to play—indeed can be champions—to enable those systems that can help to advance a vision, ethics, tools, and community for supporting nature in our cities.

Philip Silva

about the writer
Philip Silva

Philip's work focuses on informal adult learning and participatory action research in social-ecological systems. He is dedicated to exploring nature in all of its urban expressions.

Phil Silva, New York

Villainy, lag, inaccessible knowledge, lack of respect for different ways of knowing. These all play a role. We may have all the “research knowledge” we need in order to get to work, but we still need all the practical knowledge we can get. Practitioners, in turn, need help getting the knowledge the produce out in the open and available to their colleagues all around the world. 
I see at least four dynamics at play when it comes to the perceived distance between “research knowledge” and action on issues of urban sustainability and resilience.

First, we always have to confront the presence of outright villainy in our efforts to apply scholarly research to the work of improving cities. Greed, apathy, ignorance, ineptitude, cowardice, prejudice, and laziness are all daunting barriers to getting anything done, no matter how much good research we have on hand to back up a progressive change in policy or practice.

Second, it’s reasonable to expect a lag between the production of scientific research and its translation and implementation into practice. “Science, if it can deliver truth, cannot deliver it at the speed of politics,” wrote the sociologists Harry Collins and Robert EvansScientific consensus takes time to form around even the most straightforward and linear of topics, never mind the multivariate, complex, and emergent issues we face in contemplating urban sustainability. So, in some cases, we may simply be witnessing a delay in the “uptake” of research caused by the very nature of science as a deliberative social process.

Third, we need to consider the different ways scholarly research remains inaccessible for most practitioners. Journal articles and academic monographs are locked up behind digital paywalls and inside research libraries that don’t offer open access to the general public. Scholarly research interests are, by their nature, too specialized and esoteric to resonate with the work of most generalist practitioners, making the mountains of literature on urban sustainability and resilience functionally irrelevant to many people tasked with making tangible change. And, as the organizational scholar Donald Schon pointed out, when faced with the choice between technical rigor and societal relevance, scientists will typically follow a line of inquiry that allows for greater control, generalizability, and stability (ensuring a higher degree of rigor) shying away from exploring messier “real world” problems.

Fourth, those of us straddling the domains of scholarship and practice know that science does not have a monopoly on the production of valid, rigorous, and reliable knowledge. And, by extension, scientists are not the only members of our society capable of producing the knowledge necessary for solving the problems of sustainable and resilient cities. “Citizen science” and other forms of “public participation in scientific research” have created opportunities for practitioners to “co-create” scholarly knowledge with researchers, but the products of their research collaborations are often subject to the same issues of accessibility I’ve outlined above.  

What about all the knowledge produced every day in action—the humdrum knowledge forged, tested, and preserved in practice over time? The inherent pragmatism of this sort of knowledge makes it absurd for us to ask whether we’ve accumulated enough of it and whether we need to make any more of it before we can get to work. The very act of “getting to work” is the engine that drives the production of what Schon called knowledge-in-action, and practitioners couldn’t shut the engine off even if they wanted to—and why would they? Yet much of this knowledge wrought in practice is tacit and goes unspoken unless practitioners take extra steps to reflect on their work together and surface, to the extent possible, what they’ve come to know from doing. Becoming a “reflective practitioner” (another Schon-ism) takes serious effort, and most practitioners probably don’t even see themselves as being in the knowledge production business to begin with. After all, that’s what scientists are supposed to be busy doing.

We may have all the “research knowledge” we need in order to get to work, but we still need all the practical knowledge we can get. Practitioners, in turn, need help getting the knowledge the produce out in the open and available to their colleagues all around the world.

Naomi Tsur

about the writer
Naomi Tsur

Naomi Tsur is Founder and Chair of the Israel Urban Forum, Chair of the Jerusalem Green Fund, Founder and Head of Green Pilgrim Jerusalem, and served a term as Deputy Mayor of Jerusalem, responsible for planning and the environment.

Naomi Tsur, Jerusalem

One of the main problems is that the valuable, evidence-based research carried out by academic institutions around the world is rarely being translated into policy decisions for cities. I believe that a true partnership between academia and the not-for-profit sector, the latter acting not only as sponsors of research, but also as the defenders of its conclusions, is one way to impact public policy.
It is both strange and unfortunate that in a world in which cities are increasingly taking center stage, urban development does not necessarily focus on making cities and their neighborhoods as healthy, green, and community-friendly as possible. Why are citizens not viewed as valued clients, who with their vote have given their municipality the mandate to improve services, and make the public domain as user-friendly, clean and green as possible? This seems to me one of the most important, if not the most important urban enigma of our time.

After spending many years opposing or modifying unsustainable development at the local, regional and national levels, I found myself in the unenviable position of Deputy Mayor of my city, Jerusalem, with the portfolios of strategic planning, historic conservation and environment. I naively assumed that in this senior political position I would be able to change the urban agenda into one based on the triple-bottom-line principle of sustainable social, environmental, and economic development. However, I soon realized that while my views were respected (although my activist past was always ridiculed), I was severely outnumbered in the city council, and unable to follow through on a considerable part of my green agenda for Jerusalem. Indeed, initiatives that I supported, such as the Jerusalem Railway Park and the Gazelle Valley Park, have been completed in spite of municipal policy and not because of it. Their completion was made possible thanks to external funding, and not through funding from the municipal budget. It is interesting to note that the current administration views both these projects as flagship municipal initiatives.

I find myself unwilling to wallow in the acute pessimism of climate change hard-liners, who warn us that immediate action is needed to prevent the continuing rise of temperatures, rise of sea levels and massive loss of biodiversity. I am also convinced that it is not helpful to find excuses in the conspiracy theory whereby national and global corporations have taken control of the economy, and unfortunately their main goal is not global sustainability, but the single-bottom-line economic profit of their companies.

On the bright side, young people today are much more aware of the centrality of these issues, and of the importance of quality of life as a prerequisite for urban living, in a world that will be ninety percent urbanized by the end of the 21st century. I noted an excellent slogan on one of the climate march banners, which read: “In a world in which leaders are not taking action, children will have to become leaders”.

The real question is: What can “we” do to tip the scales and set the course for more sustainable cities? Then there is a need to ask: “Who are “we”?” “We” are all reading the Nature of Cities, are academics, activists and NGO’s working around the world, and some of us even attended the TNOC Summit in Paris in June 2019. However, the big corporations and heavyweight decision-makers are not yet part of the discussion. So instead of bemoaning this, I would rather think what we can do without them…..

One of the main problems is that the valuable, evidence-based research carried out by academic institutions around the world is rarely being translated into policy decisions for cities. I believe that a true partnership between academia and the not-for-profit sector, the latter acting not only as sponsors of research, but also as the defenders of its conclusions, is one way to impact public policy. Traditionally, of course, academic institutions are funded by national government or by business corporations. The non-profit sector should not hesitate to enter the arena to invest in urban development research, and to be prepared to campaign in order to have their findings acted on.

From my role as chair of the Israel Urban forum, which was established in 2016, as a platform for inter-disciplinary and inter-sectoral collaboration, I see the first signs of positive impact from this kind of open platform. I wonder whether this kind of thinking could be encouraged at a global level. This year, at the third Akko Convention on Urbanism, to be held in the City of Akko in September 2019, we will be hosting a few delegations from additional national urban forums, and will work with them to bring a coherent contribution to the next World Urban Forum, in February 2020. Can we expand this discussion through TNOC ?

 

The Singing Air

Art, Science, Action: Green Cities Re-imagined

“…as if refusing to be caught / In any singular vision of my eye / Or in the nets and cages of my thought, / They tower up, shatter, and madden space / With their divergences, are each alone / Swallowed from sight.”
— Richard Wilbur, An Event (excerpt)

In the last weeks, my wife and I have taken to a winter ritual that few of our Berlin neighbours understand. We prepare for it when the sun is sending its oblique rays from beneath the clouds on the western evening sky, strikingly colourful in this season, when the air becomes colder but the colours warmer, often a mix of gold and light violet like on medieval altar paintings. When dusk starts to fall, we get on our bikes and head off to the Grunewald city forest which starts a five minutes ride away. 

The dance of the crows on that cool evening in the forest, was the dance of nameless ragged shapes—a Brownian movement of giant croaking molecules, mixed with some lesser cackling jackdaw atoms. The Brownian molecular movement revealing itself as the self-experience of the huge Psyche which this all is.
We are eager to leave the streets lined with barren sycamore trees behind us, to cross the railway and subway lines on the concrete overpass which holds the huge traffic artery. At this hour, cars and trucks are gushing out to the west, into the suburbs, leaving a shimmering wake of red taillights trailing behind, a sunset in its own right. People we know who meet us on our way to the forest usually ask us if we are really serious to go there when it becomes dark. We should be coming back home at that hour, not entering the “dark evil forest”, as one neighbour put it recently. “Are you serious that you want to go there?” 

Oh yes, we are.

Our hikes into the woods started by chance—or, better—due to my way of organizing, or rather not organizing my writing after lunch break and a short nap, trying to squeeze in as much work as possible until darkness falls. When it is time to go to have enough light, I often don’t move because I need to watch the sun setting between all these drifting colours, making each fleeting moment unique and ephemerous. Every time I seem to encounter an eternal principle which I still have not fully grasped. So, it is mostly near dark when we go.

Last time we went, like always I clicked off the dynamo for my bike’s headlamp at the fringe of the woods. Inside the forest the immediate change of atmosphere felt like a soft shock. Branches and twigs populated the dim air, which smelled of forest, of a different realm to the world outside. There are still some logs lying across the path after the last huge storm more than a year ago, and we had to make careful detours. No sound in the air, apart from the traffic noise which became dimmer with every turn of our wheels. 

Riding more deeply into the forest, we stopped talking and let our skin be greeted by that other skin, those innumerable encounters of air, moisture, wind, scent, molecules bumping on the mucous membranes inside our noses, and dim glow making our sight switch to peripheral vision. The leaves release their wet and cool scent that conveyed a gush of serenity to me. It seemed to touch a chord, a fiber of my body that is buried very deeply in my flesh, in my own particular way of being a chunk of earth. The forest was seemingly dead, barren, still. But I could sense that it lived under the winter torpor. I could smell that the soil was alive, and I sensed some other live faculty with a sense we cannot name yet – maybe the experience of being inside a huge whole which is not just a thing, but also a focused experience, a self, or a community of selves, just as I am.

As darkness fell more deeply during the minutes of our ride through the woods, our vision became stronger. The forest differentiated into fine grades of paler and darker gray, as though every bark, every twig, the cool soil emitted a weak light without any colours. All brightened up, where should have been deep darkness. Night in the forest was actually brighter than night on the well-lit city streets, where the lamps create that much more darkness where their shine doesn’t reach. If only our neighbours knew. 

Then we heard the first faint caw, somewhere in the pale air above. A call coming from nowhere, swirling over our heads, quickly ripped apart by gushes of cold air. There was another one, and yet another one, slightly different in tone, closing in, and then more calls were coming, drawing closer, cawing, croaking, interspersed with some distant cackle. The crows had started to pour in and circle the sky above our heads. 

We headed towards a small clearing which had become “ours” over the last years, had been our place of rest during long spring evenings, resonating with the chants of blackbird, song thrush, and nightingale. We had cared for a little oak during early spring and summer, coming nearly every evening to water it when rain had cut out for many months

The calls grew louder, coarser, ragged, rapped apart, raucous, intense, filling the sky with guttural voices. It was the song of winter, more raw, broken, and harsh than the multivoiced concert of summer. And still it was the same breathtaking experience of quivering life, of “the reservoirs of darkness stirred” (W. H. Auden, New Year Letter, London, Faber & Faber 1941). It was always the same life, and this same life was always spelt out by voices. We dropped our bikes to the ground. When we turned our heads up, the clearing opened like a window into the evening sky.

And there they were. The crows came in as pushed by a gust of wind sending black fragments across the air. The sky filled with voice, and with movement. Black bodies, stretched and bent, pointed wings flapping, whirling about, rolling over one another, sweeping around in sudden bends and brusk loops. The flock passed and curved, then disappeared over the pines and the barren maple trees, only to turn back from behind our backs, merging with another group in the air above. There where more voices, coming from different directions, smaller groups, singular individuals. It was a huge gathering, with crows coming in obviously from all over the south-western part of the city, dozens, hundreds, maybe thousands of voices and wings making the sky crack.

This was not a small flock occasionally choosing these parts of the forest as a roost for chilly nights, but a major, and ecologically important, agglomeration. A significant part of the crow population of the capital had chosen our summer clearing and the adjacent woods as resting place for the night. There were huge numbers of individuals, and at the same time more than numbers, more than many single individuals but one compact mass, a wall of sound, compacting with everything else in the pale light. The air became crow, rook, and jackdaw.

The flock aggregated, dissolved, merged again. The birds flew close curves all at once, their wings tearing apart the cool air with a hissing sound which made me feel the smooth and cool hard outer shell of their body feathers against the air on my own skin. There were at least three species, discernable by their calls: Hooded Crows, which are rather common in the capital, feeding on everything they find in the city. There were Rooks, which have become pretty rare in Berlin, and which travel mainly outward to the countryside to feed, but suffer intensely from an industrial agriculture that has been made plain deadly for all life that are not crops. And there were Jackdaws throwing the occasional mischievous gackle into the coarse screams of the crows. 

In wintertime, huge flocks of crows are a spectacular, albeit still pretty regular phenomenon in the German capital. For some time, I had believed that we were witnessing the whole Berlin crow population settling in our trees. But I learned that there are several of these roosting zones, and they are not always as romantically remote as the one we are visiting in the evenings. There is another huge group, around four thousand individuals, gathering right in the city centre. These birds flock together on a highrise near the Spree river in the hip Friedrichshain/Kreuzberg borough, then start swirling and cawing, and ultimately settle around the Prussian Dome and the construction site of the city castle. 

In the brightly lit city centre the atmosphere is different from the silent forest. But the existential lesson is the same: The world is continuously giving birth to itself, and I can be a joyful part of it. For me, the feeling is even stronger amid concrete, steel, tar, glaring lights and junk, and for many tourists, and birdspotters, alike. Rugged feathers stir the air and create a primordial reaction in the chemistry of the world, a phase shift, where inward experiences coalesce into visible, and audible shapes, and where the sensual presence of bodies creates a space of feeling. We cannot escape this, because that is the principle we are created from. 

There are other roosting places distributed around the city area. The weirdest is inside the central terminal of TXL International Airport. The terminal, constructed in the 1970s, is built as an octogonal shape around an interior open space, mainly for parking cars. In the middle of the car park a massive scaffold made from metal bars raises 20 meters up in the air. From the outside it is covered with oversize advertisements on tarps. The inside belongs to the crows. Several thousand crouch in the metal framework on cold winter nights. 

Around the airport, the birds share the vast expanses of space among the runways and taxiways with the aircraft. They rarely cause trouble—being so smart that they wait to fly across the runways unless a plane has taken off or landed. There is even a rookery close by–the typical multi-nest-colony where rooks raise their chicks (hooded crows, in contrast, breed in pairs). Rooks need the protein-rich diet found on the meadows between the airport lanes (insects, mice, worms) in order to raise their young. On some occasions in the early 2000s, fire fighters have tried to destroy their nests using hoses, but the birds are still there. By now, rooks are strongly protected, and can’t be shot at with watercannons. 

We had laid down. It was chilly, but made it easier to watch the sky. And it made it easier to feel like a part. We gazed upwards, lying on the irregularly bunches of half-frozen grass, our hair making light noises on the soil. The crows were drawn back and forth across the evening sky as though they were fine debris drifting in the ocean, swooshing through a strait, forming eddies at the fringes, combining into loops and pools, rushing past. They floated about as though they were whirling leaves which the autumn has forgotten in a street corner in front of a closed shop, shutters down, and which are taken up by the wind and distributed over the sky. The birds rained through space like ash dragged up from a fire and fragmented by the air, black splinters filing the void. They fluttered about like bats emerging from a tropical cave, from some distance are indistinguishable from bellowing smoke. 

It felt as though the swirling and dashing and dancing crows were the void self-differentiating into solid bodies which each had goals and needs, which each had an own voice and speed, a unique way of ripping apart the invisible silk screen of the air with a knife-sharp loop. And I was thinking that this, the self-differentiation of the void into individuals which each asserted themselves, and which for this self assertion needed the air, and the trees, and the darkness, and the wind, and the others, and us, their admirers, was the reason this whole dance had such a joyful effect on us. 

Something seemed infinitely right. A self-searching and self-finding, a being searched and being found, a reaching out and meeting and being met by another warm body. And at the same time, it was the dance of nameless ragged shapes, a Brownian movement of giant croaking molecules, mixed with some lesser cackling jackdaw atoms. It was both, and it was one through the other: The Brownian molecular movement revealing itself as the self-experience of the huge Psyche which this all is. 

The swirling crows, their raucous cries filling the dome of chilly air, are but one force which reminds us of this. They are a force which we can grasp easily because we have a body as they do. For this reason, as research into mirror neurons in our brains has shown, their experiences are accessible for us because we literally we feel them in our own bodies. But in a larger truth everything is psyche, because everything is body. The setting sun, drowning in an aura of gold and crimson. The shy rustling of wet leaves under our soles. The crisp air, sparkling with tiny droplets, each one making a fine impact on our mucuous membranes. The clefts and wrinkles in the pines’ barks. The cold crystals, composing the soil. 

These kinds of revelations made us, my wife and me, hug one another. Every time we came here on a winter night was a very special insight into. We also needed some warmth. We were there on the damp floor slightly glazed over with icy crystals, staring into the void that filled itself with presence and purpose, because it filled itself with bodies with needs and desires. And then it emptied again. We moved a bit closer, huddled on the forest floor, where we had spent many hours in the long evenings of summer, shone on by the light of the transparent stalks of the tall forest grasses, unmoved, in seeming eternity. 

There it was: the meeting of two warm bodies, which is the source of all newness and transformation you can think of: the meeting of two bodies, two atoms bumping into one another, forming a new molecule, two flakes of ash compounding and building a layer of fertile minerals on the soil, two rooks deciding to settle plumage to plumage in the top of an old pine-tree. Being close to one another in an embrace was nothing different from being part of the eddies and streams that stir pure matter. It was a strange mixed experience of being very much alive and being very much part of a mineral world, the back chilled by the cold floor, the skin tickled by the cool evening mist.

The key to us being able to partake in all this and to know these insights is our body. It is the fact that the crows and jackdaws, as we are, truly are flakes of ash, and drops of water, made of the elements. They, and we, are weight in space that can bump into other weight, change its shape, suffer this change, yearn for expansion, recoil in retreat. We all know how it is to be matter, in all its forms and shapes, as solid soil, as liquid, as air, because we all share being matter. The crows, gathering and mixing, screaming and excited, before settling to close their eyes for a night’s sleep, where a key to the totality behind individual things, and behind my own individuality. 

Stretched out on the forest floor we talked about one of those most famous philosophical papers of the 1980s, which made a huge splurge and became a sort of embodied principle of how a philosopher had to think: Thomas Nagel’s “How it is like to be a bat”. In it, Nagel basically “proved” that we could never know, that we had no connection at all into the bat’s mind. The noble prize novel writer J.M. Coetzee famously refuted Nagel’s rule of thought. Coetzee disagreed with the ensuing general suspicion that humans in their ways to relate to nature inevitably project their inner worlds onto something unknowable and probably emotionless and mute. For Coetzee, we could know what a bat (or a rook) is feeling when it loops over the sky, being full of life, because we know how it feels to be full of life: being full of life is living in joy. 

Lying there under the constant rain of coarse calls, emanating from the whirling ash fragments populating the void, I thought that we should push Coetzees refutal of Nagel a bit further: We even know how it is to be matter, because we arematter, and being matter, we know how it feels to be matter, as our feeling is one reality of being matter. So, we know that to be matter means to be in full life, and full life means joy.

From this angle the crows are the air, they are not different from it, but one of its ways to be, or rather, to desire itself. The crow-being discovers something in the air that no other can, and at the same time reveals that all that moves, and swirls, and transforms, hence that all there is, is the same: swirling flakes of matter in a stream that carries them upward, devours them, crushes them, spits them out changed, rearranged, newborn; particles that deeply down are but eddies in the one huge swirl of streaming being; white as driving snow, transparent as the steady drop, ragged and fragmented as black feathers against the sky.

We can feel because the whole is an incessant mixing of bodies and energies, bound together and separated by the drive towards mutual fertilization. We can feel because this material world through uncountable re-arrangements feels every change happening upon it. Everything that happens makes a difference. It brings more or less fertility, more or less self-realization. Everything that happens is a change of the expression on the face which is this world, make the over-encompassing psyche stir. 

Our thought has dismissed the clairvoyance of older times when men were convinced that the visible was a sign of something intelligible, a power with which we could not communicate directly (because it is the same power forming ourselves). The flight, and the calls, of crows and ravens were interpreted by roman augurs, who would be summoned upon important events, in order to balance an urgent political decision with the bigger cosmic forces. To do this, the priest, the augur, would design a rectangle in the sand, or in a room, and face southeast or east, and watch.

What would an augur, hunkering in the freezing Grunewald Forest, read in the circling birds above? Would he read that it is time to go home and be kind to one another, to be grateful for a heated place to sleep, to be grateful to be part of the vast community of bodies? Would he gather from the caws and croaks that everything has voice, and that everyone is needed to be heard? Would he understand that the whole meshwork of unfolding processes, in which reality manifests itself, is infinitely precious, and invincibly strong? Would the priest resume the message of the black birds in that we need to find less laws and feel more? Or would he just sit in silence and understand that all the birds call for, circling overhead, chasing one another, flocking and dissolving, is a constant current of love towards everything that is, so that it can hear itself, be heard by the others, and continue unfolding?

Huge flocks of crows such as the one I am visiting in the evenings pale in comparison to how many of these birds invaded the German capital in the 1970s winters. Ornithologists assume that then there were 60,000 or more crows gathering in various parts in the city. But in the last twenty years the numbers have crashed. The rook population halved between the 1990s and the early 2000s. Today, the TXL airport rookery is the only one left in the city. The number of Hooded Crows broke down as well. It declined between 2004 and 2014 by a factor of four or five, leaving about 5000 breeding pairs in the city, for now. According to the ornithologist Hans-Jürgen Stork, who for many years led the NABU, the major german nature protection NGO, this is due to massive breakdowns in crow populations farther east, which once all gathered in the German capital in order to survive the winter. Industrial agriculture has cleared the life off the lands even there, in Poland and Russia. 

Is the stirring of the soul we were witnessing as the air sang with coarse calls doomed to stop soon? Can we humans exist without soul? I am afraid that as we are sending the crow peoples away, we are not only impoverishing ecosystems, disrupting foodchains (hence ultimately weakening that on whose receiving end we sit). We are not simply destroying an individual way of being (the trickster-style of the folks of the Corvusgenus). We are directly interfering with soul. We are messing with our own soul, shrinking our own psyche, as this is not separate from the huge encompassing one (which ecopsychologist David Abram so aptly labels the “more-than-human-world” https://www.humansandnature.org/to-be-human-david-abram). We are ruining soul, and with it the chances that soul replenishes and rejuvenates from the desires of its body, which is matter. If we stop granting these beings space, they will go, and they will make the emptiness in ourselves to unbearable to survive. 

Anthropologists know that Native American peoples held the crow and raven people in high estimation as genuine shamanic beings. They are superiorly intelligent (ravens pass the mirror-test of self-consciousness with ease), and in this intelligence so seemingly human, that they became the shamanic bird par excellence, obtaining a middlesman role between the normal world and the realm of the spirits. In the european folklore, a witch is accompanied by a raven. The familiar sits on her shoulder, chatting about the apt sorcery formula to apply, being by and far more intelligent than his half-human company. 

There is a saying from those native peoples which sheds a light on what I intend when I say that if we destroy the manifest self-searching fertility, we inevitably destroy soul, and in it kill our own. The Sioux people, I have been told, think that if we do not express gratitude to the other beings with whom we share our breath, they will return to the world of the spirits. They will leave us, and we will remain, in silence and emptiness. Recently we have been told by top level entomologists that all the insects in the biosphere will have vanished in hundred years’ time. The Sioux view of our responsibility for the psyche of the world, and our failure to assume it, to me seems the sharpest explanation for what is happening. We cannot separate inner and outer realities. To pretend to be able to do so was a deadly mistake from the beginning.

Soul yearns for fertility wherever it settles. It is able to create a home wherever it is constrained to roost, and will do so, until it is completely destroyed. But still then, the principle of soul as the center around which reality unfolds is indestructible. Psyche is the primeval force; the world ceaselessly shuffles its fragments, allowing them to meet and combine, to be cast in new configurations, to overlap, cross-breed, creating fertile transformations where before were none. Psyche is not in particular need of humans. It plays them out and melts them to other forms, other fragments, other compounds. It likes to mold stones and splinters as eagerly, and with as much fervour of feeling. It can wait until universes have formed and contracted, and formed again. It knows no time, only desire, which is the source of all time.

Silence fell over the barren trees. We were seriously cold. The birds had vanished into the trees. Here and there we could hear a faint hustling where a bird was readjusting his weight on a branch, flapping wings, making the silky primary feathers rustle, rubbing his plumage on the bark or on another bird. The silence had come suddenly, as moments before there still had been considerably rumour in the sky, calls here and there, singing feathers. The decline in numbers from many hundreds birds flying to only few dozen had been nearly unperceivable. The shift from only a few to none was clear cut.

We heard some low-frequency stirring beneath the trees and knew that the wild boar were beginning to move out. We stretched our numbed limbs and pulled the bikes up from the forest floor. Also, the poodle stretched, front down and back elevated. While we had observed the birds, she had sat on her hindlegs, staring into the dark forest, as though expecting a large beast to emerge from the shadows. 

We turned back in silence, headlights off, as our eyes had adapted perfectly to the darkness. As we rode along, softly bumping over roots half-raised from the soil, birds stirred in the trees overhead. Our passage left a wake of sound, a fine rustling of feathers, a sparkle of soft bodies. We moved and the world stirred, and folded back unto itself.

We stopped as we reached the end of the forest. For a few moments we could not see in the bright electrical lights. I switched on the headlamp, pulled the dog up under my arm, kissed my wife’s lips still so very warm. A kiss was probably the most accurate shorthand to the immense exchange of bodily encounters engendering transformation and making things able to blossom. The most permanent gesture. I said a silent thanks to the spirit of the forest, to this sensual manifestation of the all-encompassing soul.

Andreas Weber
Berlin

On The Nature of Cities

Banner image: Dark Forest, Belgium (Photo by Pawel Malinowski, Flickr)

How Can We Improve Social Infrastructure?

Art, Science, Action: Green Cities Re-imagined

A review of the book Palaces for the People: How Social Infrastructure Can Help Fight Inequality, Polarization, and the Decline of Civic Life, by Eric Klinenberg. 2018. 290 pages. Random House. Buy the book.

In Eric Klinenberg’s 2018 book, Palaces for the People, he argues that investing in social infrastructure (the assets that shape our social interactions) is investing in healthier, safer, more equitable, and less polarized communities. It is an appealing promise, especially in today’s reality of increased social isolation—a topic which Klinenberg, the director of NYU’s Institute for Public Knowledge, has researched extensively. The book is full of beautiful stories of human connection and examples of how improving public spaces has benefitted communities socially and economically. The solution presented, to treat social infrastructure with equal import as physical infrastructure, is straightforward and hard to dispute. The why of social infrastructure is argued clearly and strongly. Where the book falls short is in the how. With limited public resources and some of our leaders more interested in building border walls that divide us (what Klinenberg calls “antisocial infrastructure”), it is often up to the civic realm to build and foster social infrastructure.  

How can we improve social infrastructure? We must take it upon ourselves to improve our public spaces and prioritize forming connections with our neighbors and community members.
Klinenberg loosely defines “social infrastructure” as the physical elements of community that act as a conduit to bring people together and build social capital. According to Klinenberg, everything from parks and libraries to public transportation and retail corridors has the potential to serve as social infrastructure. He casts a wide net so as to include all places where people can assemble, whether in public space (playgrounds, courtyards, outdoor markets), or private (coffee shops, churches). Despite this rather broad definition, Klinenberg makes clear that not all social infrastructure is created equal. Gated communities, for example, might be full of gathering spaces and resources like shared pools and gardens, but their exclusive nature limits the impact they have on the wider community. Social infrastructure at its best is accessible to all, regardless of race, language, or ability to patronize a local business. The example that is clearly Klinenberg’s favorite is the public library. In his observation of the daily goings-on in neighborhood libraries across New York City, the reader is reminded that public libraries are quite radical spaces that offer unique resources to everyone, from the affluent to the homeless. Libraries can of course be spaces to get free books and research support, but they also often serve as senior centers, offices for freelancers, after school homework clubs, spaces for social service benefit fairs, public bathrooms, free movies theaters, cooling centers, and just places to sit and get some quiet without having to pay for a cup of coffee. Above all, Klinenberg credits libraries as spaces where social connections are formed. These connections are what makes social infrastructure most valuable. They can counter feelings of isolation and loneliness, create common ground between individuals with wildly different backgrounds, and form the basis of a larger sense of belonging and collective life.  

Klinenberg also dedicates space in the book to discuss how investing in shared spaces can improve public safety. He dissects the popular, but disputed, “broken windows” theory and how it has shaped policing, and uses multiple examples to demonstrate that investing in social infrastructure like green spaces and community gardens has more benefits than many traditional crime prevention programs. Rather than thinking about how lack of maintenance of shared spaces leads to crime, he asserts that if residents feel a sense of ownership of their community, they are more likely to invest their own time and energy in maintaining it. These spaces will then be frequented by community members, leading to more of what Jane Jacobs calls “eyes on the street”, increasing accountability and therefore decreasing crime. Klinenberg draws on examples such as the Pruitt-Igoe public housing failure and research from the University of Philadelphia and the Philadelphia Horticultural Society on greening vacant lots to show how these programs and policies impact people on the individual, family, and neighborhood level. He also draws a line connecting green space and public health, pushing community gardens and walkable streets as solutions, and criticizing alternative efforts like replacing corner stores (key social infrastructure in many neighborhoods) with “bodega” machines. Finally, he presents the crucial role of social infrastructure in disaster response and recovery, looking primarily at a church in Houston which organized post-Hurricane Harvey to provide members and non-members alike with housing, food, baby supplies, and other necessities. At times, Palaces for the Peoplereads as though Klinenberg is simply listing hot-button societal challenges and presenting social infrastructure as the solution. But the end result is the realization that improving social infrastructure is in fact a key ingredient in addressing any issue. If nothing else, improving the spaces where we gather and encouraging more social interaction and civic engagement can’t hurt.

The question that remains at the end of the book is what we can do to support the building and improving of social infrastructure. Currently, investing in failing physical infrastructure is one of the only things that politicians on both ends of the spectrum agree on, but getting leaders on the right excited about investing in public resources and social services is a longshot. We can and should be pushing our local elected officials to recognize the importance of social infrastructure—many already do—but we cannot expect the government alone to turn around the trajectory of our declining social infrastructure. Nor can we expect the private sector to solve everything. Although many tech companies claim to be looking into tools for building social capital, online platforms cannot replace face-to-face interactions. Further, as Klinenberg notes, many of these companies are themselves guilty of building private infrastructure like fancy campuses for employees-only that cut across communities and enforce existing divisions.  

The Bronx is blooming. Photo: IOBY

The only way forward, I contend, is to take it upon ourselves to improve our public spaces and prioritize forming connections with our neighbors and community members. Recognizing the local environment as a shared resource and taking care of it is a powerful act, and a way of connecting to the community and even the entire city. Author Jami Attenberg recently wrote for Curbed, about her move from New York City to New Orleans, and the social connection and accountability she felt living in a smaller city. She writes, “My awareness of public issues has increased exponentially because they impact me and my neighbors on a day-to-day basis. Local politics is everything here…I try to participate in this community as best I can, whether through contributing time or money. I even clean the catch basin on my street before it rains. The smallest of gestures reverberates in a city this size”. Of course it is possible to find this kind of concentrated care in larger cities as well—even New York City has hyper local governing bodies like community gardens and block associations—but their work is often hard to see if you don’t go looking. Klinenberg does indeed recognize civic engagement as a key form of social infrastructure, noting that civic groups “provide physical places where people can assemble, programs that bring people together on a regular basis, and local leaders who become advocates for the community” (p. 163). What he fails to mention is that when civic groups make it a part of their mission to improve their local environment, thereby improving social infrastructure, the effect is doubly impactful. 

In New York City alone, there are over 800 civic groups actively caring for the local environment. Half of these groups are informal, operating without nonprofit status, and many are entirely volunteer-run with no budget at all. The work of these civic stewardship groups often goes unrecognized, but it is nonetheless important. When a group of neighbors get together to clean and mulch the tree-pits on their street, or to advocate for turning a vacant lot into a community garden, they are both improving social infrastructure and reaping the benefits of it.  

Sustainable Flatbush healing garden. Photo: IOBY
New York City Park Slope Civic Council. Photo: IOBY

These groups also play a key role filling in the gaps of government support. Recently, in the longest government shutdown in US history, civic groups are stepped in to clean National Parks and maintain other shared resources that normally rely on federal labor. Civic environmental stewardship groups provide space for people to get to know one another and beautify their community in the process, creating a sense of social connection and a feeling of ownership and place attachment. Klinenberg lays out a strong argument for the importance of social infrastructure, but does not presently address who is responsible for creating and maintaining these resources. It is one thing to focus on the physical places that make up social infrastructure, but it is perhaps even more critical to understand, visualize, and support the social organizations that care for these places. By recognizing the important work of existing stewardship groups and encouraging others to emulate their efforts, we can take the matter of building social infrastructure into our own hands and create the places where we want to live.  

Laura Landau
New York

On The Nature of Cities

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How can local governments retain and plant trees on private lands—a primer

Art, Science, Action: Green Cities Re-imagined
Around the world, local governments are experimenting with a range of mechanisms to influence what happens to trees on private lands.
The future sustainability and liveability of cities in many bioregions will depend on retaining established trees, and on planting new trees, including on private lands. While retaining and planting trees in public space has become a familiar feature in many cities, the role of private land areas in a city’s ambitious plans to retain and increase the number of trees and canopy-cover is usually overlooked. 

In some ways, this is not surprising. Local governments usually have direct control and responsibility for retaining and planting trees in public spaces, such as parks and streets. However, this control is restricted on private land, such as residential yards, gardens, or commercial and industrial areas. 

The default for many local governments is to give out trees for private gardeners to plant or to educate the public about the importance of trees. But others have additional mechanisms at their disposal, ranging from legal protections, to planning strategies, financial penalties, financial rebates, and free services—in other words, both stick and a carrot approaches. 

Yet, most of this information on approaches to tree retention and planting on private land lies buried in reports and local legislation. No studies, to our knowledge, have documented and synthesised these initiatives. Below we elaborate on some of the key issues on this topic and use this as a primer for our future conversation at the Nature of Cities Summit, June 4 – 7, 2019.

What’s happening with trees in private lands? 

In many world cities, about half of the trees and half of the canopy cover is concentrated in private lands, areas of the cities where the city has limited jurisdiction. Researchers have documented the challenges in US and Australian cities

The retention and increase of trees and canopy cover in private areas constitutes an important problem for local governments. First, it makes it challenging for them to respond to and meet current sustainability and liveability requirements based on greening, since many tree decisions in private spaces are made by private homeowners or landowners, with little influence from local governments. Second, both the private ownership of trees and their unequal distribution in private spaces makes the services trees provide inaccessible to the public, contributing to justice and equity issues (see for example 1, 2, and 3). Third, because of increasing urban density, aimed at making city more liveable, many cities are losing lots of trees in private lands due to processes such as subdivision, expansion, and consolidation (Figure 1). 

If we accept the notion that the services that urban trees provide are to be enjoyed collectively, then local governments have an important role to play in encouraging or regulation what happens to trees in private lands. 

Stick and carrot approaches

Figure 1:Illustration of the challenges for privately owned trees in cities (Greater Melbourne Area, Blackburn, Victoria, Australia), including densification driven byincreased house sizes (left) and increased number of dwellings in the same area (right) (Source: The Nature Conservancy, Draft Metropolitan Urban Forest Strategy)

Around the world, local governments are experimenting with a range of mechanisms to influence what happens to trees in private lands. The mechanisms can be categorized in two simple ways: penalties and regulations, or “sticks”, and incentives and promotions, or “carrots”. 

Regulations, or the sticks, are specific rules and penalties that prevent the removal of existing trees or require the provision of new trees in private lands. While these regulations are usually focused on preventing the removal of public trees, many cities are now looking into implementing similar regulations for private lands (i.e., private tree protection bylaws, or ordinances, depending on context). However, the success of such instruments are largely untested

Incentives, or the carrots, are specific activities that encourage the retention of existing trees or the planting of new trees in private lands. These include, among many others, providing rate rebates for planting or retaining trees, providing support for tree-care in private spaces, supporting citizen-led activities focused on planting or protecting private trees, awarding prizes for volunteer activities, and educating the public about the benefits of private trees. However, many cities cannot attach specific tree-related goals or targets to these activities.  

The above approaches challenge all levels of government to think more creatively around jurisdictional paradigms. At the most fundamental level, they require governments to think about their urban forest as a continuous resource that needs to be managed collectively to maximise its benefits, regardless of ownership. They also require the establishment of strong community frameworks for urban forest governance that can better enable private stewardship. 

However, the effectiveness of the stick or carrot approaches can be context specific, so collecting case studies from a range of cities with different characteristics (e.g., size, climate, government styles) requires building a more comprehensive understand of the pros and cons of each activity. Few studies, if any, have been able to document, synthesise, and generalize on the initiatives that cities pursue to influence what happens to trees in private lands, mostly because knowledge about these initiatives is restricted to the jurisdictional and governmental context of each city, region, or nation. This diminishes the ability of cities to learn from each other and facilitate innovation to address the challenge of retaining and planting trees in private lands.

Moving Forward

To fill this gap, we are leading a session at the Nature of Cities Summit in June 2019, where municipal officers, advocacy groups, practitioners, and researchers will meet to share experiences and collaboratively develop a suite of mechanisms to retain and increase urban trees and canopy cover in private lands. In our session entitled A stick or a carrot? – How can cities retain existing trees and plant more trees on private lands?, we aim to guide people in conversation about this topic, and share our own failures and successes. We look forward to hosting people from different cities/countries and disciplines (e.g., local government, industry, non-government, advocacy, researchers, etc.). So please, come join us at the Nature of Cities Summit in June! 

Camilo Ordóñez, Judy Bush, Joe Hurley, Marco Amati and Stephen J Livesley
Melbourne

On The Nature of Cities

Acknowledgements: This project has been funded by Hort Innovation Australia, using the Nursery Industry research and development levy and contributions from the Australian Government. Hort Innovation is the grower-owned, not-for-profit research and development corporation for Australian horticulture. Special thanks to our colleagues Stephen Frank of TreeLogic, Meg Caffin of Urban Forest Consulting, the City of Moreland, and the City of Melbourne, Australia.

Judy Bush

about the writer
Judy Bush

Judy is a Lecturer in Urban Planning at the University of Melbourne, Australia. Her research focuses on policies and governance of urban green spaces in the transition to nature-based cities.

Joe Hurley

about the writer
Joe Hurley

Joe is a researcher in the Centre for Urban Research, Deputy Director of the Clean Air and Urban Landscapes Research Hub, and lecturer in the Sustainability and Urban Planning program at RMIT University, Melbourne.

Marco Amati

about the writer
Marco Amati

Marco is an Associate Professor in International Planning at RMIT University, Melbourne, Australia. Marco’s research involves urban trees, urban greenspaces, e-planning, urban agriculture, planning history, and Asian cities.

Stephen Livesley

about the writer
Stephen Livesley

Stephen is an Associate Professor at the University of Melbourne, Australia. His research investigates soil-plant-atmosphere interactions in natural and managed ecosystems, and the role of urban vegetation in providing environmental and social benefits.

Imagining Future Cities in an Age of Ecological Change

Art, Science, Action: Green Cities Re-imagined

 

We have been working on a new book of global short (flash) fiction on future cities. Here it is: A Flash of Silver Green
The guidelines of the prompt were very simple. Stories had to be set in a city in the distant future (i.e. in or near the year 2099), be 1,000 words or less, and have as significant plot points both nature and people. With this framework The Nature of Cities launched a short story contest in 2018, and by the time the deadline had passed they had received 1,200 submissions from 116 countries—from young people, adults, established writers, emerging writers, first-time writers, and more. They wanted to write about their visions of the future.

Very diverse in form, these 1,200 stories included science fiction, magical realism, speculative fiction, and fantasy. After many rounds of judging, fifty-seven of these stories from 21 countries were compiled into a book titled A Flash of Silver-Green: Stories of The Nature of Cities. Seven of those were judged to be prize-winners, authored by women from the United States, Canada, and India.

To place these stories in context, literary scholar Ursula K. Heise was asked to write an introduction that offers a cultural backdrop to work that tackles the future of cities from an environmental perspective. Her full introduction is included below, and the collection of stories can be purchased now from Publication Studio.

David Maddox, Executive Director, The Nature of Cities
Curtis Walker, Production Coordinator, PS Guelph
Malerie Lovejoy, Co-Editor, A Flash of Silver-Green

* * *

Floating cities. Flying cities. Domed cities. Drowned cities. Cities that flip over once a day to expose different populations to sunlight. Cities underground, in the oceans, or in orbit. Cities on moons, asteroids, or other planets. Cities of memory, of surveillance, or of violence. Speculative fiction in the twentieth and twenty-first centuries has offered an enormous range of urban visions of the future, many of them dystopian, a few utopian, and quite a few somewhere in between. 

For good reason: Cities have taken on a new centrality for human futures. In 2008, the World Health Organization and the United Nations published data showing that more than fifty percent of humans now live in cities, for the first time in the history of our species. By 2050, this figure is expected to rise to seventy percent globally. Much of this increase in urban populations will occur in Africa and Asia, often in cities that are not—or not yet—well-known globally. Some ecologists and demographers argue that this shift in where people live will be one of the crucial environmental challenges of the twenty-first century. Where earlier generations of environmentalists had worried about population increase as a problem in and of itself, these researchers shift the focus from the sheer number of people who will inhabit Earth to the kinds of habitats that will be built to house and employ them and to provide them with infrastructures of water, food, energy, health, education, justice, and governance. Since the new cities that will house twenty-first century people are only beginning to be built in many parts of the world, they offer enormous possibilities for constructing sustainable, healthy, and enjoyable places. But the social and ecological challenge is that many will be constructed informally, without the guidance of laws or building codes (or in defiance of regulations), let alone the input of urban planners, architects, or landscape designers—and even with such guidance, sustainability in fast-growing cities is of course far from assured.

The explosive growth in cities over the next century will entail far-reaching political, economic, social, and cultural consequences. And it will unfold in the context of ecological risks that range from local to regional and global scales: from soil, air, and water pollution to altered water and energy regimes, biodiversity loss, and climate change with its increased threats of droughts, floods, fires, and sea level rise. Many cities in the global South as well as the global North are already struggling to address these challenges—sometimes as a matter of sheer survival, sometimes as a matter of health and social justice, and sometimes as a matter of improved urban livability and aesthetics. Many new paradigms and concepts in urban ecology, urban planning, architecture, landscape architecture, design, and environmental activism have developed to engage with these issues over the last thirty years: ecological urbanism, urban political ecology, urban metabolism, urban environmental justice, biophilic design, and climate urbanism, to name just a few, have transformed the theory and to some extent the practice in these fields of research and activism. 

Translating such principles and ideas into reality often requires a vision of the future of cities in the face of global ecological change. Between the promise of more livable and sustainable cities and the threat of a “planet of slums”, as the geographer Mike Davis has called it, artists, architects, and writers have frequently sought to outline such visions over the last half-century. From the Japanese Metabolism movement in architecture in the 1960s to the recent advocacy for biophilic design in the United States, architects have incorporated the forms and functions of organisms and biological structures into their building models. New Urbanists have developed principles for more walkable cities with a greater number of parks and green spaces. Designs for green roofs, vertical gardens, and urban farming are seeking to bring back some of the practices and products of nature that were driven out of the city during the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. Conscious of the global crisis in biodiversity, environmental activists are reintroducing native plants into city centers and educating urban dwellers to use their backyard spaces for the creation of wildlife habitat. Some geographers and anthropologists are even calling for a new “zoöpolis”, cities designed with the awareness that urban spaces are not just inhabited by one species—humans—but by many other species as well. Ideas such as these form part of an effort to transform ecological crises into points of departure for better-designed cities that integrate both humans and nonhumans into their cultural and economic values.

The Nakagin Capsule Tower, an example of the Metabolism movement in architecture. Photo: Jordy Meow. CC BY-SA 3.0

Artists, designers, and writers have all taken up these issues in their works. The 2010 MoMA exhibition Rising Currents: Projects for New York’s Waterfront, curated by Barry Bergdoll, for example, focused on designs by artists and landscape architects that might protect Manhattan from rising sea levels and increasing storms due to climate change. Robert Graves and Didier Madoc-Jones’ Postcards from the Future, a series of speculative photo illustrations, reimagines London under conditions of large-scale migration and global warming. Urbanism in the Age of Climate Change(2011), a book by architect and New Urbanism founder Peter Calthorpe, explores models for sustainable urban futures. Three volumes by the feminist and environmentalist Rebecca Solnit that focus on San Francisco, New York, and New Orleans, respectively, combine maps and texts to highlight patterns of social, economic, cultural, and ecological change in the three cities now and in the future. And science fiction, from David Brin’s Earth(1990) to Kim Stanley Robinson’s New York 2140(2017), has eagerly explored visions of future cities in their relationship to nature.

What will cities in 2099 look and feel like?
Against this background of academic, critical, and creative engagement with urban futures, The Nature of Cities organized a story contest in 2018 that called on the power of science fiction to imagine cities at the turn of the next century. What will cities in 2099 look and feel like? What political and social structures will shape them? What kinds of people will live in them? How will families and communities have changed by then? What conflicts will divide them, and what ideas will bring them together? What kinds of buildings, green spaces, and means of transportation will they use? And how will urban communities deal with war, disease, inequality, and ecological risks? Clearly, answering such sweeping questions is not for the faint of heart or pen—especially since the contest called for “flash fiction”, short stories of 1,000 words or fewer. Outlining the functioning of a future city in just a few hundred words requires considerable skill and precision, and all of the 1,200 writers from 116 countries who took on this challenge—for quite a few of whom English is a second language—deserve praise for their writerly vision and ambition.

One of the challenges in creating such a brief portrait of urban nature eighty years into the future is finding the right combination of global and local dimensions of urbanization. On one hand, the urban problems and opportunities the story deals with need to be recognizable to current readers hailing from different continents and languages: challenges associated with, for example, pollution, access to green spaces, gentrification, real estate ownership and use, disease, disasters, energy and water infrastructures, and governance, among many others. On the other hand, these general problems that affect cities around the globe need to link up, in a narrative, with enough local specifics to capture readers’ interest in a particular scenario—whether the locale is real or imagined.

A second challenge concerns the combination of familiar and futuristic problems and solutions in the narrative. The portrayals of futuristic or alternative societies in speculative fiction and science fiction (terms that I will use interchangeably here so as to avoid delving into a debate of several decades’ standing about their identity or difference) need to contain enough familiar elements that they are still at least partially intelligible to readers. (The Polish science fiction writer Stanislav Lem, in his novels Eden[1958] and Solaris[1961], has eloquently thematized the enormous challenges that arise when humans traveling into outer space encounter planets and cultures that they have absolutely no grounds for understanding.) But stories about the future also usually contain what the science fiction scholar Darko Suvin has called the “novum”, the new element that turns a familiar scenario into one that does not quite map on to our present reality and thereby makes us look at our present in a new and different way. In this vein, Jonathan Lethem’s Gun, with Occasional Music(1994) and Sheri S. Tepper’s The Family Tree(1997) feature intelligent animals—descendants of animals used in biotechnological experiments in the twentieth century who are full members of future societies—as a way of making readers think in new ways about humans’ current relationships to nonhuman species. 

Cover image for Stanisław Lem’s Eden circa 1971

The literary scholar Fredric Jameson has put this in a somewhat different way by focusing on the typical time structure of futuristic texts. Science fiction makes us think critically about the present, he argues, by offering us a future in relation to which we have to re-envision our present as a past, the precursor to what the narrative portrays for us. This is, quite obviously, the principle of “cautionary tales” about the future, stories about societies that are considerably worse than our own or even dystopian. Descriptions of future totalitarian societies, dire scarcities, or ecological disasters in fiction and film—from Soylent Green (1973) to The Day after Tomorrow (2004)—are often meant to call on readers or viewers to beware of undemocratic, exploitative, or anti-environmental trends in the present. 

Science fiction makes us think critically about the present, he argues, by offering us a future in relation to which we have to re-envision our present as a past…
Dystopias came to prominence in the twentieth century (with a few precursors in the nineteenth century) and functioned as a powerful tool for criticizing totalitarian political regimes. Yevgeny Zamyatin’s We(1924), Aldous Huxley’sBrave New World(1932), Sinclair Lewis’s It Can’t Happen Here(1935), and George Orwell’s 1984(1949) delivered sweeping political critiques of both communist and capitalist totalitarianisms. Through their portrayal of societies that control citizens either directly through surveillance, incarceration, and violence, or indirectly through hedonism, consumption, and entertainment, they created lasting images of the loss of freedom and dehumanization that the authors saw as the dangers of their own time as well as the future.

The dystopian vision of the future was appropriated by writers interested in new media technologies as well as by environmentalists in the 1950s and 1960s. Kurt Vonnegut’s short story “EPICAC” (1950) and D.F. Jones’ novel Colossus(1960) foresaw computers taking over humans’ most personal relationships as well as world government. Rachel Carson adopted the dystopian genre to introduce her path-breaking book Silent Spring(1962) with a “A Fable for Tomorrow” that warned of a ghastly end to the agricultural heartland of America if the use of pesticides were continued, a vision that Brian Aldiss developed at a more global level in his science fiction novel Earthworks (1965). Paul Ehrlich similarly interpolated dystopian science fiction vignettes between the expository chapters of his nonfiction book The Population Bomb(1968), which warned of future starvation and misery if 1960s population growth rates continued into the future. A similar vision informed Harry Harrison’s Make Room! Make Room! (1966), which inspired the film Soylent Green, a vision that was shared by many other overpopulation fictions and films at the time. Implicitly or explicitly, dystopia continued to function as a tool for political criticism in these environmentalist works.

Over the last few decades, dystopian visions of the future have become standard in futuristic fiction and film. Fears about the loss of privacy and freedom in the digital age, about the consequences of biotechnology, the displacement of state by corporate power, aggravation of social inequality and economic exploitation, and about ecological catastrophe have resonated in texts as diverse as Neal Stephenson’s Snow Crash(1992), Edmundo Paz Soldán’s El delirio de Turing (Turing’s Delirium, 2006), Margaret Atwood’s MaddAddam trilogy (2003-2013), Rosaura Sánchez and Beatrice Pita’s Lunar Braceros 2125-2148 (2009), Efe Okogu’s “Proposition 23” (2012), Hao Jingfang’s “Folding Beijing” (2012), and Dave Eggers’ The Circle(2013), as well as in films such as Roland Emmerich’s 2012 (2009), Tarik Saleh’s Metropia (2009), and Neill Blomkamp’s Elysium(2013). Young adult novels and films such as The Hunger Games(2008-2010) and Divergent(2011-2013) series similarly portray socially and ecologically devastated futures. If the dominant mode in science fiction is to be believed, post-apocalyptic wastelands will be as ordinary as parking lots, anarchy as predictable as taxes, and cannibalism as common as lunch at McDonald’s.

Cities are often central to such dystopian visions. The metropolis has, of course, functioned as the quintessential place where modernity unfolds in many twentieth- and twenty-first-century works of speculative fiction—as well as in many other forms of contemporary art and literature. It is often presented as a material manifestation of societies to come, in both their best and their worst dimensions—from the latest achievements in commerce, communication, and transportation to the worst excesses of squalor, inequality, and oppression. Utopian views of cities have become rare in science fiction in the late twentieth and early twenty-first centuries, though they do still emerge occasionally. Kim Stanley Robinson’s descriptions of New York City in his novels 2312(2012) and New York 2140, for example, foreground the ingenious ways in which New Yorkers have recreated their city after climate change and sea level rise, transforming it into a latter-day version of Venice. Both novels show how what seems to a twenty-first century reader like one of the most artificial and human-dominated environments on the planet can appear as an exhilaratingly natural habitat to off-worlders used to living in sealed-off domes, with the outside accessible only in spacesuits.

Still from Fritz Lang’s Metropolis (1927).

Dystopian views of cities make up the overwhelming majority of futuristic urban literature and film. The nightmarish social inequality of Fritz Lang’s Metropolis(1929) has found echoes in Ridley Scott’s Blade Runner (1982) and Neill Blomkamp’sElysium (2013), all films in which poverty and wealth are made visible through spatial segregation—to the point where in Blade Runner and Elysium, the wealthy migrate off planet, leaving contaminated and impoverished cities behind on Earth. In recent novelistic dystopias such as Eden Lepucki’s California(2014) or Claire Vaye Watkins’ Gold Fame Citrus(2015), the city is what the protagonists need to leave behind to escape the worst consequences of social and environmental collapse. And in the most extreme story pattern, a science fiction narrative that is by now over a hundred years old, charismatic metropolises need to be reduced to ashes and rubble before a new social order can emerge. In a by now classic essay called “The Literary Destruction of Los Angeles”, Mike Davis, surveying the films and fictions up to the mid-1980s, blamed the persistence of this narrative template on underlying racism. Visions of London, New York, or Los Angeles destroyed, he argued, fulfilled a racist white fantasy of getting rid of the multiracial and multicultural urban masses. In more recent scenarios of wholesale urban destruction, the fantasy arguably addresses a much broader desire to see modern society with its track record of complexity, inequality, and environmental damage erased in favor of simpler, more egalitarian, and more sustainable ways of life. Often, these post-apocalyptic returns to life without the modern city amount to futuristic visions of the pastoral: from the utopian village community in Marge Piercy’s Woman on the Edge of Time(1976) to Howard Kunstler’s World Made by Hand(2008) and Margaret Atwood’s MaddAddam(2013), the life of the future takes place outside the city.

Dystopian scenarios also appeared in the submissions to The Stories of the Nature of Citiescontest, for example in the highly surveilled and controlled cities of Tatiana Shashkova’s “June Bugs in Glass Jars” and Louise Nzomo’s “Escape from the Butterfly Apartments”, or in Tasha Kerry Smith’s “City of the Last Breath”, where those who cannot afford living in luxury compounds are shipped off to work in submarine settlements while drugs slowly kill them. Daniel Uncapher’s “Dandelion and the Floodshark”, meanwhile, approaches dystopia and apocalypse in an ironic vein in the manner of British novelist China Miéville. Many other entries also foreground the persistence of economic inequality and racial discrimination, and they engage seriously with misguided uses of technology, environmental risk, and degraded nature, showing how these problems may continue and even become aggravated in the future. But a great number of stories present far more optimistic visions of urban futures. Quite a few of them show ways in which future urban societies have adapted to changed ecologies and worked to address if not to eliminate the gaps between the rich and the poor.

Nowhere is this more obvious than in the recurring theme of the flooded city. The city sinking beneath the waves is an age-old trope of speculative literature that one can trace all the way back to Plato’s Atlantis. In the twentieth century, it features prominently in hundreds of speculative fictions from Kobo Abe’s Inter Ice Age Four (第四間氷期, Dai-Yon Kampyōki[1959]), J.G. Ballard’s The Drowned World (1962), and Sakyo Komatsu’s Japan Sinks(日本沈没, Nihon Chinbotsu[1973]) to recent novels such as Frank Schätzing’s Der Schwarm(The Swarm, 2004), Paolo Bacigalupi’s The Windup Girl(2009), and Megan Hunter’s The End We Start From (2017). Since the turn of the millennium, the drowned city has increasingly come to be associated with climate change and rising sea levels, ecological processes that have given an old literary theme a new contemporary resonance.

English edition of Kobo Abé’s Inter Ice Age 4circa 1972.

Many of the fictions in A Flash of Silver-Green: The Stories of the Nature of Citiesallude to global warming or even focus on it as their central theme. But not all of them envision it according to the familiar story template of the disaster movie—the end-of-the-world catastrophe that only a select few survive, often centrally featuring a nuclear family with a heroic father figure. Instead, Alyssa Eckles’s “Uolo and the Idol” imagines a drowned city where piles of rusting cars have become habitat for new coral reefs and a vibrant marine biodiversity that has replaced agriculture as a food source for the human inhabitants. Claire Miye Stanford’s “Neither Above Nor Below” focuses on one of the currently most precarious cities, the Indonesian capital of Jakarta, which is threatened both by the soil subsidence that has followed from decades of aquifer depletion and by rising sea levels. In Stanford’s vision, Jakarta 2099 is “the only city in the world that had found a way to coexist with the rising tides”, a latter-day Venice that has become a global model by letting the water in and creating an entirely new environment for humans and nonhumans. In stories such as these, the drowning city as the melancholy icon of a civilization’s end morphs into a symbol of hope and a new urban way of living in and with nature.

This hopeful vision also predominates in stories that envision future cities as multispecies environments that encourage new bonds between humans and nonhuman species. In Elizabeth Twist’s “May Apple”, this takes the form of rituals that initiate city dwellers into the care of a particular plant, while in L.H. Metzger’s “Ecology” similar scientific attention to individual plants has led to an abundantly fertile and verdant urban landscape. In Amanda White’s “Listen”, biotranslators allow plants and ants, wolves, and worms to make their voices heard in meetings where humans discuss the future of the city. Mariusz Loszakiewicz’s “Tree” envisions cities that grow in trees, and that even the most recent technology is produced by tree growth.And in Joanne Bristol’s lyrical meditation “from eaves to footfall”, the boundaries between human and nonhuman, city and nature become so fluid that one often cannot be told from the other. Stories such as these see ecological crisis as a gateway to a new awareness and a new attribution of value—both cultural and economic—to the natural world and nonhuman species.

…who gets to benefit from nature and who does not, and who is exposed to ecological risks and who is not.
In a similar vein, the motifs of the park, the rooftop garden, the micropark or even just the planted balcony recur frequently in the texts of A Flash of Silver-Green: The Stories of the Nature of Cities as symbols of hope for a nature that will persist in the city, and with which humans will continue to connect. In Alice Towey’s story “The Garden”, the protagonist risks her own life to bury her mother’s ashes in a rooftop patch of green. Arielle So’s “The Tree Remains” outlines an urban landscape that features rising sea levels and threatening typhoons but also a luscious rooftop vegetation that allows a young boy to reconnect with his history and genealogy in spite of the dramatically altered ecology. In LavanyaLakshminarayan’s “The Ten Percent Thief”, a jacaranda tree purloined from an arboretum for the privileged becomes a source of joy and hope for an impoverished neighborhood. And in Amogh Arakali’s “The Trouble with Yards”, an urban dweller, disgruntled with what he thinks of as the nostalgia of gardens, has all the ecological uses and aesthetic appeal of gardens pointed out to him by a fellow-passenger in a shared taxi.

But Arakali’s, Lakshminarayan’s and Towey’s stories also highlight the underside of this renewed appreciation of green spaces: the gentrification of nature that makes access to parks a prerogative for the elite or only a temporary respite from landscapes that otherwise offer few experiences of plants and animals. In this vein, Sierra Adler’s “The Cathedral” features a domed park, from which the protagonist inevitably has to return to “normal” urban life without nature. Jenni Juvonen takes this scenario one step further in her story “Where Grass Grows Greener” by making the experience of “pure, authentic nature” one that is best accessed through virtual reality and by those who can afford its exorbitant cost. And Ari Honarvar’s “A Child of the Oasis” portrays a futuristic eco-utopian Paris only to highlight that the city is blocked to most of the desperate migrants fleeing from other regions of a planet in crisis. Stories such as these put questions about urban nature in 2099 firmly into the context of environmental justice, the question of who gets to benefit from nature and who does not, and who is exposed to ecological risks and who is not.

The contributors to this volume, then, reflect on a wide range of urban issues, from socioeconomic inequality, energy, water, transportation, and architecture all the way to population control, species extinction, and climate change. They offer vibrant visions of future cities, from tightly surveilled dystopias to urban eco-topias, sometimes democratically open and sometimes oligarchically closed. As the best writers to have emerged from this contest, their stories link their reflections on a particular locale and specific individuals to global urban and ecological processes and crises. In the process, the city often comes to function as a microcosm of planet Earth, challenging readers to imagine both the enormous heterogeneity and the unifying issues and institutions that shape planet-spanning societies. By offering a wide spectrum of visions of what urban futures at the end of the twenty-first century might look like, the stories collected here provide a vibrant inspiration to reimagine our cities even and especially in the face of the radical ecological changes that the twenty-first century has already begun to face. 

Ursula Heise
Los Angeles

On The Nature of Cities
Also published by our partner, ArtsEverywhere.ca

Banner art by Katrine Claassens

References

Abbott, Carl. 2016. Imagining Urban Futures: Cities in Science Fiction and What We Might Learn from Them.Middletown: Wesleyan University Press.

Bergdoll, Barry, Michael Oppenheimer, Guy Nordenson, and Judith Rodin. 2011. Rising Currents: Projects for New York’s Waterfront.New York: Museum of Modern Art.

Calthorpe, Peter. 2011. Urbanism in the Age of Climate Change. Washington, D.C.: Island Press.

Carson, Rachel. 2002 [1962]. Silent Spring. New York: Houghton Mifflin. 40th anniversary edition.

Davis, Mike. 1998. Ecology of Fear: Los Angeles and the Imagination of Disaster. New York: Henry Holt.

—. 2006. Planet of Slums.London: Verso.

Ehrlich, Paul. 1968. The Population Bomb. Cutchogue: Buccaneer.

Heise, Ursula K. 2008. Sense of Place and Sense of Planet: The Environmental Imagination of the Global. New York: Oxford University Press.

Jameson, Fredric. 2005. Archaeologies of the Future: The Desire Called Utopia and Other Science Fictions. London: Verso.

Lee, Kai N., William R. Freudenburg, and Richard B. Howarth. 2013. Humans in the Landscape: An Introduction to Environmental Studies. New York: Norton.

Solnit, Rebecca. 2010. Infinite City: A San Francisco Atlas.Oakland: University of California Press.

—. 2013. Unfathomable City: A New Orleans Atlas. Oakland: University of California Press.

—. 2016. Nonstop Metropolis: A New York City Atlas. Oakland: University of California Press.

Suvin, Darko. 2016 [1979]. Metamorphoses of Science Fiction: On the Poetics and History of a Literary Genre. Ed. Gerry Canavan. Bern: Peter Lang. New edition.

UNDESA (United Nations Department of Economic and Social Affairs), Population Division. 2008. World Urbanization Prospects: The 2007 Revision. New York: United Nations. http://www.un.org/esa/population/publications/wup2007/2007WUP_Highlights_web.pdf.

UNFPA (United Nations Population Fund). 2007. State of World Population 2007: Unleashing the Potential of Urban Growth. New York: United Nations Population Fund. http://www.unfpa.org/publications/state-world-population-2007.

UN-Habitat (United Nations Human Settlement Programme). 2007. The State of the World’s Cities Report 2006/2007: Thirty Years of Shaping the Habitat Agenda. London: Earthscan for UNHabitat. https://sustainabledevelopment.un.org/content/documents/11292101_alt.pdf.

Wolch, Jennifer. “Zoöpolis.” 1998. Animal Geographies: Place, Politics, and Identity in the Nature-Culture Borderlands. Ed. Jennifer Wolch and Jody Emel. London: Verso, 1998. 119-138. 

On Paschal Mysteries, Primates and Conflagration: Notre Dame and the Ecological Disenfranchisement of Western Civilization

Art, Science, Action: Green Cities Re-imagined
While I mourn the damage to Notre Dame, I can’t help notice that I don’t see this level of concern for our forests, our oceans, our water and air.
I was vacationing in Florida, taking advantage of Spring Break, and Easter week, writing and reading and escaping the administrivia that accompanies the end of the spring semester when I saw a short report on the television behind the bar at the local pub. It was Notre Dame. It was burning.

I never miss a chance to visit this cathedral when I travel to Paris. It is like an old book. It is like a family history. It is an arc floating beyond our own memories, containing aspirations and ambitions, as well as the sacred. It was shelter from the plague. It is a symbol of what we, as a society, are losing, made more flesh and bones by the smoke emanating from its spires.

My last visit there was an extended one. I spent the day in and on the cathedral grounds, and then the evening in its shadow writing and pondering at the venerable Shakespeare and Company books. I had been thinking about the crusades, about the various templar organizations, about their fervor. Their sacred and dutiful pilgrimages and vows. What must have been the conviction of their faith, of their certainty in the sheer necessity, for their survival, of the perseverance of Jerusalem, of the Church? The magnitude of effort and resources expended is astounding, even by today’s standards…

A cathedral full of worshippers at Notre Dame, Paris, France, 2014. Photo: Keith G. Tidball

I marveled at the gargoyles, peering out over the City of Light. Like others before me, I wondered at their grotesqueness — “What are these fantastic monsters doing in the cloisters before the eyes of the brothers as they read? What is the meaning of these unclean monkeys, these strange savage lions, and monsters?[1]”  I marveled at the wood, in the paneling, in the pews, in the finely carved ornate filigree. In the timbers above, the flying buttresses and vaults, bringing life to the mathematical fancy that was, nearly 800 years ago, experimental architecture. How many trees, I wondered then?

The fire has sparked interest in the structure, in the materials. “The roof was made of beechwood beams over 800 years ago. There are no longer trees of that size in France,” Bertrand de Feydeau, vice president of the French Heritage Foundation (Fondation du Patrimoine), told CNN on 16 April 2019. Beyond the roof, the frame required many trees. The Cathedrale Notre Dame de Paris is said to be affectionately referred to as The Forest because of the large number of wooden beams used in its construction. Each of the beams came from a different tree, many of which were around 300 to 400 years old.  The building is structured upon 1,300 oak trees that represents approximately 21 hectares (ca. 50 acres) of forest.

The morning after I heard the news, I read the papers while watching the sun come up over the Gulf of Mexico. I read social media and joined in the posting of my own memories of the Cathedral. My friend Georgina Avlonitis, who works at UN Environment and is living on the other side of the planet from me, was awake, and posting about the fire on her social media feeds. She and I, and a host of commentators, began hashing through something I had been mulling in the daybreak half-light. Wasn’t it interesting that so many of our friends and associates were posting their memories, their photographs, of Notre Dame? Their vacation there 10 years ago, their well-meaning Quasimodo references, their home videos…  Catholics, Protestants, Jews, Muslims, even atheists… feeling loss and tying themselves to that loss via nostalgia, via social media, via broadcasted place attachment.  There’s status in being seen to be attached, it seems. Status in being connected.

My thoughts drift to the here and now: to refreshing my cup of coffee as the sun peaks over the Florida scrub lands of Cedar Key and bathes the Gulf of Mexico in golden light. Brown pelicans arrive to perch on the piers and inspect the smorgasbord as the tide goes out. The abandoned piers in row after row, pointing up, look strikingly like the frame of a burned building. Absentmindedly I read the packaging of the coffee I am preparing. Rainforest. Conservation. I look back at the flights of Ibis patrolling the beach edges. I am reminded of the Amazon, of the meeting of the waters, of the Rio Negro and the pink birds, the pink dolphins. The monkeys. My mind fixates on the monkeys momentarily and I recall waking up to the uncanny sound of howler monkeys from my tent, in a tree, north of the Amazon, in Costa Rica. I follow my stream-of-consciousness reverie with coffee to the macaque monkeys loitering at the Ellora Caves in India, the Vervet Monkeys pilfering picnics in the bushveld, the snub-nosed monkeys interrupting my meditation in Yunnan province, or the Snow Monkeys joining my hot springs soak in Japan. The baboon warrior that attempted to strong-arm my colleague in order to free her of her sandwich in Zambia, or was it Zimbabwe? These primates, these cousins of ours—where did they worship? What do they hold sacred? Foolish anthropomorphism. I watch the steam rising from my coffee, and the steam rising from the exposed rich and acrid smelling salt marsh. But their temple is their home, their forest, their hearth. Their Cathedral is their habitat.

Gray Langur monkeys at Ellora Caves, India, 2003. Photo: Keith G. Tidball
Vervet Monkey in Eastern Cape, South Africa, 2017. Photo: Keith G. Tidball

Current information shows the existence of 504 species of primates in 79 genera. According to a recent report[2], alarmingly, ~60% of primate species are now threatened with extinction and ~75% have declining populations. This situation is thought to be the result of escalating anthropogenic pressures on primates and their habitats—mainly global and local market demands, leading to extensive habitat loss through the expansion of industrial agriculture, large-scale cattle ranching, logging, oil and gas drilling, mining, dam building, and the construction of new road networks in primate range regions. Other important drivers are increased bushmeat hunting and the illegal trade of primates as pets and primate body parts, along with emerging threats, such as climate change and anthroponotic disease.  In other words, primates are being driven from their burning cathedrals. We cut them down. Burn them. Farm them. Pave them. My social media notifier chimes, and I read more Notre Dame sentiment – “it took over 800 years to build and now it’s gone.” I am moved to tears by the juxtaposition of film footage of the Cathedral burning and mourning French citizens singing Ave Maria in vigil in the firelit darkness. And I can’t help recall the burning rainforest in the Amazon.

Baboon in Kruger National Park, South Africa 2005. Photo: Keith G. Tidball
Snow Monkey (Japanese macaque) at Joshinestu Kogen National Park, Nagano, Japan, 2011. Photo: Keith G. Tidball

Would that we mourned as deeply the loss of our more ancient cathedrals. Would that we punched through the ecological amnesia that we demonstrate, especially we Westerners, so that we could see the conflagration before our eyes. While I mourn the damage to Notre Dame, I can’t help notice that I don’t see this level of concern for our forests, our oceans, our water and air. While I internalize the loss of stained glass and wooden artifice steeped in centuries of genuine piety, I can’t help recall the lack of crisis that surrounded the likely extinction of the northern white rhino, or the addition of more and more animals to the red list[3], or the continuing loss of the Amazon rainforest[4], casualties of our ecological disenfranchisement.

This affliction, this disenfranchisement, this prodigal parsing of ourselves—we mourn the loss of the great Notre Dame, built to contain our adulation for the great One in Three: Creator, Created, and the Life that binds us. And we should mourn, and allow the loss to settle in to our secular calendars still organized around Pashcal and Easter. And we should raise our eyes above the smoke, to the very trusses of our earthly home, those blue arches and white and gray frescoes. 

We must rebuild Notre Dame, but we must also contemplate the reconciliation that must occur for a rebuilding, a reconnection, a restoration of the temples, cathedrals, mosques and synagogues that are the home of our fellows in Creation. Perhaps we must make new pilgrimages and visit these natural sacred spaces. And like the original builders of Notre Dame, we must simply have faith and immerse ourselves in the labors, knowing that, though we may not live to see it, perhaps our children will worship here in a restored Oikos, a restored cathedral, a restored spiritual, and physical home.

Keith Tidbll
Ithaca

On The Nature of Cities

Notes

[1] Leclercq, Jean; Rochais, H.M., eds. (1963). “Apologia ad Guillelmum abbatem”. Tractatus et opuscula. S. Bernardi Opera (in Latin). 3. Rome: Editiones Cistercienses.

 https://advances.sciencemag.org/content/3/1/e1600946.full

http://cmsdocs.s3.amazonaws.com/summarystats/2016-1_Summary_Stats_Page_Documents/2016_1_RL_Stats_Table_9.pdf

4 https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2017/10/171018090212.htm

Lakes as Urban Classrooms | Reflections on the case of Rachenahalli Lake, Bangalore (2015-2018)

Art, Science, Action: Green Cities Re-imagined

As scholars are allowed to experience and visit a living ecosystem from the past, they may be able to imagine and wish to sustain nature of their cities in the future. The lake thus becomes a classroom.
Civic engagement by the Jaimitra trust, and various civic organisations involved in conserving Rachenahalli Lake, was to create a space expected to help alleviate the stresses of living in an urban jungle, and break away from the infamous legacy tied to the images of highly polluted, frothing and aflame lakes of Bangalore.This article argues that using lakes as classrooms can encourage generations of urban scholars to preserve nature in the city. Such an urban pedagogy looks beyond the more established methods of either using the lake as an object of study, or as a site for exploring nature-based technologies, to the act of being in lake proximity, surrounded by nature, as a critical component of connecting with urban nature, and seeing oneself as part of urban nature.

The abundance of beautiful lakes, like Lake Ulsoor, a popular site for family gatherings used to be an indelible part of the public image of Bangalore. Yet, in the past four decades, Bangalore has lost almost 79% of its water bodies and more than 90% of remaining lakes are heavily polluted or severely threatened as a result of encroaching urbanization. Against the backdrop of these challenges, Bangalore lakes have become important sites for various types of learning initiatives, research and discovery. Lakes (and other surface water bodies) capture the attention of students and scientists, encouraging generations of scholars to apply and test myriad frameworks of relevance to urban scholarship. For instance, they have been studied as social ecological systems, by documenting and understanding both the history of the place, as well as the many socio-cultural groups that lay claim to resources in lakes and in their surroundings. Urban planning and environmental students have also conducted studies to analyse the storage capacity of these bodies of water, in relation to a burgeoning city population, and a morphing cityscape. Thus, scientific and sociological studies on Bangalore lakes have generated a multifaceted understanding of nature in the city through different lenses such as urban commons and social inclusion; and urban practices such as citizen science, civic collaborations and lake encroachment.

Biodiversity (variety of plant and animal life) is key for the waterbody to provide myriad ecosystem services and benefits of nature for neighbouring communities. Photo: Sumetee Pahwa Gajjar

On one of my morning walks along the lake, I chanced upon a group of engineers from Manyata TechPark, who were clearing invasive vegetation, and planting indigenous plants along the lake. There is much potential for local businesses and industries to invest more in such spaces, as part of their social and environmental responsibility, and for their own sustainability and increased well-being.

More recently, citizen science initiatives to test pollution levels and bathymetry were conducted at several lakes in Bangalore. As a result of these efforts, what we have is a significant body of “scientific knowledge” on Bangalore lakes, with dispersed examples of translating this knowledge for wider, public consumption. Simultaneously, multiple active citizen groups associated with lakes, have achieved significant levels of awareness building among communities through cleanliness drives, events, talks and cultural programmes. Several of these awareness drives coincide with efforts which can best be understood as educational engagements. These range from extended learning programmes for school children, to guided visits and tours for practitioners, and university scholars. Yet, the translation of ‘expert knowledge’ into ‘environmental education’ is happening in pockets and needs strengthening. An overview of several such educational endeavours reveals that lakes are in fact both objects of study and, places where study or learning happens, akin to an outdoor classroom. And that the place of study component occurs both as a site for testing technologies and nature-based solutions, and as a place of being, as part of nature.

This article captures the learnings from diverse educational practices at Rachenahalli Lake, in North Bangalore. It draws upon the work of committed citizens, facilitators, college and school teachers, and attempts to discern general findings, which are common across multiple initiatives. The investigation around lakes as sites of education started as an institutionally-funded assignment, while I was associated with the Indian Institute for Human Settlements. The original question I explored was whether lakes can become places of urban scholarship on a range of issues, including urban nature, nature-based solutions, the spatial and physical processes of urbanisation, and citizens’ agency to shape urban geography and create places for reflection, amidst rapid urbanisation. The interviews and my own reflections reveal educational content which nudges at the much larger potentiality of lakes as urban classrooms.

A fenced walkway along the MGIRED campus creates a physical and visual separation between sections of the lake which are accessible by public, and those which require regular cleansing services. Photo: Sumetee Pahwa Gajjar

Manyata Technology Park is a visual treat as backdrop to the lake’s Southern boundary. Occupants of the TechPark are direct beneficiaries of the climate regulation services and aesthetics provided by the lake. Photo: Sumetee Pahwa Gajjar

Early institutional arrangements for lake conservation

Jalmitra Trust was formed under the leadership of MGIRED (Mahatama Gandhi Institute for Renewable Energy and Development) a government institution with offices located at the Rachenahalli lakebed. The aim of the Jalmitra Trust was to achieve high levels of participation in visiting and maintaining a clean environment at Rachenahalli Lake. A functioning and healthy lake ecosystem was expected to attract and engage neighbouring communities; and help alleviate the stresses of living in an urban jungle. It could also help break away from the infamous legacy tied to the images of highly polluted, frothing and aflame lakes of Bangalore. Local ward committees and lake specific residents’ associations attempt to solve such problems, but often lack a collective voice and have to work very hard towards gaining legitimacy and agency. Jalmitra Trust aimed to provide a collective voice to citizens and resident associations passionate about Rachenahalli Lake restoration and maintenance.

Evolution of the dual mandates of environmental custodianship and education

As lake governance and associated structures were evolving, engagement with municipal departments and political leaders revealed the multi-layered structures which are involved in designing and implementing changes to support and maintain lake functions; and in improving community facilities and civic amenities, in and around the lakebed. As mentioned, MGIRED took the lead in formalising governance structures for environmental custodianship, which included the establishment of JalMitra Trust. Interestingly, part of the institution’s core mandate was to disseminate technical knowledge related to renewable energy and water management, among government officials, practitioners and government college students. These teaching and training activities were conducted both inside the MGIRED campus, as it hosted small-scale examples of renewable energy infrastructure (wind turbines and solar panels), and in the lakebed, which provided rich examples of ecological infrastructure, such as the wetland.

Majority of the walkway along the lake is kept permeable, to allow rainwater to seep into the ground, and avoid the glare and heat from a hard, paved surface. The lamp posts along the waterbody were not functional when this photograph was taken, as the lamps were damaged. They were functioning in 2013, just after installation. Photo: Sumetee Pahwa Gajjar

As civic engagement through the JalMitra Trust grew, the teaching agenda at the lakebed was expanded to include school children, from public and private schools. Facilitators, who were also members of the JalMitra Trust, found that engaging public schools was harder, due to bureaucratic requirements. Various teaching efforts across different audiences were undertaken, which are discussed more specifically in the next section.Facilitators interviewed for this research shared that young learners are naturally curious about several aspects of the lake, including the pollution levels. In order for them to understand the challenges associated with lake conservation, students were tasked to reach out to government officials, to enquire about and make recommendations for improving the lake. Having understood the limitations faced by local authorities in ensuring water quality while neighbouring communities allow untreated wastewater to flow into the lake, the students conducted awareness building campaigns. These knowledge-based endeavours were held at multi-storey apartment blocks and in various residential neighbourhoods. Funds were raised among the school community, and a cycling and tree-planting event was organised, participated in by the parents, school students, residential community-members, and neighbouring institutions. The organisers found it a great challenge to make the event inclusive to the point where residents of informal settlements would attend. However, sufficient awareness was created, so that the local politicians and municipal commissioners took note of the significance of the water body and formal lake management structures were established, after due process.

Developing and delivering an urban environmental curriculum

As discussed above, MGIRED staff were delivering teaching programmes to university students as part of their core mandate on the campus and in the lake vicinity. Through JalMitra Trust efforts, in early 2016, teaching events and training programmes were augmented to include school students, as well as non-technical colleges such as Srishti Design School. In the following narrative, these training programmes are classified across different student groups (middle and high school; pre-university, university), and content focus (ecology, sustainability, technology, urban design), exhibiting the wide variety of topics that can be taught using lakes as urban classrooms.

  • The fundamentals of ecosystem services of urban lakessuch as maintaining biodiversity, sourcing medicinal plants, the value of soil and wetland for flood regulation and water cleansing. School students observed nature, explored birding, and experienced art and music, at dedicated events, along the lake boundary. They measured changes in pollution levels at the lake and were able to understand practical uses of different plants – pollution abatement, medicinal or ornamental. Some of their questions were addressed through interactions with scientists at a local research centre for ecology and by conducting experiments at the school laboratory. Queries about the quality of fish at the lake however, remained largely unanswered by the local fishermen.
  • Global perspectives on sustainability, such as the value of nature in cities, global citizenship and climate change were taught to school children. There was a clear scaling up of content towards technology, to enhance urban eco-services such as ground water recharge, water purification and storm water management. At the same time, the challenges associated with lake governance were discussed, in the context of urban management and multiple actors and often, divergent agendas with regards to utilisation of land and water, to incite the budding social scientists. According to the facilitator, pupils established a deep connection with the lake in the process, sharing photographs of the place with overseas students, and speaking about the experience at their graduation.
  • Application of principles taught within ecology / biologywere explained to school students, pre-university students of biology and university scholars of science, by showcasing the biodiversity at the lakeand explaining the working of a constructed wetland and its role in purifying storm-water. Students were able to observe the interactions of various parts of nature here, and practically apply classroom learning to an actual place. Science graduates were encouraged to explore relevant technologies and implementation of nature-based solutions.
  • Urban water governancewas delved into greater detail for post graduate students of environmental sciences. Policies and laws related to the water sector and institutional arrangements were articulated to highlight the need for interdisciplinary approaches, which ensure that technical solutions converge with the socio-political context specific to a city, the hydrological system of which the lake is a part, and the lake
  • Elements of urban designsuch as designing the lake boundary for cleanliness, children’s play area, the needs of walkers, joggers, cyclists and senior citizens, were explored by graduate students of art and design. The core idea was to imbue a sense of viewing the lake as a community learning and recreational facility.
  • Technological interventions for lake water purificationsuch as sewage treatment plants, aerators, wetlands and water lifting mechanisms were the subject of study in a series of learning sessions for engineering students from metropolitan cities, facing the dual challenges of over-crowding and water scarcity, resulting in poor quality surface water.
  • Environment and Sustainabilitywas taught to working professionals of urban local bodies, and state officers of the Indian Administrative Service and the Indian Forest Service. Related to the three core ideas of ecological services, community engagement and policy interventions, practitioners and officers learnt about the importance of waste water treatment, the revival of traditional water harvesting systems, the creation of tanks for storage of water, lake governance and community involvement.
  • The role of communities in managing local resourceswas a half-day session planned and conducted for communities living in the lake vicinity, with the express aim of encouraging and improving community engagement. Such a learning session had to consider the varying degree of knowledge and interest among community members, and at the same time impart a sense of agency among them. Thus, the content had to skilfully scale up from teaching the importance of water, the lake, waste-water generation and current scientific methods of treatment and disposal, to conveying the significance of the various ecological services provided by the lake, including wastewater purification by the wetland. Moreover, the key role of communities in managing local natural resources and working with government institutions, as a pressure group, was explained.

Bamboo planters now mark the starting point for a complete circumambulation around the lake, which has only been possible since 2016, after the clearing of invasive alien vegetation. Gardeners employed at the lake and their dog are also visible. Photo: Sumetee Pahwa Gajjar

Desirable characteristics of the lake as a classroom

Interviews with facilitators also revealed characteristics and facilities which are desirable in the future, in order to enhance the capacity of the lakebed as a site for education.

Maintaining the non-commercial and natural character of the lake

The ecosystem of the lake is thriving, and currently a certain level of naturalness is maintained. Permeable surfaces are being maintained on pathways, ensuring catchment of local rainfall. Ordinances regarding lake governance here do not permit any vending or hawking, in contrast to other commercial lakes in the city, such as Lumbini Gardens, a mere 3 km from Rachenahalli, and also a part of the Hebbal valley lake system. Furthermore, the primary industry along the eastern boundary is non-polluting (the Manyata Technology Park). This is in stark contrast to polluting industries along lake systems in the south of Bangalore. Open areas around the lake allow relatively greater air movement, reducing local air pollution, and rendering a climate regulation service. Wildlife such as snakes have been spotted along walkways and in the lake water. Pelicans, which are a rare species in the rest of the city are spotted regularly at this water body.

Interviewees felt that this semi-natural character of the lake is imperative to utilising the surrounds for educational purposes. Without this character, the lake would resemble any other commercialised or urbanised water tank, servicing cultural or recreational activities of citizens. Education for diverse age groups and interests is possible when indigenous plants are utilised along the boundary, the wetland is maintained, attracting local birds, and commercial activities are kept at bay. However, there are concerns that current plantation drives, under the aegis of new governance arrangements and landscaping contracts, are limiting biodiversity, and concentrating on a few species, with limited functions. There are also fears of encroachment occurring on land parcels along the lake boundary, not meant for development, but nevertheless being built upon, due to pressures of urbanisation.

Greater access for the masses

Interviewees expressed that the lake and its surrounds should be opened up and made accessible for educational purposes and inclusive, knowledge awareness events. In the early years of civic engagement for environmental custodianship, the water body and its surrounds were easily accessible, from several points along the external boundary, and at any time of the day. However, as the governance changed with a larger role for the municipal government, and hard boundaries were instituted in the form of a metal fence and gates, access became controlled, requiring permissions at designated times and specified locations. It was also expressed that currently the elite, who are aware of the health benefits of walking in nature are able to maximise on the recreational and aesthetic services provided by Rachenahalli lake, and that this should change. Greater awareness would assist in drawing a diversity of people to the lake, such as through regular school excursions and participatory events. However, the challenge of balancing the natural characteristics of the lake system, while also providing greater access and improving facilities, still needs to be addressed.

Improved facilities and amenities

In terms of physical requirements, while trees provide shade, a gazebo would also provide cover from the rain. One such space has been created in the municipal park, but issues of access remain. Greater availability of maintenance funds has meant that paths are now clear of vegetation and debris. Provision of drinking water facilities and good quality sanitation amenities would increase the likelihood of people spending extended time in the lake vicinity.

Knowledge areas that can be explored further for urban scholarship

As of 2017, Rachenahalli Lake became a visiting site for practitioners attending the Urban Practitioners’ Programme (UPP) at IIHS. The one-week UPP training focused on a range of urban infrastructure networks (such as storm water drainage systems) and ecological services including wetland functions, within a larger context of urban ecology and governance thereof. I was a facilitator at one of these lake visits and experienced first-hand how well the planners and civil engineers from municipalities, were able to relate to the conservation, governance and infrastructure management issues at the lake. They were also able to express their frustration at not being able to implement much of their knowledge and translate their experience into nature-based solutions, which included the preservation of such spaces within the urban fabric.

Thinking forward, a possibility exists that such teaching / training be conducted at similar sites in multiple cities, such as wetlands or lakes, where conservation needs to be formalised, and nature-based solutions need to be explored and applied.Such teaching / training can be built upon scientific knowledge about the site topography, the history of human settlements in lake vicinity, and the evolution in cultural associations with water and its significance.  Thereafter, environmental solutions to maintain and enhance wetland functions, can be developed by practitioners, alongside knowledge of bio-physical and socio-cultural contexts.

Extensive practical knowledge now exists with regards to collective approaches for arriving at nature-based solutions, both from technological and traditional perspectives. One such solution which has found much success across Bangalore water bodies is the creation of floating wetlands, using a range of organic and non-organic, recycled materials.For instance, students of Environmental Planning at Srishti Design School, worked with installation artists to design and implement a floating island at an upstream lake – Jakkur lake, in the last quarter of 2018.

In 2018, visits to Bangalore lakes were integrated into IIHS’ Urban Fellowship Programme. Slightly different to the practitioners’ (UPP) training described above, UFP lake visits were designed as part of a larger urban curriculum, structured around sustainability, infrastructure and settlements, policy and land governance, urban economy, urban planning and housing. One of the facilitators interviewed for this article, Geetika Anand, taught both practitioners and fellows, and thereafter attended an urban ecology course as part of her Masters in Southern Urbanism at UCT (University of Cape Town). Geetika now feels that urban scholars should be allowed to visit natural areas in cities, with minimal structure, so as to allow them to reflect and be guided by their individual experiences and responses to urban nature.

A case of emergent work is that of Nikhil Jain, a 2017 fellow of the Urban Fellowship Programme at IIHS, who chose Rachenahalli Lake as a site to understand sociological aspects of urbanisation. He studied a range of social actors including those who relied directly upon the ecosystem services of the lake such as shepherds and local villagers, property developers who were encroaching public land in the lake vicinity, and public institutions and individuals in their personal capacity, who had positioned themselves as guardians of the water body. His study led to the development of a learning game called Foul Waters, based upon the actors who were part of the lake social ecological system. This urban teaching tool was designed to educate learners across all age ranges, about social determinants of the environmental condition of the lake, and therefore the multiple aspects of sustainability and ecology.

Consequently, the game was played at various gatherings and events focused on sustainability such as the Bhoomi Habba (translated as Earth Festival, an annual event hosted at the Visthar Eco-sanctuary in north Bangalore). As the game progresses, learners are allotted pre-assigned roles and thus, are able to recognise the long-term impacts of decisions made by different social actors, on the sustainability of a water body.

My early training in history of architecture reminds me that there is an additional factor which renders the lake as an urban classroom in its own right, for teaching and embedding the principles of environmental conservation and urban sustainability. This is the quality of the space or place, and when it is a living lake or a thriving ecosystem, how it situates itself within the larger urban geography, physically, ecologically and socially.

It is in this quality as a space, that parallels may be drawn between the lake as a classroom for urban scholarship and practice, and sites of old monuments, some of archaeological value, as classrooms for architectural scholarship.A living lake, established centuries ago, performs the function of connecting visitors and scholars to the past, similar to historic architectural sites. When students of architecture visit, document and draw remains of old buildings, they also attempt to recreate in their minds and on paper, a past that can only be imagined. And this faculty to visualise a resurrected past, ignites the creative spark, which also allows them to imagine a future, and design evocative buildings that would inhabit that future.

Elements of design such as balance, form and symmetry in buildings of extraordinary relevance, are thus taught and transmitted while the student is in a mental state of quietude and reflection. Similarly, a lake enables students to experience a snippet of a past when perhaps the water body was the centre piece of surrounding human settlements. The place holds the potential to re-ignite a continuous and unfettered connection with nature, which is difficult to imagine or achieve in hard landscapes of modern city-building, despite well-meaning attempts at greening and pedestrianisation. Waterbodies which are the size of Rachenhalli Lake afford a vertical and horizontal escape for vision, allowing the mind to explore new ideas as the eyes explore horizons. It is a freeing of the mind, accompanied by a freeing of various senses, so that sights, smells and sounds which are more natural than manmade, are processed through conscious and unconscious thought.

The hope is that as scholars are allowed to experience and visit a living ecosystem from the past, they may be able to imagine and wish to sustain nature of their cities in the future. The lake thus becomes a classroom, not only through what we can learn by studying it as a living social ecological system, but also by us simply existing alongside its physical and ecological presence. The ideas articulated above can be used to build a particular form of urban pedagogy, used repeatedly and successfully in architectural education, and extend similar principles to urban scholarship. They can be used to undertake lake conservation / preservation or rejuvenation exercises, as part of an urban curriculum, and to enable emergent ideas among future urban practitioners, towards sustainability and ecology.

Since the majority of the work is already residing in cities, such encounters and time spent in nature, as part of a structured or semi-structured urban curriculum, may encourage an aptitude for preserving biodiversity and conserving nature (wetlands, floodplains, waterbodies and forests) at a regional scale. This will be most valuable in growing cities of Asia and Africa, where urbanisation is occurring at a rapid pace, and natural landscapes are being replaced by urban landscapes, with little consideration for not only biodiversity, nature, and nature-based services, but also human connection with nature, and nature as teacher.

Sumetee Gajjar
Cape Town

On The Nature of Cities

Acknowledgment:

To write this article, I have drawn upon six years (2013-2018) spent in the vicinity of Rachenahalli Lake, several hundred walks on the lake bundh, and ensuing interactions with hundreds of social actors, including urban activists, conservationists, educators, scholars, local residents and tourists. During this time, I participated in teaching / training experience with IIHS (UPP and UFP), Legacy School and Srishti Design School. This article also draws upon interviews with members of Jalmitra Trust, committed citizens who have been involved in education efforts at Rachenahalli Lake since 2015, and teacher / trainers associated with IIHS and Srishti Design School:

  • Ms Bindu Anil – facilitator for Global Perspectives at Legacy School (2015-2017)
  • Mr Haridas Gopalan – Retired Major General, Chairman of JalMitra Trust
  • Ms Shobha Anand – Consultant at MGIRED (2014-2016); Senior Consultant at IIHS (2017-2019)
  • Ms Geetika Anand – Senior Consultant at IIHS (1999-2016); MPhil in Southern Urbanism at UCT (2017-2019)
  • Ms Kamya Ramachandran – Senior lecturer at Srishti Design School (2018)
  • Mr Nikhil Jain – Senior Urban Fellow, IIHS (2016-17)

Reclamation and Mining: A Dangerous Fight for Sustainability in the Philippines

Art, Science, Action: Green Cities Re-imagined

Campaigning and working for sustainability is a difficult and dangerous job in the Phillipines with very little recourse to legal protection for those fighting for environmental protection.

The Philippines has repeatedly taken blows causing environmental degradation. Last month, a dead whale was found with 40 kilograms of plastic in its stomach. In the same month, Metro Manila experienced a water crisis, affecting millions, and increasing risks in sanitation and waste management. In relation to this, protests have been held to oppose a planned dam that would affect environmentally critical areas and at least 1,500 households. Since last year, Chinese coast guards have harvested giant clams and destroyed hundreds of acres of coral reefs within our own territory, and frustratingly, our government has refused to legally address this. In 2017, at least 41 environmental activists and defenders were killed, including those who protected ancestral lands. The Phillippines country has also remained in the world’s top rankings of countries at risk to climate impacts, and major global polluters of plastic waste.

Campaigning and working for sustainability is a difficult and dangerous job. While the above-mentioned list of challenges already seems burdensome, especially for a developing country, we continue to face environmentally-damaging threats from “done deal” projects between our government and the Chinese government. As an environmental planner, I am very concerned about sustainability of our resources. Let me bring to the table two pressing matters that need more effort on environmental assessments, improved legislation, and inclusive planning.

Reclamation Projects at the Manila Bay

The Manila Bay is an iconic landmark in the capital city, but it has also faced problems, time and again, such as rampant poverty, reclamation for giant commercial estates, and informality that crowds around said estates. As of this writing, there are at least 22 lined up that may affect 20,000 hectares—at least 10% of the bay area. The Philippine Reclamation Authority acknowledges that there will be environmental impacts, and has released statements that reclamation areas will have mitigating systems, but this has gone without presenting environmental impact assessments to the general public. To date, only five impact assessments are available at the Department of Natural Resources Environmental Management Bureau.

The Centre for Environmental Concerns PH, a non-governmental organization, has constantly provided information on the reclamation plans. Maps show impacts on ecosystems, which include affected mudflats and mangroves, habitats of water birds and fish, and coral reefs. The socio-economic sector will also be heavily affected, and this includes issues of livelihood loss for fishermen and displacement.

Source: Center for Environmental Concerns PH

Source: Center for Environmental Concerns PH

During the Second People’s Summit on the Impacts of Reclamation, held 26-27 March 2019, issues concerning the reclamation plans and sentiments of various people’s organizations were discussed. Another pressing matter was the increased risk to hazards that the reclamation projects would bring. Dr. Jay Batongbacal of the University of the Philippines Institute for Maritime Affairs and Law of the Sea discussed how the projects would create raised lands, affect water flow, and potentially cause long floods in already low-lying areas of Manila Bay.

Source: © Dr. Jay Batongbacal

Denuded mountains in Zambales

Source: Google earth

Reclamation and territorial disputes in the West Philippine Sea are hugely controversial matters in the country. Concerns predominantly revolve around the demand and supply of soils for the planned islands.

In 2016, claims were made accusing the Chinese government of extracting Philippine soils from the Zambales mountain range to build artificial islands. Though it was confirmed by a mining corporation that the soils were, indeed, transported to China, the extraction activities from the many mining sites continued, resulting in mountains denuded of trees, and damaged ecosystems. Mining activists have vocally raised concerns on reduced suitable farmlands, health issues (such as asthma and pulmonary diseases), and flood risk. In the same year, Zambales residents filed a petition to the Supreme Court with regard to the Writ of Kalikasan (Environment), but were denied a temporary environmental protection order, and eventually were dismissed, and called moot and academic. In 2018, an appeal for the same case was denied. Earlier this year, in February 2019, the mayor of the municipality in question, who blocked mining operations, was convicted of graft and usurpation of legislative powers.

Source: Google earth

Continuing the fight for sustainability

These two cases—reclamation and mining—are examples of how developing areas struggle with two pressing global issues: environmental sustainability, and at the end of the day, social justice (which does not really stray far from environmental issues).

Planners and urban managers should be at the forefront in recognizing the urgent issues that concern our landscapes and societies. More importantly, standing our ground on planning principles should enable us, and the local governments we work with, to take action. These cases bank on compliance to permits, and legal protection, making destruction of the environment allowable. Projects proceed despite protests and the lack of consultation—or guise of said process, for that matter.

While dangerous politics take the steering wheel, continuing the fight for sustainability would mean looking into understanding “development” beyond the context of economic gain, local planning that is not dependent on compliance, and revisiting legislation that truly protects our natural resources against exploitation.

Ragene Andrea L. Palma
Manila

On The Nature of Cities

A Tribute to U.S. Congressman John Dingell – A Conservation Hero

Art, Science, Action: Green Cities Re-imagined

John Dingell was frequently called the “Lion of the U.S. Congress” because his passion for conservation of natural resources and outdoor recreation coupled with keen legislative skills, and unwavering support for public service led him to great success as the architect behind most environmental legislation in the U.S.
U.S. Congressman John D. Dingell, Jr. passed away on February 7th at the age of 92. He may be best known as the longest-serving member of the U.S. House of Representatives in history—serving 59 years and being reelected 29 times, an unparalleled leader of health care—presiding over the passage of Medicare, introducing a national health care bill at the start of every Congress since 1957, and being a force behind the Affordable Care Act (which was key legislation of President Obama), an early supporter of the civil rights movement, and a feared master of congressional oversight—rooting out waste, fraud, and abuse.

But he was most endeared as a conservation hero.

John Dingell, Jr. learned to be an outdoorsman and public servant from his father—Congressman John D. Dingell, Sr. Upon the death of John Dingell, Sr. on September 19, 1955, John Dingell, Jr. was elected by special election to fill his father’s seat on December 13, 1955 at the age of 29.

Throughout his life Dingell was a congressional page, a park ranger, a Second Lieutenant in the U.S. Army during World War II, an assistant county prosecutor, and always a lover of the great outdoors. He grew up fishing and hunting in and along the Detroit River and western Lake Erie and saw first-hand what we, as society, were doing to pollute our rivers and lakes. Dingell’s love of the outdoors and his passion for public service led him to champion clean water and conservation in Washington, D.C.

Dingell at Humbug Marsh, Michigan’s only Ramsar Wetland of International Importance. Photo: Detroit River International Wildlife Refuge

Dingell was a master of legislative deal-making. For 14 years he served as chairman of the powerful House Energy and Commerce Committee, which oversees industries from banking and energy to health care and the environment. He frequently was called the “Lion of the U.S. Congress” because of both his influence and effectiveness.

His environmental and conservation accomplishments as a legislator include the Ocean Dumping Act, the Marine Mammal Protection Act, the National Environmental Policy Act, the Clean Water Act, the Endangered Species Act, the Resource Conservation and Recovery Act, and more. He served on the Merchant Marine Fisheries Committee that gave him freedom to work on big issues that he really cared about. He also served from 1969-2014 on the Migratory Bird Conservation Committee where he worked in a bipartisan fashion to purchase lands for the National Wildlife Refuge System—a 150 million-acre array representing the world’s largest network of lands and waters set aside for wildlife conservation and to increase funding for Land and Water Conservation Fund and the North American Wetlands Conservation Act.

Dingell at Point Mouillee Waterfowl Festival. Photo: Detroit River International Wildlife Refuge

Dingell with Greening of Detroit work crew at Refuge Gateway in Trenton. Photo: Detroit River International Wildlife Refuge

Dingell with children at Humbug Marsh. Photo: Detroit River International Wildlife Refuge

Dingell’s passion for conservation of natural resources and outdoor recreation, keen legislative skills, and unwavering support for public service were key factors that made him so successful. The significance of some of his major legislative accomplishments is worth highlighting.

Dingell wrote the 1970 National Environmental Policy Act, known as NEPA, which requires federal agencies to consider the environmental consequences of developmental projects before they are constructed. This act is sometimes referred to as the “Magna Carta” of environmental law, and more than 100 nations around the world have enacted national environmental policies modeled after it.

He played a vital role in passing the 1972 Marine Mammal Protection Act that provides an integrated approach to protection of marine mammals and was significant because it was the first legislation to adopt an ecosystem approach to natural resource management and conservation. Today, the ecosystem approach is widely accepted throughout the world.

Dingell was the architect of the 1972 Clean Water Act which has helped cleanup and protect waterways from pollution. Today, the Clean Water Act is credited with significantly reducing pollutant inputs that has led to ecological revival of many waterways, although more efforts are needed. This act has also served as model legislation for numerous countries to regulate the discharge of pollutants to surface waters to restore and maintain their chemical, physical, and biological integrity.

Dingell at Humbug Marsh. Photo: Detroit River International Wildlife Refuge

Dingell with Canadian partners celebrating expansion of the refuge in Canada. Photo: Detroit River International Wildlife Refuge

He authored the 1973 Endangered Species Act which made the U.S. the first country in the world to make human-caused extinction of other species illegal and today is credited with saving hundreds of plants and animals from extinction, including the Bald Eagle, Peregrine Falcon, Green Sea Turtle, Humpback Whale, Southern Sea Otter, El Segundo Blue Butterfly, Robbins’ Cinquefoil, American Alligator, Brown Pelican, and more.

Dingell authored the 2001 Detroit River International Wildlife Refuge Establishment Act to not only protect over 100 species of fish and over 350 species of birds in the heart of the North American Great Lakes, but to demonstrate how to use public-private partnerships to build an urban refuge that prioritizes bringing conservation to cities and makes nature part of everyday urban life. He wanted to protect his favorite fishing and hunting grounds from his youth and do it in a fashion that inspires the next generation of conservationists in urban areas because that is where 80% of all U.S. and Canadian citizens live. Clearly, this concept of an urban refuge that inspires the next generation of conservationists is consistent with the goals and transformative ideas of The Nature of Cities.

Today, the waters of the United States are cleaner, the birds, fish, and other species are safer, and all of us have national wildlife refuges and national parks where we can recreate, reflect, spark a sense of wonder, learn about sustainability, and pass on a conservation ethic to the next generation—largely because of John Dingell.

John Hartig
Detroit

On The Nature of Cities

Crows of Vancouver: The Middle Way Between Biophobia and Biophilia

Art, Science, Action: Green Cities Re-imagined

Whereas biophilia is a popular meme for urban and ecological design, rarely is biophobia addressed. Perhaps it’s easier to pretend the “undesirables” don’t exist, but that’s just not realistic. The “crows of Vancouver” posed a reality check on the consistency of my narrative.
One of Metro Vancouver’s greatest spectacles is its twice daily crow migration that occurs every dawn and dusk, 365 days a year. Whatever your view or choice of description—crow-maggedon, crow stampede, crow-pocalypse—it is an impressive sight. Clans (or murders) of crows from all sections of the coast trickle in, like tributaries in a watershed of families and groups all destined for the large consolidated roost at Still Creek. Sometimes the birds follow Grandview Highway, like an aerial version of the cars below, extending as far as the eye can see in endless procession.

Theoretical map of the crow watershed in Vancouver and the Lower Mainland.

Metro Vancouver’s twice daily crow migration is a sight to behold. Check out this short video for the dynamism 

Prior to human settlement, Northwestern crows (Corvus caurinus) in the Pacific North-West were mainly limited to coastlines where they enjoyed seafood, in particular whelks (Thais lamellosa). Their adaptable use of tools and high degree of intelligence was noted by a study that observed their feeding behaviour (selecting prey, then deciding how and where to drop the whelks to crack their shells), (Zach, 1978). Their talent of facial recognition is known by anyone who has purposefully disturbed a nest or a colony. In the meantime, the emotional and social intelligence of crows has been revealed through neuroscience conducted by the Marzluff lab at the University of Washington.

Further to the conditions of our cities, the ability of these birds to thrive in our cities is enhanced by their culture of social behaviour, generational learning, and cognitive sophistication. As with other species that are long-lived and congregate as flocks, and especially given their large brains relative to body size, crows are intelligent and adaptable because of their high behavioural variability. This faculty not only equips them for survival, but allows them to evolve within a single generation via social learning and the development of traditions to avoid random extinctions (Marzluff, 2014). This helps explain why crow roosts across urban North America have grown so large: they’re super smart and socially resilient!

Crow friend. Photo by Ifny Lachance (CC BY-SA 4.0)

Among the categorisations of urban bird responses as defined by Blair (1996), crows are exploiters. This means that they thrive in our presence. Like other classic exploiters (e.g., the “fab five” that live in nearly every city in the world: house sparrows, European starlings, mallards, Canada geese and rock pigeons), crows live around our homes, eat our waste, walk our streets, and are among our most familiar birds. Not surprisingly, then, the crow population has grown in concert with human activity. Urbanisation and agriculture transformed forested areas into open landscapes, which provide scrubby areas favoured for roosting and an abundance of food. While crows still like to spend their days foraging at the beach (who wouldn’t?), they sleep together in large roosts at inland sites with favourable microclimates.

In Vancouver and the surrounding region, i.e., the Lower Mainland, the Still Creek roost is the bedroom community for all crows. At its peak in the winter, when nesting and mating is but a glimmer in a bird’s eye, the congregation of crows at Still Creek includes adults and juveniles together. In winter 2019, it was estimated at 20,000 birds. Such a large and singular winter congregation is a relatively recent occurrence, apparently, and likely the product of different parameters, like large-scale habitat loss, predator protection, and urban food resources.

Impressions from the Still Creek roost, early March 2019. Credit: Christine Thuring

The scene

Motorists and fast-paced pedestrian urbanites may be oblivious to the endless river of boisterous black birds moving through the sky above, but when you find yourself in the middle of “crow hour” your senses are so overwhelmed that oblivion is a felt experience. In addition to the sensory overload, it is unsettling to be a minority life form surrounded by thousands of intelligent birds.

The setting in which I experience this phenomenon is on the main campus of the British Columbia Institute of Technology (BCIT), east of Vancouver in Burnaby, BC. After arriving from their respective day territories, but before bedding down at nearby Still Creek, thousands of crows descend onto BCIT campus in what can only be described as a party. The cacophony deafens the frequency of traffic and planes. Every surface is covered: roofs, parking lots, trees, power lines, lawns, tennis courts, playing fields, paths, etc. Awe overpowers all other emotions, and few can resist stopping and taking photos. This is crow time.

As an urban ecologist, researcher, designer and advocate of green roofs for biodiversity and ecological landscapes, I have been challenged by these birds since coming to BCIT. On the one hand, the crows have created excessive work for me, sometimes drawing tears of frustration. On the other hand, and more disturbingly, the crows have forced me to acknowledge mental states that do not align with my values – aversion, resentment and biophobia– while fundamentally challenging my philosophy of biophilic design. When I realised that most discussion about urban birds refers predominantly to desirable birds (which we want more of), and that most discussions about “nuisance” birds are relegated to commercial enterprises (specialised in keeping them at bay), I felt like I’d touched a nerve.

The challenge

Over two glorious days in November, a crew of volunteers helped to plant BCIT’s newest green roof experiment on the Elevated Lab. Following a pre-randomised experimental design, 4,800 plugs and bulbs were planted into designated spaces across 240 (1m2) plots. It was a lot of work to ensure that the plants were placed as specified by the design. We finished at dusk on the second day, and I was ecstatic and exhausted in equal parts. The autumn rains could begin!

Planting the experimental plots on the Elevated Lab was a huge effort, and much gratitude goes to the students and instructors from BCIT FNAM. Photo credit: Christine Thuring

My blissful state of accomplishment was soon replaced by despair and horror, however, as the crows systematically undid our work every day. For several hours each week, I was on the roof re-planting the damage. I had hoped for the best—that the crows would regard the planting with interest and move along—and now realised how meagre “hope” can be. In the months prior, I had in fact toyed with setting up some form of bird protection, but we hadn’t budgeted for this and I dislike bird netting (which seemed like the only option). The regret was tearful and exhausting. The sound and just the thought of crows issued a rush of anxiety in me. It felt unhealthy.

Typical crow damage on the Elevated Lab at BCIT Burnaby. Credit: Christine Thuring

Crow presence as viewed from the Elevated Lab facing north. Credit: Christine Thuring

However wearisome the re-planting was, I was most challenged by the experience of coming up against the limit of my feel-good narrative about green roofs and urban ecology. On the one hand, I continued to sing the familiar mantra that “green roofs provide habitat for insects and birds” but now sensed the arising of an exclusion clause: “…except for crows”. I was confronted with a major flaw in my narrative, and one that felt hypocritical and skewed.

What to do?

The outcome

After some reflection and discussion, the issue became clear. I don’t have anything against crows. Rather than anxiety and loathing, disempowerment and resentment, deep down I wanted to celebrate them with admiration, interest, and affection! With regards to the project, I needed the plants to establish successfully. Knowing their abilities of facial recognition, I definitely don’t want the crows to recognise me as an adversary. As it stands, they probably regard me as “crazy woman who waves arms at the sky begging for something called mercy”. I needed to figure out how to reconcile with the birds, at least for the establishment period, and definitely wanted to avoid becoming a dive-bomb target.I consulted with colleagues from BCITs Ecological Restoration program and from the green roof industry, and investigated more seriously into the range of available bird deterrent systems. Crows are highly intelligent and can figure out most scare tactics in a matter of days, which is why scarecrows or stationary owls don’t work.

It’s dusk at BCIT, and “crow hour” has moved onto the Elevated Lab, where our owl decoy doesn’t seem to evoke any response other than disregard. Credit: Christine Thuring

I decided to invest in a non-lethal,multi-sensory bird deterrent system,in order to discourage crows from loitering around the green roof. This integrated management program uses pyrotechnics and amplified recorded sound on a randomised program, and has been shown to successfully disperse crow roosts, and reduce the appeal of a location. Apparently birds have a strong aversion to lasers, and the type used is similar to the seasonal projection lights that were popular during the festive season. The amplified sound system features calls that make birds uneasy; these include the call of a predatory bird (peregrine falcon) and distress calls by ravens and crows. Taken together, this multi-sensory system should make this area of BCIT campus less attractive for birds, keeping them on edge. We set the timer for dawn and dusk, and a couple random times during the day.

Bird damage after installing the deterrent system was significantly reduced, but not entirely. Given the scale of the population, however, perhaps this is as good as it gets.

The bird conflict on the Elevated Lab was a test of co-existence and a poignant invitation to explore the tensions between love and respect for self and for “other”; that is, respect for the project and for my well-being, and respect for the birds. It was fascinating from a philosophical perspective, as it put me in touch with what feels like a fault or a crack in the bedrock between biophilia and biophobia. Whereas biophilia (“love of life”) is a popular meme for urban and ecological design, biophobia is rarely addressed. Perhaps it’s easier to pretend the ‘undesirables’ don’t exist, but that’s not realistic (and it would be a serious oversight for those who are designing for urban wildlife!).

This situation also got me thinking about how we humans tend to hate successful species that we consider unwanted or undesired. Whether we refer to them as weeds or volunteers, the duality of judgement remains. The irony, of course, is that when we try to eradicate species that we feel are problematic, we may end up creating even more and better conditions for them through the disturbance. The fact is that the urban species most familiar to us are reflecting us back to ourselves: their presence is a direct result of our presence. In this light, reactive hatred for “other” implies self-hatred, too, via our unaware subconscious.

As if to reinforce this hunch, I’ve since learned that cultural responses between people and crows are reciprocal. Marzluff (2014) suggests that we can play a meaningful role in such cyclical cultural phenomena, which means we have a choice in whether we want a human-crow culture that manifests expressions of conservation and care, or otherwise. For example, when birds like corvids are rare, humans either ignore or revere them; but when they become competitors, humans tend to view them as pests. Whether they are persecuted or revered, intelligent birds like crows and ravens will respond with behaviour that accords with the prevalent human attitude. The choice is ours.

My winter crow saga was beautifully closed off with the 8thannual Crow Roost Twilight Bike Ride, curated by the Still Moon Arts Society in East Vancouver. This group ride follows the evening migration along the Central Valley Greenway (parallel to Grandview Highway mentioned earlier), right to the heart of the Still Creek roost. The event attracted about 30 cyclists, and you could pick out the seasoned participants by their crow costumes and range of caws. The organisers introduced this year’s ride with emphasis on respect and acknowledgement for the crows, their culture and territory. This meant that when the ride arrived at the roost, all bike lights were turned off and a quiet respectful atmosphere was maintained. The birds did not fly off in agitation as they had the year before, and for those sensitive to perceive it, perhaps a culture of restoration had been established.

The annual Crow Roost Twilight Bike Ride stops at the Still Creek roost with quiet appreciation. Credit: Christine Thuring

Participants in the annual Crow Roost Twilight Bike. Credit: Ifny Lachance(CC BY-SA 4.0)

Crow family conversation. Credit: Ifny Lachance (CC BY-SA 4.0)

My experience with Vancouver’s crows this winter issued a strong reality check on my narrative with regards to urban wildlife and green roof ecology. I’m grateful to the crows for showing me the middle path between the extremes of love and aversion, such that I can appreciate them for what they are, accept what they represent, and receive what they have to teach. In this era of biodiversity loss and the rising consequences of an over-engineered world our most common species represent an opportunity to reconnect with the dwindling wildness of the Anthropocene. I acknowledge that I have personal agency on viewing my world as alive and beautiful, just as it is, inhabited by the people and species who are my neighbours. As the crows start to nest down, I am now looking for my local corvid families to befriend.

 Christine Thuring
Vancouver

On The Nature of Cities

References

Blair, RB. 1996. Land use and avian species diversity along an urban gradient. Ecological Applications 6:506-519.

Marzluff, JM. 2014. Welcome to Subirdia: Sharing our neighbourhoods with wrens, robins, woodpeckers, and other wildlife. Yale University Press. New Haven.

Marzluff, JM and KN Swift. 2017. Connecting animal and human cognition to conservation. Behavioural Sciences. 16:87-92.

Zach, R. 1978. Selection and Dropping of Whelks By Northwestern Crows. Behaviour 67(1-2). https://doi.org/10.1163/156853978X00297

What Cities Can Learn from Human Bodies

Art, Science, Action: Green Cities Re-imagined

Urban metabolism is not only a powerful metaphor for better understanding our urban systems, but also the fundamental framework we need for accelerating the transition to sustainable cities.
At any one moment, trillions of chemical reactions take place in the human body: a myriad of connections, enzymes, and processes that together make up our human metabolism. You might recognise this concept from health and fitness clickbait headlines that promise things like: “10 easy ways to increase your metabolism”; “7 daily habits that can boost your metabolism to burn fat” or “the 6 sneakiest ways to kickstart your metabolism and lose weight”.

In fact, your metabolism is related to much more than just how you process food. It encompasses all of the body’s chemical processes and the elimination of waste. But there is something else our metabolism is good for—providing the inspiration for another complex system: the city.

At Metabolic, we think there’s a lot our cities can learn from natural systems such as human bodies. And as you might have guessed, the concept also inspired our name. Imagine it this way: if you want to be healthier, perhaps you want to gain muscle or lose weight, what is the first thing you do? You look at what’s going into your body. Calories in, calories out.

You can perform a similar diagnostic on cities. We look at cities through a “Metabolic” lens that brings into focus a new framework through which to model urban flows: urban metabolism.

Nobody coined “the metabolism of the city” quite like American sanitation engineer Abel Wolman. Johns Hopkins University, Sheridan Libraries, Ferdinand Hamburger University Archives photograph collection.

Early influencers

Like human bodies, cities require resources to function. They import or stock up on what they need, consume the resource, and then dispose of what is left over in the form of different types of waste. But one widely accepted definition of urban metabolism does not (yet) exist. Over the course of several generations, different disciplines and schools of thought have used this term to frame a range of findings.

Perhaps the first person to do so was Karl Marx, who as early as the 19th century was employing this term to describe how humans were extracting materials and altering natural landscapes in unprecedented ways. Marx observed that humans were in the process of colonizing nature and rapidly “metabolizing” its resources.

Ernest Burgess followed in 1925 with the concentric zone model, one of the earliest theoretical models to explain urban social structures. He described urban land use in a set of concentric circles expanding from downtown (the beating heart) to the suburbs (the outer appendages). His model assumes a relationship between the socio-economic status (mainly related to income) of households, and their distance from the center of the city. Burgess called this spatial distribution of social groups “the metabolism of a city”.

But nobody coined “the metabolism of the city” quite like American sanitation engineer Abel Wolman. In 1965, Wolman, who had already gained international fame for another urban staple (chlorinated drinking water), published his seminal work on urban metabolism. In it, he imagined a city of one million inhabitants and defined its metabolism as all materials and commodities needed to sustain the city’s people at home, work, and play.

In the following decade, Wolman inspired several scholars to apply the concept to existing cities across the world, Brussels and Hong Kong being the first. Then, silence. From the 1980s to the early 2000s there were virtually no papers published on urban metabolism.

The reason for this can be hotly debated, but I believe that after the concept’s initial allure, academics realised just how difficult it was to get an accurate snapshot of a city’s metabolism. In that time, we were only on the cusp of the dot-com era unknowingly walking into the digital revolution.

Urban metabolism has been enjoying a major resurgence in recent years, most likely due to the increasing availability of (good) data.

Back with a vengeance

In recent years, urban metabolism has been staging a strong comeback. And while the global interest—both academic and political—in sustainable cities has grown exponentially, I think the driving factor behind the recent resurgence is the increasing availability of data. Not just data, but good data, particularly in cities that have made this a priority. Post–2005, most of the world began to digitize just about every aspect of city life: transport, energy, water, ecosystem services, civic engagement, sanitation, and air quality. We saw the emergence of the smart city—in stark contrast to the not-so-smart ones we’d been living in before.

So how does urban metabolism stack up against all the other frameworks we know, such as sustainability scans, and the calculating of ecological footprints? To some extent, looking at urban metabolism offers a way of assessing all of those other outcomes. Chris Kennedy, University of Toronto civil engineering professor and an urban metabolism aficionado, says: “it is part of the strategic toolkit for developing sustainable cities.” He believes the framework allows us to understand cities in a “much more holistic, more comprehensive way.”

We’re only just starting to understand the flow-in and flow-out “chemical reactions” taking place within cities. Credit: Metabolic

Not just a powerful metaphor

In an urban metabolism, networks of things (goods, capital, information, people, etc.) flow in, and flow out. In the middle is something we refer to as “the black box”. Otherwise known as the entity, the human body, or the city in which all of these flows and systems interact. As mentioned, the human metabolism hosts huge numbers of these chemical reactions every second. Yet, even though we’ve been building our cities for thousands of years, we’re only just starting to understand the “chemical reactions” taking place within them.

We can, however, start to draw some comparisons. Our lymphatic system, for example, is the network of tissues and organs that help rid the body of toxins, waste, and other unwanted materials, and also supplies white blood cells. Not unlike our first responders—think of paramedics offering medical aid in emergencies, or police officers protecting the city from harm.

Then there is our circulatory system, which permits blood to circulate and transport nutrients, oxygen, hormones and blood cells. This works much like a city’s gas and water utilities, supplying the necessities where they are needed most.

Our respiratory system takes in oxygen and expels CO2, a similar—if inverted—process to how urban parks, trees and gardens provide us with healthy living environments and fresh oxygen to breathe.

The framework on which we are all built—our skeletal system—works similarly to our zoning plans and the way we construct our buildings and neighborhoods.

Last but not least, there is the digestive system, which takes in food, extracts nutrients, and expels the rest as waste– not unlike the recycling and waste departments of our cities, picking up what people leave on the curb, reusing and recycling what they can, and disposing of the rest as waste.

I could go on—trillions of chemical reactions are taking place at any one moment, after all—but I think I’ve made my point. Urban metabolism is not only a powerful metaphor for better understanding our urban systems, but also the fundamental framework we need for accelerating the transition to sustainable cities.

Metabolic’s Material Flow Analysis for DGTL Music Festival in 2018. Credit: Metabolic

Cities need to go on a diet

In the last couple of decades, the fields of nutrition, medicine, and public health have increasingly come to a consensus on what’s needed for a healthy body: get at least eight hours of sleep every night and 30 minutes of physical exercise every day, eat a well-rounded diet, and limit your stress as much as possible.

Just as the medical community have been able define these parameters for a healthy body, Metabolic was curious to find out if we could do the same for a healthy city. And for us, a healthy city is one that follows the principles of a circular economy.

A circular economy, and therefore a circular city, is one that is “regenerative and waste-free by design”. In a circular economy, materials are cycled at high quality, all energy is derived from renewable or otherwise sustainable sources, and natural and human capital are structurally supported rather than degraded through economic activities.

Though it may appear that the primary focus of this philosophy is on material recycling and the energy transition, achieving a circular economy requires systemic redesign of our modern industrial system with a great deal of focus on how it relates to both ecological and human capital. And just like in a human body, it is imperative all these systems work together in harmony.

Not just for cities

At Metabolic, we’ve mapped out and analyzed countless urban metabolisms, like our recent work with cities like Rotterdam and Charlotte. Although it may be called “urban” metabolism, this concept can apply to much more than just cities.

Essentially, if you can define a system’s boundaries, you can map its metabolism. And, of course, some are easier to define than others. Take islands, for example. In 2017 we had the opportunity to map out the metabolism of Vlieland, the smallest inhabited island of the Dutch Wadden Islands. The energy transition on the island is well underway, and therefore it was time for Vlieland to move beyond energy and emissions and tackle its next challenge: the transition to a circular economy. The boundaries for this baseline assessment were easy to set: the island is surrounded by water and the only thoroughfare for goods (and waste) is through the island’s ferry. This is in stark contrast to most cities, where goods can be transported by bikes, vans, boats, trains, and planes. Just imagine the metabolic chaos once drone delivery takes off!

As the world begins to grasp circular economics, we will also need to open up opportunities for the rapid prototyping of new innovations. Similar to a scientist who must perform clinical trials of new pharmaceuticals in closed—and controlled—environments, circular economists must do the same with circular interventions. Festivals, with their fenced-off boundaries and temporary nature, are the perfect closed ecosystems for this type of experimentation.

Often, they can serve as a model organism for cities to learn from. In a short amount of time they must provide all of human’s basic needs: sanitation, food, shelter, and waste disposal, just to name a few. Starting small, on a festival scale, could bring about the insights needed to further research, experiment, and improve the most promising of circular interventions.

For the last two years, we have measured all the materials coming in and out of world-renowned electronic music festival, DGTL, which welcomes some 30,000 visitors to the NDSM-Docklands in Amsterdam North. The metabolism maps created each year have provided granular evidence to show which of the festival’s sustainability interventions are working, so that future inputs can be fine-tuned.

When it comes to sustainability, organisations often don’t know where to start. Urban metabolism can help by being the diagnostic tool to identify where we can have the greatest impact, for the smallest amount of effort. When your body’s metabolism isn’t functioning correctly, you go to the doctor. But if you want to fix the metabolism of your city, event or organization—that’s where we come in.

Nadine Galle
Amsterdam

On The Nature of Cities

 

 

 

 

Proposals for the Environment and the Future of Cities

Art, Science, Action: Green Cities Re-imagined

While the suburban mega city is largely the product of unbridled real estate speculation, their existence establishes a new starting point for urban design—hopefully one that produces cities by nature.
A Brief History of Climate Change

Issued in November of 2018 by a collection of 13 government agencies known as the U.S. Global Change Research Program, the environmental assessments of The Fourth National Climate Assessment (NCA4) present a deeply disturbing forecast and polarizing confrontation to most anyone reading the report.

“Disturbing”, given the grave assessments and the magnitude and nature of the anticipated climate events and their impact to the human condition and natural life of the earth. “Polarizing”, in that the report confronts virtually every individual who reads the 500-some page document, especially those in design-related disciplines, and environmental fields, to make a fundamental choice.  One, change how one personally lives, works and the content and expertise they advocate through their work. Or two, ignore the report and go on with one’s life and business.

The environmental forecast is dire.

Sea levels are already about a foot higher around US continental shores. Heat waves are increasing and more are predicted. Unusually long droughts are already happening and more of these are predicted and expected to unfold at accelerating rates. The same is forecasted for wildfires. The last three consecutive years have been the warmest years on the measurable record for the globe. The last five consecutive years have been the warmest ever recorded at the polar ice caps.

When first encountered by explorers in 1850, Glacier National Park had 150 distinct glaciers. Today, only 26 remain. Experts are already suggesting that Miami will become “unlivable in the future” not only because of low-level flooding, but also due to salt contamination of the Okeechobee fresh water lake where it draws water.

Dallas Trinity River in Flood

While I unfortunately can’t claim to possess fantastical abilities to tell the future or conjure  a crystal ball for a topic that is unquestionably overwhelming and comprehensive, the following article offers a set of realistic proposals to embolden the work of landscape architects, architects, designers, policy-makers and environmentalists. In response to the ever-present question, “What can I do as an individual?” each topic was selected because of the potential it offers to individuals to make a difference. 

Topic One:  Vitamin N

Health should always be the number one priority and objective that guides city planning, building orientation and their design, to paraphrase the Roman architect Vitruvius in his multi-volume treatise on architecture, “De Architectura” written in the 1stcentury AD. It’s challenging, if not difficult to comprehend how advice taken from a 2,000-year-old document, could be relevant today, given the extraordinary advances in technology and human population.  However, a simple diagram puts the challenge and issue of health into a new kind of perspective and unlocks a new awareness about health and the status quo.

The diagram above illustrates the 2.5 million years that encompass the evolution of humanity. The thin magenta line on the right is more than ample thickness to represent the entire amount of time where the physical backdrop to life that has shaped  the human condition has been life spent living in organized settlements, villages and cities. The 150-year era of  anthropogenic climate change would fit into an even thinner, microscopic slice of the same line.

It might seem like this diagram is a graphic trick to arouse alarm about the rapidity of climate change and how, if it persists to become a more measurable width on this diagram, it would probably mean the end of human civilization. However, the actual point of the diagram is to call attention to the time and the entire area to the left of the right edge, and a particular realization it unlocks about health and human development.

As the legendary biologist Dr. E.O Wilson of Harvard characterizes, for approximately two and half million years, “Humanity was a biological species living in a biological environment.”  While most everyone loves the cold medicine and indoor plumbing of the modern world, thirty-some years of credible, peer-reviewed research by individuals such as Dr. Wilson and Dr. Ming ( Frances ) Kuo of the University of Illinois, along with other colleagues of a like-mind, are revealing that human contact with nature produces extraordinary health and human welfare benefits, as follows.

According to studies taken from the Chicago Police and Crime reports, individuals living in public housing projects, where the “housing projects” were cookie cut buildings, people living in the buildings that were surrounded by more trees and nature – “greener in other words” – produced fewer violent crimes and fights. In the greener buildings, when altercations and disputes arose they were less likely to be settled with violence.

Girl and Butterfly at Airfield Falls, Fort Worth

Further studies with children who suffer from ADHD and depression, revealed that, when in a controlled test group, children experienced a daily twenty minute walk in a park, another group a residential street with no trees, and a third group in an urban downtown, the children who experienced the park saw a reduction of their symptoms and a higher ability to concentrate than the other two groups whose symptoms were actually amplified by the nature-deficient environments.

Physical, biological and cardiovascular health is also measurably affected by contact with nature. Controlled studies of individuals who were instructed to take “a walk in the woods” developed a healthier cardiovascular blood profile than those who did not. Blood pressure lowered and, astonishingly, blood chemistry altered toward a healthier biochemistry.  The health benefits continue.

Individuals who lived in greener neighborhoods also demonstrated a higher ability to survive a stroke, if one happens. As Dr. Kuo has come to summarize, “Nature appears to be a new kind of vitamin” that cultivates cardiovascular health and cardiovascular resilience in humans.

Even a basic question of how much “nature” does one need before measurable benefits appear, reveals that even shorter, periodic “doses of nature” during just a three day weekend trip to a natural area, elevates the production of antibodies and blood chemistry that is beneficial to fighting the advent of cancer cells, an astonishing 50 percent. One month after the three-day weekend with nature, blood tests of the same individuals reveal that blood chemistry is still 28% above where it was before the trip.

The old saying to “stop and smell the roses” portended that actually doing so can improve your health. Thirty-year long studies show that smelling roses (and other flowers that are fragrant to humans) reduces the release of stress and obesity-producing cortisol.

Le Corbusier designed the Villa Savoye between 1929 and 1931. ca. 2002 Poissy, France

Taken together, along with many other studies with similar results, that  “green nature-focused neighborhoods” (and buildings by logical extension) reduce the number of preventable deaths from cardiovascular disease and diabetes, by one half.

Considering that cardiovascular disease cost the US Health Care System over

$500 billion dollars in 2016, and the costs of diabetes related to cardiovascular disease cost were $245 billion dollars, a new Health Imperative for architecture, landscape architecture and environmental design may be coming of age and toward a new purpose with unassailable and measurable results.

To extend the original axiom from Vitruvius, “health” can apply not only to buildings and arranging cities and a physical environment that is healthy to humans, but also how the cities and buildings we arrange reverberate health and healing to a planet that is groaning with the symptoms of Climate Change.

This leads to ReWILDING, which is the next topic. 

Topic Two: REWILDING

ReWILDING is a process and an approach to landscape and environmental development that begins by constructing an inventory of the species and natural life that the landscape can shelter, that is also appropriate to the place. Architects, who typically design buildings that are tailored to a similar inventory of occupants, refer to this formative activity as “the program” of a building.

What is known as ReWILDing began some thirty years ago as environmental reconstruction that was intended to rebalance ecosystems through the re-introduction of species, largely alpha predators such as the grey wolf project in Yellowstone and also species that repopulated African preserves and the surrounding savannahs.

The idea that ReWILDING can apply to virtually any landscape project, at any scale as a new programmatic imperative for the landscape of any project or building program, is sweeping the world.  The key to understanding the application of ReWILDING as a design activity, is to recognize that all projects and sites are not appropriate environments for all the possible species a region might offer for consideration.

For example, where the left-over landscape around a suburban motor bank isn’t possible to ReWILD for coyotes, red fox and the bobcats that freely roam the watershed corridors in Dallas Fort Worth, a small landscape project like this still can, successfully ReWILD for native bees, pollinators, migratory songbirds and, if storm detention is involved, aquatic plants and the amphibians and species they support.

Egrets in Dallas

With ReWILDING, almost every new project, site renovation or construction can, to some degree, also be an act of environmental recovery. Once the program of natural species is established, plant communities and arrangements take place accordingly.

The final step in the process is to reintroduce human activity into the ReWILDED landscape, carefully with design, so the two conditions can co-exist.

Topic Three: City by Nature

Cities that flourished in the mid to late twentieth century such as Phoenix, Dallas / Fort Worth, Houston, Austin and Atlanta, all materialized as thinly arrayed patterns that were enabled by the motor car, cheap energy and an environmentally unbridled and unconstrained culture.  While pre-twentieth century cities largely formed around densely urban, colonial cores that generated cultural densities (between 30 persons per acre in San Francisco to over one hundred persons per acre in Manhattan), the endless landscape of the suburban megacities average around one person per acre.

An unintended effect of suburban megacities is the appearance of wildlife inside city limits that thrive in an abundant geography of open areas and the ribbons of trees and nature that exist along metropolitan creeks, rivers and ravines of a cities watershed network. While cities have always had “pests” such as rats, fleas, lice and other vermin, the appearance of coyotes, red foxes, turkey flocks, bobcats and nesting eagles are all species that are presently thriving within the Dallas Fort Worth Metroplex, where my private practice works and studies. DFW is a textbook demonstration of solutions and possibilities that can transfer and apply to cities with similar problems and opportunities.

Downtown Dallas Trinity River Corridor

Settled on the gently rolling topography of the North Texas Blackland Prairie, Dallas Fort Worth (DFW ) is traversed by a vast, web-like watershed network of small rivers, creeks, ravines, tree belts and man-made ponds and reservoirs, that some experts might refer to as the Green Infrastructure of the city.  Areas such as the luxurious Turtle Creek corridor in Highland Park, Dallas and the historic White Rock Lake reservoir demonstrate how urban planning can leverage a cultural affinity for nature to form neighborhoods of exceptional economic and cultural value around the nature of these kind of resources.

The DFW Branch Waters Network is an emerging planning initiative to make the ad hoc process of development that is forming along the green corridors of the watershed network a more deliberate process with predictable results.

Vitruvian Park Drone View

Such an initiative is reinforced by the health benefits of nature, the cultural affinity for nature which attracts density patterns, the connectivity of the watershed nature for recreation and transportation and all the attendant economic benefits and value that could arise, that taken together, could compel suburban mega cities to restructure in potentially, the same number of decades it took to originally produce the unsustainable, endless and sprawling form.

While the suburban mega city is largely the product of unbridled real estate speculation, their existence establishes a new starting point for urban design.

Intersecting these needs with a cultural affinity for nature offers the potential to eventually produce cities by nature, that offer health for the human condition and the environment of the planet, delight and a new kind of prosperity that will not be at the expense of the earth and ourselves.

SUMMARY: Energy, The Common Denominator 

According to the 2005 bestselling book “The Tree” by Colin Tudge, wood will be the building material of the future. Tudge’s assertion is not based on his affinity for wood, but rather, an assertion that is entirely based on energy. Wood requires the least amount of energy for its production, given that natural energy of the sun. Depending on how it will be harvested and milled, it is a material that has the lower latent energy that is possible. Finally, wood naturally recycles into the earth through biodegradation.

Spain Metropol Parasol

Imagine how the professional design awards would change if criteria principals weren’t only aesthetics, concepts and artistic conceits, but rather were based on a new set of criteria:

  • Energy use – what projects use the least amount of energy to construct, operate, and sustain and/or to eventually demolish.
  • Human health – the health benefits the building or project engenders in the inhabitants through contact with vitamin N – or nature.
  • Ecological conservation – the depth and magnitude of the non-human species a building or a new project site and landscape accommodates and the amount of domestic water use the project preserves.

Given the clear-eyed and disturbing picture painted by the recent The Fourth National Climate Assessment,the path forward demands that the look and style of something may not be as important as the impact it makes and the healing it offers to the environment and human condition.

Where popular culture has many issues and layers that perhaps separate individuals from truly comprehending the gravitas of the situation, landscape architects and the environmental sciences are on the front lines and ready to take action.  We are in a unique position to make an immediate and measurable difference.

Art BioFarm

“Form follows performance” may replace the industrial preoccupation of the twentieth century and its priority for “function” that is damaging to the environment. It will take the effort of many, if not everyone’s, hands to get a grip on all the solutions that are needed. It is a purpose and priority on which all should agree.

The work of any and every landscape architect can contribute the next granular improvement to the environment, and that improvement will aggregate with the other granular good works of others to eventually accumulate results.

As one example, in Dallas Fort Worth, if one in every ten households installed a 5 x 5 ReWILDED pocket prairie in their back yard, 1,000 acres of the original Blackland Prairie could be recovered. Even for most commissions that stipulate a cultivated landscape design, edges and fringes always exist in most situations to introduce concentrations of native species that could give respites to migrating pollinators and songbirds.

Potentially of equal or greater importance, is for landscape architects to become advocates and explicators of the environment through writing, speaking and producing videos shorts. Landscape architects are one of the very few professional groups that exist, uniquely educated to understand, predict the consequences, and propose realistic solutions for the climate crisis.

Local newspapers, reeling under the impact of blogs and the Internet, are in need for volunteer writers and ideas and topics worth circulating. Reach out and ask to become a voice in your community newspapers and write for the environment. Community, school and church groups frequently struggle to convene interesting programs for their membership. Reach out and volunteer to give a lively and memorable presentation on the virtues of the landscape architecture you love and the profound ability it has, if redirected in purpose, to affect them individually and the climate crisis positively, and with beauty.

Moreover, landscape architects should learn and then be unhesitant about developing their skills in persuasion, of linking the good intentions of ReWILDING with the superior economic advantages that it often produces.  While it’s desirable to bring a larger culture along to a more informed environmental position, in the day-to-day activities, gaining approval of a good idea, even if the basis for preference is cheaper cost and a better bottom line, is the real objective. The environment that needs the solutions and the wild life in search of habitat has little awareness for how their needs are met.

Activities and opportunities like this will often go uncompensated, although not unrecognized. Return on the effort and time it takes to prepare often materializes as another invitation for commissions that align with a landscape architects interest.

In imprecating artists to be leaders, the late sculptor Isamu Noguchi offered remarks that should embolden most landscape architects and planners to act. To paraphrase, “No one is going to pay you in the beginning. Instead, convince yourself and then go out and convince the world what it needs by leading with your unassailable and good intentions, and then, they will know how and why they need to hire you for what’s next.”

Kevin Sloan
Dallas

On The Nature of Cities