Although recent efforts to mitigate the characteristic poor air quality and largely suburban character of Los Angeles have been the focus of much debate and action, the city still faces a rash of issues today, including an increasingly severe drought and a recent “state of emergency” declared over issues with homelessness. With few existing opportunities to truly rethink its built and natural environment, the city has been fixated on the Los Angeles River as a project that could revitalize urban public space, offering a chance to “rebrand” what it means to live in Los Angeles.
Though history of human settlement on the Los Angeles River dates back to Native American settlements in 5,000 B.C.E., a project to pave over the riverbanks began in 1938, with the intention of preventing erratic and dangerous flooding events. Los Angeles’s desert-like climate, characterized by periods of dry weather with occasional torrential downpours, combined with poorly planned communities that were built in the river’s floodplains, led to the decision to channelize the river, replacing streams and wetlands (a natural system of flood control) with 51 miles of engineered waterway.
The future of Los Angeles depends on creative design solutions to resolve issues of affordable housing and water-stressed conditions.
However, the tides have turned in recent decades as advocacy groups have insisted the river be returned to a more natural state, issuing various proposals for restoration and urban green space projects – one of which was the focus of a 2014 TNOC essay, “The Emerald Necklace.” In response to these calls, the city formed the Ad Hoc Committee on the Los Angeles River in 2002 and released the Los Angeles River Revitalization Master Plan in 2007. The 2007 Master Plan anticipates that the project will improve aesthetics, enrich quality of life, and sustain the economy of the region. Following the announcement of this plan, many designers and planners continued to contemplate their own visions for this major hydrological and ecological undertaking. And now, a plan created by renowned architect, Frank Gehry, is in progress, though further information surrounding this commission is being kept under wraps.
Shelter, the latest exhibition at the Architecture and Design Museum Los Angeles, does not hesitate to provide additional perspectives on the Los Angeles River revitalization project. The exhibition displays a collection of proposals from six LA-based design firms which reconsider the future of ‘shelter’ in the Los Angeles River and Wilshire Corridor regions of the city. Curators Sam Lubell and Danielle Rago commissioned these proposals, which range from Late Modernist high-rises to community-owned low-rise housing densification models.
WATERshed — re-thinking the role of a river
“WATERshed,” a proposal put forth by Lorcan O’Herlihy Architects (LOHA), allows viewers to reconsider the capacity of architecture to alleviate conditions of a water-stressed environment. Thoroughly relevant to the current extreme conditions in California, LOHA has created a series of “plug-in interventions that address specific underperforming and absent functions of the water cycle” within the Elysian Valley, a community located alongside the Los Angeles River. WATERshed aims to revitalize the entire system that feeds into the river through the combination of nuanced water management systems and urbanized public spaces. Design solutions range from residential structures swathed in a “sponge filtration system” to the Los Angeles River Bridge Cap, which combines oblong tent-shaped community wells and filtration systems with public space that connects both sides of the river.
The conical, organic and sometimes-outlandish geometries proposed in WATERshed were devised from a study of the existing open space between single-family homes in the region, emphasizing a key aim of this project: designing a functionality specific to the site’s environmental and social context. As its name implies, this proposal expands the parameters of the Los Angeles River revitalization project beyond the banks of the river and towards a more holistic approach that encompasses the hydrological relationships within the entire watershed.
According to the architects, “recycled urban stormwater and increased efficiency could meet 82% of LA’s water needs,” but because of outdated land use policies and infrastructure, opportunities for capture and filtration during sporadic downpours are limited. This identified gap in the current water system of the Elysian Valley provides an opportunity to reconsider our relationship to water within urban areas, particularly when desertification is predicted for the future. Though extreme in both its aesthetic and engineering, LOHA’s proposal shows us what the future of urban ecology could look like in a world of unprecedented water scarcity, pushing past superficial beautification efforts towards the creation of a public space for utility and localized resource management.
Amid all the talk about revitalizing the Los Angeles River, worries have arisen over the social cost of this restoration. The novelty of new public green space, paired with corporate-led redevelopment, would most likely catalyze gentrification in previously affordable areas. This looming eco-gentrification, or gentrification caused by urban ecological restoration projects, has previously instigated unintended effects for projects such as the High Line in New York City. Eco-gentrification poses an unfortunate design flaw – instead of improving quality of life for local urban residents, projects plagued by eco-gentrification price out many community members, depriving them of the esteemed wellness that urban green space can bring. Lower-income communities have long been the ones to suffer the health and social consequences of industrial urbanization, and are often the last to benefit from large-scale urban greening projects.
LA-Más — a community-based approach
While many of the proposals for the revitalization of the Los Angeles River promise optimistic visions of serenity and interaction with nature, few truly consider the socio-ecological impacts this project will have. LA-Más, an architectural and urban design non-profit, addresses this issue through their contribution to Shelter: “Backyard Basics: An Alternative Story for the Accessory Dwelling Unit.” A product of ongoing research and community engagement, the group’s work includes design drawings, a wireframe model, and the Futuro De Frogtown publication. The proposal addresses the inherent necessity of community-led redevelopment and affordable housing to enhance social and environmental sustainability within the Elysian Valley.
LA-Más led a five-month co-visioning process with community residents of the Elysian Valley (also known as Frogtown) to better understand the values and priorities held within the existing neighborhood. The ideas discussed during interviews, advisory groups and workshops made clear the disparities caused by corporate-led redevelopment, characterized by high-density apartment blocks with higher-level price tags. Rather than enhancing the quality of life and providing access to the river’s proposed green space for Frogtown’s existing community, this type of redevelopment would create an entirely new community with an increased cost of living. Frogtown residents wanted to preserve the physical and social qualities of their neighborhood, but were open to ideas of adaptive reuse. The solution proposed by LA-Más to counter eco-gentrification is a “granny flat” renaissance.
Accessory Dwelling Units, also called ADUs or granny flats, are compact dwellings that are typically built in the backyards of single-family homes. ADUs allow for low-rise, but high-density, development that is privately owned and, generally, better embedded into the existing community. Increasing the amount of ADUs in the Elysian Valley would be a compromise of sorts, allowing for densification without drastically changing the visual and social character of the neighborhood.
By adapting community-based modes of thinking and typologies to the climate and culture of Los Angeles, which has long valued private over communal or shared property, this re-visioning of ADUs offers a glance into the preferences of local residents for the future of redevelopment schemes. By offering the community a voice, LA-Más has uncovered a design model that would maintain the affordability of this neighborhood, allowing the existing community members to benefit from the restoration of the Los Angeles River and forgoing the classist divide between “green” and “contaminated” areas of a city. This proposal acknowledges the importance of biodiversity within an urban context, including a diversity of people as an integral part of this formula.
The future of Los Angeles depends on creative design solutions to resolve issues of affordable housing and water-stressed conditions. Though the word is basic in its connotation, Shelter gathers many of the missing pieces from the Los Angeles River revitalization equation, proving the possibility of a more resilient ecological and social future for this region. It is clear that there is a need to provide equitable access to environmentally healthy communities, a balance that needs to be achieved to ensure the social and ecological resilience of the communities adjacent to the Los Angeles River.
Listening to the residents of Frogtown, and many of the other communities that will be affected by the revitalization project, can help identify the ecology of people existing within these areas. Though many of the proposals gathered in Shelter are multiple stages away from the reality of construction and planning, the groundedness of these ideas in their context, specifically within the work of LA-Más, suggests that tides are shifting for Los Angeles’s forthcoming reincarnation.
Los Angeles has often been put on a pedestal as a leader in domestic architecture, and America’s model homes may soon mirror the ecologically sound and socially sustainable housing examples seen in Shelter. But architects and planners must remember – a “home” is more than a physical dwelling: it is the community that surrounds it.
The Nature of Cities hosted a Global Roundtable in 2014, gathering thoughts on the social justice implications of urban ecology. Read this discussion here.
Cities, like nature, are all about the details. Granular. Fine-grained. Cellular. Each of these describes what we see in cities as unique, what defines them as places: small details that differentiate them from anywhere else and add up to a web of connections we call the city.
I am writing this from Paris, a city marked by its idiosyncrasies. Small café-lined streets, grand boulevards, majestic parks. And dogs, everywhere. The grand planning that created this wonderful city is home to global institutions (like UNESCO, my host) as well as thousands of small enterprises and exceptions, creating an urban topography instantly recognizable as Parisian. On the street of my hotel there is a small library, an organic grocer, a wine bar (of course), a lawyer’s office, an automobile showroom, a pharmacy, and several cafes that open out with lines of chairs facing the street. The architecture is a hodge-podge of classic eight-story windowed residences with street-level retail, and brutalist cement edifices. Again, essentially (post-war) Paris.
Gazillions of writers have described what makes Paris Paris. As my fellow urban ecologists on these pages continue to argue, what makes up the true nature of any city is never just one thing; it’s about the mix, the interplay of leadership, individual initiative, planning, serendipity, creativity, natural topography, mistakes, time. Fundamentally, it’s about people. Cities are made by, and are for, people. Individual agency—the capacity to act upon one’s environment and affect it—is what continues to make our cities work well, to be livable and resilient, and permit us to meet our needs and realize our aspirations, both individual and collective. This is what I referred to in my previous post on this site as self-organization. I want to expand this here, and make the case for how that process of self-organizing creates granular urbanism, and most presciently granular resilience, which when aggregated up (or ‘scaled’, to use the common parlance) is the key to a city’s capacity to adapt to change and thrive.
As I walked to the Metro this morning I peeked through an open door to see a back courtyard, reminding me of the American city that has so much to teach us about granular resilience: New Orleans (NOLA).
As part of a fellowship provided to me by the blue moon fund in September 2005, I was dispatched to NOLA and the Gulf, from which the foundation’s wealth had been originally derived, and to whom their President felt they owed a great debt. Before Hurricane Katrina breached its levees, New Orleans was struggling with a stagnant economy and failing public services, notably education, policing, and physical planning. Characterized by some as a ‘perverse opportunity’, Katrina, and tropical storm Rita which followed a few weeks later, stripped away these layers of dysfunction, creating a new ‘ground zero’ to observe if and how a city as troubled as this could in fact self-correct, and bring itself back to be more resilient socially, economically, environmentally, culturally?
I wondered what could the recovery of New Orleans teach us about urban self-organization? Were there certain enabling conditions that would first stir and then sustain a renewed city and spur innovation? Would the disconnections and failed civic institutions that entrenched decades of racialized poverty just reappear and continue to compromise the capacity of this city, as an organism, to self-regulate and correct?
Or could solutions to the economic, environmental, cultural and environmental challenges the city and region face be integrated, making the city both more livable and resilient? Were there investments that could help to reconnect the city with parts of itself, to strengthen its capacity to better adapt to and anticipate, even, imminent challenges and opportunities? Over time, informed by listening to the locals to spot gaps and their improvised approaches, I began to develop and implement an investment strategy for the fund to support a mix of nascent, ‘bottom-up’ made-in-NOLA responses. Eventually I moved to New Orleans, to support those emergent initiatives and attempt to aggregate the lessons by supporting the creation of the New Orleans Institute for Resilience and Innovation.
For the next five years, thanks to a supportive Board of Directors willing to be patient with their capital, blue moon invested in a diverse mix of locally initiated, socially innovative experiments to build the social, economic, cultural and environmental resilience of New Orleans. Often to the consternation of philanthropy colleagues, blue moon’s approach to investing in the recovery of New Orleans was not directed by any pre-set ‘Theory of Change’, other than to support a mix of initiatives that shared a very simple attribute. Each focused on creating connections, an ecosystem of innovation to reconnect the parts of the city with itself, to provide more informed decision-making, collaboration, shared goals and collective impact. Nature with neighborhoods, consumers with the local economy, neighbors with neighbors, neighborhoods with neighborhoods, entrepreneurs with investors.
Over time this mix has produced a powerful collective narrative that about how to build granular urban resilience. Given supportive conditions and resources, and an absence of external interference, people living and working in communities will develop innovative, locally effective responses to ‘bring back’ and even ‘build up’ their lives and neighborhoods.
A repeated pattern we saw were various forms of community ‘hubs’ which surfaced to serve the particular needs of that group or neighborhood, seeking reinforcement and support and information. A coffee shop, a garage, a church basement, a blogger’s kitchen table: these resilience hubs provided a sense of identity, belonging, common purpose, and formed up in a wide variety of ways across the city. Similarly, there was also the desire to connect beyond one’s own neighborhood, to create forms of connective tissue across difference, linking between neighborhoods and across sectors, which grew with the recognition that the fate of the whole city was dependent on its parts.
Faced with pervasive systemic collapses, it was the people in the neighborhoods of New Orleans who were able to return that built this city’s resilience. A few stories follow, with a caveat. New Orleans, like every vibrant and adaptive city, is full of people like these. I am only retelling, and all too briefly, a few with which I am most familiar, to illustrate my point that resilience, and urban livability, are granular, the initiatives of people.
Sandy Rosenthal and Levees.org. Sitting at her kitchen table with her teenage son after Katrina, Sandy Rosenthal was outraged that the Army Corps of Engineers had not ensured the federal levee system would protect the city. Their initial investigations uncovered a myriad of design and construction errors, exposing a system totally inadequate to the task of protection with which it was charged, despite repeated assurances from Corps personnel at the most senior levels. Rosenthal has become the most strident voice of alert, challenging the millions of Americans who live within the ‘protection’ of the federal levee system to press for higher degrees of accountability from this federal agency.
David Waggoner and the Dutch Dialogues. Combine Rosenthal’s activism with the technical expertise of living-with-water designer David Waggoner, who founded the Dutch Dialogues to promote New Orleans adopting a more integrated approach to managing its water risks, New Orleanians are now much more aware of the challenges posed by their topography and climate.
Latoya Cantrell and the Broadmoor Improvement Association. When one of the first reports from the Mayor’s Bring New Orleans Back Commission included the suggestion that the flood-prone neighborhood of Broadmoor revert to a ‘green space’, Latoya Cantrell reacted like her neighbors with a less than polite ‘hell, no’ and began to organize an outreach campaign to bring their neighborhood back, in spite of the Mayor’s Commission. She recruited partners at Harvard to set up a recovery data base, convinced the Carnegie Endowment to rebuild their branch library, found funding to build a new school, and created support teams to work with homeowners and tenants to rebuild their homes. Titling their recovery campaign ‘Broadmoor Lives’, Cantrell was elected to City Council in 2012.
Allison Plyer and the New Orleans Index. In the immediate aftermath of the storms, it was very difficult to get ‘the facts’. How many people evacuated? How many stayed? How many were returning? How many dwellings were destroyed? In the recovery business, numbers are everything, affecting insurance premiums, transfers from the federal government, state and local funding, and not to mention tourism affected by the perception of the city held by millions of Americans with vivid memories of immediate post-storm events on CNN. Plyer was the local data cruncher, working for the Greater New Orleans Community Data Center. Plyer partnered with Washington-based Brookings Institute, to establish a tracking system to monitor recovery progress, initially calling it the Katrina Index. She urged local non-profit organizations to become more data-driven in their program designs; she challenged the federal government’s census results (and won) to ensure New Orleans received its proper share; and she became the most trusted source of local information, ensuring even CNN’s Anderson Cooper received accurate briefings on his annual visits to mark the city’s progress.
Karen Gadbois and Squandered Heritage. Karen evacuated New Orleans lying on the floor of her van, flanked by two dogs. While her husband drove with the ‘counter flow’ (when the highways in and out of town are declared by the Mayor to be only one way: OUT), Karen languished with the heat and the after-effects of the chemotherapy treatments in which she was mid-course. Eventually landing in Austin, Karen would have to renegotiate her treatment protocols (all those records were lost from the public hospital, Charity, which was shuttered) from a distance. At the same time she watched on television photographs of houses flooded in her own neighborhood middle-class neighborhood. After several weeks ‘in exile’ Karen returned to New Orleans, gutted her home, salvaged lost objects that had floated away from her main floor, and grew concerned that houses around her were lingering in the hot fall sun, with owners no where to be seen to begin rehabbing them. A textile artist, she began photographing these houses, many shaped in the vernacular ‘shotgun’ design, concerned that their neglect would lead to their demolition and erasure of local landmarks essential to the way-finding of the neighborhood. With the help of some local ‘techno geeks’ half her age, she set up a blog, and began posting her photos on a blog she named Squandered Heritage. She went on to lead a phalanx of social media activists, whose tracking of the missteps of government recovery efforts became pivotal to the demands for more transparent decision-making and ‘open governance’, a trend in municipal government reform for which New Orleans is now a leader. Gadbois, who prior to Katrina had used a computer infrequently, went on to win a shelf full of the most coveted prizes in journalism, and to co-found The New Orleans Lens, an on-line investigative journalism pioneer, where she continues to work.
Timolynn Sams and the Neighborhoods Partnership Network. In the post-storm months, New Orleanians often found their evenings taken up with not one, but two or even three different community meetings each night. Taking place in people’s kitchens, backyards, church halls—one of the most enduring was the weekly meeting of the Neighborhoods Partnership Network, which took place every Wednesday evening at the local musicians union hall. With food provided by the legendary southern diner Lil Dizzy’s, NPN attracted all comers—parish priests, FEMA workers, politicians, business leaders, graduate students, newly mobilized neighborhood activists. It became a crucial conduit for neighborhoods to share information, commiserate, and strategize, nd a learning network for residents to build their own capacities as planners and developers of their new city. Sams, who returned to New Orleans after the storm to help the city recover, often described the mandate of NPN to recreate across the city the kind of neighborhood supports made famous by Sesame Street.
Dana Eness and The Urban Conservancy. One of the most retold anecdotes in post-Katrina New Orleans is how long it took for the Starbucks to reopen on Magazine street, a popular commercial corridor that bisects many city neighborhoods. While local coffee shops came back quickly, Starbucks remained shuttered for months, as Dana Eness and her Board at the Urban Conservancy would have predicted. Local businesses have a vested interest in getting their businesses back up, because their pay checks come out of the till; they are on the ground and can see solutions; and they have a network around them of suppliers and customers who will work with them to get back. The events of 2005 spurred on the efforts of the Conservancy to make clear the connections between a healthy local economy and the resilience of the city. Whether supporting Louisiana fisherman after the BP Oil disaster, commissioning research and marketing campaigns outlining the multiplier effect of buying locally, Eness has continued to promote the importance of investment vehicles, a supportive regulatory environment, an informed consumer base that supports local businesses, investment, and supply chains, and urban development that reconnects the city with its neighborhoods and natural assets.
Tim Williamson and Idea Village. Stagnating for decades with the relocation of oil and gas industry corporate offices to Texas and a rapidly declining population, in the fall of 2005 the challenges to the New Orleans economy seemed almost insurmountable. Although construction would boost parts of the economy for a finite period, Williamson had a premonition that the city was ripe for recruiting and training a new breed of entrepreneur, ones who could create economic and social value. He engaged the local business community, connecting them with the predominantly youthful start-up culture, which was gradually decamping from the scenes in Austin, Boulder and Brooklyn. Adhering to the adage of his organization to ‘trust your crazy ideas’, Williamson began to focus on creating a ‘entrepreneurial ecosystem’ of supports that included training, mentoring, and partnerships with business leaders and business schools across the country. He broadened his definition to include social entrepreneurs, to respond to the many kinds of challenges needing new approaches in the city. Now a recognized hot bed for innovation, Williamson’s latest efforts include incentivizing a new approach to managing ground water, and partnerships with a dozen of the country’s finest business schools, which annually assign their senior students business case assignments from NOLA. His model for economic development is rooted in fostering and growing local talent.
Carol Bebelle and the Ashe Cultural Center. For a dozen years Carol Bebelle ran with her longtime partner Douglas Redd, the Ashe Cultural Center, on one of the most historically significant streets in New Orleans: Oretha Castle Hailey Boulevard. Only blocks away from the elegance of St Charles Boulevard, OC Haley stood in the middle of Central City, a notoriously derelict and dangerous part of the city, made only worse by systemic failures that coincided with Katrina. But Bebelle soldiered on, providing a gathering and performance space for artists and culture workers, and after Katrina partnered with one of the city’s mainstream (read: white) cultural organizations, to use the storms of 2005 as an opportunity to discuss an issue that critically divided the city: race. Truth be Told was a series of ‘story circles’—where people gathered to discuss their experiences of race and racism in the city, both before and after Katrina. Perhaps the most profound of disconnections in the city, Bebelle sensed an opportunity, an inflection point, to confront racism in a new way, using the art of storytelling as an ideal medium. Amidst the recovery of the city, Redd died from a long illness, leaving Bebelle to chart a renewed path, which she has done by forming new production partnerships (including with New York City powerhouse Eve Ensler) and refinancing the building in which Ashe was housed, this time to provide artists housing above the Center.
Denise Thornton and the Beacon of Hope. Thornton over-stormed inside the Superdome, as a volunteer to support those who had sought refuge in the ‘place of last resort’. After several days of no power and overcrowding, fearing for own life and those in her care, she made a silent pact that if she survived she was going to find a way to ‘give back’. Eventually, she returned home to a house with no salvageable possessions, and no neighborhood, as the homes surrounding hers were equally devastated. Determined, she began the arduous process of hauling her family’s possessions to the curb, removing moldy sheetrock, and finding reliable tradespeople to rebuild. Throughout this process, she relied on the moral support of her close friends and neighbors, finding themselves in similar circumstances. After her own learning curve (which included screaming at a cable repair man atop a pole in an adjacent neighborhood that he must come to hers next), Thornton decided she would open her home to her neighbors for whatever kind of help they needed. With a pot of coffee and a fax machine, Thornton pinned a sign on her door, Come on in: this is your Beacon of Hope. Gradually more and more neighbors appeared. Soon other neighborhoods wanted their own Beacon of Hope, and Thornton and co. helped them set one up, eventually topping out at 17. Neighbor-led teams began to map their streets, identifying which houses needed attention, which parks needed mowing. They pulled together a market for their local businesses to initially come back and vend, while they too rebuilt. They helped seniors find volunteers get their houses fixed. At the height of the recovery in 2007 and 2008, Beacon was annually accommodating thousands of tourists coming to New Orleans wanting to extend their holidays by offering a ‘day of service’. They advised the state and local governments on longer-term strategies to support homes to become occupied. Since then Thornton and her team have advised community recovery efforts in other cities following severe weather events, most recently helping communities in Staten Island to set up Beacon of Hope New York.
Pam Dashiell and the Center for Sustainable Engagement and Development. Pam lived and worked in the Lower 9 and Holy Cross, the neighborhoods ‘down river’ that were flooded by the levee breaches on the Industrial Canal and the impact of an errant barge that broke though the wall of cement intended to hold back the water. Pam, an environmental activist, rallied her neighbors to get behind the Holy Cross Neighborhood Association and form the Center for Sustainable Engagement and Development, with the hope of building her neighborhoods back ‘green’. She struck deals with energy companies to finance – and teams of volunteers to retrofit—houses that could be saved, and worked with Brad Pitt and national sustainability leader Global Green to demonstrate the possibilities of building resilient new housing. She built bio-swails to absorb ground water, and helped create a lookout to Bayou Bienvenue, a nearby swamp, so residents could once again see the impacts of salination on the wetlands that had once protected their neighborhood. And she partnered with her neighbors ‘down the Bayou’, the Houma First Nation, on an initiative called ‘How Safe How Soon’, to knit together a better understanding of the inter-dependencies of city and coastal communities. Her partner in this crusade was Houma Chief Brenda Dardar Robichaud, and together these gals and their colleagues were a force of realistic optimism. To Pam, resilience was not a choice, it was an imperative. Pam died suddenly, at her computer, in December 2009, the night before she was to address a federal task force public hearing on coastal remediation.
***
These are only a few examples of the hyper-local ways in which New Orleans fostered its own resilience. There are many many more, such as community resilience work of the Vietnamese community in New Orleans East, led by Roman Catholic priests Father Vien and Father Luke. The resourceful efforts of Angela O’Byrne and her planning and design colleagues who together founded City Works, a non-profit to connect the best in urban planning and design to the recovery of New Orleans neighborhoods. And the extraordinary work of Richard McCarthy and Darlene Wolnick at reconnecting local farmers, shrimpers and oystermen with the chefs and every day consumers at their weekly markets, which were up and running (accepting local currency and food stamps), in a few short weeks following the storms.
Arts to support social change, the importance of small businesses to local neighborhoods, fostering local entrepreneurship as means of creating jobs and solving problems, social media tools that engage people in noticing what’s happening on their streets, the importance of aggregating local data and making it widely available, vigilance in holding federal agencies accountable, hyper-local enviro-activism paired with long-term thinking, setting up community ‘hubs’ for neighbors to mutually problem solve, and the always central role of food to a shared urban life. These are only a few of the many examples of granular resilience-building that New Orleans manifested in its recovery from the shocks of 2005. Resourceful approaches like these can be found in cities around the world, where home-grown approaches to urban livability and resilience are encouraged. In the absence of any large-scale public schemes, the people of this city were compelled to incubate their own resilience, locally, and in the process fostered new forms of urban innovation. In post-Katrina New Orleans, informal, improvised approaches became the new normal. Part of the fragility there continues to be how to support a transition to more reliably funded and scaled approaches, while still protecting the vibrant and informal without killing it with formality and predictability.
Shortly after I arrived there I began to refer to New Orleans as a ‘prophetic city’, exposing as it did challenges and opportunities to sustain and recreate urban life. Eight years ago, prophetic seemed to fit. But now, it seems almost old news, in the wake of these last few years when so many cities around the world have been faced with seemingly insurmountable challenges. Three years in Katrina, Karen Gadbois (above) said to me she had spent the first few years thinking that at any moment the cavalry was going to come over the hill and solve things. But then she realized, they weren’t, and that ‘we were the ones we’d been waiting for’.
This is why granular resilience matters: because large system fixes are slow, elusive, and questionably reliable. It is a much better bet that we look for ways now to enable the local innovation that produces the economic, social, environmental and cultural resilience our cities need. Once rooted, the best approaches can be ramped up, copied and adapted to suit new circumstances, forming an urban ecology of innovation.
Based on the insights gleaned from TNOC Festival, future research in urban ecology could benefit from multispecies urbanism, which emphasizes the integration of diverse species into city planning to enhance biodiversity and ecosystem services.
I recently attended The Nature of Cities Festival (TNOC Festival) in Berlin, Germany, where I hosted a session with colleagues on the Global Roadmap for the Nature-based solutions for Urban Resilience in the Anthropocene (NATURA), a National Science Foundation research initiative co-led by the Urban Systems Lab. TNOC Festival uniquely blends elements of a conference, art exhibition, and retreat, all centered on urban nature. This year, it was held at Atelier Gardens, a former hub of German filmmaking now repurposed as an event space. The philosophy of Atelier Gardens focuses on soil, soul, and society, integrating natural, social, and spiritual elements. This ethos matched the essence of the TNOC festival, promoting an inter- and transdisciplinary exchange and offering new experiences in the field of urban ecology.
Three key themes — granularity, dynamism, and embodiment — which emerged from the sessions I attended, are each highly relevant to my work at the Urban Systems Lab and on the NATURA Global Roadmap.
The themes illuminate the complex interactions between social, ecological, and technological components in urban environments, and in this blog, I explore how they connect to three compelling TNOC Festival sessions:
“The Hidden Life of Urban Pavement Cracks” introduces granularity: The examination of urban ecosystems at fine scales, revealing detailed insights into biodiversity and ecological processes in small niches like pavement cracks.
“Architecture as Trees” foregrounds dynamism: the continuous change and adaptation of urban nature systems over time, exemplified by evolving living structures and the ever-changing character of urban ecosystems.
I contend that these themes are crucial for advancing urban nature research, as they fill knowledge gaps and re-invigorate researchers, and align comprehensively with the social-ecological-technological systems (SETS) framework. By examining urban landscapes through these lenses, researchers can gain a more nuanced understanding of the intricate relationships shaping our cities and their natural elements.
The NATURA Global Roadmap and Social, Ecological, Technological Systems (SETs)
The NATURA Global Roadmap (GRM) is a groundbreaking initiative to synthesize knowledge and identify gaps in urban nature-based solutions (NbS) across academia and practice. By leveraging insights from NbS implementation in seven world regions, the GRM aims to create a comprehensive understanding of global urban sustainability efforts. This multi-faceted project will culminate in a global report and seven regional assessments on the state of urban NBS, slated for release in early 2025. Given the project’s scope and complexity, careful attention must be paid to granularity, dynamism, and embodiment throughout its execution.
One of the most helpful ways to contextualize this urban nature research is through a social, ecological, and technological systems framework (SETS), to measure the interactions between people, nature, and infrastructures. Similar to the Atelier Gardens model of soil, soul, and society, a SETS framework allows a holistic understanding of urban nature systems. In this context I argue that embodiment falls under a social-ecological interaction, dynamism as a social-technological interaction, and granularity as a technological-ecological system.
The Hidden Life of Urban Pavement Cracks
The Global Roadmap is interested in a variety of scales – including global, regional, national, city-wide, and site. What is difficult to focus on in a project of this size is the micro-ecosystem. The micro-ecosystem is the heart of the work that Dr. Sophie Lokatis and Susanne Weiland presented during their session “The Hidden Life of Urban Pavement Cracks.” They showed the resilient biodiversity that exists in urban pavement cracks, how it changes throughout the seasons, and the importance of this habitat for ground bees and wasps.
Weiland began the session by describing her masters project in which she documented the biodiversity of one pavement crack in London for six months. She discovered how riverine plants grow in the rainy months when the cracks are underwater for days at a time, and coastal plants grow in the drier season made possible by the salt spread on sidewalks during the winter to melt snow. She used this tiny cycle to show the resiliency and cohabitation of urban plants, even on the smallest scale.
Dr. Sophie Lokatis described her background in entomology that led to a project of documenting ground bees and wasps living in pavement cracks in urban areas. She showed the participants how to spot nests and how she captures and studies these incredible pollinators. Together they are part of an inaturalist project that encourages people to document urban pavement crack biodiversity all over the world.
Granularity and Technological-Ecological Systems in Urban Ecology
Granularity in urban nature research is crucial for understanding and managing the complex interplay between technological and ecological systems. By examining urban ecosystems at fine scales, researchers can uncover detailed insights into the biodiversity and ecological processes that occur in the smallest niches, such as pavement cracks. This level of detail is often overlooked in broader-scale studies but is essential for a comprehensive understanding of urban ecology. Granularity in research can also enhance the ability to develop targeted restoration and conservation strategies. Understanding the specific needs and habitats of species like ground bees and wasps can inform urban planning and green infrastructure development. This integration of technological and ecological systems ensures that urban environments can support diverse and resilient ecosystems even in the face of urbanization and climate change.
Architecture as Trees
During the first day’s plenary, Ferdinand Ludwig discussed his work on “living structures” inspired by living root bridges created and maintained by the Khasi in Eastern India. These bridges are fashioned using the aerial roots of rubber fig trees. As the aerial roots grow, the Khasi manipulate the roots to grow together by tying them and supporting the structures with wood or bamboo. These bridges can grow into constructions that hold up to 50 people and last for hundreds of years if maintained properly.
Ludwig was inspired by this process for his work in Germany on baubotanik or “living plant constructions.” Baubotanik is a building method of creating architectural structures through the interactions between technical joints and plant growth. Ludwig emphasizes the dynamics of this architecture, as hundreds of young plants fuse around a metal structure forming a “hyper-organism” that is constantly changing. This process challenges the idea that urban architecture projects have a finish date – that there is always room for growth and evolution.
Dynamism and Social Technological Systems in Urban Ecology
The concept of dynamism runs through Ludwig’s work and parallels the granularity in urban nature research by highlighting the ever-changing nature of urban ecosystems. Just as baubotanik structures evolve and adapt over time, urban ecosystems at micro scales, such as pavement cracks, are also dynamic and resilient. This dynamism is intrinsic to social technological systems, where human interventions and natural processes intertwine to create sustainable urban environments.
By embracing the dynamism and granularity of urban nature, researchers and planners can foster urban spaces that are not only biodiverse but also adaptable and resilient. This approach acknowledges that urban ecosystems are living systems, continually influenced by both technological advancements and ecological interactions. Thus, integrating granular research and dynamic living structures into urban planning can lead to more sustainable and innovative solutions for urban development.
Exploring the Power of Stories and Art for Understanding Diverse Perspectives on Nature-based Solutions
This session, run by Vanya Bisht, Mariana Hernández, and Danielle MacCarthy, invited participants to share personal stories about nature in four different urban ecosystem types: forest, urban core, river, and ocean. Using storytelling and drawing, participants expressed their experiences and visions for these ecosystems.
I was a part of the ocean group, where we explored how to redefine the concept of a beautiful beach. I drew a picture of moon jellyfish washing up on Coney Island shores, reminiscent of my childhood fascination with such an alien creature appearing in the midst of a dense urban environment. It caused me to think more deeply about my access to shorelines as a child and what felt special about the experience.
These narratives then informed a collaborative plan for what these urban ecosystems could look like in 2040 through the conceptualization and implementation of Nature-based Solutions. Instead of only imagining crystal clear waters and golden sands, we considered finding recreational joy in rocky or seaweed-filled beaches. This reimagining supports dune and mangrove restoration, which are vital for biodiversity and erosion protection, and reduces the carbon footprint associated with importing sand for “golden beach” aesthetic purposes. We also discussed the importance of access to waterways, drawing from experiences of limited water access in many areas of New York City, emphasizing the social component of urban coastlines.
Embodiment and the Social-Ecological System
The session highlighted the concept of embodiment, where personal interactions with nature are expressed and integrated into the planning of urban ecosystems. Embodiment in this context refers to the physical and emotional experiences individuals have with their environment, which are crucial in shaping their connection to urban nature. By sharing stories and creating drawings, participants physically engaged with their memories and perceptions of nature, embodying their experiences in a tangible form.
This embodiment creates a social-ecological system where human experiences and natural elements are interwoven. Personal stories and creative expressions become part of the broader ecological narrative, influencing how urban ecosystems are conceptualized and designed. The social aspect is evident as participants’ collective experiences and insights contribute to a shared vision for future urban environments, emphasizing the interconnectedness of social and ecological systems. By incorporating these embodied experiences into urban planning, we can create more inclusive and responsive urban ecosystems. This approach ensures that the design of urban spaces reflects the diverse ways people interact with nature, fostering environments that support both ecological resilience and social well-being.
Furthermore, this process of sharing and embodying personal experiences is vital for inspiring researchers. It provides them with rich, qualitative data and insights that might not emerge from traditional scientific methods alone. Engaging with the lived experiences of individuals helps researchers to appreciate the nuanced and multifaceted relationships people have with urban nature, driving innovative and empathetic approaches in their work. By connecting on a human level, researchers can develop a deeper understanding of the social dimensions of urban ecology, ultimately enhancing the impact and relevance of their research. Thus, the session not only redefined the aesthetics of urban nature but also reinforced the importance of integrating human experiences into the ecological fabric of cities, inspiring researchers to consider the holistic and dynamic nature of urban ecosystems.
Conclusion
The Nature of Cities Festival in Berlin provided a dynamic platform to explore urban nature’s multifaceted dimensions. Granularity emphasized the importance of fine-scale research in urban ecosystems; dynamism highlighted the evolving nature of urban environments; and embodiment incorporated personal experiences and emotional connections with nature into urban planning. The festival showcased interdisciplinary exchange, reinforcing the necessity of a SETS framework in urban nature research to promote resilient, inclusive, and vibrant urban ecosystems worldwide.
Based on the insights gleaned from the festival, future research in urban ecology could benefit from multispecies urbanism, which emphasizes the integration of diverse species into city planning to enhance biodiversity and ecosystem services. City planners can apply these insights by designing urban spaces that accommodate various species’ needs, promoting coexistence between humans and wildlife at multiple scales. This approach can lead to healthier, more resilient urban environments. Additionally, emerging technologies such as remote sensing, environmental DNA (eDNA) analysis, and Artificial intelligence-backed climate modeling will enable more precise monitoring and management of urban ecosystems. These innovative methods and interdisciplinary collaborations will be crucial in advancing our understanding and implementation of nature-based solutions in urban settings.
McPhearson, Timon, Elizabeth M. Cook, Marta Berbés-Blázquez, Chingwen Cheng, Nancy B. Grimm, Erik Andersson, Olga Barbosa, et al. 2022. “A Social-Ecological-Technological Systems Framework for Urban Ecosystem Services.” One Earth 5 (5): 505–18.https://doi.org/10.1016/j.oneear.2022.04.007.
Wieland, Susanne Elizabeth. 2022. “‘The Hidden Life of a Pavement Crack.’” JAWS: Journal of Arts Writing by Students 8 (Art and Non-Human Agencies): 23–30.https://doi.org/10.1386/jaws_00040_1.
A review of: Eyes on the Street: The Life of Jane Jacobs, by Robert Kaniglel. 2016. Knopf. 512 pages. Buy the book. Garden Legacy, by Mary Louise Mossy Christovich and Roulhac Bunkley Toledano, with a foreword by S. Frederick Starr. 2016. The Historic New Orleans Collection. 268 pages. Buy the book. Ecocities Illustrated: the easily built visionary future of Richard Register,byRichard Register. 2016. Buy the book.
The pile of books that I am reading is usually a hodgepodge of different subjects and eras. But this month there seems to be a theme. The new, well-regarded biography of Jane Jacobs, an illustrated history of New Orleans landscape architecture, and a new book about designing cities using natural forms are all there.
Clearly, I am presently concerned about cities. And especially about my own city of New Orleans and those similar, meaning those that start as a colony, and continue to find it difficult to know how to design a visionary future with those who live there.
Cities are made better when their spaces are designed with citizens’ full input, using the patterns of nature and when managing precious resources ably, so they and future generations can live in harmony with each other and with the natural world.
New Orleans, according to many locals, is in a downward spiral that has quickened since 2005’s Hurricane Katrina’s levee breaks, an event seen by locals as a betrayal of the city by the federal government and the Army Corps of Engineers. But even before those dark days, the decay of this colonial city has been tragically evident for some time. I remember a colleague saying decades before, quite earnestly, that New Orleans has been in decline since the late 1860s.
His (and others) definition is referencing those leaders who, from the 1860s to the 1960s, began to actively promote and support the narrative of the city’s slavery era over the city’s more multicultural story—the one which has seen waves of successful immigration, the development of a modern art form in jazz, heroism in managing the most important river basin and Southern port on the continent, artists who offer poetic tales of the human condition that stand the test of time, the genial and joyous use of public space unparalleled by any other Global Northern city, and so on. In order to continue to serve the false narrative of the “glory” of the antebellum period, the continued presence of a subjugated population and an official lack of regard for the intrinsic value of the place were continued and define New Orleans as a colony still.
The ongoing attachment to the colonial mindset by many here was made clear yet again in 2016 when Mayor Mitch Landrieu decided that four statues of U.S. Civil War Confederates, erected during the Jim Crow days, were to be removed from public space. [Jim Crow laws were enacted by local and state governments to enforce racial segregation and discrimination in the United States from the late 19th Century up until, in some cases, the 1960s.] The city remained in an uproar for the next six months as the idea was debated in contentious City Hall public hearings and in boardrooms and bars. The lack of agreement on what to do was indicated by the Council’s vote of 6-1 to remove the statues but with no funds provided and the business community’s ignoring the mayor’s pleas for equipment loans for their removal. As the last of the four statues was dismantled (by masked city workers) on the evening of 22 May 2017, Confederate flags were still being waved by defiant protesters in front of weeping African-American activists who thought that even this the day would never come. The argument continues as decisions about where the statues will go and what will be raised in their place have yet to be made as of this writing. What is clear already is that the issue of racism will continue to tragically thrive in a city populated by a majority of people of color.
That long decline and the current controversy for updating its symbols in public spaces is why my current pile of books is about public involvement in the design of cities. One person who considered this issue in great detail was writer Jane Jacobs, best known as the author of The Death and Life of Great American Cities, Cities and the Wealth of Nations, and six other books, including a children’s book and a memoir about a great aunt who was a teacher on Alaska’s frontier.
Her life is the subject of a new opera, a new documentary (“Citizen Jane: Battle for the City”), and the impetus for a series of annual walks (“Jane’s Walks”) organized in a dozen cities on the anniversary of her birth in early May. Since Jacobs’ work could never be separated from the places and people that she lived in and around, Kanigel’s biography offers much relevant detail about how that life was shaped. And because she will be quoted for generations, it is helpful to finally have a record of the circumstances about each of her books to refer to when others get her wrong. Of course, her big idea was that cities were the intersection of achievement and innovation and to fulfill that role, had to be considered and managed according to their best uses in making human-scaled connections, and not through a lens of bureaucratic tangles of misshapen policy and hubris handed down from City Hall, or by the best way for developers to sell it.
Her consistent disdain for top-down, by-the-book planning and economic theory was on display to such a degree in her books and interviews that is understandable why some of those by-the-book planners or economists still dismiss her work. After all, this biography shows again and again that she expected those officials to shut up, to listen, and to observe. An aside: Even her supporters can quibble with a point of hers here or there, but still read her words with gusto: one such example is she believed that cities came before the development of agriculture, a theory not supported by most archaeologists or anthropologists, then or now. This is one of those ideas that may be seen as an indication of the zeal that she had for her subject rather than her relying on a great deal of empirical evidence to support her theory. Even so, her few miscalculations notwithstanding, her brilliantly crafted analysis stands the test of time, parrying most of the slings and arrows of her detractors and leaving no doubt that her practical and accessible prose with its curious, professorial voice will continue to inspire new generations.
That disdain for top-down decisions was developed in the work she also managed to do even while becoming a best-selling author: being a savvy neighborhood organizer in New York and later in Toronto. The role of a community organizer and its focus on temporal tactics is in many ways the antithesis of the role of an author specializing in deep analysis of different systems, and so the details of those campaigns in Kanigel’s book make her seem even more impressive. Through anecdotes and letter excerpts, her belief in direct action was made clear and her skill as a grassroots leader presented with engaging detail by the author.
Is New Orleans a great city when seen through Jane’s spectacles? In some ways it is, because of the resilience of its people, who are doing exactly what she noticed in place after place: finding ways to make public and private spaces useful, beautiful, and dynamic even when those in charge make it difficult.
Such work is evident in the next book on my table: Garden Legacy, a coffee table book was published by The Historic New Orleans Collection, a French Quarter-based museum, research library and publisher of books on the region’s history. Using the 300-years of notary archives of New Orleans, it gives neighborhood-by-neighborhood examples of the green spaces made by early settlers of the city in illustrations of those spaces and of the homes attached. Early watercolors, sketches and plans of landscaped areas of the French Quarter, Uptown and Bayou St. John neighborhoods of New Orleans are included along with the authors’ architectural expertise and deep research into the properties being displayed. In this history of 18th and 19th-century landscapes of the city, one can easily see how individuals patterned the place we now inhabit through designs that took into consideration the curves and intricacies of the natural world that they found—and marveled over—here. One émigré to the city wrote this in 1803 to his wife:
“I have found, following my usual good luck, a very pretty little house with courtyard and garden…I shall, while awaiting you, have flowers planted which shall only be dried and pressed by you and whose first blossoms shall only be picked by my sweet wife…The sky here is so beautiful here, the greenery so lush, one can sometimes travel a league under an alley of orange trees, their aromas will even go to your head. Think then what the whole country must be like.”
The authors, Mary Louise Mossy Christovich and Roulhac Bunckley Toledano are both well-known preservation activists in New Orleans. Christovich was instrumental in the successful fight to stop the 1960s federal highway spur project slated to run through the French Quarter, originally proposed by none other than Robert Moses. The authors are both experts on the architectural history of New Orleans, having authored over a dozen books on the architecture and preservation of New Orleans, (eight together) including Toledano’s impressive A Pattern Book Of New Orleans Architecture.
Thinking about design of natural places leads me to Richard Register’s book: Ecocities Illustrated: the easily built visionary future of Richard Register. I met Richard when he came to New Orleans during the recovery from 2005’s levee breaks during Hurricane Katrina, hoping to inspire planners and neighborhood leaders with more relatable and sustainable recovery designs. He saw much potential in using the natural world that had reasserted itself since the levee breaks as the basis for rebuilding. His work to illustrate living cities that resemble the human body or other natural curves and designs has always been thoughtful and hopeful and those qualities were in short supply in New Orleans in those (literally) dark days. Yet I remember meeting with him in my Federal Emergency Management Agency-supplied trailer at the edge of the very bayou that had spilled over its banks into my apartment months before and telling him regretfully that I was at a loss to find people in power who would be open to his wonderful ideas. The truth was, at that moment City Hall and most residents were suspicious of people who came with visionary ideas (actually, the suspicion of any outsider with ideas is a typical colonial mindset) and would be doubly so of those who expected them to love the natural world and its power so soon after it had destroyed their homes and lives.
It may just be that he simply came too soon: in 2017, many natural design projects and collaborations are now underway, especially in terms of living with the water that surrounds us rather than frantically attempting to pump it all back to the Mississippi River or to Lake Pontchartrain. As a result, New Orleans is becoming a center for sensible water management and in the battle against coastal loss. Still, many scientists expect the erosion and increased ferocity of the weather patterns to submerge our city within the next century. Nevertheless, we persist.
After he went back to California, I bought his Ecocities, book and did my best to share it and his ideas with any neighborhood leaders who would consider honoring those recalcitrant waterways and would allow native greenery to take over previously paved areas. I’m not even sure whose library that book ended up in (as it was passed into so many hands in the last decade), but I hope it helped steer some of my colleagues towards those offering better design.
His new book offers many of his original lovely, quirky drawings that are at the basis of his presentations and books. These illustrations allow citizens to imagine their city as a whole, living organism, rather than as asphalted streets, laid out to save time or money, but not to encourage human-powered traversing or to offer a style of living that works easily and well. The sketches are organized by subject: whole cities, plazas, transport, natural features, and mapping, accompanied by strategies for advocating for them. He shows examples of how places can uncover their natural rhythms and spaces so that floods, winds, and other natural phenomena don’t have to destroy them. In addition to serving as a primer for the ideas of natural designs for cities, it serves another purpose: as an illustration of Jane Jacobs’ theories, and of the words of that New Orleans settler who marveled over making one’s way using the shade of the orange tree alleys.
* * * * *
Here is what these books and these writers have taught me this spring: A city’s best eras are not defined by its bureaucracy or only by its grandest designs, as even those designs can be divisive, badly crafted or out of scale to the patterns of use in that city. Cities are made better when their spaces are designed with citizens’ full input, using the patterns of nature and when managing precious resources ably, so they and future generations can live in harmony with each other and with the natural world.
A review of:Paradoxes ofGreen, by Gareth Doherty. 2016. 216 pages. ISBN: 9780520285026. University of California Press.Buy the book.
The new green of Bahrain is unsustainable. It is a marketing strategy, not a pathway toward a viable future.
Greening cities has become an internationalized norm in urban sustainability initiatives. Increasing open spaces and urban vegetation are widely seen as positive improvements for the quality of life of city residents, and contributing to the improvement of urban environmental performance. Doherty’s explorations of the application of greening ideas and practices to Bahrain, an island ten miles wide and thirty miles long, a nation as well as a city-state, demonstrates the complexity of this accepted notion in a desert environment that, traditionally, had extraordinarily abundant groundwater and artesian wells. These occurred both on land and offshore. As he explains, water was so plentiful in Bahrain that there is a story that Abu Dhabi used to import freshwater by boat from Bahrain. This was before oil was “discovered” and the oil industry developed.
Doherty is a landscape architect who spent a year in Bahrain exploring the concept of green in this small city state. His complex and subtle book is divided into 8 chapters, the last of which is “The Whiteness of Green”. He describes his year of fieldwork walking and investigating the color green in Bahrain, first by trying to abstract the color from the object, but then understanding the daily importance of green; green is inherently related to the objects it colors and becomes part of the pragmatic meaning and value of these objects. He uses color in this book as more than an adjective, more than a color. Green is relational. And so the book is inherently concerned with the spatiality and geographies of color in the built—and grown—urban environment, and its complex meanings and associations. The book is composed of vignettes that are loosely connected and immensely rich in detail and thoughtful reflection. The chapters depict the complex relationships between the color green and the social and physical infrastructures that sustain green in Bahrain’s arid built environment. He discusses the changes overtime, placing them in Bahrain’s historical evolution. Contemporary green lives in dialectical tension with other culturally and environmentally significant colors and hues: blue, red, date palm green, beige, bright green and white, and their relationships to each other. In a time of overwhelming interest in green, Doherty’s exploration of colors and their cultural, political and other meanings, as well as sheer composition and interactions, is enlightening and a welcome addition to our understandings of the contingency of meaning in color.
Chapter two outlines the water infrastructure of the country—the blue—and the politics of treated sewage effluent. Chapter 3 addresses the politics of the colors green and red in Bahrain among the Shi’a and Sunni populations, and sets up a dialogue between the two colors. Chapter 4 focuses on the memory, history, color and urbanism of the green of the Bahraini date palm and the erosion of the political power of green by property development. Chapter 5 explores urban planning for the capital city Manama and attempts to preserve a green belt of date palm greenery, also succumbing to land development, but replaced by brilliant green imported plants like lawns, roses and petunias. In chapter 6, Doherty muses about the promise of green through beige, and how to valorize better the traditional green by preserving desert beige, brown and silver native landscapes. Rain in Bahrain creates a spectacular explosion of a specific green, short, exciting, and called “jangily” it is so intense. Chapter 7 delves into the new green and its desirability and cost as well. Finally chapter 8 addresses the color white and its relationship to green. White is the summation of all colors. Doherty is calling for attention to the value of color, of green and its many shades and hues. He advocates for a greater social component to design and awareness of color in the urban fabric. And, of course, the implications of the wrong green in the wrong place.
Doherty discusses how the concept of green in this small city state, evolved after the discovery of oil and the growing influence of the British. His fine discussion of the color green itself is extremely enlightening in the age of so many types of green in public and academic discourse. He shows how it carries a plethora of implicit human values as well as political meanings in this part of the world, and these drive the use of green as an ideological construct and political tool. For example, green is a color clearly associated with the Shi’a branch of Islam, though it is also the color of Islam as can be seen in the prevalence of green in the national flags of Arab states. However, Doherty explains, Bahrainis, treading fine political lines, are careful not to mention religious or political associations out of context. They did, though, invariably associate green with the imperiled date palm groves, a stronger connection among Shi’a than for the Sunni as the country was once predominantly Shi’a and agricultural. Through the discussion of green, Doherty explores the complex relationships among Shi’a and Sunni, the influences of Saudi Arabia and Iran in the country, and how green is used politically.
At the same time, Doherty is exploring the shifting notion of green in Bahrain’s landscapes, and consequences in the changes in types of plants, and open spaces. In his year in Bahrain, he did not have a car, and when it was not too hot, mainly walked as his main form of transportation. This enabled him an intimate relationship with the largely urbanized region, but also with people met informally. He discusses how with oil and modernization, including British city planners commissioned to plan parks, European standards for open space and plantings began to supplant local traditions. For example, parks with lawns for the elite, replacing date palm orchards as informal parks, for all classes. European-style park building is associated with class division—immigrant communities are largely kept out of the new open spaces as they are inaccessible by public transportation. The European style gardens come with new types of development as well: gated subdivisions and villas. These are highly prized by ex-pats, wealthy Bahrainis and others from the Gulf states. In addition to increased demand for fresh water due to oil extraction, population growth and urbanization, such landscapes are very water intensive, as well as dependent on fertilizers, pesticides and herbicides to survive.
Doherty explains how desert, for many Bahrainis, is seen as dirty and backward. Luscious green lawns of villas and the roundabouts in the city, are the shade of green that people want, not the gray green of the date palm, or scrubby native vegetation. Green is a symbol of development, but it is the bright green of imported vegetation. And it comes as a privileged space with gates.
In the early 1970s, Manama, the capital, adopted a thirty-year master plan that was designed to allow for the expansion of the city and accommodate the masses of foreign workers who were expected to come to Bahrain. A.M. Munro, a Scottish-born planner spear-headed the plan, sent over by the British Ministry for Overseas Development as a planning advisor for two years, shortly before independence. Munro proposed a greenbelt to the west of Manama in his master plan. When asked to make a similar plan for Greater Manama, west of the city, he allegedly refused to prepare a plan for housing and urbanization in the predominantly gray-green region covered with date palm groves. He advocated for their conservation and not development. Doherty points out Munro’s plan followed norms of the time and precedents in London and elsewhere in the Gulf for the establishment of greenbelts. These ideas came down from Sir Patrick Abercrombie the eminent town planner who was instrumental in the establishment of the Greater London Green Belt with his Greater London Plan of 1944. That area is still not developed, though there is a highway that runs right through the greenbelt that is now lined with development of both sides; it is being further encroached upon with a new proposal to preserve only 49% of the land—a vestigial remnant of the gray-green date palm open space of the past.
Keeping the remaining date palms is increasingly unlikely. As in many places in the world, farmers wish to be able to achieve their land’s full potential for development, and thus there is little incentive to maintain the date palm groves, a link to the country’s past and history. Doherty explains those pro-development dynamics, but also expresses the contradiction in Bahraini sentiments about this transformation.
Bahrain’s gray-green areas are extremely complex spaces harboring intricately balanced ecologies, history and social life—and once destroyed, they cannot be easily recreated. It is the complexity of these spaces that makes them so special. A text from 1905 describes a Bahrain that many residents still remember, or can at least still imagine: ‘The island is a pleasant oasis. . . The golden-dusted roads which cross it are broad and shaded on either side by long forests of date palms, deepening into an impenetrable greenness, cool with the sound of wind among the great leaves and the tinkle of flowing water. (p. 97)
The desire for modernization and the amenities perceived to accompany a more European style land development and landscaping are transforming Bahrain. But this not without nostalgia for the past and some hesitation.
As Doherty explains, the transformation of the landscapes is only one aspect of profound environmental transformation in this small state. Groundwater has nearly been depleted and the country relies on desalinization plants for fresh water and irrigation. Sand storms have increased in prevalence and intensity, rain seems to be less frequent than it used to be, and the country grapples with increased pollution from chemicals used in agriculture and landscaping. Landscape greening in Bahrain clearly does not provide the kinds of benefits sustainability literature as a whole alleges. Greening as a strategy needs a great deal more situated scrutiny. It is largely an Anglo-American-European dominated approach that implicitly assumes water is available and that, culturally, people need and like “green”. There is insufficient examination of whether such affinity is ubiquitous, and how modernization and ideas of what landscapes should look like come with cultural and ecosystem ethnocentrism. One gets the sense from Doherty’s book, that Bahrainis associate lush green landscapes with being modern. In Bahrain, lush green landscapes have significant environmental impacts, and undermine the possibility of developing an autochthonous, place based urbanism that is more culturally and environmentally grounded in place. It was a British Protectorate from 1820 – 1970. The discovery of oil (largely by virtue of British explorers) expanded British influence in Bahrain. While the UK protectorate may have buffered the small island from incursions by neighboring tribes and countries, it also meant a very strong colonial influence, including the imprisonment of leftist nationalists in the mid-1950s who were calling for the end of British interference and political reforms. Such unrest continued through the 1960s.
While Doherty only gently implies that British and European colonial values undermine Bahraini traditions that are more compatible with the ecology of the island, it is clear that the new green of Bahrain is unsustainable. It is visually compelling and may appeal as environmental, but such greening in Bahrain is a marketing strategy, not a pathway toward a viable future. The use of color in this book to build an ethnographic window into the country is enormously compelling, thought provoking and enlightening. A fascinating read and a call for much greater care in assuming greater greening translates to greater urban sustainability.
Every month we feature a Global Roundtable in which a group of people respond to a specific question in The Nature of Cities.
show/hide list of writers
Hover over a name to see an excerpt of their response…click on the name to see their full response.
Pippin Anderson, Cape TownHow do I feel about exotic plant species in cities? Bring them on! How do I feel about invasive exotics in cities? Zero tolerance, extirpate!
Erle Ellis, BaltimoreThe natives are restless: it’s time to embrace species on the move and the biodiversity melting pots of the Anthropocene.
Leonie Fischer, BerlinA mix of native target and nonnative spontaneous species may perform best as viable assemblages for restoration in novel urban ecosystems.
Mark Hostetler, GainesvilleI propose that a goal for urban green infrastructure is not native purity, but a sensible mix of native and exotic plants.
Madhusudan Katti, FresnoThere is opportunity in California’s drought crisis to transform cities into more biophilic and resilient places in harmony with the regional climate and water availability.
Ingo Kowarik, BerlinIt’s time to reconcile controversial positions in the alien/native debate. We need differentiated approaches, and thinking before acting.
Mark McDonnell, MelbourneWe need to move beyond this moral dualism where we view native species as ‘good’ and exotic species as ‘bad.’
Colin Meurk, LincolnFrom a national duty of care perspective for biodiversity, there is an imperative to eradicate or manage alien organisms that pose a threat to our productive systems, biodiversity (indigenousness), and natural character of landscapes.
Matt Palmer, New York CityManage the real impacts, though measuring them is hard. “Native purity” can be a useful aspiration but is a nearly impossible goal.
Bill Toomey, Sandy Hook It may be unrealistic to think we have the time, money and resources to manage our existing urban areas and nature in cities with a purist, native-only perspective.
Yolanda van Heezik, DunelinA significant downside of allowing introduced species to take over our environment is loss of national identity.
Paula Villagra, Los RiosUrban spaces are newer ecosystem types and imply thinking about and planning for them as hybrid systems, which are neither natural nor anthropic.
Nature is dynamic, constantly evolving and adapting to changes. In its various forms and functions (be it plants or animals), nature is accounting for human-induced changes, reorganizing itself to form novel ecosystems. Urban spaces are distinct novel ecosystems with a mix of various green forms—cultivated ornamental exotics, spontaneous exotics, spontaneous natives, invasive weeds, hybrids and more. Irrespective of their origins, most forms of greenery are welcome in our concrete urban jungles. They seem to perform various ecosystem functions in our densely packed urban spaces.
While conservation of native species is important, is it viable, in rapidly evolving urban spaces, to insist on native purity? With increasing numbers of climate refugees, can native purity be stressed too much? Or is it better to look at green forms and functions—both native and introduced—where they assist ecosystem functioning, filling up gaps in urban ecosystems? Instead of the “good natives, bad aliens” narrative, should conservationists look only at aggressive invasives that disrupt certain ecosystem functions as bad, rather than emphasizing purity? How important is it to strictly plant native species in urban areas? Can non-natives also be welcome?
Pippin Anderson, a lecturer at the University of Cape Town, is an African urban ecologist who enjoys the untidiness of cities where society and nature must thrive together.
FULL BIO
How do I feel about exotic plant species in cities? Bring them on! How do I feel about invasive exotics in cities? Zero tolerance, extirpate!
I think so much of the beauty of cities is in their diversity. Individual cities have phenomenal diversity in their people, cultures, religions, views, gardens, buildings and public spaces. Indeed, different cities even smell differently. It is this very diversity that makes cities the “fonts of ingenuity” they are celebrated for. I believe the same goes for exotic species in cities. Why not embrace this element of human choice and conviction? It brings considerable joy to be able to select plant species, and people should have the right to choose based on preference, use, aesthetics, aroma and even just keeping up with the people next door. Indigenous species have a role to play in contributing to critical species pools and linking smaller city conservation entities, for example, but I think allowing freedom of choice among urban dwellers in what they plant will still see some people choosing to plant indigenous flora.
Diversity, including exotic species, makes cities the ‘fonts of ingenuity’ they are celebrated for.
Having said that, I do think we need to take an extremely firm view against invasive exotic species in cities. Cities are typical entry points for invasive exotic species. As these species do considerable ecological harm to indigenous communities, with ecosystem service and livelihood repercussions, it would be irresponsible not to take a firm and vigilant approach to invasive species in cities. I think turning a blind eye to invasive exotics in cities, or taking a view that they somehow be tolerated due to the urban setting, is something akin to ignoring a primary cancer.
So it appears to be something of a yes/no answer from me on this question, but I do believe the two categories are clearly differentiated. There is, of course, the potential threat, in light of anticipated change, that some currently benign exotics will turn invasive. What better place to keep an eye on this possibility, though, than in our cities? Here we have expertise, resources and the opportunity for considerable civic engagement (for example, the highly effective iSpot site). I believe we should embrace exotic species, which afford the public ecological autonomy and considerable joy, but we should simultaneously use the opportunity to engage the public and ensure people are educated in what is indigenous, exotic, and invasive. I believe the City of Cape Town is making considerable inroads in this area and their website presents a number of projects to this end.
Natives on the move: embracing change and evolution in biodiversity melting pots
The call to sustain native species in urban landscapes began decades ago in the U.S. Native plantings are now widespread. Partly in response to this trend, native wildlife—from songbirds to foxes, beavers, coyotes, wolves and bears—are returning to and thriving within regions they were driven from long ago. Native plantings are responsible to some degree, as native plant communities have been shown to sustain larger populations of native wildlife than nonnative plantings under some conditions. This is good news: a reversal of trends toward declining native biodiversity in landscapes increasingly inhospitable to wildlife.
Yet an exclusive focus on planting natives in urban landscapes might create more problems than it can solve. To begin with, the concept of a “native species” is, itself, a problem. Species are generally considered native based on a long history of inhabiting a specific area—but how long is long enough? In parts of Europe, species introduced before 1492 (“archaeophytes”) are distinguished from more recent arrivals (neophytes) and are therefore considered “more native.” European earthworms now predominate in soils across North America and no one realistically plans to eradicate these alien ecosystem engineers, despite their transformative effects on ecosystems. Outside the tropics, the native ranges of species have always been dynamic, migrating south ahead of glacial ice and north with the return of warming. Now, with climate changing faster than ever, species are moving north again. Attempting to keep species where they are “native” would involve limiting their northwards migrations. In the Anthropocene, there are negative consequences to labeling some species as natives and others not.
Novel communities often produce high levels of ecosystem services and provide valuable habitats for native wildlife.
What does “native” mean in an anthropogenic landscape full of built structures, tilled soils, excess nutrients and heat, pollutants, and other human-altered conditions? Urban ecosystems are novel ecosystems permanently transformed in biota and environmental conditions from those that existed before. It should be no surprise that novel ecosystems are full of species from other places, introduced both intentionally and unintentionally. Novel communities are the biodiversity mixing pots of the Anthropocene, bringing natives together with introduced species and immigrants from all over the world. Novel communities often produce high levels of ecosystem services and provide valuable habitats for native wildlife.
That seemingly inhospitable environments, such as brownfields and vacant lots, can support diverse and thriving novel communities rife with ecosystem services is truly remarkable, and these would generally not be possible if only native species were present. Some of the most common species in urban landscapes, such as the Tree of Heaven (Ailanthus altissima) and the Rock Pigeon (Columba livia) are found across the cities of the world. These are the true natives of the urban landscape.
To sustain the diversity of life on Earth over the course of the Anthropocene, extinction of species must be avoided while evolutionary processes that produce biodiversity are sustained. Quite often, native plantings in parks and yards are domesticates produced by large scale nurseries and seed corporations, and many are reproduced by cloning. These “natives” might as well be crops, and when they breed with remnant populations of wild natives, their narrow genetic base can reduce diversity in nearby populations of natives that are regenerating without human direction. By planting native cultivars, we may be helping to end the evolution by natural selection of our most favored native species.
As Earth moves deeper into the Anthropocene, species are on the move and coming together in ever more novel communities, ecosystems and landscapes—the biodiversity melting pots of the Anthropocene. It is time to assist native species in moving and to embrace a dynamic vision of what it means to be native: to belong in a place, whether it is urban, agricultural, seminatural or wild.
Are cities really the best places to conserve native species? The value of natives in cities is unclear, especially when these are domesticates. Biodiversity conservation is a global challenge and urban areas cover just a small percentage of Earth’s land. Yet the infrastructure of cities crosses continents; by redesigning transport networks, dams and hydrologic modifications, it may be possible to assist the migration of species responding to climate change. To conserve Earth’s remaining ecological heritage, it is time for our societies and our cultures of nature to embrace the dynamics of species on the move and the biodiversity melting pots of the Anthropocene—immigrants together with natives. We must work to sustain the wellsprings of evolution and biodiversity in the face of the unprecedented challenges of the Anthropocene.
Leonie works as urban ecologist at Technische Universität Berlin, where she focuses on vegetation dynamics, conservation and restoration in urban landscapes.
Urban restoration: induced coexistence of natives and nonnatives in novel ecosystems
During transformational processes, many green spaces evolve in urban areas such as derelict industrial sites, unused train tracks or forgotten garden lots. The vegetation communities of such wasteland sites can bear few botanical treasures, but can also be characterized by the most common ruderal species. In either case, the participating species can be native and nonnative species alike.
Urban wastelands have a great potential for conserving and fostering biodiversity.
Plant communities of informal urban greenspaces are often shaped by the specific history and setting of the site (e.g., its soil type, its water availability or its anthropogenic disturbances), by its surrounding (the urban matrix), and by its potential seed sources (the seed bank of the site, nearby plantings or dispersal vectors such as humans, animals or cars). That is, a site’s plant community developed out of the site’s history and its surroundings, and can thus bear an unusual mix of species that is best adapted to the site’s special setting.
Given the homogenization of plant communities at the international level, I argue that urban wastelands have a great potential for conserving and fostering biodiversity. They can be used as refuges for rare and regional species, and (if succession is not the focus of conservation) can be optimized for habitat conservation. Techniques of ecological restoration adapted to an urban context can be used to establish substitute habitats that are lost outside cities. In such cases, the aim is to establish particular plant species and to ensure that they build viable populations in the long run. That means that target species need to be able to compete with their ruderal neighbors. In the end, they may jointly form novel types of species assemblages.
In my opinion, such restored plant communities do not need to display the historical stages of their reference ecosystems, but rather can be adapted to the ever-changing urban context. In addition to native target species central to conservation efforts, these communities may include those species that are best adapted to the site, independent of their origin. Only when this is true will restored sites function in the long run, without an exaggerated dose of maintenance and care.
Nevertheless, in the act of urban restoration, we can give a “signal” for native target species to establish on new sites, as these may not have gotten there due to spatial barriers or missing propagule pools in the surrounding.
Given that most city dwellers experience nature in their close surroundings by looking outside the window on their way to work, for example, I argue that their needs and preferences are of equal importance to what nature conservationists focus on. We should find out if people highly value certain natives or certain species assemblages that are dominated by natives (e.g., when defining target species for a restoration project). If urban restoration succeeds in identifying flagship species that are of native origin, the goals of both sides can be incorporated.
In the end, I speak up for (a) identifying and using the potential of urban contexts to foster native species, such as on urban wastelands, and thus contribute to a diverse, heterogenous urban flora, (b) welcoming urban plant communities that are largely a mix of species of different origins that rely on the environmental settings of a site, and (c) including aesthetic preferences of residents when choosing of a set of species, independent of the origin of those species.
Around the world, cities are a mixture of exotic and native species. These novel or “recombinant ecosystems” represent unique plant and animal communities that have been purposely or accidently created by humans. The question posed for this roundtable is whether “native purity” is a viable option for urban green infrastructure. I would suggest that returning urban habitats to a semblance of past, native assemblages of species is unrealistic in most cities.
Instead, we should think about restoring urban habitats in terms of “reconciliation ecology,” where the goal is not to return to pristine, indigenous habitats, but to implement strategies that simply increase the diversity of native species in urban areas. Below, I touch on why we should increase native diversity in cities and why we should be careful about the types of exotics used in cities.
Natural heritage and the extinction of experience
With more and more people living in cities, the chance to experience and appreciate indigenous flora and fauna is in yards, neighborhoods and city parks. With the same generalist (exotic) species dominating cities around the world, this homogenized environment is what urban residents experience and they lose touch with their unique natural heritage. This exposure to a more degraded habitat and isolation from native plants and animals reduces peoples’ connection to nature and willingness to invest time and money for biodiversity conservation. Implementing strategies that increase the diversity of native plants and animals would expose citizens to local species, creating a sense of place. This strong identity with native plant and animal species ultimately raises awareness and support for biodiversity conservation.
Native animal diversity, in general, is correlated to native vegetation diversity.
Exotics and risk of environmental impacts
Exotic plants in urban landscapes can require a large amount of care, which increases natural resource consumption and impacts on the environment. For example, turfgrass and some ornamental plants (e.g., roses) installed on nutrient poor soils in Florida means a homeowner has to irrigate, use herbicides and pesticides, and fertilize extensively to keep the grass and plants healthy. Excess fertilizers (e.g., phosphate and nitrate that is not taken up by yard plants) end up in local wetlands and water bodies when nutrients run off the landscape after a storm event. With pesticides, these chemicals are not specific to the pest insect and kill many native pollinators such as bees, beetles, wasps and butterflies.
Furthermore, the maintenance of turfgrass and ornamentals can actually cause a net increase in CO2 and other greenhouse gases. This is due to the use of fertilizers, irrigation and mowing of a manicured landscape, which takes fossil fuels, thus releasing CO2 into the atmosphere. Greenhouse gas emissions from yard management practices are greater than the amount of carbon stored by lawns and manicured ornamentals.
Exotics and risk of decreasing native plant and animal diversity
Selecting and installing primarily exotic plant species would ultimately decrease native plant diversity because of the simple fact that native plants would be absent from urban areas. Also, native animal diversity, in general, is correlated to native vegetation diversity. For example, native urban bird diversity increases with native vegetation; more native plants serve as host plants for native butterfly larvae; and native bee diversity increases with the occurrence of native plants. However, some exotics can provide food and shelter for native species. For example, butterflies obtain nectar from pentas (e.g., exotic cultivars of Pentas lanceolata) in Florida and elsewhere around the world.
Another risk associated with using exotic plants is that one may introduce invasive species into the environment. While many exotics are not invasive, some introduced plants are not designated as invasive until it is too late, having already spread from urban to natural areas. When exotic plants are used, known invasive plants should be eliminated and, where information is lacking about the invasive status of a plant, perhaps the precautionary principle should be applied. This states that if the risk is serious enough, the absence of full scientific certainty should not be used to postpone actions to prevent environmental degradation.
In summary, I propose that a goal for urban green infrastructure is not native purity, but a sensible mix of native and exotic plants. In cities, this means increasing the use and conservation of native plant and animal species; using exotics that are low maintenance and provide an ecosystem service, such as sequestering and storing carbon; using exotics that provide shelter and food for native animals; and not planting any exotics that have the potential of becoming invasive.
Madhusudan is an evolutionary ecologist who discovered birds as an undergrad after growing up a nature-oblivious urban kid near Bombay, went chasing after vanishing wildernesses in the Himalaya and Western Ghats as a graduate student, and returned to study cities grown up as a reconciliation ecologist.
The paradox of native purity in a fundamentally nonnative ecosystem
Cities in California are at a crossroads in terms of their long-term sustainability and resilience. While a couple of recent storms have brought some relief after a long, hot, dry, and fiery summer, and El Niño promises more precipitation this winter, these won’t be enough to address the long-term drought. California’s drought, of course, is a result not just of long-term climatic variability—dry spells are more the norm than the exception in the arid Southwest after all—but also of how people have sucked up and redistributed the state’s water.
Last May, the Governor declared an emergency, ordering mandatory cutbacks in water usage throughout the state. Water departments and utility districts scrambled to develop new policies and rules to enforce the restrictions. Many of California’s urban majority felt unfairly targeted because the thirstiest sector in the state is agriculture. Nevertheless, many of the cities managed to meet the conservation targets, cutting water use by a third in just a few months.
What are the consequences of such a reduction in water use? And how does this tie in to the question of native vs. nonnative species?
We don’t actually know how to cultivate and nurture many of the native species in urban gardens!
California’s sprawling suburbs are characterized by lawns dotted with trees—not just palm trees. The urban flora is full of species from elsewhere in the world. Many come from wetter regions and thrive under the California sun only when given plenty of water. Many are dying under the current combination of drought and water restrictions. This raises new concerns about the loss of other ecosystem services that plants bring to cities and increased fire risk from dry vegetation. How can we reap the benefits of a green infrastructure in a now mostly brown region?
There is opportunity in this crisis for transforming these cities into more biophilic and resilient places in harmony with the regional climate and water availability. Indeed many residents are ripping out lawns and looking for alternative vegetation. Wouldn’t it be great if we could also get rid of all the “alien” species, and fill the cityscape with natives only greenery?
One problem with this vision of restoring “native purity” to this anthropogenic landscape: we don’t actually know how to cultivate and nurture many of the native species in urban gardens! In the Central California region, for example, there are but two local nurseries that supply native plants. There hasn’t been enough of the trial-and-error work that goes into domesticating native plants to turn them into marketable nursery products for the urban garden. Many of them also defy people’s expectation of “greenery,” and end up suffering from too much watering.
So there is a gap between the desire for native vegetation and our ability to actually grow native plants in cities in ways that meet the sociocultural, recreational, and aesthetic needs of people who live in urban landscapes. That doesn’t mean there aren’t other plants, from other regions, that can help us grow water-wise gardens. It would be foolish to turn away all such plants simply because they didn’t evolve in this part of the world. Worry about species likely to escape from gardens into the surrounding countryside, displacing native plants there, of course. But why let that worry get in the way of the benefits many other plants bring into our urban landscapes? We can keep working on domesticating more native species, even as we soften the urban landscape with a mix of whatever works to bring us the ecosystem services without sucking up too much water or disrupting native ecosystems. Nonnative species are not only here to stay, but can help us green the manufactured landscape of nonnative urban ecosystems.
The alien-native debate is always good for hot controversy, but usually risks simplification. This particularly holds for cities. Here, “native purity” is as inadequate as is an “aliens welcome everywhere” approach. I thus think that it’s time to reconcile controversial positions and to come out with differentiated approaches! Why?
Good alien, bad alien? The right answer often depends on the context.
Urban diversity requires diversity in approaches. Urban nature is often highly heterogeneous. Not everything is novel. Many cities comprise remnant ecosystems that stem from natural landscapes or traditional rural landscapes. Other green spaces have been created by humans, such as parks, or emerge as novel ecosystems in highly modified urban-industrial sites. Ecological analyses have revealed that different urban ecosystems have clearly different habitat functions for native and nonnative species, and for species of conservation concern in particular. Adopting only one general strategy for all urban habitats is thus unreasonable, regardless of claiming “native purity” or “aliens welcome everywhere.”
Good alien, bad alien? The right answer often depends on the context. Take the highly invasive North American tree, Robinia pseudoacacia, as an example. It is known to threaten rare grassland species in Europe. Yet Robinia is also a highly valuable urban street tree, well adapted to climate change. From plantings, Robinia is spreading in Berlin and colonizes urban wastelands. Counterintuitively, our recent studies revealed no important effects on native plant or animal species when we compared Robinia to a native pioneer tree. At other sites, however, Robinia transforms (semi-)natural grassland with endangered species. In consequence, Berlin’s biodiversity strategy combines two aims in regard to nonnative species: if negative impacts on species or habitats of conservation concern are evident in a local context, nonnatives are managed. If not, they are accepted as part of ever-changing urban ecosystems. Such differentiation allows urban ecosystems to evolve and saves resources. Managing alien species always and everywhere would be highly costly and, as experience from many management projects shows, highly ineffective.
Novel ecosystems, novel liaison between native and exotic species. Exotic species are often prominent in novel urban ecosystems and they underpin a range of ecosystem services. It’s thus reasonable to integrate nonnative species into the urban green infrastructure. Examples are: planting introduced trees where native trees don’t work or enhancing wild vegetation, usually a mixture of natives and nonnatives, in urban green spaces. “Novel wilderness” dominated by nonnative species has been successfully integrated in a range of parks in Berlin. Yet novel urban ecosystems can also contribute to the conservation of native species that use novel habitats as analogues to natural habitats. Since plants are usually dispersal limited—that is, they do not colonize each site where they might survive—it is also reasonable to enhance native species in some novel urban ecosystems. Leonie Fischer successfully tested adding native grassland species to urban wastelands in Berlin. Novel urban ecosystems thus also offer novel opportunities for native species, which might work in combination with nonnatives.
To conclude: Both natives and nonnatives are inextricable components of urban ecosystems. They occur in changing mixtures, usually responding to changing urban environments. Both species groups underpin ecosystem services that we urgently need in cities. It’s true: nonnative species can be a threat to native biodiversity, but this is often strictly context dependent. Evidence from Berlin shows limited conflicts, but this could be different in other cities. It’s necessary to analyze the local situation before acting. Be ready to enhance urban biodiversity by balancing risks and opportunities of individual species in individual situations—both for natives and nonnatives. Differentiation instead of simplification is promising for enhancing urban biodiversity in a changing world.
Mark has spent the past 25 years conducting ecological studies focused on understanding the structure and function of urban ecosystems, and the conservation of biodiversity in cities and towns.
The preservation and conservation of native plants and animals in urban ecosystems is an admirable and ambitious aspiration considering cities have been built for people with little or no consideration of biological diversity for hundreds of years or more. Indeed, as Bill Cronon writes, defenders of biological diversity more commonly talk about wilderness areas rather than human-dominated ecosystems. Recently, comparative analyses of biological diversity in cities around the world demonstrate they are critical to maintaining global biodiversity. It is pretty clear that one of the greatest threats to native or indigenous plants and animals is the invasion of nonnative or exotic species. There is a large and growing body of research that demonstrates that the abundance and spread of these exotic invasive species is due to the direct and indirect action of humans.
Exotic species pose both a threat and a benefit for rapidly changing urban ecosystems.
It is important to note that the loss of native species in urban ecosystems is not due solely to the presence of exotic invasive species. Many native species are lost due to the complete destruction of, or alterations to, critical habitat or the loss of vital resources such as water or food. A recent study of 22 cities around the globe found that cities with 30 percent or more native vegetation cover experienced fewer native plant extinctions. Similarly, in another study of over 100 cities, researchers found that the presence of intact vegetation cover resulted in higher concentrations of native birds and plants. Many of us would like to see native species retained in urban ecosystems because they possess numerous recognised values that contribute to our natural and cultural heritage and because they provide a variety of unique ecosystem services.
Exotic species pose both a threat and a benefit for rapidly changing urban ecosystems. The ICUN recently published a report citing the significant threat of invasive alien species to Europe’s biodiversity. Conversely, Matt Palmer recently published a TNOC blog that discusses the many advantages of having exotic species in urban ecosystems. In general, many exotic species provide important cultural and ecosystem services in rapidly changing urban environments that are inhospitable to native species.
Because there are clear benefits to creating urban ecosystems that support both native and exotic species, I feel we need to move beyond this moral dualism where we view native species as ‘good’ and exotic species as ‘bad.’ Instead, we should adopt a concept of a ‘continuum of nativism’ (see the figure below) in which we assess the value of native and exotic species, as well as our conservation and restoration activities, as a function of the level of urban development. In the figure I use the percent of the urban ecosystem covered by impermeable surface as the measure of urban. As the percentage of impermeable surface increases in an ecosystem, there is a loss of native species and an increase in exotic species (C, Option 1). Option 2 represents the potential abundance of native species if planning, design, management and restoration practices are altered to support their survival. In Section A of the continuum, there may be little interest in maintaining native species because they are abundant in the ecosystems. In addition, exotic species would have little value in ecosystems that fall within this section of the Continuum. In Section B and C of the Continuum, we would expect more interest and support for preserving, conserving and restoring native species as they disappear (e.g., European cities). Cities that fall within Section B of the Continuum will still find it cost effective to maintain and restore native species. On the other hand, cities that fall within Section C of the Continuum may find it too difficult or expensive to preserve, conserve or restore native species. In this section of the Continuum, exotic species would be viewed as more valuable because they provide a variety of ecosystem services.
Dr Colin Meurk, ONZM, is an Associate at Manaaki Whenua, a NZ government research institute specialising in characterisation, understanding and sustainable use of terrestrial resources. He holds adjunct positions at Canterbury and Lincoln Universities. His interests are applied biogeography, ecological restoration and design, landscape dynamics, urban ecology, conservation biology, and citizen science.
The simple answer is “no”; “native purity” isn’t a realistic or viable option! It has been said that there are no “pure” indigenous ecosystems anywhere on the planet now — if you want to get down to the microbial scale. Novel ecosystems certainly predominate (often with abundant alien plants) in temperate to tropical climes. Various words to describe these systems have gone in and out of fashion — novel, recombinant, hybrid, reconciliation ecology, even “ragga-muffin.” I’ve provided a typology (Meurk 2011) for such mixed communities based on their initial condition, imposed conditions, ratio of indigenous to exotic species, and the trend in that relative balance. It defines various stages of maturity, mixing, displacement and recombination. Four broad “initial” conditions’ are remnant, spontaneous (successional), deliberative (planted), and complex (mixtures of several states).
But, what is “wild?” There is an appetite again for “rewinding” and using “cues for care” in urban environments to make this acceptable.
The notes prepared for this forum ask somewhat rhetorically about the presence, value, threats and desirability of exotic species and their control. From a national duty of care perspective for biodiversity, there is an imperative to eradicate or manage alien organisms that pose a threat to our productive systems, biodiversity (indigenousness), and natural character of landscapes. Otherwise, regional individuality and identity will be lost in homogeneity. Check out the wilding conifers spreading across the NZ landscape in some of those Lord of the Rings settings! There is a massive effort here to arrest the exponential phase of these northern continental pines.
“Pure” ecology desires fully indigenous ecosystems. Captive, gardened plants may preserve some of the genetic story, but not their full, intrinsic potential niche — the purpose of representative, nature conservation. On the other hand, species surviving in spontaneous recombinant ecosystems, especially if responding to a range of management or disturbance regimes, may be cumulatively exhibiting their fundamental ecological niche. I call this gradient management (see Meurk & Greenup 2003). Paradoxically, at least in the idiosyncratic biogeographic context of NZ, the survival of many lowland herbaceous species may depend on creating a wide range of stressed and disturbed combinations (cf Grime) in urban environments.
But, what is “wild?” There is an appetite again for “rewinding” and using “cues for care” (Nassauer) in urban environments to make this acceptable. The niche envelopes can be as surely defined in these contrived ‘wild’ urban environments as in the real wild. With many environmental stress/disturbance combinations, native species will individually survive by chance at some points and places, in combination with some (weakened) exotic species, then reproduce and eventually find their ‘natural’ position in the gradients provided as self-sustaining populations. That may be the future of many lowland, open habitat herbs. Then invertebrates, birds and lizards will find these plants and establish their ‘natural’ interactions. Meta-populations of such plants may form on roofs, walls, pavements, rock gardens, lawns etc. These habitats can be seen as forming an archipelago in urban environments!
But we can’t afford to be complacent and simply let aggressive introduced species take over. Some may be valuable as an interim stage back to a stronger representation of indigenous nature in the landscape. There are many cases in NZ of exotic shrubs and trees (Ulex, Pseudotsuga, Salix) acting as nurseries for native regeneration, but more often than not the continentally honed, introduced species are more successful in exploiting the periodic disturbances in human landscapes. It is also a slippery slope to promote ES and function as the hand maiden of biodiversity. To maximise dollar value of ES in NZ you would replace all indigenous, predominantly endemic, species with the most productive (invariably exotic) species from across the planet. So, is green form and function the goal? Surely not, for biodiversity, regional points of difference and identity. My position would be to work hard to find niches for all biodiversity, but don’t be hung up on a losing battle for “purity!” There is lots of good urban conservation to be done in recombinant ecosystems.
Meurk, C.D. 2011. Recombinant Ecology of Urban areas — characterisation, context and creativity. Pp 198-220 in Douglas, I., Goode, D., Houck, M.C., Wang, R. (editors), The Routledge Handbook of Urban Ecology. Routledge, London.
Meurk, C.D., Greenep, H. 2003. Practical conservation and restoration of herbaceous vegetation. Canterbury Botanical Society Journal 37: 99-108.
Matt Palmer is a senior lecturer in the department of Ecology, Evolution and Environmental Biology at Columbia University. His research interests are primarily in plant community ecology, with emphases on conservation, restoration and ecosystem function.
“Native purity” in urban ecosystems can be a useful aspiration—but it is a nearly impossible goal. It is far more reasonable to manage our dynamic urban biosphere based on the advantages and limitations of individual species, whether native or introduced.
There are certain urban places worth intensive management to maintain their historic biota.
In the debate about introduced species, advocates can stake out strong positions. One camp holds that introduced species are strictly problems to be managed. For this group, there is a battle to be won against a rising tide of hostile enemies that threaten the lives of our native species and the integrity of our native ecosystems—urban and otherwise. On the other side of the debate are those that consider the change in biological communities as an inevitable consequence of urbanization. Cities are vastly different than the ecosystems they replaced, so trying to reconstruct original natural systems may seem a fool’s errand.
There are merits to both positions. There are certain urban places worth intensive management to maintain their historic biota. But there are also many urban places so altered from their original conditions that few natives can persist without perpetual care and where introduced species provide services with less intervention. Then there is a wide spectrum in between—sites where a mix of native and introduced species provide services with limited management.
While it’s easy to advocate for the middle ground, there are challenges to making the “big tent” approach work:
Gardening vs. restoration
In principle, we could have any mix of species in any place. This is essentially gardening, and it can be very expensive. But many urban natural areas are only lightly managed, both by design—to “let nature take its course”—and because of the limited time, money and staff available to land managers.
Most projects to manage introduced species have a period of intense activity—cutting, spraying, trapping, replanting, etc.—with expectations for limited management after the target species are “controlled.” However, many projects fail—eradication is rare and populations of introduced species recover. Success requires an extended commitment to management. This presents challenges related to the expense and difficulty of long-term planning in politics, but also because managing in perpetuity will affect people’s experience of urban nature. Our natural areas will inevitably be less wild and more designed.
Measuring impacts
While almost anyone would agree we should prioritize managing the “worst” introduced species and worry less about innocuous ones, knowing which actions to take is hard. Some introduced species cause significant damage, but are so abundant or resilient that they are essentially unmanageable. Others may displace native species but provide a similar set of services, so they may not cause as much damage as assumed. Conversely, some apparently innocuous species may be present at low abundance for decades before their numbers and impacts increase rapidly. One of the only ways to stop an introduction is to intervene early. This creates a conundrum: act early and you may spend resources managing a non-problem; wait to act to see if a species causes problems and you lose the chance to control it. It may seem prudent to err on the side of caution, but that level of caution may be too expensive.
A fundamental challenge here is that damage from introduced species is hard to measure and especially hard to predict. Rigorous, data-driven evaluation of management options is quite rare. A lot of money is spent to manage species on hunches, and with limited monitoring to evaluate success.
The conservation imperative
The debate about intervention should consider the value of the species or places threatened by introduced species. If a native species is endangered, doing nothing may doom it to extinction—an irreversible loss. If the last remnant of native forest or endemic bird population is lost from an urban landscape, the opportunity for humans to connect to indigenous nature is lost. These lost connections make our day-to-day lives poorer, but also may affect the way we engage with nature broadly—with consequences for the whole planet.
Bill Toomey is currently the Director of Forest Health working as part of the Nature Conservancy’s North American Forest Priority and Urban Conservation Strategies Initiatives.
Because many of them have been developed and built up over a period of hundreds of years, we now have a mix of native and nonnative species throughout our urban areas and cities. The species we now have in our cities are the result of choices made by millions of people, mostly independent of each other and based on person choices and preferences. Some urban nature is well planned and managed, such as in our city parks, gardens and roadsides, while other spaces are colonized by opportunistic and nonnative species. As land is converted into highly urbanized spaces, native habitats have been destroyed, altered and fragmented, and species that are not native to those areas have become established by accident or on purpose. Whether we like it or not, there are nonnative species living in our cities; they are taking advantage of the opportunity that disturbed areas and abandoned lands provide and which they are ecologically adapted to occupy. I am always amazed at the ability of some species to occupy marginal habitats and environments, such as cracks in paved areas, poor soils with high salinity or spaces with little access to water and nutrients. While there is benefit in establishing and maintaining areas that have exclusively native species, it may be unrealistic to think we have the time, money and resources to manage our existing urban areas and nature in cities with a purist, native-only perspective.
When planting, people should give preference to species that will do well in those local conditions, whether native or nonnative.
As people consider what trees and plants to include in their yard, along their streets and in their parks, preference should be given to those species that will do well in those local conditions, taking into account soil type and access to water and nutrients, and providing adequate space for the tree or plant to grow to its full, mature height and stature. In urban forestry, we stress the importance of planting the right tree in the right place for the right job. In most cases, there are good native plants to choose from, but we don’t always have to be limited by those choices. We should not intentionally introduce species into urban areas that are known to be invasive, but there are many plants that are currently in our urban environments that are not native that are well established and provide many benefits to people and wildlife species. Showing a preference to native species is important and has many benefits, for sure. But there is also a place for utilizing trees and plants that are not native, but will do well in selected locations and will not cause harm to native species, especially as we manage nature in our continually changing city environments.
Yolanda van Heezik is currently exploring children’s connection with nature, and how ageing affects nature engagement. She is part of a multi-institutional team investigating restoration in urban areas, and cultural influences on attitudes to native biodiversity.
New Zealand landscapes are dominated by introduced species, more so than in most other countries, and this is particularly evident in urban areas. In the city where I live, 44 percent of bird species are introduced, and they make up over half of the bird population. Gardens typically contain twice as many exotic as native woody species, and a significant proportion of gardens have no native plants at all. Across all gardens that we studied, 83 percent of woody species were introduced, with the most popular species being roses and rhododendrons. Dave Kendal’s work has shown that people’s preferences are strongly influenced by aesthetic traits, such as flower size and foliage colour, so it’s no surprise that the most popular native trees in NZ are those that have colourful flowers, such as kowhai and pohutakawa. We’ve asked people about their preferences for native as opposed to exotic plants and found a complete disconnect: most people say they prefer natives (40 percent) or a native/exotic mix (36 percent), but when we surveyed their gardens, these were dominated by exotics.
A significant downside of allowing introduced species to take over our environment is loss of national identity.
So, should we care? In the wider literature, a debate rages between those who feel it is critical we adopt a precautionary approach to how we manage alien species (e.g., Daniel Simberloff) and those that advocate that we should learn to love them (e.g., Mark Davis). Some argue that exotic species play a functional role in ecosystems and, in many cases, without prior knowledge of the system, we would be unable to distinguish whether species are “native” or not. A number of studies have shown that native birds and invertebrates are more abundant and/or diverse in neighbourhoods with native vegetation. However our own research and that of others shows urban native birds use many introduced species, such as oak, as much as they use native trees. And in residential gardens in the city where I live, the beetle community is mostly native, despite the low proportion of native woody plants.
In my mind, a significant downside of allowing introduced species to take over our environment is loss of national identity. I am occasionally appalled by the lack of knowledge and awareness many urban residents have regarding native species. I’ve been asked if there are any native birds in our city. I’m also disappointed when I see landscaping around prominent public features dominated by exotic species. New Zealand is admired by tourists for its green, beautiful scenery, but in many landscapes that green is almost entirely exotic. I don’t think that we will ever be able to remove introduced species from urban environments, even though they are a significant source of potentially invasive species and a major cause of biotic homogenisation. However, we should be creating cities that reflect our natural heritage and that emphasise our uniqueness.
Different perspectives emerge within the social science literature. My attitude could come under fire from those that argue that a “pro-native tyranny” has developed out of a suggested link between native plant advocacy and anti-immigrant “nativism,” and that landscape professionals should not feel constrained to use native species over more attractive exotic species.
Alternatively, the value I suggest people should place in native plants might be interpreted in the context of a contemporary reaction to a history of “botanical colonization,” whereby the natural NZ landscape was replaced with an English landscape. Whatever the motivation, I believe some kind of compromise must be sought that results in a greater representation of native species in urban areas, and fosters an enhanced sense of national identity through planting and encouraging those species that are “of this place.”
Paula Villagra, PhD, is a Landscape Architect that researches the transactions between people and landscapes in environments affected by natural disturbances.
Urban spaces are newer ecosystem types and imply thinking about and planning for them as hybrid systems, which are neither natural nor anthropic. If the aim is to ensure the functioning of the natural system and, simultaneously, to provide goods and services to humans, then contemporary urban spaces should be thought as novel “hybrid” systems. As such, instead of insisting on the “good natives, bad aliens” narrative, what matters is finding the proper coexistence between them to provide ecosystem services, such as recreation and mitigation, as well as to maintain ecosystem functions, such as interactions between processes and structures.
If the purity of the environment is relevant in urban areas, then that is what must be protected, and the planning and design of the urban environment will focus on creating buffer areas and strategies to conserve that. Conversely, if natural spaces require some kind of “help” for the community to value and take care of them, such as through the introduction of alien species to give scenic diversity (e.g. diversity of color), or man-made elements to make the place more familiar and accessible (e.g. by introducing trails), then the focus will be to study which elements, either natural, exotic and/or man-made, are possible and required to ensure a good perception of the environment and biodiversity conservation.
Green forms and functions, both native and introduced, should be welcome in contemporary ‘hybrid’ urban areas.
One example in which this line of thought is relevant is the case of urban wetlands. The name says it all: they are natural systems with specific structures and processes that maintain a high diversity of species, but at the same time, they are systems subjected to urban pressures. Planning and design strategies should, on the one hand, focus to preserve their biodiversity, and on the other hand, should create an adequate bonding between human and nature.
The planning of urban wetlands in Chile, in particular, should fulfill this dual role. Given the characteristics of the country, which has more than 4,000 km of coastline along the Pacific Ocean, there are many coastal wetlands in urban areas that provide ecosystems services such as: serving as buffer zones in case of tsunami, providing water for agriculture, being part of sacred land of aboriginal people and providing pleasant places for recreation. At the same time, urban wetlands are important natural reserves worldwide, as they are feeding and nesting sites for migratory birds and also contain a high number of endemic plant species.
Regardless of these values of urban wetlands, the actions of urban dwellers who do not know their valuable functions and services is sometimes negative. In the winter season, these wetlands can be seen as ugly and marshy places, so the community perceived them as dangerous sites and used them as landfills. In summer, due to the type of vegetation they have, they are perceived as dry and lifeless places, and as sources of fire, increasing insecurity and the negative perceptions of them. However, through national and international initiatives, several of these wetlands have been defined as priority conservation sites, and as coastal reserves. These interventions have gone hand in hand with environmental education programs and the introduction of information panels and vantage points for the observation of birds, including trails linked to urban parks. These types of actions provide the opportunity for recreation while facilitating the community’s understanding of the functions of these systems and associated services to humans. Then, the perception of the community can change, because the virtues of wetlands, which are sometimes difficult to perceive for the average citizen, are revealed.
In this sense, green forms and functions, both native and introduced, are welcome in contemporary “hybrid” urban areas. Planners, landscape architects, urban designers and ecologists, among other professionals involved in urban development and biodiversity conservation, should focus their efforts on identifying those parts, structures, processes and functions of systems, both natural and man-made, which should be kept or changed. And they should work together to prioritize strategies for providing services as well as for revealing functions that are intangible and invisible to the non-scientific community.
“Both [US political] parties agree: Trees are infrastructure. The bipartisan infrastructure deal moving through the Senate includes at least $5.75 billion for restoring, monitoring and researching forests, according to the legislative text and summary. Beyond money, the package also includes policies that could make it easier to prepare for wildfires. That’s a significant slice of the deal’s $46 billion resilience spending.”Climatewire, 8/3/2021
The concept of green infrastructure has evolved from a novel buzzword into an umbrella term for the value that nature provides benefits to society. Can it be built into policy and law?
As someone who has followed US environmental policy since the early 1990s in my internship with the National Commission on the Environment, I was very pleased to see proposed US Federal investments in green infrastructure in the latest bipartisan infrastructure bill moving its way through the US Congress. Even with the topic of forest management policy being quite controversial, it is significant that these debates are happening in the context of a discussion on infrastructure.
The concept of green infrastructure has evolved from a novel buzzword into an umbrella term for the value that nature provides to society. Its first high-profile reference came in U.S. President Bill Clinton’s Council on Sustainable Development and identified it as one of five strategic areas of sustainable community development. It became a recognized planning practice in the early 2000s, crystalized by the publication by my former colleagues, Mark Benedict and Ed McMahon, in 2006 entitled Green Infrastructure: Linking Landscapes and Communities.
While green infrastructure has many definitions and goals, it successfully encompasses an array of strategies intended to improve environmental and human health. The infrastructure bill complements green infrastructure investments such as the US Land and Water Conservation Fund (LWCF).
The infrastructure bill that is being finalized by the US Congress acknowledges that maintenance and management of green infrastructure are also important investments. While LWCF has funded over 45,000 conservation projects in every state and nearly every county in the United States, the infrastructure bill helps ensure that many of these investments are protected and enhanced. Here are some examples of the types of green infrastructure maintenance, management, and enhancement that are included:
Invests in erosion protection and burn rehabilitation in water supply watersheds
Authorizes preventative community wildlife defense grants
Allows pre-disaster mitigation grants to cover wildfire projects
Funds forest thinning, prescribed burns, and fire breaks
Permits conversions of decommissioned forest roads into forest management projects
Expands multi-agency drought and wildfire monitoring and forecasting
While the potential impacts of these investments are subject to debate, I am hopeful that this is just the down payment on US Federal green infrastructure investments over the next few years. The current infrastructure bill provides investments in landscape scale green infrastructure, but we also need investments in site scale green infrastructure where cities also can benefit.
The Center for Neighborhood Technology and American Rivers, in their 2010 joint report define site scale green infrastructure as “a network of decentralized storm-water management practices, such as green roofs, trees, rain gardens, and permeable pavement, that can capture and infiltrate rain where it falls, thus reducing stormwater runoff and improving the health of surrounding water-ways.” Investments in these solutions provide an array of air quality, water quality, urban heat island, and habitat benefits. Wouldn’t it be wonderful for infrastructure funding to be available for plans like the Philadelphia Green City Clean Waters to complement the funding provided by rate payors as part of the City’s consent decree?
In conclusion, as I advocated in my 2012 article on green infrastructure, everyone can play a part in maintaining, enhancing, and restoring green infrastructure—from city residents to developers to public agencies to large private landowners. Voluntary private land stewardship through LWCF will always be a key element, but complementary US Federal investments in site scale green infrastructure will ensure that the maintenance and enhancement of our city’s green infrastructure can be done at scale.
Almost everyone knows what urban greening looks like and how much we need it in everyday life, but few understand why we need to think about and manage it as “green infrastructure,” also called GI.
In the urban matrix, green areas are as important as grey infrastructure and need to be handled and cared for with expertise.
This new term emerged as a way to recognize that green areas have many different values to people, providing real and intangible environmental, social, and economic benefits. In the urban matrix, green areas are as important as grey infrastructure and need to be handled and cared for with expertise.
This statement is not at all exaggerated considering that GI forms part of the daily life of a community. It protects water supply, prevents flooding and landslides, filters polluted air and impaired waters, preserves biodiversity, mitigates climate change through carbon sequestration, improves climatic comfort and public health, gives opportunities for recreation, and preserves historic or scenic landscapes. It also increases property values.
Using her wealth of experience, Karen Firehock offers fresh insights into community GI planning, addressing existing ideas of the need to connect green/blue and grey landscapes as well as fields of different disciplines (planning, landscape architecture, forestry, ecology, transportation, health). She does so through a concise, well-illustrated, and easy to read manual.
Like other approaches that envision green infrastructure from the standpoint of environmental services, this report defines it as an environmental insurance policy that enables traditional economic growth and development without compromising the well-being of the community.
The book guides the reader in deciding what landscape features are important to preserve or to restore, and how to do it step by step, emphasizing the need to set goals, review data, make maps, assess risks, and determine and implement opportunities. When creating a GI strategy, one needs to identify and evaluate existing natural and cultural resources, prioritizing those that are distinctive or that best meet current and future needs.
In seven chapters, the authors present an overview of GI planning and a short introduction of the terms commonly used to describe GI (Chapter 1), the reasons to undertake a GI planning process (Chapter 2), and the steps required to organize initiatives at multiple scales with the engagement of different stakeholders (Chapter 3).
Chapter 4 is the key chapter, where readers can find over 40 pages on how to create a GI strategy that is easy to implement. Chapter 5 is devoted to examples from the United States at multiple scales, beginning with a region, scaling down to a county, then a city, and ending with a local watershed in Virginia. At the regional scale, the book shows how Richmond’s Regional Priority Map was created as a collaborative project bringing together local governments, state and federal agencies, and civil organizations. The map identifies natural corridors along rivers is a key tool for future planning and management. At a county scale, the authors describe how a GI map was created for New Kent in Virginia based on field visits and interviews with diverse stakeholders. The city scale example shows how to work in detail with smaller watersheds, streets, pocket parks, community gardens, parcels, and tree canopy, which can become important landscape features.
The importance of engaging residents and planners to guarantee the success of the project is well developed in Chapter 6. Firehock gives options and ideas on how to build community support, along with examples of key messages. By means of 13 short statements, she shows how to get to the heart of the argument that potential GI-implementers wish to make about the benefits of doing their proposed projects. With several examples, the key messages show how many communities are doing, and having success with, strategic GI planning. They address issues linked to personal finance, investment, property values, jobs, recreation and businesses, quality of life, ecological reasons, conservation areas, and social benefits.
The book ends with guidance by R Andrew Walker for creating themed maps, including relevant data and metrics for natural infrastructure (Chapter 7).
Strategic green infrastructure planning: A multi scale approach is the result of many years of work by the Green Infrastructure Center, an NGO which advises governmental agencies and communities on how to manage development with the conservation of natural assets, where the author is director and the co-author is a GIS analyst and spatial planner.
This guide addresses a wide audience: planners, developers, city managers, landscape architects, architects, scientists, and others interested in how and where to develop or conserve land. Its simple and pleasant writing makes it valuable for professors, students, citizen groups, and conservationists. The examples given from the U.S. are applicable worldwide.
It is a useful book that provides tools and tips, and I strongly recommend it.
I live in the mega-City and County of Los Angeles. Despite the urban intensity, nature still surrounds us. We are bordered by three mountain ranges and the Pacific Ocean. Within our megalopolis are some of the largest regional parks in the country. Yet, with so much concrete and sprawl, it is easy to forget we live in a region rich in biodiversity and that Los Angeles County is in fact the “birdiest” county in the country.
Developing green features in cities has important public safety benefits for vulnerable and underserved populations.
From the LA River revitalization to the fast expanding transportation system, there is a lot of important work happening here. The San Gabriel Mountains now include a national monument and the National Park Planners and park advocates are talking about dusting off plans from the 1930s to find a way to wrap the region in parks and green spaces.
But Los Angeles is huge and resources are limited. Despite all the energy going into big projects, our communities struggle to pay for the simplest neighborhood improvements—and a majority of LA county residents don’t live within a 10-minute walk to a park. These tend to be the same residents most impacted by rising temperatures, poor air quality, and an increasingly unaffordable cost of living.
How can we make sure that our least-served communities have access to nature and a quality of life that includes simple improvements like shade trees, benches at bus stops, and a park at the end of the block?
One important way to do this is to work directly with these neighborhoods to design and build community-based green infrastructure and park projects. Such projects not only cool the city, connect communities, protect shorelines, and absorb and keep our water local. They also green, clean, and bring resources to our disadvantaged communities.
The Trust for Public Land is working with communities around the region to do just this. Our Avalon Green Alley Network project is working with the City of Los Angeles Bureau of Sanitation and community partners to renovate a network of alleys in South Los Angeles to capture and infiltrate nearly 2,000,000 gallons of rainwater. The network encompasses eight alleys to date that measure just over one mile in length. In addition to new gardens and resurfacing with permeable pavement, the alleys will be planted with new street trees—including espaliered fruit trees—and improved with 800 linear feet of murals and lighting.
Residents of communities like the one that surrounds the Avalon Green Alley network will attend meetings, join community cleanups, and participate in conversations about plans for their neighborhood when these activities are both accessible and relevant to their lives. When we began our effort, we held our first meeting in a backyard near the alleys, and neighbors came reluctantly. They were busy and didn’t see a clear connection between what we were proposing and the safety and garbage dumping issues plaguing the neighborhood. To them, alleys, stormwater, and greening just weren’t a top priority. So we started to build their trust through steady engagement.
The first step was to make the meetings convenient. We held meetings in the community room of the local high school during the day, when their children were at school. We sent reminder flyers and provided sweet bread and coffee. We focused our discussions on important issues, like the condition of local streets, garbage, and safety, and we invited local police and council office staff to join. The resident group came up with a name, Equipo Verde, and made t-shirts. Finally, we started to plan and implement activities like alley cleanups and tree plantings. Five years later, mothers from the Equipo Verde are the heart and soul of the Avalon Alley Network. This group of more than 30 moms meets once a month to discuss topics including neighborhood safety, community cleanups, and who is going to care for the trees they planted.
Through the steady community-building process, the Avalon community is creating connections between each other, connecting to nature, and creating places where community members can walk, exercise, play, and socialize together. The multiple benefits of the green infrastructure improvements improve quality of life for nearly 50,000 residents who live within a 10-minute walk of the alleys.
Green alleys and other urban greening projects stand to benefit from California’s progressive and forward-thinking state government. California has created policies and funding specifically to build climate resilience. Climate resilience means implementing green infrastructure and other projects that can mitigate the impacts of a hotter and drier future. Planting more trees to cool the pavement and clean the air will help. Building our local water supply by capturing and infiltrating stormwater will help.
Because there is almost always an inequitable distribution of green resources in cities, underserved communities are much more vulnerable to extreme heat and flooding. The strong correlation between urban tree cover and income levels means that neighborhoods least likely to have air conditioning often have less natural protection from urban heat islands and face more heat-related health risks. Developing and maintaining green features has important public safety benefits for the majority of Americans living in urban areas, particularly vulnerable and underserved populations like seniors and low-income families.
The best multi-benefit greening projects integrate water capture, cooling, and creative placemaking elements that promote both climate and community resilience. This means engaging community residents to identify their needs and priorities, and then developing green infrastructure that reflects those needs. Projects like green alleys, or parks that capture and clean rainwater, or new street trees, all support climate resilience with multiple benefits for urban communities.
The recent state budget projects over $2 billion in cap-and-trade revenues annually. While much of this funding will go to large infrastructure projects, our coalition has been able to designate a small percentage—just over $100,000,000 to start—for urban greening-related grant programs. The legislature is considering increasing the funding for these programs, and that’s great, because underfunding such programs is a missed opportunity for bigger impact. To better make the case for the increased funding, The Trust for Public Land and our partners are dedicating much energy and time towards quantifying the economic, social, and environmental benefits of urban greening projects.
Policymakers and developers want to see the numbers.
In order to justify spending public dollars from the cap-and-trade program, policymakers want confirmation that an investment in green infrastructure projects will contribute to greenhouse gas reductions. To meet those requirements, we count the gallons of storm water captured or cleaned, the square feet of impermeable or light colored pavement, and the number of trees planted. We look at soil type, expected irrigation requirements, and energy used to maintain a park. Then we do our best to calculate the equivalent of vehicle miles produced or reduced as a result of the park. With these numbers, it is possible to quantify some climate benefits, such as the amount of carbon sequestered, the number of city blocks cooled, the quantities of pollutants removed from runoff, and the volume of water that won’t have to be imported.
Some of the biggest benefits of green infrastructure may be immeasurable. Quality of life depends on humane and beautiful living environments. Recent research shows the positive mental and physical health benefits of access to nature. But how can we measure the myriad benefits of a tree-lined street or a new park at the end of a block?
We need to prioritize the value that nature plays in our cities, and shift more effort (and funds) to projects that cool our cities, capture and store water, bring nature to people, and raise awareness about nature’s vital role in our urban areas. A few weeks ago, I spent an evening in a small city at the edge of the county with a clear view of the San Gabriel Mountains. This mountain range is still rising and contains some of the steepest and wildest slopes in the United States. Yet many of Los Angeles County’s residents have never visited these mountains—or the other mountains and beaches that surround our megalopolis. So many schoolchildren in the most disadvantaged areas of Los Angeles County, while completely surrounded by nature, have never experienced it firsthand.
How will our children know and appreciate the connection between nature and human well-being if they haven’t experienced nature for themselves? These same children are the voters and policymakers of tomorrow. We need to sow the seeds of a resilient future in those communities that need it most—not only climate resilience, but also the human and community resilience gained through contact with nature and participation in greening projects. Green infrastructure is an opportunity to bring nature home to all parts of the city.
Green recovery seems to be the only viable strategy for sustainable and resilient economic growth in post-pandemic era. Why aren’t we youngsters the final piece in the puzzle of ensuring its success?
This essay advocates for a unique “Youth Empowerment Based Green Recovery Programme” to be developed and adapted by governments to enhance long-term societal resilience.
As we have collectively moved towards unlocking the lockdowns and quarantines that had been in effect since March 2020, the world’s attention has been gripped in managing the looming economic crisis that has inflicted severe socio-economic impact. This impact shall increase exponentially in post-COVID era mainly on youth and marginalised groups with diminishing future job potential. In just the Third Quarter of 2020, working hours in Asia and the Pacific decreased by 10.7 percent in comparison to Fourth Quarter of 2019, translating to a loss of 400 million full-time jobs (ILO, 2020). In addition, working-hour losses has pushed an additional 22–25 million employed into working poverty. Yet, priorities of public governance have given negligible attention to new employment and any planning for future generations. The $20 trillion commitment by countries was primarily used for emergency fiscal stimulus to recover from fallout of COVID-19 rather than focusing on education and skill development of youth and those recently unemployed (UN Environment, 2020). Our governments’ reliance on such surgical and hasty solutions may fail unless the focus is enhanced towards long-term planning. Another governance challenge is that our world leaders are failing to acknowledge that their fight-or-flight response and “brown recovery” focused COVID-19 revival plans aim for short term recovery and thus are double-edged sword with long term ill effects. These shall add to existing colossal economic and climatic debt that is being passed on to our generation, Gen Z (Singhal, 2020). We shall be the last generation to settle these matters before reaching a point of no return.
This crisis management approach however, must not threaten our existence. Especially in case of the Asia-Pacific region, the pandemic has stunted our progress in all SDG’s, especially the SDG 3, 4, 8 and 11 yet our governments plan of action and implemented strategies do not seem to be making desired progress and rather do the contrary. Current government fiscal stimuli is invested in immediate loans to households of lower income for necessities and keeping small-scale businesses intact as they are considered a major source of employment. While this is necessary, it will certainly not be a strategy for successful economic recovery, let alone green recovery. Instead, if we invest significantly in youth empowerment and provide ample resources for skill growth and incentives for business start-ups, households can become self-reliant and innovative youth-led businesses and start-ups can prosper. Who knows what these companies could achieve for humanity as many multi-billion dollar companies arose during 2008 economic crisis like Instagram, WhatsApp, Uber, Airbnb, Dropbox etc. all started by young entrepreneurs.
Sectors like public transit, hospitality and religious events involved mass gatherings of people, often leading to social and environmental distress even before the pandemic. We realise that their social construction was deeply flawed. For example, public transit in developing countries such as India consists of overcrowd metros and buses and the situation has not changed for years. A public sector initiative could include integration of ICT such as China’s movement tracking and health app that assigns colours indicating if people are healthy enough to be allowed to use certain routes of public transit and Sweden’s SL Transit Map which informs about best route commuter can take at a specific time. We have realised that despite pandemic keeping us holed in homes, world has grown smaller through dense social networking with youth at forefront of this. Our governments are working relentlessly to overcome this pandemic situation, though it seems only to revive the world structurally like the one that caused it to arise in first place. There is urgent need for revival of much stronger green recovery programme to come out of pandemic crisis with minimal depletion of human and natural resources. The need for green recovery has been ignored for too long even though its urgency first came to light during the 2008 global recession. This crisis showed that economic systems of that time solely depended on irrational actions of humans consuming resources indiscriminately, thus leading to global recession for same reasons, a third time after: first, the great depression of 1930s, and second, the energy crisis of 1970s! Out of those impacted by the 2008 recession, countries such as US, EU, South Korea, Japan and China, that invested in green fiscal stimulus, were able to stabilise their economies much easily and faster as there was a 0.1% and 0.5% increase in GDP for two years after the recession in these countries whereas in other countries there was a decline of about 3% to 5% (IEA, 2020). COVID19 unfortunately is a combination of an unprecedented global health care catastrophe as well as an economic crisis nearly at level of the great depression if not much worse. This is evident by contraction in global economy such as that of 23.9% contraction in India’s economy (MoSPI, 2020).
Youth empowerment based green recovery
Countries must be patient in reviving their economies and must start strategizing and implementing green recovery immediately by enhancing the awareness and engagement of their respective future decision-makers, the youth. This will be the deciding factor on whether actual progress can be made towards achieving the SDG’s, that seems harder now due to pandemic pushing us back many years. The concerned youth shall demand greater attention of this green recovery programme towards behavioural and lifestyle changes to protect our ecosystems and climate while accelerating economic revival. A few noticeable initiatives with linkages towards green recovery approach (though with limited focus on youth engagement) include, the European Union’s Green Deal; the focus on climate action by G20 Countries that account for around 80% of current global greenhouses gas emissions (Barbier, 2020); and measures by OECD and partner countries (OECD, 2020) focused on transition to greener economies. In order to sustain the effectiveness of such initiatives, it is critical to converge the focus on a crucial and unique human resource, the youth.
This calls for a youth empowerment based green recovery programme with a few specific aspects such as:
Allocation of resources to major upliftment of youth skills and availability of resources for them in addition to existing focus on emergency loans and fund distribution to poor households and small-scale businesses. Youth empowerment shall also lead to increased output in businesses and households becoming self-reliant. The voices of youth to receive attention through dedicated youth columns in national daily’s to capture and highlight a new perspective for greater awareness generation.
Productive engagement:
Greater allocation of funds for integrating education online, as nearly 45% students worldwide do not have access to internet (WEF, 2020).
Curriculum changes to ensure awareness about green recovery and its benefits and how to contribute at individual and institutional level.
Vocational training for skills relating to green energy systems for private and government jobs such as that of solar panels installation, rainwater harvesting systems and electric vehicle maintenance.
Increased youth representation in governance and decision making bodies.
Stop funding and subsidies for new carbon intensive projects rather provide incentives for cleaner energy based development in villages and cities and more importantly by making youth aware of such schemes. The well aware youth that have a large network of contacts on social media, can be at forefront of this movement. The youth with more energy and time, can rapidly catalyse a large shift by holding campaigns both online and physically.
SDG18: To advance humanity’s progress on all 17 SDGs, it is essential for global community to have special emphasis on ‘youth empowerment based green recovery’ as a new sustainable development goal – SDG18!
While we have talked of greener futures and development goals for over two decades now, why has there been very limited action on transition towards sustainable lifestyles and economies? Even after the financial stability harnessed by a few countries who invested in green fiscal stimulus during global economic disaster of 2008, why haven’t we learnt our lessons of putting green economic recovery at the forefront of economic crises? Why aren’t there hundreds of youth activists in the realm of sustainable development and associated crucial areas like climate change? The answer is simple: our governments and world leaders fail to see the missing link between them and future world leaders. In post pandemic era, special focus of global community on harnessing youth as a resource for “our” green recovery programme and its success in building a future resilient society, is vital!
Since moving from Edinburgh to London, I have greatly missed my bicycle commute along the former’s Union Canal. There are similar routes in London, but they’re unfortunately not on my way to work. I have always sought out such corridors and they have sometimes influenced my destinations. In response to the “Why are you interested in this position?” question in a job interview, I once admitted that getting to work via Montreal’s Lachine Canal was a big draw.
While I’ve long been aware of the positive effects of daily opportunities to get away from traffic and closer to some form of nature, it is only recently that I have given serious thought to the wider significance of green transport corridors in cities. I have written previously about how urban landscapes convey forceful messages concerning the nature of cities and the role of citizens. In that article, I described how certain landscapes can invite citizens to collaborate with nature in ways that make cities more socially and ecologically resilient. The ‘Inviting Landscape’ in question is most typically a neglected space that is transformed into a garden or pocket park—but what about the landscapes we travel through en route to our daily destinations?
Experiencing the city through its transport infrastructure
In my quest to locate Inviting Landscapes (as part of my PhD research), I journeyed to almost every corner of Manchester. If you’ve ever been there and noticed the elevated motorway running through the city centre, it will come as no surprise that Manchester’s planners have not always considered the needs of pedestrians and cyclists when designing transport infrastructure; there are some terrible roads from a cycling point of view. Fortunately, Manchester also has cycleways and footpaths (and, increasingly, paths shared by cyclists and pedestrians) and I set out to navigate these.As I moved through Manchester’s less visible transport infrastructure, I became increasingly conscious of the significance of transport corridors in defining perceptions of the city. I once spent a childhood holiday on a canal boat and although cars must have crossed bridges over our route, I thought for many years that I had been to places where the streets were water. I sometimes come close to reliving that experience when I arrive in new places via green corridors. It gives me a different sense of my destination and of the city overall.
Transport infrastructure takes up a lot of space in cities. Road networks and car parking cover huge areas of most cities and therefore tend to be key features in the urban landscape that most of us carry around in our heads. Such a grey and monotonous landscape, with little sign of nature or people (other than those encased in cars), constitutes a major part of many people’s daily experience of being outside. Large scale and imposing infrastructure is characterised by obduracy (Hommels, 2005)—that is, it feels like it will be there forever and we mere humans have no capacity to change it.
But moving through a city along a footpath or cycleway, a place of wildflowers and birdsong may reveal itself. One might graze on berries if hungry and enjoy the microclimate of a well-vegetated corridor on a hot day. Such corridors provide health and well-being benefits for people who use them (Tzoulas et al., 2007), and the multi-functional aspect of connective green infrastructure, with its social value in terms of recreation and movement networks, has been recognised in the practice literature (Town and Country Planning Association, 2007). For people who consistently use green corridors, the regular contact with nature also helps to begin to conceive of the city as embedded in nature—as part of an ecosystem, or a social-ecological system, where such green infrastructure is the norm.
Green transport routes provide everyday contact with nature—and more
A key feature of this movement among everyday destinations is that it is not a recreational foray outside the daily lived experience of the city, and accessing it should not require setting aside time and other resources. I was interested to hear mention in a recent TNOC podcast of the potential of linear parks to increase equitable access to nature. I would emphasise that attending to their transport function further enhances this potential and may serve other functions, as well. Here in London, a community leader in Tottenham has pointed out that good cycling infrastructure along the River Lea would increase access to jobs as well as to nature for people who find other forms of private and public transport too costly.
That green transport corridors are part of their users’ daily lives, as well as natural places close to home for the many people who live along them, facilitates the engagement of citizens interested in looking after them. However, more efforts are required to extend the invitation to engage to both users and stewards. The UK is relatively blessed with alternative transport networks because of a tradition of footpaths and protection of rights of way. But in recent years, the same lack of care that has affected other urban landscapes has made green corridors uninviting to many people. If people are fearful or uncomfortable about using these areas, none of the benefits described above will accrue.
Making green transport infrastructure more inviting
Users of green corridors in Manchester spoke to me about some specific problems that seemed likely to inhibit use. They described how sections of canal towpaths and footpaths/cycleways were very isolated with few “escape routes” and uncertainty about possible obstructions around the next bend (often related to inadequate maintenance).
As I moved through these corridors on foot and on bicycle, I noted that the walls and fences and barbed wire separating these pathways from the surrounding neighbourhoods seemed designed to keep bad things in. They conveyed a message that the natural corridors of Manchester were dangerous places from which neighbours needed protection. A key moment occurs when deciding whether to enter the corridor, and inviting and uninviting entrances are an obvious factor.
There are also many examples of places along routes that make it unclear where to go next. One arrives at a dead end or there is a lack of signage—and natural corridors do not appear on the standard online GPS systems that people increasingly use to plan their routes. In other cases, the path is suddenly interrupted by infrastructure hostile to pedestrians and cyclists. It is clear that green and active transport routes are an afterthought, an add-on, rather than a core part of the city’s transport strategy.
Local government should invest in developing and maintaining the natural connective tissue of the city. In the same way that significant investment is made in arterial roads because they are believed to serve everyone and to connect up vital places, so inviting connective green infrastructure should be supported. The canals, footpaths, and cycleways that provide routes for active transport should appear prominently on maps and signage. Whole systems should be indicated when possible, even when portions of them are currently inaccessible, in order to enhance system understanding, and to encourage thinking about connecting up fragmented corridors.
Moving more than people along social-ecological corridors
It is also worth thinking about how people moving around green corridors may be moving more than their own bodies. The October 2014 TNOC Roundtable raised some questions about the capacity of urban green corridors to contribute to habitat connectivity. Can people in these corridors help to enhance this connectivity?
As Andersson (2006, p. 3) points out in relation to maintaining spatial resilience: “There are two aspects of connectivity, the continuity of a certain habitat (structural connectivity) and the possibility for organisms to move within or between patches (functional connectivity).” The important thing is that they find a way to move, and sometimes people can facilitate this. A wildlife conservation manager discussing how increasing urban permeability would help species migrate and therefore survive climate change told me, half jokingly, that with respect to plants, “it might be quicker to just dig them up and move them through!” This comment has stayed with me in recent years as I have watched many citizens involved in transforming urban landscapes physically move plants around.
While most plants are still purchased and driven to private gardens (and have been known to create invasive species problems), there are more and more citizens who are moving plants in an effort to enhance social-ecological systems. They reintroduce indigenous species or create edible landscapes or plant wildflowers that make landscapes more attractive and inviting. The plants are often obtained from other citizens or community organisations engaged in similar efforts at other sites, and are frequently accompanied by the ideas and skills of the fellow citizens that bring them (often by bike and along natural corridors when possible).
It has been suggested that landscape ecology has limited applicability in cities because ecosystem processes have been so disrupted that function no longer follows form (Andersson, Ibid.). However, function perhaps still follows form, but the form is a ‘messy social-ecological system’ (Alessa, Kliskey, & Altaweel, 2009). It includes a variety of people, nature, and places bound together in a complex web of relationships. And people, with their visions of what the city is and can be, are often the ones facilitating system connections. Conventional infrastructure, which has long determined the flows of matter and energy in cities, still dominates, but people with different ideas are simultaneously carrying matter, skills, and inspiration among sites and along corridors in the context of a more collaborative relationship with nature.
The more people feel comfortable and spend time in green (or greenable) spaces and corridors, the more likely they are to use them, to appropriate them, and to look after them. Those who move in these corridors begin to see the landscape of the whole city and our place in it from a different perspective. It allows us to reconceptualise urban systems, to shift away from a focus on large-scale systems—where people and nature are largely invisible—to more human-scale, systems where the importance of what nature is doing and what citizens are experiencing and doing can be seen and supported. Efforts to expand multifunctional green infrastructure should be accompanied by visions for cultural and experienced landscapes that redefine the city.
Alessa, L., Kliskey, A., & Altaweel, M. (2009). Toward a typology for social-ecological systems. Sustainability: Science, Practice, and Policy, 5(1).
Andersson, E. (2006). Urban landscapes and sustainable cities, 11(1).
Forman, R. T. T. (1995). Some general principles of landscape and regional ecology. Landscape Ecology, 10(3), 133–142.
Hommels, A.M. (2005). Unbuilding Cities. Obduracy in Urban Sociotechnical Change. MIT Press.
Town and Country Planning Association. (2007). The essential role of green infrastructure: eco-towns green infrastructure worksheet. Advice to Promoters and Planners. London.
Tzoulas, K., Korpela, K., Venn, S., Yli-Pelkonen, V., Kaźmierczak, A., Niemela, J., & James, P. (2007). Promoting ecosystem and human health in urban areas using Green Infrastructure: A literature review. Landscape and Urban Planning, 81(3), 167–178.
We need to defend the general conception of objective facts and be willing to publicly mock those who, for political purposes, would reduce every discussion to a subjective balance of wills. Without science and the belief in the possibility of it guiding us to wiser choices, the environmental movement does not meaningfully exist.
A core tenant of the environmental movement is under attack. Planning, and particularly the rational planning model, is seen as something suspect, an enemy of the people. The whole idea of rational, technocratic planning to achieve social goals is being rejected by some, as an elitist pursuit that must be defeated.
Perhaps the best recent example of this counteroffensive against planning is the backlash against the 15-minute city ideal in the UK. As readers of this blog likely know, the 15-minute city theory merely suggests that in an ideal city, people should be able to access all their essentials (a school, a park, a grocery store, etc.) within a 15-minute commute that does not require a car. In some cities, most notably in Paris and in several cities in the UK, it was adopted as a useful planning framework for infrastructure and open space planning. The idea was intensely critiqued in the UK as unnecessary by those who remain skeptical about climate change, or at least not fully convinced of the climate emergency we find ourselves in. But, more potently, climate skeptics painted the 15-minute city idea as some sort of climate lockdown, restricting freedom of movement to a narrow prison around your house. This was mostly a fabrication (although to be fair, there were some plans to restrict parking in some of these cities, which does impact suburban mobility into urban neighborhoods). Advocates of the 15-minute city have kept working despite the criticism, but they are now in retrenchment mode, defending the idea from attack by forces on the climate skeptic right.
Other framings around planning for nature are also under attack. The Nature Conservancy and other groups in the US often work on greenprints, essentially plans that bring information on the benefits of current and potential future natural infrastructure to bear on decisions about land use. This work has been ongoing for decades, in dozens and dozens of communities, with many NGOs involved, most notably the Trust for Public Land. But recently in some US states there has been a strong counteroffensive against the very concept of a greenprint, as infringing on the rights of landowners, almost as a communist plot. You can’t call this counteroffensive against planning by the right news in the US, since its roots go back at least to the 1980s and the Reagan-era “wise use movement” and its attack on the regulatory state. But the counteroffensive has been of such vehemence recently that I am tempted to drop the term “greenprint” from my vocabulary.
We are living during a decades-long campaign to reduce the power and scope of government, which has been well-written about by political scientists studying national politics. Most recently, this campaign has launched a frontal assault on the idea of “planning” itself. First, they have critiqued the concept of objective fact, of there being any information that can be assessed impartially by all, and which can guide action. Second, once the concerns of the environmental movement are described as merely subjective, they are critiqued as unimportant and elitist.
This is a big problem for the environmental movement since the concept of planning and expertise is at the core of the contemporary perception of the “environment”. I have been reading the masterful The Environment: A History of an Idea, which lays out the complex meaning of the “environment” and how it has changed over time. They describe how the traditional meaning of “environment” as the surroundings of a particular organism or person, changed to a global entity that can be fatally damaged by the collective actions of humanity. Central to this new, global meaning of the term “environment” is a sense of collective expertise by a set of expertise by a set of experts, who can measure damage to the environment, and then plan for how to limit future damage. The modern environmental movement is centered around groups of scientists collectively measuring objective facts, with the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change perhaps the biggest example in size and prestige. The maintenance and improvement of the environment is then taken to be a key social goal that governments should rationally plan toward.
Thus, one part of the response of the environmental movement to the counteroffensive against planning must necessarily be reactionary. We must defend objectivity, the idea of objective facts, and the scientific method as a way to ascertain them. This includes defending specific objective facts, of course, like the existence of climate change or the positive impacts of a walkable city on human health. But we also need to defend the general conception of objective facts themselves and be willing to publicly mock those who, for political purposes, would reduce every discussion to a subjective balance of wills. Without science and the belief in the possibility of it guiding us to wiser choices, the environmental movement does not meaningfully exist.
Another part of the response of the environmental movement must be defending our concerns as worthwhile. They must seem not just the idiosyncratic preference of an elitist group, as walkability and urban nature can sometimes seem. Rather, these concerns about our home here on Earth need to be at least in the realm of other large concerns about war, terrorism, and the cost of living. Indeed, avoiding catastrophic climate change must be seen as central to the continuation of human civilization. The environmental movement has (or should have) at its core our human, urban life here on Earth, and whether we are safe and happy within it.
The concerns of the environment will be more often seen as worthwhile if they are expressly designed to meet the needs of local communities. There are lots of people writing already about this challenge of better connecting the environmental movement with what communities need. There are a number of great groups dedicated to environmental justice that aim to deeply involve communities in decision-making. Similarly, there are many academics working on co-producing knowledge with local communities.
But I am more and more convinced that more than deeply involving communities in setting goals is needed to respond to the right’s counteroffensive against planning. “Planning” as a concept is boring, even if as an activity it is essential. Ditto for the phrase “co-production of knowledge”. To put it bluntly, if those campaigning against the 15-minute city ideal can be champions of freedom, then we in the environmental movement have been making our argument wrong. If real estate developers can be champions of freedom against “greenprinting,” then we are fighting on the wrong intellectual terrain.
What if we made the environmental movement primarily about freedom? Freedom to choose a world with more nature, for you and your children. Freedom to live without the fear of catastrophic climate change, of having to pray for rain or a cool breeze to lessen the pain of a drought or heat wave. Freedom to have an urban home that is thriving and livable and green.
Many of these dreams of freedom require defending and restoring the common good. Economic theory teaches us that common goods won’t be adequately supplied by the free market, but that there is a need for policies, norms, and incentives to supply the common good. This does bring the environmental movement back to using planning and environmental action as a tool. But that planning is framed less as an elite activity, less as a goal in and of itself, and more as a tool to ensure freedom and the common good.
This line of thinking is beginning to change how I work as a scientific researcher. In the past, for instance, I might have worked on the access of urban dwellers to parks through an ecosystem services approach. How much do people use parks, and what characteristics of parks increase usage? How much is that access worth, in terms of benefits to health or the willingness of residents to pay to access? The assumption often was that if we knew the value of nature, and could plan for it, governments would act to increase park access.
But, in my work with cities, I have realized that the groups most successful in advocating for parks very rarely use this kind of quantitative information. Instead, they focus on equity, and who has access to parks. They define access to parks as a human right and argue that all people should have the freedom to interact with nature. This is a powerful framing that resonates with people. Perhaps because of that, you see declarations by IUCN (in its Korea meeting) and the CBD (in its more recent Global Biodiversity Framework) committing to access to parks as a universal human right.
In a similar way, I was trained as an ecologist to think about trees and their heat-risk reduction value in an ecosystem services approach. How much does tree cover mitigate surface and air temperatures? How much are mortality and morbidity reduced, given a certain reduction in air temperature? What is this reduction in health impacts worth, in terms of the value of a statistical life saved? Ecosystem service scientists can answer these questions now with decent accuracy.
However, what resonates more with many people is the idea of climate justice, of keeping all communities (and especially their community) safe from climate change. They want to be free from climate risk, from the risk of dying on a hot day. And they want to be free to go outside on a summer afternoon, to stroll down the street in the dappled, cool shade of a tree canopy. This focus on freedom leads naturally to a discussion of equity since current tree cover is so inequitably distributed in many cities. Just like we want all streets to be safe from crime and have clean drinking water, we want them to be safe on a hot day.
An increasing number of groups are working on this equity and freedom theme, and I’m hopeful there could be the beginnings of a movement. I have been particularly impressed with the work of American Forests on tree equity, for instance. Similarly, many groups work within the UNFCCC process on issues of climate justice, among and within countries.
As an ecosystem service scientist, I have come to realize that the future of urban nature will not be determined by ecosystem service valuation and rational planning. It will be determined by whose vision of our urban home is more compelling. In order to be that compelling vision, the environmental movement must be seen as part of the fight for freedom, rather than painted as freedom’s.
It is crucial that the topic of biodiversity in the context of the built landscape is considered holistically and not only in individual aspects. Cross-thematic and cross-disciplinary cooperation is of central importance for communication and promotion.
Project study within the framework of the Swiss Biodiversity Strategy Action Plan
Increasing building density is putting pressure on green spaces and thus on the living conditions for flora, fauna, and humans. However, the sixth IPPC report and the COVID-19 pandemic clearly show green spaces that enable recreation and the experience of nature in the immediate surroundings are central to both our well-being and biodiversity. To achieve the goal in despite of, or especially, because of the densification stipulated in the Spatial Planning Act (RPG1)[i], new and additional ways are needed for high-quality open and green spaces within sustainable urban and settlement development. As a supplement to parks and gardens, the greening of buildings (facades and roofs) and measures that enable the settlement of wildlife play an important role. They make an important contribution to compensating for diminishing green spaces, providing habitats for flora and fauna, contributing to a better microclimate, having a positive influence on our quality of life and health, and, at the same time, strengthening the attractiveness of the cityscape.
Switzerland is well known for more than two decades for its extensive flat green roofs as ecological compensation surfaces. These surfaces have the purpose of promoting urban biodiversity, using local substrate mixtures and local seeds/plants to reduce the local footprint, and provide rare dry habitats for rare species and other species (generalists and specialists). However, even though there is already a long tradition of greening buildings, especially roofs, as well as legal requirements and conditions imposed by some cities and municipalities, it is not the actual case that all flat roofs in Switzerland are greened. Why is that? And why are there not more such areas? This study investigated this question and others.
On behalf of the Federal Office for the Environment (FOEN), the Urban Landscape Institute of the Department of Architecture, Design and Civil Engineering, in collaboration with the Environment and Natural Resource Sciences Institute of the Department Life Sciences and Facility Management, has produced a study that compiles the existing knowledge, researches and evaluates it based on good practice examples of buildings in Switzerland, and concretely researches and vividly documents their development processes.
In the process, the following topics were scrutinized: Description of the various available technical solutions, but also the potential and the associated challenges and their ecological impact, as well as the associated care and maintenance requirements. Furthermore, the valid regulations and legal bases on the level of public authorities and in the private sector are shown. The whole final report will be deepened with expert interviews on individual key topics or good practice examples and is intended to highlight the gaps regarding the application in planning and implementation even more.
In close cooperation with communication experts, guidelines for action will be developed that will make it easier for cantonal and municipal administrations as well as actors in the private planning and construction sector to better exploit the potential of buildings for the promotion of biodiversity and landscape quality and to communicate between the individual disciplines as well as between the professional world and the population.
Results
During the preparation of the study, it became apparent that in addition to anchoring biodiversity at the legislative level and in education, the planning and implementation process as well as communication play an important role. Communication is central in two ways: it is a success factor in the process and the vehicle for communicating and promoting biodiversity on the building. Within the process, it ensures the functioning of interdisciplinary cooperation and creates acceptance and identification thanks to participation and information. The focus of communication in communicating and promoting the topic is to raise awareness among the relevant groups of actors of the relevance, the options, the opportunities ― and the attractiveness ― of biodiversity-promoting measures in densely populated areas. In particular, planners and decision-makers should be shown, by means of good examples and “ambassadors”, that biodiversity-promoting measures can be exciting design elements and create attractive buildings and open spaces. It is crucial that the topic of biodiversity in the context of the built landscape is considered holistically and not only in individual aspects. Cross-thematic and cross-disciplinary cooperation is therefore also of central importance for the communication and promotion of the topic.
Outlook
The next step should be to develop concrete steps and measures based on the findings and proposed recommendations for action ― and in coordination with the results of the other, thematically related studies: So that biodiversity in densely populated areas can be established as a basic prerequisite for the sustainable further development of our living space.
Anke Domschky is a landscape architect and urban planner at the Urban Landscape Institute of the Department of Architecture, Design and Civil Engineering in Zurich (Zurich University of Applied Sciences).
The authors would like to thank Séverine Evéquoz and Claudia Moll of the FOEN for commissioning the study and for their trust. A big thank you goes to Sarah Jüstrich and Stefanie Wiesinger, the project partners Andrea Schafroth and Monique Rijks (s2r.gmbh), Ewa Renaud and Alix Jornot (HEPIA, University of Applied Sciences in Geneva) as well as the numerous experts.
The Spatial Planning Act (RPG) is a Swiss federal law that regulates spatial development in Switzerland. It was enacted on the basis of Art. 75 of the Federal Constitution and aims to ensure the economical use of land. In particular, the natural foundations are to be protected and residential settlements and the spatial conditions for the economy are to be created and maintained. In the referendum of 3 March 2013, voters approved a revision of the Spatial Planning Act with 62.9% in favour, as an indirect counter-proposal to the withdrawn federal popular initiative “Space for People and Nature (Landscape Initiative)”[i]
At a time when the importance of trees in cities is gaining attention, the canopy cover of Australian suburbs is decreasing. Local councils’ response is to plant more trees in the public domain, but what of the private domain? A quick glance around many Australian suburbs suggests that residents do not share their councils’ appreciation of trees. Even on the classic quarter-acre block—the long-held dream of most Australians, and now considered a large area—trees are rarely planted. Large shade trees, planted in the 1950s, 60s and 70s, are disappearing. How can we engage the local community to value trees, to ensure their continuing presence in our cities?
Urban trees provide important shade to ease the urban heat island effect. They contribute to biodiversity, participate in stormwater management, and make green spaces attractive and appealing and, thereby, active. Nevertheless, the national average urban tree canopy cover in Australian cities is only 39 percent. It varies from 59 percent in Hobart to 13% percent in Melbourne. This compares with canopy cover in American cities of 21 percent in New York, 36 percent in Washington, DC and 42 percent in Pittsburgh. Within a city, tree canopy cover will vary, partially as a consequence of the ecology of each place. For example, in Melbourne, the lowest ratio of tree canopy to grass-covered surfaces—3 percent—is in a suburb sitting on the western volcanic plains. These basalt plains naturally support tussock grassland with only scattered river red gum trees, perhaps 50 meters apart. However, cities are human artefacts and are rarely completely constrained by nature. Urban forests are possible in the least hospitable settings. Even suburbs on the outer western edge of Melbourne, on these volcanic plains, can have a denser tree canopy.
We must encourage and facilitate the greening of private gardens to extend the greening of Melbourne from the public domain to the private.
In the City of Melbourne, the tree canopy cover was assessed at 13 percent in 2014 in a project associated with 202020 Vision. The vision is to increase tree canopy cover in Australian cities by 20 percent by 2020, relative to 13 percent. Of this 13 percent, 69 percent was within public space and 31 percent within private space. The City of Melbourne itself estimates that there is tree canopy over 22 percent of the city’s public streets and parks area. In contrast, only 3 percent of the private realm is covered These percentages are expected to decrease as the existing trees succumb to old age and to the pressures of drought and water restrictions. In the next 20 years, 39 percent of the city’s tree population will die.
Yet, cities need trees and their canopies. As a partner to 202020 Vision, the City of Melbourne is aiming to increase its tree canopy cover to 40 percent by 2040. It has established a strategy with guiding principles and targets. The guiding principles focus on mitigation and adaptation to climate change; reducing the urban heat island effect; becoming a water sensitive city; designing for health, well-being, liveability and cultural integrity; creating healthier ecosystems; and becoming the leader in urban forestry. Six strategies and their targets have been developed:
Increase canopy cover to 40 percent by 2040;
Increase urban forest diversity, so that there is no more than 5 percent of any one species, 10 percent of any one genus and 20 percent of any one family;
Improve vegetation health, so that 90 percent of the city’s tree population will be healthy by 2040;
Improve soil moisture and water quality, to support healthy tree growth;
Improve urban ecology, to protect and enhance biodiversity; and
Inform and consult with the community, so that the community understands the importance of the city’s urban forest, feels connected to it and is engaged with its development.
The Urban Forest Strategy relates to and is informed by other policy documents, including Future Melbourne Community Plan, the Council Plan 2009-2013 and the Open Space Strategy. In turn, it is associated with and informs various documents and policies, including the Boulevard Master Plan, Growing Green Guide for Melbourne and the Urban Ecology and Biodiversity Strategy. Together, these policies and strategies should see Melbourne become a greener, more beautiful, and better place to live over the next 25 years.
The City of Melbourne is the central business district of greater Melbourne. First laid out by surveyor Robert Hoddle in 1837 on a grid, the city is a mosaic of high-rise and low-rise buildings, boulevards, streets and lanes, and parkland. Increasingly, it is becoming residential, with precincts in the Docklands and Fisherman’s Bend. Its high-density development limits the amount of private open space that can be included in the urban forest. Most of the urban tree canopy cover is limited to the public domain. Not so in the sprawling suburbs that spread out from the city centre.
I live in one of those suburbs, on the eastern fringe of greater Melbourne. I have noticed the loss of tree canopy in the neighbourhood, most recently on my own street. In response to some residents’ concern about damage to private property by some street trees, specimens of certain species are being removed entirely from selected streets by the council. Mine is one. A few weeks ago, every second specimen of Eucalyptus maculata was removed. The remaining spotted gums are to go in a couple of years. These trees are to be replaced with a species chosen by residents. Nevertheless, in the meantime, mature trees are lost, and with them their myriad benefits. In a couple of decades, I have no doubt that my street will look great, perhaps better than it did, with a mix of different street trees, some planted by the local council and others planted by residents. It’s a shame that the replacement program could not be implemented more incrementally and the new trees immediately planted.
Most local councils in Australian cities do not have urban forest strategies and are responding to decreasing tree canopy cover in a less structured and formal way than the City of Melbourne. My local council does not have the resources of the City of Melbourne. It doesn’t have an urban forest strategy, but it does have thousands of street trees—67,000 as of 2003. The council values those trees as significant environmental assets, which it aspires to protect. It publicly celebrates its healthy local environment and its biodiversity but, despite this, 11,000 trees have been lost in the past decade.
In Victoria, the local councils’ management of open space and the environment more generally is shaped by the State Planning Policy Framework, which establishes planning objectives at a state level. There are several objectives that could relate to the urban forest. For example, the health of ecological systems and their associated biodiversity should be protected, as should areas and sites with significant historic, architectural, aesthetic, scientific and cultural values. In addition, environmental quality and sustainable development should be supported by “the conservation and wise use of natural resources including energy, water, land, flora, fauna and minerals.” Many of the objectives, though, relate to planning decisions for development or management of land within the public realm. What of the urban forest that lies within the private realm? How can local councils influence planning decisions related to private property?
The State Planning Policy Framework places less emphasis on planning decisions related to vegetation within the private realm, although “protection of high quality agricultural land, important open landscapes and native vegetation” is important. Also, “high-quality urban design…that reflects the particular characteristics, aspirations and cultural identity of the community; enhances liveability, diversity, amenity and safety of the public realm; and promotes attractiveness of towns and cities within broader strategic contexts” is an objective at the state level. How this is achieved and any controls in the private domain are not considered.
In response to the Victorian Planning Policy Framework, each council develops a Municipal Strategic Statement, which identifies how the planning policy framework is interpreted and implemented in that municipality. The Municipal Strategic Statement then informs other policies and strategies. Management of street trees within the municipality in which I live is guided by a Green Streets Policy, which explicitly refers to the land use vision in the Municipal Strategic Statement: “to develop and support the community….by maintaining, enhancing and protecting the key natural, cultural and lifestyle features of the City, both economically and environmentally.” This is a great initiative. My hope is that more than the streets are green within the suburbs. We must encourage and facilitate the greening of private gardens to extend the greening of Melbourne from the public domain to the private. The urban forest must encompass both the public and private domains so that the communities within the city can enjoy its full benefits. This is a real challenge.
Perhaps the Urban Design Framework developed by my local council offers some guidance to greening of the private domain in its suburbs. The Urban Design Framework presents the urban design vision, framework and policy for the municipality to guide its future development. The key structuring elements of the landscape and the urban form of the municipality provide the basis of the vision. These include the Landscape Setting, Creek Corridors, Activity Centres and Working Environments, Transport Corridors and, importantly for our purposes, Residential Environments. Also relevant to the urban forest are the Liveable Streets Plan and the Neighbourhood Character Study, amongst others.
Common to all these documents is a focus on the public domain. This is not surprising, as it is here that the council has control, albeit in cooperation with other authorities, such as the road, electricity and water authorities. The Neighbourhood Character Study, though, offers some suggestions on planting within the private domain. In addition, residential design guidelines are being developed for precincts within the municipality, and these recommend planting treatments for private open space. For different housing densities, the guidelines state preferred landscaping characteristics, with illustrations to support the text. Wherever possible, the council prefers the inclusion of large canopy trees in the private space of these developments. Where space is limited, vertical walls and rooftop gardens are suggested.
Other municipalities in greater Melbourne are likely to have similar requirements for development in their suburbs, which must be met for approval. In implementing the development, the landscape must be planted in accordance with the approved plans. Once sold, though, the purchaser can change the garden. Certainly, permits are required to remove trees of a certain size, but I wonder how closely this requirement is policed. Existing trees are being removed and they don’t appear to be replaced by equivalent specimens. The trend in suburban Melbourne is to have highly manicured gardens with small trees. Generally, indigenous trees, including eucalypts, are not favoured. Large exotic trees, such as oaks and elms, are not included in new gardens, even those big enough to accommodate them. Thus, those benefits of trees—most critically, the provision of shade in an Australian summer—cannot be enjoyed.
So, what can be done? Is it that the community is not plant-literate? Does it not understand the benefits of maintaining, and ideally increasing, the tree canopy cover in the city and suburbs? Is lack of information the problem? Certainly, knowledge and familiarity can enhance preference for wetlands and raingardens. Might a simple communication strategy sway thinking in favour of more trees in the private realm?
Melbourne City Council recognises the importance of engaging with the community in its Urban Forest Strategy. It suggests establishing tree-related advocacy groups and trusts, and groups and individuals that will lobby for more trees in their suburbs, either through direct action or changes in planning, legislation and land acquisition. The strategy also highlights the importance of getting people to start talking about the trees and their relationship with the city’s cultural identity and sense of place. Tree ‘champions’ can play a critical role in this, promoting the importance of trees in both the public and private domains, and the multiple benefits, both tangible and intangible, that an urban forest delivers to a city.
Melbourne is not alone in Australia in seeking to establish an urban forest. Other capital cities also have urban forest strategies or programs (e.g. Sydney and Adelaide). Common to each is an awareness of the importance of community engagement, and each offers suggestions for achieving community participation. My hope is that these engagement programs are implemented successfully, for an urban forest can only be established and sustained by everyone working together, across both public and private domains.
At the international conference Resilience 2008, which gathered more than 600 leading scientists, business leaders and politicians in Stockholm, Sweden, I was struck by the Changing Matters art exhibit that explored resilience themes. One of the artists, Jon Brunberg, shared a piece called 19 Years, a one-minute Flash animation that depicts the more than 91 million people around the world who took part in mass demonstrations between 1989 and 2007, crying out for change. Locational dots appear on a screen showing a world map, gradually at first, but increasing in intensity, accompanied by the jolting sounds of fire-crackers popping, each corresponding with the appearance of a new dot, a new mass demonstration. The dots and sounds crescendo to an alarming level as time passes, communicating the urgency and power of humanity’s will and alluding to their capacity to change things, to shake their realities into new ones. Experiencing this art is a sublime experience, paradoxical in its inspiring yet disturbing spectacle. One is moved, somewhat overwhelmed, alarmed and yet optimistic.
Similarly, in urban post-disaster and post-conflict situations, I have seen equally overwhelming, alarming, and yet optimistic human responses, demonstrating the extraordinary resilience of our species. Some of the most intriguing and inspirational responses to disaster and conflict are found in the mysterious realms of altruism. One needs only to recall the week of September 11th, 2001, in New York City and Washington D.C. to conjure images of selfless heroes and an understanding of this type of response.
Another form of response is somewhat more muted, but in the end, perhaps equally, or even more profound. I am referring to the response by both individual and groups of humans to return to “nature” when calamity strikes, to actively seek intimacy with other living things, to retreat (or advance!) to life-affirming interactions in verdant, alive contexts. Often these responses start with individuals and grow into movements larger social movements and even government sponsored programs. I am highlighting how brave people combine their own fate with that of the animal, tree, flower, forest or garden that lives or dies. This type of response, the many motives and explanations for how it comes about, and the implications of its presence and efficacy in terms of resilience and sustainability is an area of inquiry that I call “greening in the red zone” and is the name and subject of a forthcoming book.
At the time of this writing, the conclusion of the first decade of the 21st century is “in the rearview mirror,” and as we advance into the second decade the world is still reeling from what seems to many to be increasingly frequent perturbances. Recent multiple earthquakes and disasters (Japan, Haiti, Chile, China, and others) have punctuated an already chaotic ten-year period that has seen buildings felled by terrorists from New York City to Nairobi, wars in the Middle East, catastrophic flooding in New Orleans, mudslides, typhoons, complex disasters such as in Fukushima Japan, and the list goes on. But as troubling as these events are, they are not in themselves particularly new phenomena. Even in my own lifetime, I have noticed the predictable likelihood that disasters will happen.
My early upbringing was as the child of a minister in the prairie country of Minnesota, in the north central USA. We were not strangers to natural disasters; every summer communities near us, and sometimes our own community, experienced the devastating power of tornadoes. I grew up with ‘70’s era TV images of families weeping while standing where their trailer used to be, or where their barn used to be, or even standing where they last saw members of their family. These were terrifying images, but they were also fascinating. I was at an early age captivated by the human survival instinct in the wake of calamity, and motivated to gain an experiential understanding of these human traits.
Being a minister’s child, I was exposed to different cultures around the world through missionaries. When our family moved to Detroit, these impression-making interactions increased. In the summer of 1988, between my junior and senior year of high school, I experienced my first international disaster. I travelled to Haiti to work with Mission Aviation Fellowship (MAF), a faith-based, nonprofit organization founded by military pilots to use aircraft to help missionaries respond to disasters. MAF currently operates 136 light aircraft to support their outreach and humanitarian relief and development activities in 38 nations, providing aviation support in a variety of settings. We were assisting a community near the city of Cap-Haïtien, which had experienced damage to hillside buildings, including a school, during Hurricane Emily in 1987. It was here that I began to understand the links between people, the rest of nature, and the outcomes of surprise events like so-called natural disasters or other catastrophes.
According to Jane Deren of Education for Justice, during the 1980’s, Haiti still had 25% of its forests, which allowed the tropical island nation to endure rain events like 1987’s Category 3 Hurricane Emily, with minimal loss of life. But, she says, as of 2004, only 1.4% of Haiti’s forests remained. The effects of this slow erosion of a source of Haitian social-ecological system resilience are now being felt. Storms Jeanne and Gordon were not even officially hurricanes when they descended upon Haiti, but the almost complete lack of tree cover has been pointed to as a major contributing factor to the devastating floods that killed thousands. And, according to some, it doesn’t even take a tropical storm to seriously disrupt the Haitian system — in May of 2004, three days of heavy rains from a tropical disturbance dumped more than 18 inches of rain in the mountains, triggering floods that killed over 2600 people. Tragically, the tens of thousands of Haitians who died as a result of the 2010 earthquake are further testimony to the loss of resilience within the Haitian social-ecological system. (For an exhaustive body of work on Haiti and forestry, see anthropologist Gerald F. Murray’s research portfolio.)
My own experience in disaster relief in Haiti over 20 years ago was extraordinary in many ways, but one experience stands out in particular. There was a small school perched precariously on a slope. The school had been closed since the storm of a year earlier, as it was deemed unsafe. Portions of the exterior showed signs of slumping down the hill. Every day, women and older men were planting small trees on the uphill side of the building. I asked someone one day what they were doing, and the person replied, in a rather condescending way, that they were wasting their time trying to save the school. About a week later, I heard a man yelling and whistling shrilly. I looked in the direction of the noise and saw the tree planters scurrying away from the school. Moments later, the building totally collapsed and slid a little ways down the hill. The entire community seemed to assemble at the site within minutes, and there could be heard great cries and wailing, yet thankfully, no one was injured. After about an hour of this, the women who were planting trees, and two or three of the old men trudged up the slope and resumed their planting. Slowly, others climbed to assist, until there were maybe 30 people on the side of the hill above the rubble. I was greatly moved.
Later, I mustered the courage to ask our host to help me pose some questions to the tree planters. I asked them why they continued to plant trees when the school was destroyed. The interpreter asked my question in Creole, and there were many answers, and much hand waving. I thought I had offended the people. Then, the interpreter turned to me with tears in his eyes. He said:
“We didn’t plant the trees to save the school. We planted the trees to save the children in the school. We are still planting the trees because we are still worried about our children. We are planting the trees because there is nothing else we can do. See? We are not crying here, we are planting trees.”
More recently, on 29 August 2005, New Orleans endured weeks of inundation and devastation, and months of disorganized recovery efforts as a result of Hurricane Katrina. Yet despite media reports portraying New Orleans as paralyzed and helpless, or even worse, descending into chaos, ordinary citizens were observed planting and caring for trees in neighborhoods across the city. Within four years after the disaster, three local NGOs, Parkway Partners, Hike for KaTREEna, and Replanting New Orleans, worked with community volunteers and government agencies to plant over 6000 trees in hard hit areas. Interviews I conducted with volunteers in the devastated 9th Ward and other New Orleans neighborhoods, and with leaders of local NGOs, revealed how trees and replanting trees were critical in bolstering people’s resolve to rebuild their lives, and how memories of the live oaks and other trees that had been symbolic of New Orleans as a place to live became a symbol of hope for re-growth of the city and of their lives (see Tidball, K. G. 2012, Greening in the Red Zone: Valuing Community-Based Ecological Restoration in Human Vulnerability Contexts. Department of Natural Resources. Ithaca, NY, Cornell University: 355; and Tidball, K. G. 2012, Trees and Rebirth: Symbol, Ritual, and Resilience in Post-Katrina New Orleans. In Greening in the Red Zone: Disaster, Resilience, and Community Greening. K. G. Tidball and M. Krasny. New York, Springer-Verlag.)
It is my hope that greening efforts that I have witnessed first-hand, like NYC’s Million Trees program, New Orleans’s post-Katrina greening efforts, the Greening of Detroit, and the ReLeaf Joplin movement can become inspirational to policy makers and planners in post-conflict and post-disaster contexts, especially in large population centers, and also affirming and inspiring to community greeners everywhere. I am optimistic that humanity can recall its collective connections to the rest of the biosphere, especially in times of crisis, and that such recollection will help us remember our way out of current pathologies and learn our way in to a sustainable urban future on ever-changing planet earth.
Depression and anxiety are both common and under-reported. Greenspaces can help, but the connection needs more awareness and research.
The benefits of nature for general health are well established. Indeed, we intuitively know that green is good for our mental health, but just how good is it? The stress reduction/ supportive design theory posits that viewing or experiencing nature activates our parasympathetic nervous system to reduce stress levels (Ulrich et al. 1991). Ottosson and Grahn (2008) found that the mental health of people who experience nature regularly is actually less affected by a personal crisis than those who have fewer nature-based experiences. Other than these, a review of the literature conducted by Bowen and Parry (2015) demonstrated that there is actually little research specifically focusing on the area of depression and anxiety, and what is there is rather underwhelming. This work highlights the need for more depth research and longitudinal studies to understand the complexities of this very pervasive health issue.
Depression and anxiety in Australia alone accounts 12 percent of the total national burden of disease but it receives a significantly smaller percentage of available health funding. It is estimated that in Australia 45.5 percent of the population will experience a mental health disorder at some point in their lifetime.
That’s what the statistics say, but sometimes I wonder if these numbers are conservative estimates. I like to do my research before I embark on any venture, so when I became pregnant naturally I delved into all facets of pregnancy and motherhood. Something that surprised me was the high incidence of postnatal mental health disorders and also the variance in the numbers of women affected by those disorders cited by health agencies. According to the NHS UK, 1 in 10 women will experience postnatal depression. Figures are higher in Australia, where more than 1 in 7 new mums and up to 1 in 10 new dads experience postnatal depression each year. Depending on where you look, the numbers differ, with some studies estimating this condition affects 20 percent of mothers.
I had considered birth to be a joyous occasion but these figures brought a somewhat stark surprise to bear upon me. Of course, as a city strategist for urban nature the issue of diverse community requirements in a large city is not new to me. Understanding who we are providing for is a critical component of city planning, but our publics are often more nuanced than we may realise. We consult and we co-design with our communities, but do we truly understand the impact of the spaces we create and how people use them through different phases and stages in their lives?
As a new mother, I reflect on this matter differently now.
My use of urban green spaces certainly increased once I became a mother. I look back on my joyous occasion, and I am fortunate to be able to delve into a collection of impossibly idyllic memories. Those memories were facilitated by how uniquely privileged I was to reside amongst Melbourne’s green network of parks, sharing the Domain Parklands as my garden reachable within 60 seconds and the Royal Botanic Gardens a further two minutes.
In 2017, I visited the Royal Botanic Gardens with my baby for 120 days consecutively, sometimes twice a day. It seemed like the natural thing to do was to bring my little bundle of joy to the park. Every. Single. Day.
And what wonderful days they were, inhaling the quintessentially Australian fragrance of lemon scented gums wafting in the breeze on our approach to the Royal Botanic Gardens; soaking up the sun on the vast lawns with panoramic vistas of the Ornamental Lake with the occasional boat punting gently by; or taking refuge shade under the vast canopy of 100 year oak trees on scorching hot summer days. Each day I marveled at those extraordinary trees and beautiful flowers within that park.
Established in 1846, these gardens are home to more than 50,000 plants from every corner of the planet. Collections span everything from the Australian Forest Walk displaying a range of impressive giant forest trees to the Cycad Collection, with an array of living fossils juxtaposed against a modern urban backdrop.
When I wasn’t in the Royal Botanic Gardens I was scouting around its perimeter in the Domain Parklands, which are managed by my wonderful colleagues at the City of Melbourne. The Domain is a classic landscape of endless lawns framed by beautiful trees, walking paths, fountains and distinctive horticultural displays beginning on the meandering frontage of the Yarra River. I would stand at the foot of the Shrine of Remembrance and soak in what truly looked, from that angle, to be a city springing out of a verdant green forest. And then I would march my way through the Domain carefully inspecting the trees that were planted during my stewardship at the city council. How were they growing? How was the place changing?
I was the ultimate park life enthusiast, fueled of course by the excellent croissants and coffee available within and surrounding the Royal Botanic Gardens. And I am quite certain that my, now not so little, baby developed a true sense of awe and wonder that will remain a positive influence for decades to come with such immersion in nature on a daily basis.
Wouldn’t it be great if all mums had access to an abundance of quality green spaces like that? I wonder would the incidence of post-natal depression be reduced if this were the case? Unfortunately, spaces like these in many cities are not accessible for all. Dobbs et al (2017) found, in an assessment of 100 cities, an inequitable distribution of ecosystem services for lower socioeconomic communities. They also found that cities with more than 1 million inhabitants generally have lower recreational opportunities. The reality is that while our cities evolve and grow, we are not making a meaningful connection between our expensive healthcare costs and increasing demands on our overburdened healthcare systems with the distinct lack of quality ecosystem service provision for all urban communities.
Research is now beginning to show an association between green space and birth outcomes, however further work is also needed in this area. Agay Shay et al (2014) found that an increase in distance to a city park was associated with an increased risk of preterm birth and a decrease of gestational age. They also found that there was a statistically significant association between low levels of surrounding green space and term low birth weight. Both factors are associated with a higher incidence of postnatal depression.
According to a report by Deloitte Access Economics, postnatal depression costed Australians $76.66 million in 2012 alone. The London School of Economics and the Centre for Mental Health charity went one step further in 2014 in a report that quantified the cost to the British economy at £8.1 billion per year. That report considered both the direct economic impact on affected mothers and also the effect over decades on their children’s development and opportunities. It is often that we rely on economic assessments to estimate the relative impact of a societal issue and motivate policy makers, but what remains undeniably silent is a real awareness of the impact these conditions can have for a generation of new babies if they become chronic.
Somewhat overshadowed by postnatal depression and anxiety is the recovery phase for new mothers. Birth is no small feat and it certainly takes the body time to bounce back especially if a woman has had a traumatic birth or one that did not meet her expectations. In addition to that there is at least a 6 week recovery period associated with C-sections. Indeed, C-sections are major surgery and we underestimate the physical impact they can have because they are so prevalent now. In Australia, 1 in 3 babies are born via C-section; in the US it is also 1 in 3. That is a lot of major surgeries. But we know that walking, especially in a high-quality green area can aid and speed recovery for both types of birth and we know we can apply the above-mentioned Ulrich’s theory.
Whilst dealing with depression and anxiety is certainly no walk in the park, we need to do more to improve societal awareness of these conditions and the ways in which we can help new families. Dealing with postnatal depression matters because of its broader impacts for all levels of society. This is not some niche group to be ignored because our policy agendas have bigger fish to fry. Maternal depression is shown to contribute to multiple early child developmental problems, including impaired cognitive, social and academic functioning. That impact has ramifications beyond what science has established to date.
As our cities grow, now is the time to think differently about the needs of families. We tend to consider the lack of rich nature in our cities to be the trade off we make for development and progress. We tend to accept it. We now need to rethink and reset.
Agay Shay, K.; A. Peled; A. Crespo; C. Peretz; A. Yona; S. Linn; M. Friger; & M. Nieuwenhuijsen. 2014. Green spaces and adverse pregnancy outcomes. Occupational and environmental medicine. Volume 71.
Bauer A.; M. Parsonage; M. Knapp; V. Lemmi V, & B. Adelaja. 2014. The costs of perinatal mental health problems London School of Economics & Centre for Mental Health
Bowen K.J. & M. Parry. 2015. The Evidence Base for Linkages between Green Infrastructure, Public Health and Economic Benefit. Victoria University & Government of Victoria.
Cummings M. & Kouros CD. 2009. Maternal Depression and its Relation to Children’s Development and Adjustment. Encyclopedia on Early Childhood Development.
Deloitte. 2012. The cost of perinatal depression in Australia. Deloitte Access Economics.
Dobbs C.; C. Nitschke; D. & Kendal. 2017. Assessing the drivers shaping global patterns of urban vegetation landscape structure. Science of The Total Environment, Volume 592.
Ottosson J. & P. Grahn. 2008. The Role of Natural Settings in Crisis Rehabilitation: How Does the Level of Crisis Influence the Response to Experiences of Nature with Regard to Measures of Rehabilitation? Landscape Research, Vol. 33.
Ulrich R.S.; R.F. Simons; B.D. Losito; E. Fiorito; M.A. Miles; & M. Zelson. 1991. Stress recovery during exposure to natural and urban environments. Journal of Environmental Psychology, Volume 11.
Putting nature at the heart of recovery thinking is an argument we read and hear since the beginning of the COVID19 pandemic. Will we act on this argument? If not, it is just a new greenwash.
As we are living in the second year of the pandemic. We are learning to adapt to new urban living, new ways of working—mostly remotely and at times in a blended way—and most of all, learn to reconnect to our urban places and spaces. Many local governments have put in place measures that before were seeming far reached dreams: Melbourne removing parking areas and lanes and allocating them to small businesses especially restaurants and cafes as a way of enabling their financial recovery; Paris turning streets into bicycle lanes even overnight; and other cities following with place-based and city-wide measures for a post-pandemic recovery. Seeing from afar, these measures are not only welcomed but also necessary if we are to turn the pandemic crisis in an opportunity—what resilience thinking has been proposing since its introduction some years ago—for cities and urban life to become more resilient, liveable, and sustainable (Elmqvist et al 2019).
But, casting a closer eye, the positive image gets blurred: are these greenwashing measures or radically transformative measures for a green recovery? Are the bike lanes and cycling infrastructure a “band aid” approach to the deeply rooted perception and value that automobility is the dominant mode of transport? Or are bike lanes the tactical urbanism experiment that will inform and quickly connect to an integrated low-carbon mobility plan to inform investment and divestment simultaneously? Are there plans for improving quality and accessibility of urban parks across the city and especially in economically vulnerable areas? Or are lush parks in areas or locations with investment potential in cities planned and funnel investments instrumentalising the crisis to move forward at the expense of areas that need green space improvements more?
With these questions in mind, we need to both wait for the post-pandemic recovery plans to unfold before we critically examine and assess them (preferably om relation to the Sustainable Development Goals) and at the same time, seize the opportunity for a science-based and science-driven advocacy narrative towards more radical, transformative actions to progress our cities and urban living towards sustainability, resilience, and liveability. Such discussions happen now across the globe also as part of UN’s declaring this decade as the UN decade for Ecosystem Restoration (#GenerationRestoration) as a global aspiration for restoring our nature at all scales and geographies.
Earlier this month, I had the opportunity to participate in a panel of the European Union’s Green Week 2021 on this exact topic question: What transformations we need for a green recovery of our cities post pandemic? Based on recent research and long-standing research findings, I presented three interlinked proposals of transformative actions to build resilience with a focus on gearing up a green post-pandemic recovery. This essay is to share my insights and hopefully, ignite a discussion on the post-pandemic recovery we want to see in our cities and by our cities.
City leadership needs to be strengthened
First, cities—meaning local governments—need to continue charting the way in building resilience through city leadership regionally and globally. What we have evinced the past two decades with cities being on the forefront of innovating and experimenting with new policy arrangements, bold and iconic greening and renaturing projects need to be further strengthened and mainstreamed. The city as a governance level but also as a habitat unit is the scale in which coupled climate and biodiversity solutions can emerge and be strengthened. In our recent research (Oke et al 2021), we believe that cities can play a major role in dealing with biodiversity crisis especially through reconnecting people with nature through engaging with citizen science, empowering Indigenous communities and appreciating their knowledge. City leadership should be the foundation for a post-pandemic recovery for building resilience through innovation, solution finding and place-based interventions that strengthen communities and their connections to nature. City leadership needs to be strengthened because cities are nature’s habitats as well. In a post-pandemic recovery plan, state and federal governments need to devolve power in terms of authority to legislate, propose environmental plans and biodiversity action plans to cities. Empowering and capacitating local governments can be a driving force for a combined climate and biodiversity recovery that does not get blocked nor stalled by complex and entrenched bipartisanship politics that often are not about long-term sustainability and resilience.
Adopt a system’s perspective as a way-finder
Second, recovery measures should not be ad-hoc and opportunistic but rather guided through a system’s thinking perspective. Cities as mosaics of infrastructures and people’s routines, uses, and meanings need to be understood and planned through a system’s approach. This means understanding how infrastructures and the social environment interconnect and co-evolve, how the feedback loops of complex change processes can provide insights on interventions with amplification effects (Frantzeskaki et al 2021). Think on how changes in neighbourhood streets or parking lots in terms of landscape, use and functionality can trigger changes in micro-environmental conditions if they are unsealed and how such changes can be catalysts for more civic engagement and attachment to place if these spaces are re-appreciated and appropriated as an urban common.
What urban planners and urban strategists can do by adopting a system’s thinking for formulating the recovery plans is to put people at the centre of system’s thinking and adopt this approach not only as a diagnostic but also as a way finder for more transformative solutions for urban resilience. Putting people at the centre of system’s thinking means that we unpack and understand how citizen’s behavior responses, practices form institutions that strengthen or weaken feedback loops and how these responses and practices can swift towards new system configurations. Think, for example, of shifting to household recycling and recovery of resources instead of ‘all-in-one’ waste disposal practices and how this can support more circular city models, and sharing economy district approaches. Instead of investing in large waste infrastructure first, circular economy investments need to come hand in hand with understanding human practice and behavior and how it can trigger and be triggered through new urban design, household level technologies and even economic or “award-type” incentives.
Green recovery and low-carbon urban transitions to be mutually reinforcing agendas
Recovery plans and agendas have to avoid reinforcing unsustainable ways of living and chart new ways of organising, living, relating and thinking. We have a unique chance to reimagine our cities and urban lives being sustainable and resilience at present: here and now. A way forward is to see the green recovery plans reinforcing and creating synergies with low-carbon transitions. In many cities this is already happening, but more strategic plans need to be put afoot. Investing in infrastructure modifications to make neighbourhoods walkable for all can also have health benefits for citizens (e.g., dealing with obesity and overweight related issues) (Hadgraft et al 2021). And in the quest to make cities resilient one neighbourhood at a time, urban planners need to keep in mind that not all greening and greenness matters the same when it comes to health impacts and wellbeing: urban parks and larger green spaces when accessible and in proximity are not only appreciated and connect people to nature but also lower cardiometabolic risk of urban citizens (Hadgraft et al 2021). By making urban neighbourhoods walkable and green, we can chart an urban pathway of low-carbon and healthy resilient living.
Relatedly, putting nature at the heart of recovery thinking is an argument we read and hear since the beginning of the COVID19 pandemic. There is longstanding evidence that nature-based solutions as the umbrella of green and blue infrastructure measures, sustainable urban water drainage systems, ecosystem-based adaptation measures, and more have the potential to deal with climate change, be climate adaptation solutions while addressing socio-economic challenges simultaneously (European Commission, 2021; Frantzeskaki et al 2019). This again points to recovery agendas that include regenerating urban infrastructures in cities and transforming places through greening into urban green commons. As transdisciplinary and transformation-oriented scientists we need to be critical and instrumental in this recovery agendas: being critical and investigative that this unique opportunity for a green leapfrogging does not turn into an exploitative greenwashing opportunity at the expense of both biodiversity and people living in cities. It needs to be seized as a way forward and above the non-sense measures or touching-the-surface of the problem political masking or maneuvering and enforce radical and transformative agendas for people and the planet. And as this may reads as a manifesto, it is merely what many researchers and a hundreds of hours of documentaries on the state of the planet, the urgency to deal with climate change have been pointing at, and the pandemic has brought us with an unmet opportunity or a policy window to accelerate the action advocated and supported at large.
However, this needs to be done in an inclusive way, considering multiple actors, knowledges, as well as a system’s thinking for design, management and maintenance (Frantzeskaki et al 2020). In view of this, we need to consider that a green recovery of our cities is a multi-actor project. Collaboration is catalytic for co-design and co-create nature-based solutions with social innovators and citizens including Indigenous communities and not-easy-to-reach groups to make recovery just, equitable, and inclusive.
Elmqvist, T., Andersson, E., Frantzeskaki, N., McPhearson, T., Folke, C., Olsson, P., Gaffney, O., and Takeuchi, K., (2019), Sustainability, resilience and transformation in the urban century, Nature Sustainability, 2, 267–273 — https://www.nature.com/articles/s41893-019-0250-1, https://doi.org/10.1038/s41893-019-0250-1
Frantzeskaki, N., McPhearson, T., Collier, M., Kendal, D., Bulkeley, H., Dumitru, A., Walsh, C., Noble, K., van Wyk, E., Pinter, L., Ordonez, C., Oke, C., Elmqvist, T., (2019), Nature-based solutions for urban climate change adaptation: linking the science, policy and practice communities for evidence-based decision-making, Bioscience, 69, 455-566, doi:10.1093/biosci/biz042
Frantzeskaki, N., Vandergert, P., Connop, S., Schipper, K., Zwierzchowska, I., Collier, M., and Lodder, M., (2020), Examining the policy needs for implementing nature-based solutions: Findings for city-wide transdisciplinary experiences in Glasgow, Genk and Poznan, Land Use Policy , 96, 104688, https://doi.org/10.1016/j.landusepol.2020.104688
Frantzeskaki, N., McPhearson, T., and Kabisch, N., (2021), Urban Sustainability Science: prospects for innovations through a system’s perspective, relational and transformations’ approaches, AMBIO, 1-9, doi.org/10.1007/s13280-021-01521-1
Hadgraft, N., Chandrabose, M., Bok, B., Owen, N., Woodcock, I., Newton, P., Frantzeskaki, N., and Sugiyama, T., (2021), Low-carbon built environments and cardiometabolic health: a systematic review of Australian studies, Cities & Health, DOI: 10.1080/23748834.2021.1903787
Oke, C., Bekessy, S., Frantzeskaki, N., Bush, J., Harrison, L., Grenfell, M., Hartigan, M., Gawler, S., Callow, D., Elmqvist, T., Garrard, G., Fitzsimons, J., Cotter, B., (2021), Cities should respond to the extinction crisis, Urban Sustainability 1, 11 (2021). https://doi.org/10.1038/s42949-020-00010-w
To test and experiment with different forms of street transformations and greenery, tactical urbanism is increasingly being implemented. Here are three examples enhancing green and open space in Munich
Due to urban densification processes and increasing confrontation with climate change, cities face the need to organize their public space in efficient and sustainable ways that take current needs as well as those of future generations into account. The Green Infrastructure (GI) concept is a widely used concept, introducing various approaches to implement green elements in urban areas that provide a broad set of benefits and values with environmental, social, and economic purposes (Hansen, et al.,2019; Pauleit, et al., 2011; Sturiale, & Scuderi, 2019). More specifically, the European Commission defines GI as a “strategically planned network of natural and seminatural areas with environmental features designed and managed to deliver a wide range of ecosystem services such as water purification, air quality, space for recreation and climate mitigation and adaptation” (EC, 2019). One element of this GI concept is street transformations, particularly green street transformations (EPA, 2022). Streets make up to 50% of the urban built environment. Therefore, they provide great prospects for change in urban design and sustainability (Furchtlehner et al., 2022; Im, 2019; Pogačar & Senk, 2020; Rodriguez-Valencia & Ortiz-Ramirez, 2021). However, streets still mostly serve a motorized infrastructure – i.e., car lanes and parking spaces (Furchtlehner & Lička, 2019). Cities are thus considering street transformations to gradually redistribute the streets-space and prioritize pedestrians and bikers, and increase green spaces.
The recent COVID pandemic has pushed cities further to provide access to green spaces in dense neighborhoods. To test and experiment with different forms of street transformations and greenery, tactical urbanism is increasingly being implemented. It is defined as exploring with short-term, low-cost placemaking through bottom-up movements and civic collectivity. Pop-up public spaces, bike lanes, or green elements are installed as temporary solutions to tackle the lack of public space (Furchtlehner & Lička, 2019; Natividade et al., 2022; VanHoose et al., 2022). The attempt is to create a long-term change for the neighborhood despite the limited lifespan of the project. However, it is questionable whether longevity and a change in the behavior of the population can be achieved through such implementations. Particularly in recent years, the city of Munich has experimented with green street interventions such as pop-up bike lanes, summer streets, Kulturdachgarten, Parklets, and Schanigärten (Natividade et al., 2022). Besides the City Council of Munich, another major local player in such projects is the Green City e.V. This association is predominantly involved in experiments and developments around greening the city. This essay will discuss three projects of the Green City e.V. in Munich and critically assess the greening aspect and longevity of such short-term tactical urbanism.
Green City e.V. (2022a) aims to transform the urban living space to increase the quality of life within the city of Munich. The association was founded as a non-profit organization in 1990 and is one of the largest environmental organizations in Munich today. Green City e.V. is proposing several different programs around greening with a focus on participative urban design, clean energy, environmental education, and sustainable mobility. Through tactical urbanism, they are implementing around 150 events and temporary projects per year with more than 2,500 volunteers engaged in their projects. The NGO is politically independent and financed through funding, members, grants, and commissioned work. The main attempt is to engage as many citizens as possible for a greener and more livable city with the guiding principle of “fresh air, more green, less noise and air pollution – our Munich of the future, a Munich for the people”[1] (Green City e.V., 2022a). Green City e.V. organizes their projects around four pillars: (1) Mobility to enhance climate responsive and reduce motorized traffic, (2) Urban green to promote communal gardening, urban greening, and design, (3) Education and participation, and (4) Climate change mitigation and resource conservation. In terms of greening the city, current projects of the organization include the Wanderbaumallee, the Parklets, and the Quartierswende Lehel (Green City e.V., 2022a).
Three projects exemplify their capacity to enhancing greenery.
Wanderbaumallee
Die Wanderbaumallee (“walking tree alley”) is temporarily transforming neighborhood streets into green “alleys” or “avenues”. For the duration of six weeks, 15 trees are greening one street before being moved to the next location in an opening event. The project has proven its worth for the past 30 years, occupying over 60 different streets, and resulting in the planting of 150 permanent trees (Green City e.V., 2022b). The “walking tree alley” is always accompanied by a small exhibition on the values of trees for the microclimate, shadow provision, or aesthetics to educate users about environmental issues and urban greening (Green City e.V., personal communication, 3. June 2022). The overall goal is to raise awareness of the benefits of trees as providers of important ecosystem services, such as mitigating climate change, regulating runoff, reducing urban heat, air and noise pollution, as well as inciting physical activity (Baró, et al. 2019; Green City e.V., 2022b; Niemelä et al., 2010; Nesshöver et al., 2017). Green City e.V. is aiming for users to valorize the positive effects of trees in their streets and start initiatives to accelerate the greening process (personal communication, 3. June 2022).
Challenges for the Wanderbaumallee might include tree maintenance or whether they will permanently change the streetscapes of the neighborhood. For instance, the trees need to be watered daily during their stay. Green City e.V. (2022b) is therefore calling for neighbors, schools, and kindergartens to water and maintain the trees. According to the NGO (personal communication, 3. June 2022), this is usually no issue though as neighbors often apply for the “walking tree alley” at the district committee and are hence, quite invested and motivated for the project. With regards to the visions of Jan Gehl and Jane Jacobs, residents themselves can be advocates to reclaim and transform their own streets through active engagement (Gehl, 2010; Jacobs, 1961). This will further motivate users to go beyond the mere project of tactical urbanism and demand the planting of permanent trees. The Wanderbaumallee will obviously not create an immediate effect on the microclimate but start an initial process that will expand further. There are several cases where the “walking tree alley” generated a long-term green street transformation, e.g., in Schrenk– and Steinstraße, Hofgarten, or Kaiserplatz (Green City e.V., 2022b). Before the trees are stored during the winter, the final Wanderbaumallee for 2022 has been set up in Blutenburgstraße, where the district’s committee itself is pushing the city to extend the green band of adjacent streets, initiating the greening process with this temporary project.
According to an Austrian study, five out of ten neighborhood streets in Munich currently contain street trees. Even though this number is higher than in other cities – such as Vienna for instance – and streets are often planted on both street sides in Munich, there is still room for improvement (Furchtlehner & Lička, 2019). Baró et al. (2019) discuss that street trees often go unnoticed when considering ecosystem services of green infrastructures. Though, they provide essential benefits, particularly in dense urban fabrics with lacking free space to implement larger green elements. Consequently, “walking trees” should be set up even more to ignite a green transition in other neighborhoods of Munich.
Munich’s Wanderbaumallee has been deemed a showcase experiment due to its longevity of more than 30 years and resulting in several successful green street transformations. It even inspired other cities to realize similar “avenues” such as the walking forest in Stuttgart and the Wanderbaumallee in Cologne.
Parklets
A second project initiated by the Green City e.V. is Parklets. Parklets offers (temporary) solutions to small public spaces along the sidewalk by occupying street parking. With a wide purpose range, they incorporate greenery, street furniture, exercise equipment, or bike racks to enhance social interaction, promote active mobility, reduce motorized traffic, and increase biodiversity. Particularly when dealing with a lack of space, they provide alternative public and green spaces integrated into the existing grey infrastructure. Initially set up in San Francisco in 2005, Parklets have now spread across 80 cities (Lydon et al., 2015).
In Munich, they were first installed in a pilot project in 2019 due to the increasing pressure for public spaces. Under the management of Munich’s Department for Urban Planning and with the support of Green City e.V., several Parklets are now set up every year with various purposes and designs, such as seating areas, bike repairs, and play spaces. Private individuals can submit applications for special use to the district committee and even request a small budget (Green City e.V., 2022c; Landeshauptstadt München, 2022). While Green City e.V. (personal communication, 3. June 2022) acts as an intermediary and supporting party, citizens themselves are responsible for the design and maintenance. There are no precise specifications, but the NGO strongly advises the integration of green elements (e.g., flowerpots, smaller plants, or even trees). In comparison to Schanigärten, which ignites outdoor spaces for cafes, restaurants, and bars, Parklets cannot serve commercial purposes but are committed to offering open and accessible spaces (Green City e.V., personal communication, 3. June 2022).
Acknowledged as one of their Urban Green projects (Green City e.V., 2022c), it is debatable whether Parklets contain “enough” green to be considered as an actual green intervention. Green City e.V. could demand a certain amount of green elements to enhance the feeling of a green oasis or micro park and to increase the provision of ecosystem services. Moreover, it is arguable whether Parklets will push a permanent transformation given their short duration and low frequency across the city (Bertolini, 2020). A possible long-lasting effect might become apparent when Parklets have been created for several years. From last year’s experience, Parklets throughout Munich mostly got positive resonance, except for some complaints about noise and the loss of parking space (Landeshauptstadt München, 2022). In the long run, neighbors will hopefully appreciate the value of the generated spaces and the increased livability through these pocket parks. Besides the greening aspect, Parklets offer a great opportunity to experiment with alternative, low-cost open spaces in neighborhoods and respond to specific local needs (VanHoose et al., 2022). Currently, parking spaces account for around 20 % of Munich’s streetscape (Furchtlehner & Lička, 2019). Hence, there is a lot of potential for pop-up public spaces and green elements by reducing parking spaces.
According to the WHO, residents should reach green areas within 300 m (WHO, 2017). Inserting pocket parks in dense neighborhoods can increase the accessibility to small green spaces (73 % of Munich’s residents have green spaces in 300 m proximity, Richter et al., 2016), and the availability of green spaces per capita (currently at around 19 m2, Bayerisches Landesamt für Statistik, 2020). Therefore, Munich still has potential for development in terms of vicinity to green spaces. In conclusion, one Parklet will not achieve a green transition but, when placed more frequently and long-termed, and with a stronger focus on a greening aspect, they have the potential to transform the streetscape.
Quartierswende im Lehel
Finally, looking at a larger-scaled project of Green City e.V., the Quartierswende Lehel is attempting a sustainable, green transformation of the Lehel, part of Munich’s central district Altstadt-Lehel. It has quite a large share of green spaces. Part of the English garden, Munich’s largest park with 417 ha surface, is within the district and the river Isar limits the southern border (München.de, 2022). Nevertheless, the inner neighborhoods of the district are quite dense and built up with few green spaces (see visualization in Figure 3). This negatively affects residents as well as their urban environment, which is why Green City e.V. (2022e) is advocating a redistribution of the inner district’s spaces. By initiating three temporary pilot projects, they strive for greater, permanent solutions. The projects were implemented in a participatory action in close collaboration between policy, administration, and citizens’ representation. Ideas and designs were collected and voted on in the neighborhood to accurately reflect the needs of the residents and to surge acceptance and satisfaction. Proposals included ideas around green elements, gardening, street trees, or green facades. As a result, during the summer of 2021, tactical urbanism projects were implemented at three sites with a focus on greening the city: Isartorplatz was transformed into a park with green spaces, street furniture, and playgrounds. St.-Anna-Platz enabled space for participation and sustainable education around topics like urban gardening, blue elements, and sustainable waste management. And Mariannenplatz inaugurated an open space around a variety of different functions.
However, the Quartierswende also brought some challenges. Particularly Mariannenplatz did not get the expected approval. Instead of transforming the entire streetscape and affecting traffic circulation, only small Parklets were granted by the City Council (Priwitzer, 2021). It is surprising that the city administration is still reluctant to such measures when Munich is striving to be carbon neutral by 2035 in their Urban Development Plan 2040 (Landeshauptstadt München, 2021). The city needs these greening concepts to achieve its goals of urban resilience and sustainability, and to increase the share of green spaces in the urban landscape, which is currently at 12 % (Bayerisches Landesamt für Statistik, 2020). Nevertheless, in the case of Lehel, the prospects seem positive after these tactical urbanism projects. Together with citizens and Green City e.V., the district committee is now striving for long-term solutions to initiate a permanent transition (Green City e.V., personal communication, 3. June 2022). However, critics claim that the Quartierswende might cause a process of green gentrification. Green gentrification is caused by the green transformation of a specific area, resulting in increasing rents and the displacement of lower-income groups (Gould & Lewis, 2016). Rent prices in Munich are already incredibly high, and this could even be aggravated. This will only show, though, once permanent developments have been executed.
Compared to the aforementioned projects of Green City e.V., the Quartierswende Lehel brings the largest scope and the most radical change. With a bit of risk and courage for change, the district – characterized by dense structures and grey infrastructures – could be transformed into a future-proof, green Lehel. A permanent transformation can then surge environmental benefits, enhance sustainable mobility, and expand social interaction and local identification.
Tactical urbanism and temporary green street transformations are increasingly applied to experiment with possible solutions for expanding green infrastructure and combating urban challenges. This essay discussed the extent of three temporary projects of Green City e.V. in Munich on greening the city and their prospects for permanent change.
Tactical urbanism projects offer citizens to transform their surroundings and reclaim the streets that are often car dominated. Implementing green elements can initiate a gradual transformation to increase the provision of ecosystem services and the quality of urban life. Moreover, they explore low-cost and low-risk measures, adapted to local needs. However, there is a chance that temporary projects might not result in long-term effects and the area will go back to the former status quo.
Green City e.V. initiates various tactical urbanism projects in the city of Munich such as the Wanderbaumallee, Parklets, and Quartierswende Lehel. The Wanderbaumallee moves 15 trees to a neighborhood street for a six-week duration. As a result, several streets were greened through permanent tree plantings. Parklets transform parking into public space in an attempt to generate a rethinking process. However, a green focus is not always achieved, and sometimes only small elements like flowerpots might be inserted, whereby a greening aspect could be pushed further. Finally, the Quartierswende Lehel explores placemaking and green interventions in a larger-scaled project of a central built-up district. Within the next years, citizens along with administrative organizations will plan the enduring development.
In conclusion, all three projects target a long-lasting green transition by exploring different forms of short-term interventions. While the Wanderbaumallee already caused several permanent tree plantings, both other projects are rather new, and their longevity is yet to be expected. Hopefully, all projects generate a rethinking process, where residents realize the benefits of green spaces in their neighborhood and claim for a permanent green transformation.
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[1] Own translation („Frische Luft, mehr Grün, weniger Lärm und Schadstoffe – unser München der Zukunft, ein München für Menschen.“ (Green City e.V., 2022a))
At first glance, Greenpoint seems much like many other ethnically diverse New York City neighborhood struggling with rapid gentrification. Traditional neighborhood businesses jostle for space with trendy new restaurants and shops, while developers hype luxury high-rise development proposals.
But, underneath the ground, something is very different.
Between the late 1800s to the mid 1900s, nearby Newtown Creek was a bustling industrial waterway, its banks lined by dozens of oil refineries. The major oil companies Exxon, Chevron and BP all had refineries and/or storage facilities in Greenpoint. Together, over the course of a century, they spilled or leaked somewhere between 17 million to 30 million gallons of oil into Greenpoint’s soil and groundwater. (For perspective, the Exxon Valdez crash spilled 11 million gallons of oil in Alaska. )
This contamination was discovered by a 1978 by a US Coast Guard helicopter out on routine patrol. The next year, Exxon which owns most of the contaminated land, and is responsible for an oil plume that extends under 300 local houses, began recovering free oil from the spill site. But Exxon’s cleanup program was small and progress was slow. It took another 12 years for the state to negotiate consent orders with ExxonMobil for Clean Water Act violations stemming from the spill. These consent orders were notable largely for their lack of stringency.
As a result, even though ExxonMobil has recovered roughly 8 million gallons of oil from the site, most of the oil that was spilled in Greenpoint is still there. Lurking beneath the surface in a massive plume, the oil makes 50+ acres of land are undevelopable, and three city blocks of homes virtually worthless. The oil has also helped make Newtown Creek one of the most polluted waterways in the United States. The most optimistic projections are that 70% of the oil can be recovered by 2026.
In September 2010, EPA designated Newtown Creek a Superfund Site under CERCLA (the Comprehensive Environmental Response, Compensation and Liability Act, 42 U.S.C. §9607.) The next year, EPA signed a Consent Order with six potentially responsible parties. The remedial investigation, a precursor to developing a cleanup plan, is currently ongoing. The eventual Superfund cleanup will focus on Newtown Creek, and will not address the contamination of Greenpoint’s aquifer, or the soil contamination in Greenpoint.
Two months later, then-Attorney General Andrew Cuomo announced a state settlement with ExxonMobil over contamination in Greenpoint. The deal, which also settled lawsuits brought by Riverkeeper and by local Greenpoint residents, committed ExxonMobil to clean up the soil and water in Greenpoint, and created a $19.5 million dollar fund for environmental benefit projects in Greenpoint.
This Environmental Benefits Project Fund again sets Greenpoint apart.
Not only is this the largest such benefits fund in New York State, but the ongoing process for allocating the funds has been notable for its transparency and participation. The New York Attorney General appointed the North Brooklyn Development Corporation and the National Fish and Wildlife Foundation as general administrators, and created a Greenpoint Community Advisory Panel to provide community input regarding allocation of these funds. To date, there have been multiple, well-attended public meetings to identify priorities for potential projects to be funded from these settlement monies. Through an open, transparent process, the administrators have solicited project proposals and communicated community priorities. [full disclosure, the Center for Urban Environmental Reform, which I direct, is participating in this process] The submitted proposals, in turn, have been disclosed to the community for discussion and input. The process is structured to provide maximum public participation to ensure that funded projects provide clear environmental benefits to Greenpoint, based on the priorities identified by Greenpoint residents themselves.
As such, Greenpoint offers a model that other cities, towns and neighborhoods might fruitfully copy. Urban areas are peppered with polluted former industrial sites, so-called brownfields. These sites sit there, contaminated, amidst neighborhoods that change over time. Many formerly industrial areas transition to residential, prompting concerns about exposure, illness and other harms. Contamination, along with CERCLA liability, can make it difficult to redevelop these former industrial sites. Some areas remain permanently blighted because of the logistic challenges of cleaning up these former industrial sites. CERLCA liability presents a tremendous barrier to these properties changing hands, and cleaning up these sites can take years and millions of dollars.
Any attempt to move forward must confront some fundamental questions about priorities. How clean is clean enough? When is monitoring sufficient? How should neighborhoods bearing the brunt of these environmental burdens be compensated? These questions are front and center of any discussion of cleaning up these hazardous sites. If public participation follows the model set out for the Greenpoint Environmental Benefits Fund, it will ensure that communities play a central role in this process of environmental decisionmaking.
Green initiatives are seen as educational places where many different people come together and where everyone can do what they want. They are places where peace can be found, but also where you can mean something to someone else.
Nature and greenery are good for you; we all know that by now. But is it also possible to improve your health by actively seeking out greenery or by getting involved in greenery yourself? That is, can you improve your health simply by taking an action? This is something Wageningen University and practice partners are researching in the PARTIGAN project. PARTIGAN focuses on increasing the amount of green space in the living environment, but also on the use of and the experienced contact with greenery in the city. Specifically, we look at green citizen initiatives: food forests and vegetable gardens that residents develop and maintain in their own neighborhood together with other residents. What does it mean for residents to start volunteering here? What do these green spaces mean to them, and does it affect their health?
Green spaces and health
On average, people in cities have poorer health than people living in the countryside, and this difference is largest for mental health (Verheij et al., 2008). One of the reasons for this difference could be the availability of green space. A living environment with more green space in it is associated with better mental health and lower mortality rates (van den Berg et al., 2015). Making living environments greener seems to be a promising instrument to improve public health. Green citizen initiatives can play an important role in this: places where residents sow seeds, harvest crops, and experience for themselves what it is like to grow food (which often goes to charity).
A photo experiment
But how do you find out what these places actually mean to the garden volunteers? During her bachelor’s thesis for the Health and Society degree program at Wageningen University, Berber Bergstra researched this using a participatory photography method: Photovoice. Bergstra gave participants in various green initiatives in Arnhem and Nijmegen four photo assignments, namely: (1) take a picture of your favorite spot in the garden, (2) take a picture of your least favorite spot/something you find difficult, (3) take a picture of something you have learned in the garden, and (4) take a picture of something you would like to share with others (neighborhood, community, friends, family), something you are proud of. This resulted in beautiful, varied photos and stories that we are happy to share here.
Favorite: nature
A place in nature is most people’s favorite spot. Where peace and infinity, but also the function for insects are important. One participant indicated a garden’s central meeting point as her favorite place. She says that it is the place where she meets other people, which energizes her.
Least favorite: weeds
Things that are experienced as less enjoyable by the participants are also related to nature. The weeds that keep growing, but also the task of weeding is seen as least favorite. Besides that, weather influences prove to be difficult, but this must be accepted because you cannot do anything about it. In addition, human influences, such as the mess they can make in a shared space, are difficult. One participant states that a clean and tidy place radiates peace and care.
Learning in the garden
All participants have learned something from other people in the garden, mostly about nature and gardening. This concerns new techniques related to gardening, such as permaculture. One participant links this to life in the bigger sense and states to have learned that you need to follow your dreams. Participants also mention that they think it is important to help other people. One garden in Arnhem, Stadslandbouw Mooieweg, grows fresh produce for the local Food Bank. In this process, a careful selection of the crops is an important aspect.
Proud of the garden
Our research shows that the garden volunteers are proud of “their” green initiatives. Bringing together different people is seen as important, not only for the people within the green initiative but, also for society as a whole. The atmosphere at the initiatives, the healthy food, the work as a volunteer, the favorite places, the diversity of people, and the initiatives in their entireness are looked at with great pride.
Green initiatives and health
Photovoice has been a great tool for getting an idea of the meaning that green initiatives have for the people who are involved in the garden, and what this can mean for their well-being. The green initiatives are seen as educational places where many different people come together and where everyone can do what they want. They are places where peace can be found, but also where you can mean something to someone else. The participants are proud of the initiatives and would like to share it with people around them.
Additional research at these locations revealed that active involvement in green community initiatives benefits your health. We found positive well-being outcomes on six dimensions: sense of safety and trust, meaningful involvement, personal development, social connection, sense of ownership, and a healthy lifestyle (Derkzen et al., 2021). Green initiatives are examples of bottom-up places in the city that can promote the physical, mental, and also social health of residents.
References
Derkzen, M.L., Bom, S., Hassink, J., Hense, E.H., Komossa, F. and Vaandrager, L. (2021). Healthy urban neighborhoods: exploring the well-being benefits of green citizen initiatives. Acta Hortic. 1330, 283-292
DOI: 10.17660/ActaHortic.2021.1330.34van den Berg, M., Wendel-Vos, W., van Poppel, M., Kemper, H., van Mechelen, W., & Maas, J. (2015). Health benefits of green spaces in the living environment: A systematic review of epidemiological studies. Urban Forestry & Urban Greening, 14(4), 806–816. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.ufug.2015.07.008
Verheij, R., Maas, J., & Groenewegen, P. (2008). Urban-Rural health differences and the availability of green space. European Urban and Regional Studies, 15(4), 307–316. https://doi.org/10.1177/0969776408095107
Marthe Derkzen and BerberBergstra Arnhem/Nijmegen, Wageningen
Berber Bergstra is a 21 year old student who just finished the bachelor Health & Society at Wageningen University, during which she wrote her bachelor thesis about the meaning of green initiatives such as common vegetable gardens. She is currently on an exchange semester in Denmark for her master's Health & Society.
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