While resilience has become a central feature of urban research and policy discourse, it remains a fuzzy and contested concept. We need to understand the different ways that cities interpret and apply resilience into plans and policies, and how this will help them grapple with future challenges.
Record-breaking disaster losses, unprecedented storms and heat waves, and stark warnings in the most recent IPCC report all point to an urgent need for local governments around the world to prepare for climate change impacts. Consequently, many cities have developed climate change adaptation plans that outline projected climate change impacts and response actions (Woodruff & Stults, 2016). In the last few years, a growing number of cities have shifted the framing of their planning efforts from adaptation to resilience. This may be driven, in part, by high profile funding initiatives, like the Rockefeller Foundation’s 100 Resilient Cities program, which support cities explicitly in resilience planning. This trend is mirrored in the academic literature, where work on urban resilience has proliferated in recent years (Meerow et al. 2016), as well as in discussions at The Nature of Cities.
While adaptation plans focus specifically on climate impacts, the scope of resilience planning is often broader. This makes city resilience plans in some ways more like comprehensive or sustainability plans. Nevertheless, more cities are now opting for resilience plans instead of stand-alone adaptation plans. This begs the question: What are the implications of this shift for local climate change preparedness?
In a recent study published in the Journal of Planning Education and Research, my colleagues Sierra Woodruff, Missy Stults, Chandler Wilkins, and I examine whether resilience plans in the United States appear to be substantively different than adaptation plans. In doing so, we contribute to a broader debate about whether resilience is simply the latest buzzword or a truly more integrated and flexible approach for preparing for future challenges (Davoudi et al., 2012;Coaffee et al., 2018).
To address this question, we use established plan evaluation methods to analyze the first ten US city resilience plans released through the 100 Resilient Cities program and compare them to a sample of 44 climate change adaptation plans. (See map below). We score each of the plans based on 124 criteria that relate to seven plan quality principles: (1) goals; (2) fact base; (3) strategies; (4) public participation; (5) inter-organizational coordination; (6) implementation and monitoring; and (7) uncertainty. We supplement this quantitative plan analysis with semi-structured interviews of officials in seven of the cities that are part of the 100 Resilient Cities program.
Figure 1: Map of the United States showing cities whose resilience or adaptation plans we evaluated, Credit: Woodruff et al., 2018
Our plan analysis shows that when the seven principle scores are combined, the average quality of the adaptation and resilience plans are similarly low (scoring less than half the possible points). This suggests that there is considerable room for cities to improve how they are planning for climate change impacts. Moreover, when we break down the average scores for resilience and adaptation plans by the seven principles (see the graph below, in Figure 2), there are some important differences.
Resilience plans do a better job of clearly articulating goals, engaging a broader set of organizations, agencies, and the public in the planning process, and acknowledging the linkages between different threats and systems. Our interviews support the idea that resilience planning encourages cities to prepare not just for climate change, but a variety of interconnected shocks and stressors. But we find that the resilience plans score worse than the adaptation plans on the Fact Base principle, meaning that fewer resilience plans include data on baseline climate conditions, future projections, or risks. It seems that there may be a tradeoff between added breadth (in terms of threats) and the depth of analysis. This supports earlier work by Lyles and colleagues (2017) that suggests that narrow-scope adaptation plans are more integrated and do a better job directing development away from hazardous areas than broader-scope ones.
The fact that resilience plans tend to score better on Public Participation and Coordination principles seems to support the idea that resilience encourages collaboration and breaks down silos, but in this study we cannot determine whether this stems from something unique about resilience planning per se or the 100 Resilient Cities program. I recently launched a research project — in collaboration with Sierra Woodruff and another researcher at Texas A&M, Bryce Hannibal — to examine this question by analyzing flood resilience planning networks in four U.S. coastal cities.
We find that adaptation plans, on the other hand, have a stronger fact base. For example, they are more specific about climate impacts and more likely to reference IPCC and other models. Adaptation plans also score significantly higher than resilience plans in how they acknowledge and address future uncertainties (e.g. through robust or no-regret strategies), although this is the lowest scoring principle for both types of plans. We found this surprising, given the focus in the literature on adaptive management and flexibility as characteristics of resilience (Meerow & Stults, 2016). There was no significant difference in the Implementation and Monitoring principle scores, but both plan types scored quite low.
Figure 2: Comparison of adaptation and resilience plan principle scores and aggregate plan quality. Error bars indicate standard error. Credit: Woodruff et al., 2018
We recognize that some of these results may be specific to the plans produced through the 100 Resilient Cities program and may not be generalizable to all resilience planning efforts. Cities were selected for the program because they were already doing innovative work and then they were given additional guidance and support that likely influenced how they conceptualized and planned for resilience. Other cities might not have the same level of capacity. Nevertheless, the 100 Resilient Cities initiative has been so instrumental in shaping the broader urban resilience agenda that we think it is worth examining these plans.
Our findings suggest that resilience and climate change adaptation planning have different strengths and weaknesses. Across the board, plans need to focus more on identifying robust strategies that work under a wide range of future scenarios and provide more details on how these strategies will be implemented and monitored.
Because the meaning of resilience is itself contested, we also look at how the different plans define resilience. Unsurprisingly, climate change adaptation plans generally define it more narrowly in terms of withstanding climate impacts. The resilience plans generally conceptualize resilience in broader terms, considering a wide array of shocks and stressors. Even though the 100 Resilient Cities program has its own definition of resilience, cities often modify it. For example, some cities make equity or justice an explicit part of their definition. Boston’s plan, for example, states: “Achieving citywide resilience means addressing racial equity along with the physical, environmental, and economic threats facing our city.” Other cities focus less on equity. Some plans define resilience as an outcome, others a process. These differences show that resilience is still a malleable concept.
In short, while resilience has clearly become a central feature of urban research and policy discourse, it remains a fuzzy and contested concept. As one of the first studies to systematically analyze multiple city resilience plans, I think our paper can help us begin to understand the different ways that cities interpret and apply resilience into plans and policies, and how this will help them grapple with future challenges, but we still have much to learn.
If you have been following the global, regional, and local-level conversations about the Sustainable Development Goals (or SDGs) and their implementation—for example, UN’s Habitat III meeting, held in Quito, Ecuador—you have probably heard of or participated in providing clarity on the role of the private sector in achieving SDG 11, which calls on us to “Make cities and human settlements inclusive, safe, resilient and sustainable”.
Co-designing the situation of refugees and their information-access strategies in urban markets yielded imaginative solutions for sparking private sector action on SDG 11’s targets.
You may have come across the United Nations Global Compact-Cities Programme[i], a platform that was created for the private sector to find ways of contributing to the attainment of SDG 11. But there is almost no consensus, particularly in Africa, on how the private sector can reinvigorate its practices to deliver on SDG 11. In this article, I suggest crossovers between disciplines and institutions, so that the private sector can build coalitions of new and old agents of change, enabling it to walk the walk on the SDG for cities.
Crossovers between disciplines and institutions are needed for SDG 11!
Burundian national: Photo: Buyana Kareem
“Crossovers” between disciplines and institutions is a system of thinking which argues that breakthroughs to sustainable modes of urban transitions become more likely when the institutional layers that distance researchers from the private sector, policymakers, and urban authorities are cut. If architects, engineers, and urban sociologists are to collaboratively work with construction firms and real estate companies—to create commercially viable developments that enhance tenants’ well-being while using scarce, precious metals sparingly—property owners in the city need ideas on how to manage properties in ways that reconcile the often conflicting means to economic, environmental, and social viability. Policymakers at municipal and central government levels on the other hand, would be compelled to participate if their experiences were used to design a cohesive policy for the affected sectors. In such a scenario, crossovers would eventually co-create a sustainable urban design (an infographic or other design form), as a boundary object for learning a methodology that relies on fewer natural resources to design buildings for the same economic output and lifestyle for tenants. The academics would come up with scientific and socially urgent questions that can guide the co-generation of evidence, on which interventions would be capable of changing the dynamics in buildings in ways that “leave no city behind”.
Periodic market day. Photo: Buyana Kareem
Harness the creativity of crossovers to enable the private sector to “walk the walk” on SDG 11
We need to be aware of the competing visions and rationalities connected to alternative processes of re-making the city and finding breakthrough solutions to complex urban issues. For many corporations, messaging and the image it portrays makes them reluctant to acknowledge the biases that underlie their business ethics and organizational performance measurements. One such bias is the popularization of corporate social responsibility programmes as a mechanism for demonstrating their commitment to and support towards sustainable and inclusive human settlements in cities. For-profit entities usually work with non-profits that guarantee media-visibility in slum upgrading projects, thereby identifying with urban sustainability issues in the marketplace as opposed to starting with changes at the workplace. Other firms cannot openly say to “outsiders” that their business models are based on conventional financial wisdom, which holds that: i) urban sustainability and profitability of the company are not prerequisites for each other; and ii) recyclable use of metals and natural resources in the city only makes business sense if your company relies on organic techniques to lower production or waste management costs.
Crossover workshop. Photo: Buyana Kareem
Urban authorities on the other hand, are usually hesitant to pass and enforce ordinances that require robust change in corporate practices. The rationale is that the private sector is an indispensable player in liberalizing markets, generating municipal revenue, creating jobs, and widening the national tax base; therefore, any “restrictions” on firms would attract pressure from central government agencies. Thus, being forced to repeal the ordinances or face budget cuts would eventually undermine delivery on political promises made by mayors and other city administrators. Conversely, researchers are still operating in university cultures that are devoid of the search for sidesteps that can lead to crossovers between disciplines and institutions. This keeps academics in knowledge-production cubicles that have the least opportunity to initiate experiments and new thinking that initiates working with other disciplines and collaborating with societal agents.
Such competing visions and rationalities imply that there is need for innovative methods that can enable the private sector to adopt a different mindset about cost. This conflict of interests also requires new forms of knowledge production that cut through institutional layers to shorten the distance between researchers, policymakers, and urban authorities.
Mixed classroom. Photo: Urban Futures Studio, Utrecht University
Re-imagine city markets with the private sector through crossovers
At the Urban Action Lab Makerere University Uganda[ii], we are exploring the feasibility of “crossover workshops”, a form of education that is similar to the mixed classroom courses initiated by the Urban Futures Studio at Utrecht University[iii], whose aim is to bring policy makers and industry partners together to develop an understanding of the techniques for researching and anticipating urban futures in connection to SDG 11. Our first edition of crossover workshops focused on the participation and integration of refugees in local markets in Kampala city, with a view that NGOs, the private sector, and city administrators have got to overcome the welfarist thinking of giving handouts to refugees as a measure of dealing with urban humanitarian crisis. The change we want to see is a private sector that collaborates with urban authorities and researchers to understand and support refugees and to get in touch with the elements of the urban informal economy. The School of International Development at the University of East Anglia partnered with the Urban Action Lab of Makerere University in Uganda to co-convene the crossover workshop with representatives from the Ministry of Urban Development in Uganda and Market Vendor Associations.
Vendors on the northern bypass operate an evening periodic market. Photo: Buyana Kareem
We were all interested in the opportunities and challenges that markets provide to refugees from Congo, Somalia, and Southern Sudan in Kampala. Students’ presentations on periodic and informal markets, and the diversity of trading activities they offer to refugees and host communities, were the launch pads for our imaginaries about what inclusivity and safety means for a refugee in a city market. Comments by the managers of the markets on the presentations gradually shifted our focus from markets as trading landscapes to markets as information landscapes. We learnt that inclusivity of a market is seen in the form of designated spaces for sharing trading information through trusted mediators, who assist refugees with navigating the information landscape using visual clues and non-formalized networks, mainly of transporters of merchandise, local omnibus taxi drivers, and motorcycle taxi operators. For the students, the theories and principles of social inclusion and social capital had been at the core of their research, but there was an acknowledgement that understanding the information seeking behavior of refugees requires closer examination of the role played by informal information service providers in the social integration of non-Kampalans into Kampala city’s trading landscape.
Although the crossover workshop did not yield a scalable methodology on how to get the private sector adopt a different mind-set about cost in the context of SDG 11, we were able to initiate a collaboration with new agents of change. The Ministry of Urban Development, Market Vendor Associations, Kampala Capital City Authority, the School of International Development at the University of East Anglia and the Urban Action Lab of Makerere University are co-researching information provision and access strategies that enable social inclusion of refugees into the social fabric of urban markets in Kampala, with support from the International Institute for Environment and Development (IIED)[iv]. This collaboration also intends to support “research-by-design” for students from Visual and Creative Arts at Makerere University, to work with architects of the markets and produce tangible images and or animations of what markets as information landscapes might actually look like. We believe that co-designing the urban situation of refugees and their information-access strategies in urban markets can result in imaginative solutions that can become embedded in Kampala’s policy processes around the targets of SDG 11.
Why do we plant what we do in our personal gardens? It turns out it’s driven by a complicated mix of personal philosophy and social posturing, which sometimes are at odds. And, it turns out, in South Africa and many other countries, we don’t even plant our own gardens. This is done by “unskilled” and immigrant laborers. We talk a lot about gardens in the nature of cities, but what of gardeners, especially as part of the labor force?
Plantings in one interviewee’s garden.
In South Africa, most middle class homes will have a gardener. Gardeners in this country are nearly always men and, reflecting the apartheid history of our country, are nearly always black. Gardeners are generally paid as unskilled labor at shockingly low rates. Shamefully, gardeners in South Africa are still often referred to as garden ‘boys’. One can only speculate that making grown men feel diminutive in this way arose as a function of historic issues around race, gender, and hierarchy, where the garden is traditionally the domain of the woman of the house and having a ‘boy’ working for a woman, in her space and taking her orders, was somehow more socially acceptable than having a man working for her.
Origins aside, the term persists today, suggesting that little has changed in relation to race and power in this particular arena in South Africa in the last 20 years. South Africa’s unemployment rate is measured conservatively at over 25 percent (Statistics South Africa, 2014). Gardening is an entry point to the job market for supposedly “unskilled” labor. A graphic example of the dire need for work and the role of ‘gardener’ as a catchall entry point is given by Kingdon and Knight in their 2001 paper on unemployment in South Africa, which reported a staggering 39,000 applications for 35 permanent jobs advertised for gardeners and cleaners at the University of Cape Town (Kingdon and Knight, 2001). Many gardeners do find themselves in more permanent positions, but must often juggle a number of gardening jobs on rotation through the week. In addition to local South African men, gardening has become a common occupation for migrant labor in South Africa.
Gardener Samson Malunga.
The men who tend these gardens make large contributions to the overall ecology and ‘nature’ of our cities. Interested in the dynamics between those directing their garden desires (garden owners) and the implementers of these desires (gardeners), I decided to speak to some gardeners in Cape Town. What brings them into this field of work? How do they view their roles as the ‘enactors’ of other people’s views of nature and greenery? For the purposes of this essay, I only spoke to a handful of gardeners, but this marks the start of a larger project and more interviews will be necessary to confirm the preliminary views noted below. Out of respect for concerns around privacy, in particular for those foreign nationals working in South Africa who expressed concerns about legitimacy and xenophobia, the names used here have been changed. However, interviewees were mostly happy to have their photographs taken and shared.
With the exception of one migrant gardener from Malawi who is a professional teacher, all the gardeners I spoke to consider themselves skilled workers with a deep understanding of plants, nature, seasonal cycles, and soil. Several of the gardeners I interviewed voluntarily shared photographs with me by mobile phone of the gardens in which they work: their desire to share pictures of their work is indicative of pride in that work. All the garden photographs shared in this blog are courtesy of Isaac Mgedezi and Samson Malunga. The universal willingness to be interviewed and the enthusiasm with which gardeners approached the interview gave me the impression that this was a group of people who had never been asked about their jobs in a professional manner and were delighted to have the opportunity to share their views and insights. I make particular reference to this as I am confident that this is not how these men are perceived by most people that employ them. The first ‘discomfort’ I will note emerges here, around perceptions of ability, understanding, and professionalism.
Gardener Isaac Mgedezi.
“We are farming people”
All the gardeners I interviewed had grown up in rural neighborhoods and gardened alongside parents or grandparents as children. All had fond memories of these childhood spaces or ‘first landscapes’ and were confident that these early experiences had informed their interests in nature and gardening. The Malawian gardeners all looked somewhat dumbfounded when I asked where they learnt their gardening skills, and while they noted that they grew up in family gardens, the much more emphatic response was generally: ‘I am Malawian, we are farming people’.
With the exception of one gardener who sometimes takes his son to work with him when he helps out in a community food garden close to his home, none of the gardeners was currently raising his children with the same degree of exposure to gardens and gardening that he had in his own childhood. While the gardeners have confidence and pride in their role in molding the gardens of our cities, the lowly pay and lack of professional recognition and security are all aspects they do not wish for their children. Their repeated references to very low wages, persistent poverty, the constant need to search for extra days of work here and there, and the relief expressed by those who have permanent jobs, all speaks to the very difficult emotional and economic space occupied by gardeners in South Africa.
One interviewee’s favourite garden. Photo courtesy of the gardener.
Another apparent discomfort emerges around issues of power and autonomy. Gardeners expressed deep frustration at not having their views and understanding of the workings of plants and soil taken seriously. This is a consistent theme: gardeners feel the garden owners who, in their view, have less understanding about gardening, should be more willing to listen. Isaac said, ‘I get frustrated when my expertise is not respected … I really understand soil and what can grow in different soils’.
Potted plants from one of the gardens.
There are, of course, references made to particular garden owners who do consult their gardeners, who open opportunities for discussion, and—in one instance—who even allows the gardener to accompany them to the nursery and on the odd shopping trip. However, these cases were certainly the exception. One gardener expressed irritation at having to share his workspace with another gardener who comes on a different day. Andrew Makwena says, ‘I don’t like to work with others. I speak to the seeds and flowers I plant and don’t want someone else interfering with that’.
In addition to not liking the interference of others in the work of the garden, Andrew gave a fascinating insight into the frustrations of working in space owned by others. He talked of pruning roses and then watching buds emerge and going every day to see how a single bloom is coming along, only to arrive at work one day to find the flower ‘gone, cut off and taken away into the house’; his immense disappointment and irritation at this aspect of working in other’s gardens was apparent.
Gardener Andrew Makwena.
Dream garden
I asked each gardener what their own dream garden would look like. Most called for more order, less mock wilderness; all desired an element of productivity, with a food garden included. All wanted a lawn on which to ‘lie in the sun’ and ‘play with the kids’. On the whole, they wanted flowers, too, with a particular preference expressed for Agapanthus africanus flowers. Only the teacher, Devout Masuso, an economic refugee currently working as a gardener, expressed impatience over the planting of flowers, saying he would not waste his time with flowers but would plant his favorite Malawian fruit and vegetables such as ‘impiru’, a leafy green which he described as quite delicious. One gardener drew a blank in response to my question, responding, “I really don’t know. I can’t imagine. I think you need money to be able to dream like that.”
Most of the gardeners acknowledged sharing information on plants and gardening techniques with other gardeners they know. Several agree that they move plants around, in particular from the gardens they work in to those of their rural homes. Isaac says the last time he went back to the Eastern Cape to see family, he took several cuttings of flowering plants home with him. The gardeners’ homes in Cape Town are generally too small to allow for any gardening. Spaces are shared, overcrowded, and not owned by the gardeners themselves.
Gardener Devout Masuso.
My interviews suggest that gardeners in South Africa occupy a shadowy space where they seldom fall under the direct gaze of anyone in their professional lives. They all relished the opportunity to speak of their work and expressed frustration at being under-recognized in their professional capacity. Discomforts are evident around recognition and autonomy. My interviews reveal a community of interested and engaged gardeners with a keen understanding of the plants, seasonal rhythms, and soil; they are hungry for professional recognition. These men operate in networks where they share ideas, information, and plants with each other. They are working in multiple gardens in our cities and green spaces in our broader landscapes. These are the people who tend the 20–30 percent green cover that our gardens represent in the ever-increasing footprint of the cities of the world. I think there needs to be greater social acknowledgement, greater engagement with these critical players in our urban ecological space. The informing role of gardeners certainly warrants further investigation.
Just as in real life, the representation of gardeners in literature is few and far between. Where reference to gardens abound, the gardeners are largely overlooked. A quick inventory gives us little more than the foolish, two-dimensional gardeners in Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland, old Ben Weatherstaff in Frances Hodgson Burnett’s TheSecret Garden, and Michael K in J. M. Coetzee’s The Life and Times of Michael K. [picture of the Alice in Wonderland Gardeners] Michael K demands the most attention, and ideas around gardening and being a gardener are threads that weave their way throughout the book. K gives us the best plea for the gardener, suggesting the gardener’s role as knowledge broker between the earth and those that live on it:
‘… enough men had gone off to war saying the time for gardening was when the war was over; whereas there must be men to stay behind to keep gardening alive, or at least the idea of gardening; because once that cord was broken, the earth would grow hard and forget her children, that was why.’
“The gardeners in Alice in Wonderland are out painting the flowers. ‘Would you tell me,’ said Alice, a little timidly, ‘why you are painting those roses?’ Five and Seven said nothing, but looked at Two. Two began in a low voice, ‘Why the fact is, you see, Miss, this here ought to have been a red rose-tree, and we put a white one in by mistake; and if the Queen was to find it out, we should all have our heads cut off, you know.”
I find myself choosing the title for this contribution at a time of personal, public, and professional dilemma. Strangely, the dilemma stems from the need to vindicate the question itself.
Food grown in local urban settings can reduce the negative impact of conventional agriculture on natural resources and contribute to the restoration of habitats for local flora and fauna.
While it is perfectly acceptable to ask how green, how healthy, how prosperous or how popular a city is, the concept of a sustainable urban food cycle is not yet officially established on most city agendas.
In many cities, food-growing community gardens, urban farms, and rooftop vegetable gardens are perceived as “nice to have”. Yet, in spite of the knowledge that there are many benefits in locally grown food, which are frequently mentioned by contributors to TNOC, urban and peri-urban agriculture are not yet perceived as a “must have” on the required menu for sustainable cities.
In my city, Jerusalem, I established the “Food for Jerusalem” forum just two years ago. We began to seek out and to convene the many stakeholders in and around the city who deal with local food, who are involved either in growing it, supplying it, consuming it, cooking it, or educating children and adults about its importance. The Jerusalem Bioregion Center, working through the Jerusalem Green Fund, had begun to address the issue of community-based urban and peri-urban agriculture after realizing that conventional agriculture constitutes one of the greatest threats to biodiversity, given the way it fills up extensive areas with monoculture crops and encourages the use of pesticides to destroy insects and other threats to the crops. Conventional agriculture poses a threat to consumer health, since a lot of the pesticides that farmers apply are absorbed into the crops and then constitute part of the meals we eat. Genetic engineering of crops is another troubling aspect of large-scale conventional agriculture. While it is true that the jury is still out on genetic engineering, it is undoubtedly not proven to be beneficial. Still, these are the systems that currently provide the enormous amount of food needed to feed the world.
We began to realize that the diverse ways in which food can be grown in an urban setting can not only reduce the negative impact of conventional agriculture on natural resources, but can also contribute to the restoration of habitats for local flora and fauna, if maintained according to the principles of organic farming. Moreover, although we had originally entered the world of local food production through the portal of biodiversity, we soon discovered the many other ways into this arena, which many hope will take center stage in the global conversation about sustainable urbanism, to take place in Quito, Equador, in October 2016 (HABITAT III). The Quito meeting, twenty years on from HABITAT II, will try to serve up the magic formula for sustainable urbanism, and urban food production will be on the agenda for the first time.
Intensive commercial roof-top vegetable-growing in a Jerusalem suburb. Courtesy of the Jerusalem Bioregion Center.
The list of benefits from local food production is a long one, but here are a few of them:-
War, natural disaster, or a failed economy can cut off cities from their food supplies, leaving local communities without food or water. Local food production can contribute to food security.
Transportation of food into cities accounts for some 30 percent of the emissions of most cities. Local food production can contribute to reducing the city’s ecological footprint.
Locally grown organic food can be free of pesticides and, therefore, much healthier. Nutrition experts have tested this out and as a result many of them are joining the urban food- growing coalition.
Kids who learn to grow vegetables at school will be happy to eat them and to focus less on junk food. This is an interesting case of the proof of the “pudding” being in the eating, and there are interesting statistics from schools that have thriving vegetable gardens, where the students are keen to eat what they themselves have grown, admitting that it gives them great pride to take ownership of the vegetable growing process in their schools.
Neighborhood initiatives such as community gardens not only provide healthy food, but also strengthen community solidarity.
In many contexts, local food production, together with local hospitality, provides a sound basis for sustainable tourism. This works best when bolstered with local arts, crafts, and music, and of course the local scenery and landscape.
All of the benefits listed above add up to increased urban resilience
As the “Food for Jerusalem” forum has developed, it is truly remarkable how diverse our stakeholders are. We have schools that are incorporating food-growing in the curriculum of grades 4 and 5, a variety of community gardens, an urban farm that employs youth at risk, senior citizens’ daycare centers, commercial use of roof space for vegetable-growing and “edible neighborhood” initiatives, to mention only a few. It has also become apparent that food growing has the potential to generate cross-boundary collaboration as well, and Israeli and Palestinian communities are beginning to meet and learn best practices from each other.
Food grown in community gardens in Jerusalem. Courtesy of the Jerusalem Bioregion Center.
We have taken the time to meet and argue about the goals of our work in growing food in and around our city. All the stakeholders agreed on the goals, while each one contributes to achieving different aspects of them. The Jerusalem Municipality is a member of the forum, but not its convener. The role of convening the stakeholders in the Food for Jerusalem forum was undertaken by the Jerusalem Bioregion Center, which works throughout the region, regardless of municipal or geopolitical boundaries.
Major goals of the “Food for Jerusalem” initiative, as agreed on by member stakeholders
Establish and regularly convene a stakeholder forum of food-growing initiatives and foster cooperation among the diverse projects
Promote national legislation to facilitate rezoning of local land for urban food growing, while fostering cooperation among all levels of government—local, regional and national
Integrate food production into urban planning in Jerusalem, by means of a development policy that relates both to food growing and biodiversity as part of the ecological infrastructure of the region
Map and catalog existing initiatives. Identify and develop additional food-growing areas in and around the city
Investigate the potential for alternative food growing environments (roofs, walls, indoors, etc.)
Introduce new technologies that are economically and environmentally sustainable for the urban environment.
Identify, analyze, and quantify the economic, health, and social benefits of developing a local food system
Strengthen the local economy by promoting initiatives based on the food cycle
Incorporate the food cycle and healthy eating in the curricula of formal and informal educational frameworks, including active engagement in food-growing
Establish sustainable water sources for food-growing initiatives in and around Jerusalem
The above goals are admirable, representing a concerted community effort to make the local food cycle sustainable, healthy and secure; that can surely not be faulted. However, if sustainability is really the goal, then what we are doing barely scratches the tip of the proverbial iceberg. As an avid follower of the Food for Cities contributions, I am aware that what is happening in our city is no different from other parts of the world. In the Global North, it is the environmentalists who are preaching urban food-growing and developing all kinds of technologies to grow food horizontally on roofs, vertically on walls, to mention only a few of our antics. In the Global South, dire poverty, and lack of fresh water mean that local food-growing could be the difference between surviving and starving. In fact, both are right, since the environmentalists are aware of the impact of the global food market on emissions, whereas people in survival mode do what they must.
Kids grow their own vegetables in a Jerusalem School. Courtesy of the Society for the Protection of Nature in Israel.
At the HABITAT III global meeting in October, 2016, one of the main focuses will be on how to provide healthy food and clean water for a rapidly increasing world population, most of which will be concentrated in urban settings. All the right decisions and declarations will be made, but they will, of course, be “non-binding”.
This leads me to question the wisdom of the title of this piece, even though I chose it myself. The question that needs to be asked is not “How Edible is My City?”, but “How Can we Brand the Local Food Cycle with a Positive Image?”, thereby ensuring this issue is positioned firmly, securely, and center stage when discussing the ingredients of SDG number 11, the Sustainable and Inclusive Cities goal. We have to think of ways to make cities all over the world vie with each other over the question of where more local food is being produced and consumed. This is going to be a long and difficult haul, but of course it must be noted that the process has already effectively begun, as is evidenced by the increasing number of local food-growing initiatives in and around cities today. It is now up to all of us to help the process to accelerate and to prove the efficacy of a thriving local food cycle in strengthening urban resilience.
On 14 June 2018, Isabelle Anguelovski participated in the panel Designing, Planning and Paying for Resilience at Rice University Kinder Institute for Urban Research, where she and other leading experts discussed flood mitigation strategies such as low impact design, green infrastructure and urban-scale greenspace preservation, and how they interact with a community’s broader planning efforts. These are Isabelle’s insights from the panel.
Many public officials seem to have their hands tied because of developers’ influence on decision-making. Real estate development is at the core of Houston’s economic development, together with the petrochemical industry, and perhaps explains why you have entire low-income minority communities sitting right next to a refinery.
What kind of reconstruction and greening initiatives are we seeing post-Harvey in Houston that are raising social equity concerns?
It seems to me that one of the most controversial green resilience planning initiatives post-Harvey has to do with the buyout program. Buyout programs are sponsored by the Flood Control District from Harris County, where Houston is located, and financed by federal grants as well as local funds. They consist in buying out houses and other types of properties to address potential flood damages. The land in which those properties is located is then often turned into green infrastructure and.or green spaces. From the meetings and discussions I was part of, residents in African-American and lower-income communities showed concerns about this approach because of displacement and relocation issues and their fear of not being able to afford anything in a nearby community with the money they’d receive, even if the buyout program would pay them a fair price for their house. Those fears also stem from long-term trauma related to housing segregation and discrimination. Lastly, residents also seemed concerned about the loss of community ties as a result of this displacement.
A buyout lot in Independence Heights. Photo: Isabelle AnguelovskiIndependence Heights. Photo: Isabelle Anguelovski
How do these programs affect residents, more specifically?
A lot of these fears seem to be manifested in neighborhoods like Independence Heights and Kashmere Gardens, the former being the first incorporated city in Texas in 1915 and still mostly African American. Residents claim that elevating homes would be “resilient enough” and cost less (50% less than a buyout), but this “preservation” approach is not a commonly used strategy in Houston, where a more common approach has been about tearing properties down, replacing them, and/or greening. Also, many lower-income flood victims don’t have the funds to rebuild or elevate their homes and FEMA won’t insure them, which means that many of them leave their neighborhood. So, there are new forms of insecurization in those neighborhoods linked directly or indirectly to Harvey, infrastructure planning, and green resilience.
What is the role of local real estate developers in this process?
When residents walk away and the land is not part of the buyout program, developers come in quickly and flip the lots. This can be a goldmine for them. Many even seem to be encouraging residents to sell and/or leave their property to be able to access land considered as prime location for their investment strategy.
Neighborhoods like Independence Heights will also likely have a substantial proportion of its edges being taken over by the expansion of highway I45, along which there will also be new townhouse developments. Residents perceive this as a move to remake their neighborhood for upper income residents whose new homes will be the gate of entry to the community and who will have direct access to new highway ramps and be very close to the business district and midtown. All of this process means that the historic black commercial corridor—and the jobs that go with it—will be torn down, which is of course creating deep concerns of displacement for residents.
Displacement is also social and cultural because developers and other investors, like Whole Foods, contemplated changing the name of the neighborhood to “Garden Oaks” as they announced new businesses or projects, and thereby erasing its historic African-American identity and significance. As everything in Texas happens without having to deal with governments, developers can run their business without governments, and activists don’t often have the power to respond to developers. This was basically the bottom line of people’s analysis. And there is no political system responding to community organizing, which makes organizing a really daunting task. Another complexity in Houston is that there is also a lack of a Master Plan or Resilience Plan in which community activists could take part, but are not.
Highway expansion and townhome constructions in Houston. Photo: Isabelle Anguelovski
Despite the relative absence of historic community organizing, are there any grassroots movements contesting displacement and gentrification?
Activists in Houston neighborhoods repeatedly pointed out at the lack of community organizing capacity in Houston beyond what researcher Dr. Kyle Shelton calls “infrastructure citizenship”, or when residents organize for or against roads, transit, and other mobility-driven projects. Houston was not highly active during the civil rights movement, unions were crushed very early on, and churches never seem to have played the organizing role they played in other places such as Alabama or Georgia. One activist I met said: “People don’t organize residents at the base of power.” Many members of Black congregations have moved out, so there is a cultural and spatial disconnection there that prevents present-day organizing through churches. Churches also don’t seem to be used to organizing in their congregation.
There is, however, a fantastic group called EEDC working in the historically black Third Ward neighborhood of Houston, where people have engaged in community planning since 1985. They work on building community wealth through partnerships with anchor institutions, mobilize residents towards political and community action, strengthen community ownership and housing choice, revitalize Emancipation Avenue as a dynamic and safe business corridor, support preservation efforts, and mobilize faith for spiritual health. Among their fights has been the preservation of and community access to Emancipation Park, the first public park in Texas, which just reopened in 2017 after a $38M high-end renovation. Despite incorporating design features from the neighborhood architecture, EEDC and its constituency have been particularly concerned about its green gentrification potential due to new nearby development interest. They were also critical of a $10M budget dedicated to new bike trails, feeling that this money could have been used for much more immediate needs such as housing and health.
What particular tools do you see communities using to resist displacement in Houston?
There’s been some success with the community land trust (CLT) model. At first, residents pushed back against MIT Colab’s proposal to put up a CLT. Many residents were afraid that a CLT would mean redevelopment of lots into townhouses, which have been criticized for spurring gentrification—attracting suburban residents back to the center in search of more dense neighborhoods and housing—and that Black residents would not own the pieces of land they had fought for decades and centuries ago.
Activists talked a lot about “free slaves” having fought to buy land, about those that had not been able to participate in the Great Migration and had had to stay in areas like the Third Ward where, later on, Black residents had been forced to move after being redlined from other neighborhoods. Now, a few generations later, Black residents are afraid of seeing their history being taken away again. For them, CLTs don’t always deal with history very well. Eventually, however, the model of CLT for the Third Ward was supported by residents as a way to resist gentrification, and is embraced by EEDC. And now the city of Houston has adopted a city-wide community-land trust model. This is an important evolution to follow.
What other strategies are being used in the Third Ward to address gentrification threats?
There seem to be two see two camps in the neighborhood: the arts and preservation groups that fight for affordable housing and the presentation of existing housing stocks, and the redevelopment groups that, among others, push for parks as an amenity for residents and newcomers. As part of the anti-gentrification movement, EEDC has also worked on dynamizing community-owned and driven economic development through main street businesses, small businesses, and creating workers’ cooperatives around needs in the local economy such as construction. Supported by Project Row House, a community platform empowering residents and enriching community through engagement, art, and direct action, EEDC folks are mapping and identifying who lives where and is doing what, connecting people to jobs, to each other, and to the political apparatus. Part of their focus is lobbying the city to literally pay and compensate residents to attend planning meetings so that residents can have a meaningful contribution to planning processes in their neighborhood. They try to address unfair burdens on residents and avoid reinforcing inequalities. For them, robust community engagement has to factor in inequality, and thus pay low-income residents to attend planning meetings.
A key challenge for EEDC is how to secure lots and key properties adjacent to newly redeveloped parks like Emancipation Park so that they don’t get rebuilt into townhouses. There are lots next to the park that were previously “affordable housing” (private affordable housing) and that are now for sale. Here, activists that fail to support greening initiatives are faced with the possibility of losing their seat at the table, and thus their chance at addressing these issues.
Residents express their concerns over the new botanic garden in Houston. Photo: Isabelle Anguelovski
You often warn of green gentrification. Could you give us some other examples of how this and other types of green inequalities are happening in Houston?
Park Place is a minority neighborhood where the city is building a highly controversial Botanic Garden to replace a public golf course which was also used as a connection through the community. It will be a fenced-off, fee-based space that obliges residents to make a detour in order to access a local school and community center. It is also destroying natural wildlife growing on the edges of the golf course. Despite the huge uproar, the private developer and city are moving ahead with it, as Prof. Susan Rogers well explains here and here.
In another instance, a municipal program called Spark Park, which aims at sharing school parks and open spaces with local residents, excludes most low-income neighborhoods in which school play and green areas remain locked up after hours. Nevertheless, the City counts them as new accessible green space for residents as a way of improving statistics on acres of green space per resident in lower-income areas of the city.
In addition, while there are several programs to revitalize Bayous (local rivers), including Bayou Greenways 2020), and open up new bike lanes and trails, some residents find that more privileged neighborhoods benefitted first. One of the trails started from center of Houston outwards. Why would you not start with more outer bayous where lower-income residents also have less access to green space?
What are the more structural issues that prevent green gentrification and other environmental inequalities from being addressed by state agencies or municipal decision-makers?
First, developers have a huge power in Houston. Many public officials seem to have their hands tied because of developers’ influence on decision-making. It’s a historic issue. Real estate development is at the core of Houston’s economic development together with the petrochemical industry. This also explains why you have entire low-income minority communities, like Manchester, sitting right next to a refinery or another contaminating plant.
Second, inclusionary zoning, or the dedication of a portion of new residential buildings or new developments towards affordable homes, is illegal in Texas. Developers are given a free ride throughout the city and development can go run rampant. However, some Texas cities are finding creative ways to go around this restriction. For example, Austin, is allowing for inclusionary zoning in “Homestead Preservation Districts”, which are seen as an important tool to fight gentrification.
A playground in the Manchester neighborhood, near a power plant Photo: Isabelle AnguelovskiManchester neighborhood, near a power plant. Photo: Isabelle Anguelovski
Are there other ways to address displacement in Houston?
Another program that addresses displacement is the Major Activity Corridor (MAC). In areas designated as MACs, while developers have the right to densify and build housing townhomes and taller buildings, regulations on building heights are much more stringent just outside those corridors, which provides guarantees for the preservation of historic homes. It has also been fascinating to read about the development of a campaign called the “minimal lot size campaign” to prevent developers from turning lots into townhouses. Townhouses seem to have this terrible connotation of being ivory towers parachuted into low-income neighborhoods, as they are usually fenced in, have no ground floors, and where homes are placed above garages to create a sense of seclusion from the rest of the neighborhood.
There is an interesting municipal program called Complete Communities to write up community plans and pilot projects for lower income neighborhoods and integrate health improvements, affordable fresh food access, open and green space, and overall neighborhood revitalization into local development efforts. There are five Complete Communities through the city. The program is derived from recommendations from the Mayor’s Equity Task Force. However much of the funding for it seems to be shifting towards resilience planning. Bringing the two together could work well if you consider all those issues as part of long-term community resilience without reducing resilience to climate disaster preparation, but I am not sure if this is what local officials have in mind.
Funded by the State of Texas, there is also a parallel program called the Opportunity Zones Program to use tax deferrals to steer capital towards more economically and socially fragile communities, some of the targeted communities being in Houston. The funds would serve to invest in business equity, housing, infrastructure. In this case, however, much attention will need to be paid to ensure inclusive redevelopment and build on existing community-driven comprehensive or small-area plans in order to avoid new displacement threats.
How can Houston learn from similar experiences in other cities?
I’ve recently started to conduct field work in Boston, where I did much of my previous research on community organizing and environmental justice in the United States. There are powerful groups and networks there, such as the Center for Cooperative Development and Solidarity (CCDS) or the solidarity economy network/initiative, which mobilize around alternative economic development models and political and economic transformation. This kind of transformation is essential so that residents and groups that have historically been left behind can also propose and build new pathways for the city and themselves. Boston also has a Greater Boston community land trust network, which is another transformative model for land control and development for and by residents, on which to further build.
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.
Camilo Ordóñez Barona, MelbourneAs people’s use of parks and greenspaces with trees changed due to physical distancing measures, we are adapting our research to consider previously unexpected changes in people’s behaviour in these spaces.
Joy Clancy, TwenteWe need to know how previously existing gender inequities are influencing energy poverty and whether the measures taken to address the effects of the virus also are biased against people experiencing (enhanced) energy poverty.
Christina Breed, PretoriaAs parks remain closed after three months and will most likely remain so all winter, it would be interesting to hear if people’s general appreciation of access to urban green open space increase as a consequence.
Mark Champion,WiganCommunity work has been severely reduced and there is little formal consultation and capacity development. Arts projects have been curtailed. Citizen Science recording has been suspended.
Ian Douglas, ManchesterI have helped in the setting-up of a small pilot project in Uganda to help young unmarried mothers train to become beekeepers and entrepreneur honey producers, but this work is suspended due to lockdowns.
Pete Frost, WalesThe new All Wales Green Space Data Set is likely to become even more important to help show where green space can be used to take healthy recreation during times of social distancing.
Lincoln Garland, BathGlobally the effects of isolation in cities on psychological health and wellbeing, particularly those living in apartments without outdoor space, are likely to notably increase the drive for the provision of biodiverse and biophilic habitats for people both in the public realm and on buildings.
David Haley, LondonAdopting a whole systems approach, the project will conduct workshops and interviews with each community of stakeholders to learn, analyse, and assess their present state of confidence, vulnerability, resilience and futures prospects.
Yun Hye Hwang, SingaporeThe pandemic opens new opportunities for landscape architects to care about resource optimization as a core strategy in the design and management of urban green spaces.
Jane Houghton, YorkTo address the inequalities in access to greenspace highlighted by Covid-19, we are developing additional maps to show where high numbers of homes that do not have access to private gardens are located in areas of greenspace deficiency, and areas of health inequalities.
Christian Isendahl, GothenburgThe main messages of my research—how urban and peri-urban agriculture may increase urban food security both in times of crisis as well as a long-term solution—has become even more urgent in the challenges of COVID-19 pandemic.
Philip James, SalfordIGNTION includes establishing a Living Laboratory at the University of Salford monitoring and demonstrating the performance of Nature Based Solutions designed to combat climate change. But all data collection is delayed.
Sarah Lindley, ManchesterMany more people now appreciate just how important local urban green and blue spaces are for the health and wellbeing of urban populations. Indeed, the importance of those spaces has itself increased. However, not everyone can benefit.
Patrick M. Lydon, OsakaThe Urban Ecological Arts Forum at The Nature of Cities is making a commitment to bring to life virtual exhibition spaces, highlighting current transdiciplinary exhibitions on urban ecological themes, that would otherwise be impossible to experience due to the closure of cultural facilities.
Nancy E. McIntyre, Lubbock My university placed some restrictions on research expenditures and travel, initially delaying our project; some of our study sites remained closed to access.
Stephan Pauleit, MunichWhat does Covid mean for green space standards which? How can they better take on board extreme events and resilience thinking?
Joe Ravetz, ManchesterPERI-CENE is a pilot project aiming to set new agendas for peri-urban and climate change, in theory and practice, at local and global levels.
Graham A.W. Rook, LondonIt will be important to learn how immune repertoire, immunoregulation and gut microbiota relate to resistance versus susceptibility to the virus, and the possible relevance of microbial inputs to urban versus rural susceptibility.
Richard Salisbury, Manchester In the short term, due to the social distancing measures, all practical volunteering has come to a halt. This is having an impact on conservation and some areas are becoming undermanaged.
Alan Scott, LondonThe lockdown has stopped all our work and all staff are furloughed. While this can be endured in the near term, longer restrictions will be a problem.
Richard Scott, Liverpool We must be bold and imaginative and use inclusive language in a world desperate for positive futures right now.
Monica L. Smith, Los AngelesThere are anecdotal media reports of wild animals re-integrating into city margins, which seemingly demonstrates resilience and niche-construction although this remains to be studied in more detail.
Marcelo Lopes de Souza, Rio de JaneiroOur research has changed because the interface between environmental injustice and public health becomes even more evident, so that we will surely give it more emphasis.
Miriam Stark, HonoluluOur planned 2020 archaeological fieldwork was cancelled, which gives us time to explore and write about resilience strategies in historical responses to climate change in Southeast Asia .
Katalin Szlavecz, BaltimoreDue to COVID-19 pandemic, all field work has been suspended (at least in Baltimore).
Joanne Tippett, ManchesterThe pandemic has shown that rapid change is possible, and opened a space of opportunity to reimagine our urban spaces and relationship with the natural world. The need for meaningful engagement has never been more important.
Piotr Tryjanowski, Poznań I measure sounds level in the city—in the same places since 2017—and it looks as if there is a big change.
Tim Webb, LondonThe explosion of mutual aid groups witnessed during the COVID-19 outbreak is evidence of strong community spirit. Encouraging that spirit will speed our economic recovery and make cities more resilient against biological, ecological, meteorological, economic, civil or political strife.
Mike Wells, BathGlobally the effects of isolation in cities on psychological health and wellbeing, particularly those living in apartments without outdoor space, are likely to notably increase the drive for the provision of biodiverse and biophilic habitats for people both in the public realm and on buildings.
Phil Wheater, ManchesterThe COVID-19 pandemic has interrupted the flow of the work in two main ways: through social distancing preventing planned face-face meetings; and because the Public Health staff involved in the project have other priorities at present.
Ian is Emeritus Professor at the University of Manchester. His works take an integrated of urban ecology and environment. He is lead editor of the "Routledge Handbook of Urban Ecology" and has produced a textbook, "Urban Ecology: an Introduction", with Philip James.
Covid demonstrates again the importance of urban green and open spaces. But what of the work required to care for and understand such spaces? This is significantly impeded by the pandemic.
COVID-19 presents challenges to society in every direction. Urban nature and greenspaces are suddenly being used more intensively by people who cannot exercise in indoor gyms and swimming pools and by others who just want to escape from the confines of their apartments or houses for an hour or so. Many are engaging in wild swimming in local lakes, while considerably more are exercising in local parks and woodlands. Images and videos are circulating of animals that have ventured into quiet city streets, from penguin in South African towns to wild goats in Llandudno, north Wales and elephants in Thai cities. Reduced traffic means that many urbanites can hear and see more birds and become generally aware of the nature on their doorsteps.
However, the people who manage and care for urban nature and community access to, and engagement with, the urban blue and green spaces; those who develop policies for urban greening; and those carrying out research into urban ecology are themselves affected in their work and activities by COVID-19 lockdowns and related impacts. This Global Roundtable permits a range of these people to give their personal views of how COVID-19 has affected what they do in relation to urban nature.
At its April 2020 meeting the UK Urban Ecology Forum decided to compile a list of reactions to COVID-19 from its members and from the contributors to the Second Edition of the Routledge Handbook on Urban Ecology, the Forum’s major publication. The Forum asked people to provide a brief report on current urban ecology/ urban parks/ green infrastructure activity and present and future impacts and opportunities for that work arising from the COVID-19 pandemic. Respondents were asked to provide 100-150 words describing their current work, research or project and a further 100-150 words describing how this activity is changing, or will change, as a result of the COVID-19 pandemic, and any links to the desperate need for action to the climate emergency and the extinction crisis, with comments on any new opportunities that were likely to open up.
The UK Urban Ecology Forum is a network of people, including ecologists, artists, managers, planners and researchers, involved with the environment and nature conservation in urban areas. It seeks to: raise awareness; stimulate research; influence policy; improve the design and management of urban systems; and push urban nature conservation up the social and political agenda. It was established to provide advice to the nature conservation bodies of the four countries of the United Kingdom under the leadership of the late George Barker, formerly the Urban Nature advisor to English Nature (Natural England). It has produced influential guidance on urban greenspace policies and practices, particularly on standards for accessible natural greenspace in town and cities and on the need for standards that can help to achieve high quality adapted and attractive green spaces that people will want to use and will therefore help them get to know their neighbours and build stronger communities.
Many of the Forum’s members are also contributors to the Handbook of Urban Ecology The other contributors to the Handbook of Urban Ecology also come from a wide range of backgrounds and from countries in all continents. The editors had a deliberate policy to try to achieve a nationality and gender balance. Their experiences are governed by the particular expertise on aspects of the urban environment and by the cultures and practices of the places where they live and work. Several work outside their countries of residence and have been particularly constrained in what they can do by lockdown regulations in more than one country
Those managing urban greenspaces note that while volunteer work has virtually ceased and no one is available to deal with invasive species such as Himalayan balsam, some important major projects can be finalised (Mark Champion; Richard Salisbury UK). In London (UK) Tim Webb sees that society has cleverly transformed parks into a crucial element of our lives as places where we can both distance ourselves from others, while simultaneously coming together as communities. Patrick Lydon (Japan) shows how the pandemic has led to new types of virtual art exhibitions on urban ecological themes.
For many engaged in interaction with the community, project progress is hampered by not being able to hold face-to-face meetings (Phil Wheater and Pete Frost, Wales, UK). However, plans are being made elsewhere for workshops and interviews with communities of stakeholders to learn, analyse and assess their present state of confidence after the pandemic, and their future vulnerability, resilience and prospects (David Haley, UK). Natural England’s People and Nature Public Survey will endeavour to capture visiting and engagement with greenspaces and nature in response the COVID-19 measures (Jane Houghton, UK).
The Lee Valley Regional Park, London, UK. Photo: Tim Webb
For the future, the hardship of confinement to apartments or houses without gardens may, according to Mike Wells (UK), increase the drive for the provision of biodiverse and biophilic habitats for people both in the public realm and on buildings. Alan Scott (UK) sees the challenge facing nature conservation being to take this increase in interest and turn it into long term support. Stephan Pauleit (Germany) stresses that changes in public behaviour in response to crises will have to be more thoroughly considered in future planning. Richard Scott (UK) argues that new international urban accessible natural greenspace standards should combine carbon capture, and biodiversity, and creative conservation delivery, and make urban greening a transformative global movement.
Some researchers are asking questions on how the influence of COVID 19 on demographic and income factors (preferential deaths of old men, significance of deprivation, ill-health and ethnicity in vulnerability to the pandemic) may aggravate inequality and energy and food poverty (Joy Clancy, Netherlands; Manuel Lopez de Souza, Brazil). Others have messages for the future such as how urban and peri-urban agriculture may increase urban food security both in times of crisis as well as a long-term solution (Christian Isendahl, Sweden). There are also questions about how efforts to shield older people may inadvertently make them more exposed to very high temperatures (Sarah Lindley (UK). Fundamental questions remain about how microbiota in human immune systems relate to urban environment and to human resistance or susceptibility to COVID-19 (Graham Rook, UK).
For academic researchers the chief issue is being unable to carry out field work: Ida Breed (South Africa; Philip James (UK); Nancy McIntyre, Miriam Smith, and Katalin Szlavecz (USA), However, some recognise fascinating new questions, such as how does COVID-19 affect the behaviour of urban birds and their predators? (Piotr Tryjanowski, Poland).
Camilo is a research associate at the University of Toronto. His interdisciplinary research is about the social and ecological issues of nature in cities. He works in Canada, Latin America, and Australia.
As people’s use of parks and greenspaces with trees changed due to physical distancing measures, we are adapting our research to consider previously unexpected changes in people’s behaviour in these spaces.
Current work: Despite annually planting many small trees, Australian cities remove thousands of large trees every year. While the environmental benefits of having abundant trees are known, the ecological and social consequences of removing trees are not. Removing trees from parks or streets may have important effects on wildlife and people who use or inhabit these spaces, but we do not know how. This project will fill these gaps and evaluate the effects of tree removal on wildlife density and behaviour, and on social behaviour and psychological states using an experimental before-after, control-impact design. The knowledge emanating from this project will help city councils and other stakeholders quantify the ecological and social benefits of trees so they can more effectively account for these in the decisions they make.
Possible Future Changes: During the COVID-19 pandemic lockdown measures, people had limited access to parks and greenspaces with trees. As people’s use of parks and greenspaces with trees changed due to physical distancing measures, we are adapting our research to consider previously unexpected changes in people’s behaviour in these spaces. Nevertheless, our research generates knowledge that will help improve the cities we live in by enhancing the social and biodiversity benefits that urban greenspaces with trees provide. This is increasingly important in a post-COVID19 world, as people try to recover, or find new ways to enhance, their social and psychological resources through increased contact with urban nature.
Marcelo Lopes de Souza is a professor of socio-spatial development and urban studies at the Department of Geography of the Federal University of Rio de Janeiro.He has published ten books and more than 100 papers and book chapters in 6 languages
Our research has changed because the interface between environmental injustice and public health becomes even more evident, so that we will surely give it more emphasis.
Social Struggles and Environment: Environmental Protection, Right to Adequate Housing and Land Use Conflicts in Brazilian Cities
The research project corresponds to the analysis of the conflicts around environmental justice that have emerged in several Brazilian cities during the last twenty years as a result of incompatible land uses and goals: more specifically, as a result of the clash between popular demands for adequate housing and a humane quality of life, on the one side, and some particular capitalist interests or government projects (related to the location of polluting industries or waste incinerators close to working-class residential areas, or as a result of ‘green evictions’), on the other side.
Marcelo on fieldwork in Rio de Janeiro
The research project’s coordination has been affected in two different ways by the current COVID-19 pandemic: first of all, because fieldwork has become impossible due to social isolation measures and self-quarantine; secondly, because the interface between environmental injustice and public health becomes even more evident, so that it will be surely more emphasised.
Stephan is an academic landscape planner at the Technical University of Munich where he currently directs the Centre for Urban Ecology. He has a strong interest in urban green infrastructure planning and research on the growth and functioning of urban trees deeply fascinates him.
What does Covid mean for green space standards? How can they better take on board extreme events and resilience thinking?
Green City of the Future
The project explores ways to better integrate green infrastructure for climate change mitigation and adaptation into the current planning processes for urban densification. Munich, capital of Bavaria, which experiences strong growth, is chosen for this transdisciplinary project where academics from landscape planning, architecture, social sciences and economics collaborate with planners and environmental experts from the city administration.
This research is about promoting resilience to cope with extreme climatic events. In line with this, I think COVID 19 highlights the need to consider that human behaviour may rapidly change in times of crisis and that the value of green spaces may increase a lot. Or similar. I just thought that it is not about behavioural change alone (i.e. needing more space around you) but also that value of green open spaces where you can walk freely and meet if allowed became so obvious during this epidemic.
For instance, people suddenly need more open space to keep at a distance. What does this mean for green space standards which, I guess, are based in a rather static view on what people need in terms of green space provision? How can they better take on board extreme events and resilience thinking?
Patrick M. Lydon is an American ecological writer and artist based in Korea whose seeks to re-connect cities and their inhabitants with nature. He writes The Possible City series, is co-founder of City as Nature (Daejeon). He is an Arts Editor here at The Nature of Cities.
The Urban Ecological Arts Forum at The Nature of Cities is making a commitment to bring to life virtual exhibition spaces, highlighting current transdiciplinary exhibitions on urban ecological themes, that would otherwise be impossible to experience due to the closure of cultural facilities.
City as Nature produces art and media projects that re-connect humans and our cities with the environment. One current project, the Urban Ecological Arts Forum at The Nature of Cities, partners with an interdisciplinary cast of experts to produce experiential, transdisciplinary events, stories, films, and exhibitions. These projects use the arts and storytelling in local cultural contexts, with participants from varied background, to broaden our social views and understandings of how cities, humans, and our ecosystems are interdependent, with the aim of growing resilient roots for social and ecological wellness.
Our ecological art exhibitions with the “Typhoon Queens” in Kyoto was canceled just days before we were set to open, due to COVID-19. We went ahead virtually instead, building a new virtual platform within a matter of days. The artists installed the show and substituted an in-person audience for an “online” audience, thanks to The Nature of Cities’ new virtual galleries at the Urban Ecological Arts Forum. Over 700 people attended the virtual opening, far more than would have fit within the physical gallery space itself.
The Urban Ecological Arts Forum at The Nature of Cities is making a commitment to bring to life virtual exhibition spaces, highlighting current transdiciplinary exhibitions on urban ecological themes, that would otherwise be impossible to experience due to the closure of cultural facilities. We are expanding this work to support more spaces in more countries.
Joy has a PhD in Engineering (alternative fuels for small stationary engines). She joined the University of Twente in 1989. Joy’s research has focused, for more than 30 years, on the social dimension of small scale energy systems for developing countries. Gender and energy has been an important factor addressed in this research.
We need to know how previously existing gender inequities are influencing energy poverty and whether the measures taken to address the effects of the virus also are biased against people experiencing (enhanced) energy poverty.
Gender and Energy Poverty
My current work is applying learning from the Global South about gender and energy poverty in the context of the North with the intention of drawing policy makers attention to issues they appear not to recognise by providing evidence and policy recommendations. Encouraging women’s participation in the energy transition in diverse roles as entrepreneurs, employees, policy makers is also a field of interest. Within a community of gender researchers we are examining how we do gender and energy research, for example what we count and how we count it.
COVID-19 has an influence on demographics and on income which both are factors in energy poverty. Women in the retirement age group in Europe, due to a gender earnings gap at an earlier stage in the life cycle, are more like to live in income poverty than men. This situation is exacerbated by women’s longer life expectancy than men. Male mortality as a consequence of viral infection seems to be significantly higher than for women. Age also is a factor. The increased viral mortality of older men leaves a larger group of women without sufficient income to pay energy utility bills. In terms of those in employment, women dominate the service and retail industries in which job losses been high. We need to know how these effects are influencing energy poverty and whether the measures taken to address the effects of the virus are also biased against people experiencing (enhanced) energy poverty.
Piotr Tryjanowski is a full professor at Poznan University of Life Sciences; his research focus on ecology, One Health concept, climate and urbanization processes.
I measure sounds level in the city, in the same places since 2017, and it looks as if there is a big change.
Birds in urban areas (density and flight initiation distance)
For 10 years (or more) I have studied bird communities in Poznán (Poland), focused on differences according to urbanization gradient (from rural places, to glass-plastic city centres). I study mainly birds, but also collected data on some mammals, not only on densities, and species behaviour, but also on changes in behaviour. It was funded by several national and international grants.
I see a lot of potential opportunities. The lockdowns have affected people, but how affected are birds? There are two possibly different scenarios: back to wild, or a second, lack of habituation, because less people. I also measure sounds level in the city—in the same places since 2017—and it looks as if there is a big change. How COVID-19 may also affect not just small birds and people, but also predators (hawks, cats)? Another fascinating story.
What are our “desperate needs”? We need really good research.
Yun Hye Hwang is an accredited landscape architect in Singapore, an Associate Professor in MLA and currently serves as the Programme Director for BLA. Her research speculates on emerging demands of landscapes in the Asian equatorial urban context by exploring sustainable landscape management, the multifunctional role of urban landscapes, and ecological design strategies for high-density Asian cities.
The pandemic opens new opportunities for landscape architects to care about resource optimization as a core strategy in the design and management of urban green spaces.
A cost and ecological benefit of less-manicured greenery
This research aims to develop landscape management strategies to reconcile the discrepancies between the economic and biodiversity values of less-manicured urban greenery. Specifically, this research engenders the following research questions: What are the relationships between the various types of landscapes and resource consumption/maintenance intensity? What landscape interventions attain the greatest resource savings at a minimum cost while contributing to urban biodiversity?
The research objectives are: to quantify required resources of various types of maintenances from initialization, installation to operation and maintenance; to analyse/compare the cost benefits of less-manicured landscapes vs resource intensive maintenance; to estimate cost and ecological benefits of multiple landscape scenarios.
Ecological and economic benefits of a more naturalized maintenance regime could not only provide benefits to the urban nature and national economy, but also to the human health and energy efficiency. This regime could result in ecological resilience and resource independence of cities through the reduction of labour intensive and non-essential inputs, as well as less carbon emissions on the long run. The pandemic opens new opportunities for landscape architects to care about resource optimization as a core strategy in the design and management of urban green spaces.
A migrant worker, a newcomer to Bukit Timah area of Singapore, gives back by trimming grass in neighbourhood. Source: www.straitstimes.com
Christina (Ida) Breed is a senior lecturer in the Department of Architecture in the University of Pretoria. Her research is concerned with open space design and how it relates to natural and cultural contextual issues and identity. Her research demonstrates the importance of the landscape design as part of green infrastructure, urban ecology and social-ecological resilience. She is trained in urban ethnography and makes use of qualitative research methods.
As parks remain closed after three months and will most likely remain so all winter, it would be interesting to hear if people’s general appreciation of access to urban green open space increase as a consequence.
Biodiversity and ecosystem services for Tshwane
The research project consists of small patches of native grassland plant assemblages implemented as a design experiment in two urban areas in the City of Tshwane. The aim of the project is to monitor the comparative effect of native versus non-native grassland species on providing urban ecosystem services (ES) and functions, and support for biodiversity. This has not been previously tested in urban areas in South Africa and can assist landscape architects and designers in providing ES through urban green space implementation.
Current research activities include the monitoring of arthropod activity (biodiversity), plant cover (functions) and stress (tolerance), and visitors’ perceptions (sense of place).
Lockdown restrictions have influenced access to the premises of the gardens which affected the seasonal monitoring periods that were predetermined. Some studies on pollinator movement between patches and microclimatic effects on arthropod activity were completely cancelled for 2020. Insect monitoring scheduled for July can proceed.
Interviews scheduled for April/ May when vegetation cover is usually at its maximum, could not take place, because no visitors have been freely allowed on the premises since lockdown started on 26 March. Telephonic interviews are not considered as a viable alternative, because the physical experience of the gardens on visitors is considered important. Interviews will be rescheduled for November, if visitors are again moving freely by then. As parks remain closed after three months and will most likely remain so all winter, it would be interesting to hear if people’s general appreciation of access to urban green open space increase as a consequence.
Native grassland assemblages as part of the Biodiversity and Ecosystem Services for Tshwane (BEST) project, South Africa. Photo: Christina Breed.
Christian is Professor of Archaeology, Dept of Historical Studies, University of Gothenburg. His main research specialization is the prehistory of the Lowland Maya of Mexico, Guatemala, and Belize.
The main messages of my research—how urban and peri-urban agriculture may increase urban food security both in times of crisis as well as a long-term solution—has become even more urgent in the challenges of COVID-19 pandemic.
Ongoing research on urban and peri-urban agriculture in the Global South, with particular reference to urban food commons
My research can be broadly characterized as an integration of applied archaeology and historical ecology that ultimately aims to generate practical insights for addressing contemporary challenges, particularly urban food security and sustainability. The geographical focus is Latin America, over the last decade particularly in the Maya Lowlands, in the Amazon, and in Cuba. My research is interdisciplinary, and providing the long-term and comparative perspective of archaeology I work together with urban scholars, geographers, soil scientists, agronomists, etc in integrated past–future research.
I think that the main messages of the research I am doing—how urban and peri-urban agriculture may increase urban food security both in times of crisis as well as a long-term solution—has become even more urgent and evident in the challenges of COVID-19 pandemic. I find that the archaeological record lends support to the idea of urban food commons as well as the need to safeguard local food systems.
Mark has 35 years’ experience of Nature Reserve management, 15 with the RSPB and 20 with the Lancashire Wildlife Trust where his main concern is managing and designing wetland on post-industrial sites.
Community work has been severely reduced and there is little formal consultation and capacity development. Arts projects have been curtailed. Citizen Science recording has been suspended.
Maintaining and enhancing the environmental and conservation interest of the Greenspace of Wigan. This includes 1500ha of “nature reserve”, including 4 SSSIs 1 SAC and approximately 80 locally designated sites. Our work also involves community liaison and developing links with these communities. Work is mainly within the wetland context on the restored post-industrial land.
Much of our recent work has been multiple benefits work on reducing flood risk within the urban landscape by using the wetlands to provide ecosystem services.
Community work has been severely reduced and there is little formal consultation and capacity development. Arts projects have been curtailed. Citizen Science recording has been suspended, as have training courses for our volunteers. However conservation work is continuing and has included finishing some funded capital projects. Staff led surveying has been modified to fit the criteria set out by the UK government.
Westwood Flash, on of the Wigan flashes: wetlands on areas of coal mining subsidence
Ian is Emeritus Professor at the University of Manchester. His works take an integrated of urban ecology and environment. He is lead editor of the "Routledge Handbook of Urban Ecology" and has produced a textbook, "Urban Ecology: an Introduction", with Philip James.
I have helped in the setting-up of a small pilot project in Uganda to help young unmarried mothers train to become beekeepers and entrepreneur honey producers, but this work is suspended due to lockdowns.
Routledge Handbook of Urban Ecology (Second Edition)
Since 2016 I have been the lead editor of the Handbook of Urban Ecology initiated by the UK Urban Ecology Forum. The work has been done in my retirement, from my home. However, it has involved fantastic collaboration with contributors from 37 different countries. Through the Commonwealth Human Ecology Council, I have helped in the setting-up of a small pilot project in Uganda to help young unmarried mothers train to become beekeepers and entrepreneur honey producers. As Chairman of the Human Ecology Foundation, I helped to secure some funding for the project.
My wife and I decided to self-isolate on 14 March and we have not left our house and garden since then. While it is annoying not to be able to revisit the floodplains and slopes areas, particularly to check in river channel changes and newly designed multi-functional flood basins with considerable urban ecology benefit, our large garden with part of the remains of a 200-year old woodlands, gives us plenty to do and inspiration for thinking about wider urban ecology issues.
However, the young women beekeepers have had their training interrupted. Their project supervisor and local expert appraiser are unable to travel from Kampala to the project location in eastern Uganda. We have had to find some extra funds to meet the costs of assistance from other apiarists who live closer to the women in eastern Uganda.
Changes in the meandering channel of the River Mersey at Urmston, Greater Manchester between 1984 (left) and 2000 (right). Photos: Ian Douglas
Pete Frost is Natural Resources Wales Urban Green Infrastructure Advisor. His work is to find ways to ensure there are enough green spaces of the right kinds in the right places to make Wales’ towns and cities better places for people and nature.
The new All Wales Green Space Data Set is likely to become even more important to help show where green space can be used to take healthy recreation during times of social distancing.
All Wales Green Space Data Set
Natural Resources Wales is building a Geographic Information System (GIS) data set to show all green space in Wales. When complete, it will show where green space exists in urban areas, if it is likely to be natural and whether people are likely to be able to get into it. It is based on mapping done by the Ordnance Survey and includes data from local authority surveys. The data set will only be available to public bodies until its contents have been checked by the local authorities who contributed to it.
The blend of accurate base mapping from the Ordnance Survey and local intelligence from local authorities should enable public bodies to get a more detailed picture of where people can actually go to experience nature near to where they live.
The All Wales Green Space Data Set is likely to become even more important to help show where green space can be used to take healthy recreation during times of social distancing, which may last until the discovery of an effective treatment for Covid-19 or the eventual development of a vaccine. The data set will also inform Welsh Planning Policy, and in particular the statutory Green Infrastructure Plans which all local authorities must produce. The data set will enable local authorities to identify opportunities to improve green space quality or provision to ameliorate the effects of climate change and provide habitats for biodiversity.
The Dingle, Llangefni. A local nature reserve in the heart of the town of Llangefni, Anglesey, Wales. Photo: Pete Frost.
David makes art with ecology, to inquire and learn. He researches, publishes, and works internationally with ecosystems and their inhabitants, using images, poetic texts, walking and sculptural installations to generate dialogues that question climate change, species extinction, urban development, the nature of water transdisciplinarity and ecopedagogy for ‘capable futures’.
Adopting a whole systems approach, the project will conduct workshops and interviews with each community of stakeholders to learn, analyse, and assess their present state of confidence, vulnerability, resilience and futures prospects.
Crisis = Danger + Opportunity: Cultures of critical recovery
This research focuses on critical recovery through “ecopedagogy”. It emerged from questioning the effects of long-term trauma on communities experiencing peristaltic coastal and riverine flood disasters, and includes species and cultural extinction. In other words, considering recovery as a complex evolutionary dynamic of destruction and creation. Through critical dialogues the intention is to enable people to learn for themselves how to move from being victims to survivors and from survivors to proactive, self-determined, ecologically resilient societies. These issues have become starkly in focus as we consider the new normal of post-Covid-19.
Flooding in Cockermouth, Cumbria, England, 2009
Adopting a whole systems approach, the project will conduct workshops and interviews with each community of stakeholders to learn, analyse, and assess their present state of confidence, vulnerability, resilience and futures prospects. The workshops will incorporate creative arts processes to disrupt people’s “normal” perception and cognition and thereby transform their perspectives and narratives of how they live with the world.
In addition to creative trauma and bereavement therapy, the sample communities will engage in initiating their own emancipatory economic, life support systems through full community participation across business and the third sector. As disasters bring opportunities as well as danger, this paradox may enable communities to become self-determined by generating their creative cultures of resilience. Integral to the whole systems approach for addressing the climate emergency and extinction crisis, each urban terrain, their human and other than human communities will be considered as distinct ecosystems.
Jane is now Project Manager at Natural England for the development of a new National Green Infrastructure Standards Framework which is a commitment in the Government’s 25 Year Environment Plan to green our towns and cities to deliver multiple benefits for health and wellbeing, climate resilience and prosperity. She has wide experience of advising on and managing green infrastructure in central and local government.
To address the inequalities in access to greenspace highlighted by Covid-19, we are developing additional maps to show where high numbers of homes that do not have access to private gardens are located in areas of greenspace deficiency, and areas of health inequalities.
Green Infrastructure Standards Project
Natural England and Defra are developing a national Framework of Green Infrastructure Standards, which is a commitment in the Government’s 25-year Environment Plan. It aims to deliver more good quality, interconnected GI, at a local and landscape scale, and
mainstream GI as essential infrastructure in place-making and in associated planning and land use decisions:
• provide the multiple benefits communities need and want, consistently across England, and in particular for disadvantaged urban populations;
• help the country recover from Covid-19 by ensuring good quality green infrastructure is available to all.
Londoners are planting on their streets, gardens, and balconies, Photo: Tim Webb
The Framework of Green Infrastructure Standards comprises principles of good GI, benchmarks, guidance and mapping of GI across England, to be made available through a web- portal, and for incorporation into national planning guidance, initially, with a longer-term aim for it to be incorporated into the National Planning Policy Framework. Natural England is leading a project to develop, test and refine the Standards and Guidance for soft launch in 2021.
We are looking at opportunities to work in collaboration with local authorities and others for urban nature recovery, green streets, and addressing inequalities in access and health. To address the inequalities in access to greenspace highlighted by Covid-19, we are developing additional maps to show where high numbers of homes that do not have access to private gardens are located in areas of greenspace deficiency, and areas of health inequalities. This will enable greenspace providers to identify and plan how to address the inequalities in access. In terms of evidence, we have added questions to our ongoing People and Nature Public Survey to capture visiting / engagement with greenspaces and with nature in response to Covid-19 measures. We are also in discussion with several universities about research to understand the role of nature during Covid-19 measures, its impact on health and wellbeing, and analysis in relation to inequalities in health and inequalities in access to greenspace.
Philip leads the Ecosystems and Environment Research Centre within the School of Environment and Life Sciences at the University of Salford, UK. Researchers in this centre investigate how the processes of natural variability and man-made change work.
IGNTION includes establishing a Living Laboratory at the University of Salford monitoring and demonstrating the performance of Nature Based Solutions designed to combat climate change. But all data collection is delayed.
IGNITION
Ignition to develop innovative financing solutions for investment in Greater Manchester’s natural environment. This investment will help to build the city region’s ability to adapt to the increasingly extreme impacts of climate change.
Working with nature, solutions such as rain gardens, street trees, green roofs and walls, and development of green spaces can help tackle socio-environmental challenges including increases in flooding events, water security, air quality, biodiversity and human health and wellbeing.
River Irwell near the University of Salford, Greater Manchester, England
IGNTION includes establishing a Living Laboratory at the University of Salford monitoring and demonstrating the performance of Nature Based Solutions designed to combat climate change.
All construction work on the University Campus has been halted and as a result the installation of the nature-based solutions has fallen behind the planned schedule. Tenders have been let for the installation of the green wall, green roof, street trees and rain garden. Construction work will commence after the re-opening of the campus.
Sarah is a quantitative geographer specializing in the use of geospatial analysis to understand the outcomes of human-environment interactions. Her main research interests are urban air pollution, climate adaptation and urban ecosystem services and are motivated by the need to develop sustainable responses to current and future environmental challenges.
Many more people now appreciate just how important local urban green and blue spaces are for the health and wellbeing of urban populations. Indeed, the importance of those spaces has itself increased. However, not everyone can benefit.
The main focus of my current research is the influence of the urban environment on human health and wellbeing, with a particular emphasis on the natural environment. Particular specialisms include air pollution, environmental risk, urban climate, climate adaptation and the regulating ecosystem functions of urban green infrastructure. My mode of working is collaborative and multi-disciplinary, though with a strong emphasis on geographical information science. I have worked with researchers from various branches of environmental science, ecology, engineering, arts and heritage, planning, philosophy and public health. I carry out my work in the UK and also overseas, for example in Africa and Asia. Much of my work has relevance for practice and policy, leading to work as a UK government advisor and a lead authorship role for the Inter-governmental Platform for Biodiversity & Ecosystem Services. Recent work includes www.ghia.org.uk and www.climatejust.org.uk. Also see https://www.research.manchester.ac.uk/portal/sarah.lindley.htmlGreen Structure Map for Dar-es-Salaam, Tanzania
In the wake of the response to COVID-19 and restrictions on movement, many more people now appreciate just how important local urban green and blue spaces are for the health and wellbeing of urban populations. Indeed, the importance of those spaces has itself increased. However, not everyone can benefit. There are marked differences in neighbourhood provision of green and blue space according to age and income, and people’s local health status is clearly linked to the quantity, quality and proximity of green and blue spaces (Dennis et al., 2020). It is not only the amount of cover which is important but also its quality (e.g. characteristics like structural diversity which influence the effectiveness of local environmental regulation such as air quality, temperature and noise).
Although the current the current pandemic has led to a reduction in some urban environmental hazards, we must also think about climate-related events like heat waves might increase risks for people living in highly built up areas, with no private garden space and fewer opportunities to access good quality spaces. We must consider how our efforts. My work will be continuing to explore these issues, helping to understand how biodiversity, climate and urban environments are central to health and wellbeing, especially in the context of our ageing population.
Joe is the Co-Director of the Collaboratory for Urban Resilience & Energy at the Manchester Urban Institute, University of Manchester, UK. He has pioneered the art of strategic thinking for sustainable cities and regions, which brings together environment-climate policy, urban planning and design, new economics and governance, innovation and futures studies, systems thinking and complexity science.
PERI-CENE is a pilot project aiming to set new agendas for peri-urban and climate change, in theory and practice, at local and global levels.
Peri-cene (Peri-urbanization and climate-environment)
The impact of climate change on cities is well known —but the “peri-urban” hinterland, the areas between and around cities, is often overlooked. Yet the peri-urban contains most urban growth, and also the greatest impact on local and global environments. The peri-urban also is a resource for climate adaptation & ecosystem services.
Early stage of a SuDS scheme in peri-urban Sinderland Brook, Greater Manchester, 2008
The PERI-CENE project will provide the first ever comprehensive assessment of global peri-urbanisation, with its climate impacts, risks and vulnerabilities. It will host the co-creation of forward pathways, in a Policy Lab of 21 city-regions from around the world, along with in-depth case studies in Chennai (India), and Manchester (UK).
PERI-CENE is a pilot project, paving the way for more detailed follow up. It builds on recent EU projects and data resources, and on existing clusters of expertise in Chennai, Manchester and Stockholm. We aim to set new agendas for peri-urban and climate change, in theory and practice, at local and global levels
Graham Rook is an immunologist and emeritus professor of medical microbiology at UCL (University college London). He is interested in the role of contact with the microorganisms from the natural environment in educating and regulating the immune system.
It will be important to learn how immune repertoire, immunoregulation and gut microbiota relate to resistance versus susceptibility to the virus, and the possible relevance of microbial inputs to urban versus rural susceptibility.
The Old Friends Hypothesis; using an evolutionary framework to define the microbial inputs that are essential to the developing immune system
The repertoire and regulatory settings of the immune system of each new individual are set up in early life using information from the environment into which the individual is born and will therefore need to confront. Thus, in early life the immune system requires inputs of data and signals from the microbiota of the natural environment as well as from the organisms that colonise the gut and other tissues. Lack of these inputs compromises the efficacy, and above all, the regulation of the immune system, leading to an increased prevalence of immunoregulatory disorders such as allergies and autoimmunity, as well as to long-term consequences of chronic background inflammation such as metabolic, vascular and psychiatric disorders. My current efforts are aimed at understanding within a Darwinian and urban/rural framework, the molecular nature of the microbial signals that we require, and their precise mechanisms of action.
Illustration of SARS-CoV-2 virus
The microbiota of the modern home bears little resemblance to that of the shelters of our evolutionary past, or of homes built until recently with natural products (timber, thatch, mud, dung-based render). Moreover, the microbiota of the natural environment is increasingly distorted by industrial and agrochemical pollution, monoculture and climate change. The resulting species losses and distortions lead to ecosystem instabilities. Meanwhile the creation of large unnatural animal communities by industrial farming and “wet” markets encourages the evolution of novel pathogens such as SARS-CoV-2. We are then obliged to confront these pathogens with immune systems that have not received, in early life, the inputs that are required to optimise the immune system’s repertoire and regulatory mechanisms. It will be important to learn how immune repertoire, immunoregulation and gut microbiota relate to resistance versus susceptibility to the virus, and the possible relevance of microbial inputs to urban versus rural susceptibility.
In the short term, due to the social distancing measures, all practical volunteering has come to a halt. This is having an impact on conservation and some areas are becoming undermanaged.
I work for the parks service and oversee the management and maintenance of parks and greenspaces in my designated area. A large proportion of my role is to engage with local community groups and lead practical conservation and maintenance volunteer tasks in parks and greenspace. We also work with partners to ensure a variety of events and activities are taking place in our parks.
My work also involves a lot of public meetings with our “friends of the park” group to discuss issues as site improvements. I am also required to regularly meet on site with contractors to discuss on site operations and infrastructure improvements.
In the short term, due to the social distancing measures, all practical volunteering has come to a halt. This is having an impact on conservation and some areas are becoming undermanaged. The adverse impacts if this continues would involve scrub taking over sensitive areas of reed beds and grasslands. Also, invasive species such as Himalayan Balsam which we usually remove could get a foot hold in new areas. I am hopeful that volunteering will resume eventually but with social distancing measures in place. There may also be some benefits to wildlife. For example, currently mowing of football pitches and amenity grasslands has been halted in certain areas. This could lead to greater biodiversity
All events and activities in parks are currently cancelled. I imagine these will be gradually be brought back but with some social distancing in place. All community meetings are also cancelled but there is a possibility these could be conducted through video meetings in the short term. Essential contractor works are currently continuing but with social distancing.
Waterfowl on the frozen lake surface at Chorlton Water Park, Manchester, January 2011
Alan has been active in the urban ecology movement in the UK for over 35 years. For the last 24 years he has had his own company (Complete Ecology) which specializes in management plans for wildlife sites and practical conservation management, particularly in urban areas.
The lockdown has stopped all our work and all staff are furloughed. While this can be endured in the near term, longer restrictions will be a problem.
Complete Ecology Limited (the company I set up in 1996) carries out practical nature conservation on sites of ecological importance, mostly in and around London. Our work covers habitat management (grasslands, woodlands, etc), site maintenance (litter, repairs), habitat creation, access improvements (footpaths, boardwalks), installing site furniture (benches, bins), interpretation (information boards, signs), species protection (e.g. reptiles/amphibians fencing and translocation) and many other tasks. I also carry out consultancy work including site/ecological surveys, management plans, design and planning advice. Our clients are mostly in the voluntary and local authority sectors, but we have also work for schools, developers and statutory agencies. We have worked in every London borough and in some cases have been involved on the same sites for over 20 years. This gives us a good knowledge of conservation issues affecting the entire capital which we are able to use in advising and managing a huge variety of sites and habitats.
From http://www.completeecology.com/nature-gardens
The lockdown has stopped all our work and all staff are furloughed. Fortunately, it is our quiet time of year (bird breeding, etc) and most work can be postponed. The challenge will be to work and travel whilst maintaining social distancing. Suitable risk assessment and safety precautions will hopefully overcome this. The longer term however is more of a problem as many of our clients will be short of funds and may see other issues as a higher priority.
On the plus side many people have been using open spaces and have started to value them more highly, especially the more natural elements. The challenge facing nature conservation will be to take this increase in interest and turn it into long term support. I feel that we need to emphasis the value of natural ecosystems to combat global warming and the health benefits of natural greenspaces in all our work. It is also useful to look at how changes in management could save costs in what will be very cash strapped times.
Richard Scott is Director of the National Wildflower Centre at the Eden Project, and delivers creative conservation project work nationally. He is also Chair of the UK Urban Ecology Forum. Richard was chosen as one of 20 individuals for the San Miguel Rich List in 2018, highlighting those who pursue alternative forms of wealth.
We must be bold and imaginative and use inclusive language in a world desperate for positive futures right now.
Bringing wildflowers to towns and cities
Nature is about opportunity. We are in a game changing moment in history. We need a changing of the guard, and the application of solutions we already know about, and those yet to be discovered, practical solutions that show love and respect for nature in building sustainable futures, and work with culture and social need.
It is about habitat—our own household—75% of humanity is likely to be urban by 2050. At this moment, we must reach to our strengths and experience. Society must not slip back to old ways, and habits. We must reflect a joy for life, showing how to forge real pathways for a “habitat” and a home we are proud of living in. We must reflect biodiversity and the reality of the climate emergency and extinction crisis, and the critical resources of Air, Land and Water, and the biodiversity and culture this brings together.
Right now it is important to demonstrate the carbon capture ability of all habitats, it is not just planting trees, it must be mosaics of habitats, which respect soil, both as a resource for food production, but also recycling unproductive urban substrates, for biodiversity and creative conservation. New international standards should combine carbon capture, and biodiversity, and creative conservation delivery, and make it a transformative global movement.
Bringing wildflowers back home, is a simple way to begin new conversations, applying the potential of seed and the purpose of the sower, delivering this joyously with people.
We must be bold and imaginative and use inclusive language in a world desperate for positive futures right now. As David Attenborough said recently to the Landscape Institute (November 2019).
“People have to realise, the world is on our doorstep… we are part of natural systems, and if we wish to to save ourselves we have to save these natural systems”…
“To do his we need to bring people face to face with the beauty and complexity and importance of the natural world …and to bring the realities of the natural world to the understanding and the love of human beings worldwide”.
Tim Webb grew-up working on small farms before turning to environmental journalism and activism. Now Secretary of the UK Urban Ecology Forum and a founder of the National Park City Foundation, he’s worked on coastal realignment projects, species relocations and habitat management.
The explosion of mutual aid groups witnessed during the COVID-19 outbreak is evidence of strong community spirit. Encouraging that spirit will speed our economic recovery and make cities more resilient against biological, ecological, meteorological, economic, civil or political strife.
London National Park City
After five years of campaigning and endless meetings with ward councillors, community groups, activists and London Mayoral candidates, in July 2019, the capital was declared the world’s first National Park City. Unlike a National Park, it has no planning powers or funding benefits. It is a roots-up movement, a vision and a place to explore. The ambition is to make London, and other cities, greener, healthier and wilder.
Simple, low-cost ways of helping local people engage with nature in their streets. Photo: Tim Webb
Our growth plan was to celebrate the first anniversary with a series of public events and the launch of a new volunteer force called our Rangers. We’d already secured funding from the outdoor clothing and kit company Timberland, and recruited two volunteer coordinators to deliver our Rangers programme. COVID-19 has made a planned
summer festival of events across the capital impossible. We’d already started our Ranger programme and didn’t want to lose momentum, so decided to push on but with a new twist. Our Rangers are not like traditional rangers, having been recruited for their community engagement skills, whether that was as a rapper, an artist, food grower, bee keeper, teacher or academic. The one common thread is a desire to make society better than it is.
Our coordinators found themselves operating in novel ways. The first full meeting of the fifty plus Rangers was virtual. Everyone contributed. There were some presentations and some obligatory instruction regarding expenses, insurance, health and safety. Everyone got talk about themselves and how they envisioned their inputs contributing to the shared goals of making London greener, healthier and wilder.
The COVID-19 lockdown meant parks had taken on a new importance in society, which should help us in the long term. Somehow.
In mid-May 2020, our Rangers were planning a series of interventions, using digital technology, word of mouth, music and art to engage Londoners in new ways with life in a National Park City. We are rewilding Londoners, re-wiring brains to perceive our built environment as an enhanced natural landscape of mosaic habitats, all interlinked and waiting to be explored on foot, by bicycle and, at some point in the future, by public transport.
Sadiq Khan, Mayor of London, signing the London National Park City Declaration in 2019. Photo: Tim Webb
We have mapped the cities’ green and public spaces, adding walks, history, culture and encouragement. A city full of active citizens would be a powerhouse for new green technologies of clean energy, food production, transport, waste management and physically active people. This is becoming reality in London and other urban centres. We’ve even partnered with the official National Parks to ensure connectivity with the wider environment beyond urban fringes.
Our active Schools arm and new Development Forum draw upon expertise from across the built environment. This combination of community, expert and civil input will inform a route map for others, enabling us to fulfil our International goal of having a family of at least 25 National Park Cities by 2025.
The explosion of mutual aid groups witnessed during the COVID-19 outbreak is evidence of strong community spirit. Encouraging that spirit will speed our economic recovery and make cities more resilient against biological, ecological, meteorological, economic, civil or political strife.
Dr Mike Wells FCIEEM is a published ecological consultant ecologist, ecourbanist and green infrastructure specialist with a global outlook and portfolio of projects.
Globally, the effects of isolation in cities on psychological health and wellbeing, particularly for those living in apartments without outdoor space, are likely to notably increase the drive for the provision of biodiverse and biophilic habitats for people both in the public realm and on buildings.
Much of our work is currently overseas in large habitat restoration projects as well as urban ecological design and Ecomasterplanning. Some of this—in the Middle East—is proceeding but other elements have been (we hope temporarily) curtailed. In the UK we continue with ecological monitoring at some project sites and to undertake and ecological surveys in relation to planning applications in both the urban and rural environments.
Temporarily, the ability to cover all taxa in necessary baseline surveys is being compromised in some instances (e.g. bats in buildings). Some clients have closed down the majority of their construction/onsite operations and progress on planning and design is less rapid because the response time of some Local Authorities and regulators has notably increased.
Berewood: a new housing and landscape initiative for 2,550 homes in the West of Waterlooville Major Development Area.
Several of the wealthier, but still developing, countries are employing overseas expertise in the progressing of a new sustainable and greener urban agenda and are referencing climate change more often in this endeavour.
The to which extent there will be greater tolerance of working remotely on overseas contracts remains to be seen. Many overseas cultures are still deeply-rooted in face-to-face meetings culture.
Globally the effects of isolation in cities on psychological health and wellbeing, particularly for those living in apartments without outdoor space, are likely to increase the drive for the provision of biodiverse and biophilic habitats both in the public and semi-private realm, including on buildings.
The tolerance of the illicit exploitation of wild animals, and purveying of related items alive and dead, both in cities in the developing world and within certain cultures where such practices are currently prevalent, may reduce as a result of both internal and international pressure.
Lincoln is Associate Director at Biodiversity by Design, an environmental consultancy in the UK. Lincoln has been working as an ecologist and eco-urbanist in consultancy, academia and for wildlife NGOs for more than 25 years. He has a particular interest in developing sustainable ecologically informed landscape-scale approaches to development and land management, with a particular emphasis on the urban realm and ecotourism. Contact Lincoln by email: [email protected]
Professor Emeritus of Environmental and Geographical Sciences, Manchester Metropolitan University, UK, Philip is a leading urban ecologist in the UK. Philip has had a major impact on teaching and research on the environment, particularly with reference to urban areas.
The COVID-19 pandemic has interrupted the flow of the work in two main ways: through social distancing preventing planned face-face meetings; and because the Public Health staff involved in the project have other priorities at present.
I am currently working with Public Health Wales as an advisor on their forthcoming Health Impact Assessment of Climate Change across Wales. This project was planned to last about one year and involve a literature review, stakeholder workshops, specialist participant interviews, case studies and a series of appraisals. This assessment covers effects of climate change on human health in urban areas as well as in rural areas. The impacts on many rural infrastructure systems also have direct and indirect impacts on urban populations. Many of these impacts are associated with ecological change. Smaller projects covering allied aspects of human health issues (including in urban centres) associated with environmental and climate change are also planned alongside this more major project.
Currently the main project has achieved a number of milestones. The literature review has been developed and is now going through a series of iterations and refinements. Both planned workshops (one for policy makers and one for operational managers) have been completed and the results fed back to participants and are due to be appraised shortly. The case studies are progressing (albeit at a slower pace than before). The COVID-19 pandemic has interrupted the flow of the rest of the work in two main ways: through social distancing preventing planned face-face meetings; and because the Public Health staff involved in the project have other priorities at present.
Street trees, in the city centre of Cardiff, the capital of Wales
Nancy is a landscape ecologist and Professor in the Department of Biological Sciences at Texas Tech University. Her research focuses on how land conversion affects animals, particularly birds and insects.
My university placed some restrictions on research expenditures and travel, initially delaying our project; some of our study sites remained closed to access.
I have only one urban ecology project at the current time, focusing on regional wetlands, which are being greatly affected by land-cover change. The project was supposed to start this summer, comparing odonate (dragonfly and damselfly) diversity at urban wetlands and three types of non-urban wetlands in western Texas. Because the four wetland types could be placed into alternate groups according to hydroperiod or salinity (and also differed in surrounding land cover and water chemistry), the objectives were to examine whether hydroperiod, salinity, surrounding land cover, or water quality were the most important assemblage drivers for this charismatic and ecologically important group of insects in this semi-arid region.
My university placed some restrictions on research expenditures and travel, initially delaying our project; some of our study sites remained closed to access.
Wetland restoration under the Wetlands Reserve Program in Texas, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=68778699
Monica Smith is an archaeologist whose principal research interests are the human interaction with material culture, urbanism as a long-term human phenomenon, and the development of social complexity.
There are anecdotal media reports of wild animals re-integrating into city margins, which seemingly demonstrates resilience and niche-construction although this remains to be studied in more detail.
Ancient Urban Water Management
Collaborating with my Indian colleague Prof. R.K. Mohanty of Deccan College (Pune), our archaeological research of the past 15 years has focused on the ancient city of Sisupalgarh in eastern India. Most recently we have used our data to evaluate urban-hinterland food networks; the management of hinterland excess water at times of both predictable seasonal monsoon flooding and occasional exceptional cyclone flooding. As an outgrowth of that site-specific research, I have been collecting data from site reports all around the globe about the extent to which ancient cities were subjected to flooding on a regular basis, and the implications of those floods for urban management and the demonstration of “good governance” through mitigation and prevention efforts.
Library-based work is severely curtailed at the moment; once the current labor-intensive term of online teaching has been finished, I may try to use publicly available databases such as the Hathitrust library to fill in gaps in the database of global urban flooding at archaeological sites (though archaeological site reports, as bulky and arcane documents, are probably among the last items to be scanned in research libraries!).
A more promising angle of research will be experienced by the graduate students working with me who are focused on the role of animals in ancient urban contexts. There are anecdotal media reports of wild animals re-integrating into city margins, which seemingly demonstrates resilience and niche-construction although this remains to be studied in more detail and with an eye towards factors such as neural plasticity, different species’ behavioural patterns, and the long-term effects of urban animal behaviour after people start to move around in cities in greater numbers when the lockdown is over.
Part of Sisupalgarh; Photo by Rajku6070 – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=21412552
Miriam Stark works at the University of Hawai’i in the USA where she is Professor of Anthropology and Director for the Center for Southeast Asian Studies. With a Masters and PhD degree in Anthropological Archaeology, Miriam has worked in Southeast Asia for more than 25 years.
Our planned 2020 archaeological fieldwork was cancelled, which gives us time to explore and write about resilience strategies in historical responses to climate change in Southeast Asia.
My research explores state formation and urbanization in the Lower Mekong Basin, where I have run archaeological research projects since 1996. The region has a 2500-year long history of these processes, and my work focuses on a nexus of topics that revolve around urban forms, political economy, and environment. My work in three different regions of Cambodia’s Lower Mekong examines these interrelated processes through time: the Mekong Delta (Takeo Province), the Greater Angkor region (Siem Reap Province), and the rice granary of Cambodia (Battambang Province). Subtropical Southeast Asia lies in the world’s most susceptible region vis-à-vis climate change, and environmental scientists have begun to concentrate work in Southeast Asia to model potential future outcomes: including work on ancient cities such as Angkor.
Our planned 2020 archaeological fieldwork was cancelled, which gives us time to explore and write about resilience strategies in historical responses to climate change in the region. New opportunities that we hope will open up include collaborations with conservation and climate scientists, both to deepen our understanding of long-term climate records for the Lower Mekong, to build a richer database of the region’s wetland fauna and how it changed through time, and to explore strategies that premodern Khmers used in times of climatic and environmental stress. Archaeological work with conservation scientists has begun to yield productive results in mainland Southeast Asia (e.g., Suraprasit et al. 2020 https://doi.org/10.3389/fevo.2020.00067), and we see great potential for extending such work to include riverine species now under threat by Mekong River dam projects. Studying archaeological collections like fishbones could provide a critical baseline for research on environmental and species change.
Katalin Szlavecz is Research Professor, Morton K. Blaustein Department of Earth and Planetary Sciences, Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore, USA. Her research includes study of the diversity and ecology of soil invertebrates, soil biogeochemical cycling, urban ecosystems, and invasive species. She is a CoPI of the Baltimore Ecosystem Study LTER.
Due to COVID-19 pandemic, all field work has been suspended (at least in Baltimore).
Project 1. This study is to characterize the change in forest fragment soils over a period of 17 years along an urban-rural gradient in the Baltimore Metropolitan area. Overall, carbon and nitrogen did not change which may indicate a steady-state forest floor system or a slower rate of change than what is detectable in 17 years. Changes of pH and Ca in urban soil properties over time indicate a different developmental trajectory than native soils.
Project 2. This study is a collaboration among scientists in Helsinki, Baltimore and Singapore, the three cities representing different climatic regions and biomes. We are looking at the influence of plant functional types and soil biota on soil derived ecosystem processes. We measure at soil microbial diversity, enzyme activity, decomposition rates and soil nutrient dynamics in old and young urban parks under different trees producing labile and recalcitrant litter types.
Due to COVID-19 pandemic, all field work has been suspended (at least in Baltimore).
Druid Hill Park in Baltimore Photo by Bruce Emmerling, Wikimedia Commons
Dr Joanne Tippett is a lecturer in Spatial Planning in the School of Environment and Development at the University of Manchester. Action research funded by the Sustainable Consumption Institute and 250 staff in Tesco led to the creation of the RoundView Tool for Sustainability [www.roundview.org].
The pandemic has shown that rapid change is possible, and opened a space of opportunity to reimagine our urban spaces and relationship with the natural world. The need for meaningful engagement has never been more important.
Empowering and inspiring custodians of future landscapes through innovative community engagement
The heart of my research is applying systems thinking to collaborative system change. I ask: How can we imagine a sustainable, regenerative future; and how can different groups of people work together effectively to realise such visions? This research has led to the development of a physical toolkit for stakeholder and community engagement, called Ketso, which is used in a range of environmental and landscape projects around the world. My current work includes helping to deliver innovative community and school engagement with the Carbon Landscape Project, which aims to restore and connect habitats in the peri-urban landscapes between Manchester and Liverpool (UK). I am also working with the National Trust’s Quarry Bank and artist collectives Future Everything and Invisible Flock, exploring the unintended consequences of the industrial revolution to inspire new thinking about ecological futures. A year-long art installation will hopefully open in this former cotton mill in Autumn 2020.
Lancashire Mining Museum in the Carbon Landscape
The pandemic has shown that rapid change is possible, and opened a space of opportunity to reimagine our urban spaces and relationship with the natural world. The need for meaningful engagement has never been more important. We will need to harness the ingenuity of communities and those working across all sectors to realise the potential to ‘build back better’. We need to make sure that everyone is heard in this dialogue, to have a better change of building an equitable and fair future. We have been trialling new approaches to engagement, to maximise the value of the hands-on, shared visual language of Ketso in remote workshops. This has required a shift in thinking in the Ketso team, as we have spent decades developing tools for people to build their ideas together in the same physical space. We are looking forward to rolling out this new approach to help deepen and widen the dialogue about the future.
Adapting the hands-on kit for remote meetings: Ketso ConnectEngaging with community members and stakeholders to develop ideas for the Carbon Landscape: A workshop using Ketso
Every month we feature a Global Roundtable in which a group of people respond to a specific question in The Nature of Cities.
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Hover over a name to see an excerpt of their response…click on the name to see their full response.
Nathalie Blanc, ParisThe good of my well-being is connected to the protection of irreplaceable beautiful environment. The good of my well-being is also connected to my participation in a common good, resisting public policies or human behavior that is destructive. / Le bien de mon bien-être est lié à la protection d’un environnement d’une beauté irremplaçable. Le bien de mon bien-être est aussi lié à ma participation à un bien commun, à la résistance aux politiques publiques ou à un comportement humain destructeur.
Lindsay Campbell, New YorkStewardship is not the same as ownership—but it does mean taking ownership of your place, voice, and power in the world. We aim to show that all of us have a stake in caring for our local environments, whether we own any inch of ground or not.
Zorina Colasero, Puerto Princesa CityThe CommunityAct Program encourages the engagement of the community and other stakeholders in various tree planting and environmental activities and to be stewards of their environment.
Kirk Deitschman, Waimānalo What is aloha ʻāina? Alo (face) and hā (breath) = aloha, to exchange breath with another being, the essence of reciprocity. Aloha is also love, affection, compassion. ʻĀina encompasses everything living.
Johan Enqvist, Cape TownIn Swedish, “Ta hand om” is a common phrase usually translated as “taking care of”; the literal meaning, is more like “taking in your hand”. “Ta hand om naturen” communicates both an individual responsibility to be careful with nature, but also the shared effort of joining hands to achieve in the interest of our co-dependency on nature.
Emilio Fantin, BolognaOnly through an autonomous process of consciousness—suggested by the word stewardship—can we share the sacredness which lays behind human nature. It is not a matter of thinking about which future disasters will kill us, or whether we will destroy the entire planet, but rather a matter of acting on the true sense of our relationship with the existence of life around us.
Artur Jerzy Filip, WarsawIn Poland, our phrase has been “lokalni gospodarze”, which translated back to English might be something like “Local Hosts”. It has enabled us to escape old schemes of thinking about civic participation and cross-sectoral governance.
Carlo Beneitez Gomez, Puerto Princesa CityThe CommunityAct Program encourages the engagement of the community and other stakeholders in various tree planting and environmental activities and to be stewards of their environment.
Cecilia Herzog, Rio de JaneiroWe need to be GUARDIANS, PROTECTORS and DEFENDERS in and out of the cities now. We must resist, all of us, for our common home: Planet Earth!
Michelle Johnson, New YorkStewardship is not the same as ownership—but it does mean taking ownership of your place, voice, and power in the world. We aim to show that all of us have a stake in caring for our local environments, whether we own any inch of ground or not.
Kevin Lunzalu, NairobiIn day-to-day local applications, stewardship is also used to mean a guardian, a servant, and an agent. In rural villages where farming is predominant, farmers are regarded as stewards of their lands, farm animals, and produce.
Patrick Lydon, OsakaThe human is steward of nature, yet only just as nature is steward of humans. Rather than hierarchy, there is mutuality built into this relationship.
Romina Magtanong, Puerto Princesa CityThe CommunityAct Program encourages the engagement of the community and other stakeholders in various tree planting and environmental activities and to be stewards of their environment.
Heather McMillen, HonoluluWhat is aloha ʻāina? Alo (face) and hā (breath) = aloha, to exchange breath with another being, the essence of reciprocity. Aloha is also love, affection, compassion. ʻĀina encompasses everything living.
Ranjini Murali, BangaloreIn Indian rural communities and even certain urban ones, the idea of stewardship permeates people’s lives in their everyday action, as a lived concept. Does the Western concept of environmental stewardship arise as an explicit concern only when the environment becomes visibly degraded?
Harini Nagendra, BangaloreIn Indian rural communities and even certain urban ones, the idea of stewardship permeates people’s lives in their everyday action, as a lived concept. Does the Western concept of environmental stewardship arise as an explicit concern only when the environment becomes visibly degraded?
Jean Ferus Niyomwungeri, KigaliWorking with local communities and getting them on the board has shown an impact. They live day to day with natural resources and, with education and understanding, they respect and become more responsible, embracing the benefits of conservation.
Jean Palma, ManilaThe words across the many languages of the Philippine to understand “steward” and “stewardship” are reflective of the peoples’ inherent nature to care for someone or something, to stand for duty, to protect, and to help or to respond to a certain need.
Beatriz Ruizpalacios, Mexico CityStewardship means nurturing a thing or a place and the relationship we keep with it. We become responsible, and in turn the thing is a repository of our affection and care. There is no particular word for this kind of stewardship, but we prefer to use verbs that emphasize our responsibility and agency: Cuidar, Proteger.
Huda Shaka, DubaiEnvironmental stewardship in the UAE is rooted in the Islamic concept of vicegerency: the responsibility bestowed by God on human beings, which entails them being trustees of the earth.
Erika Svendsen, New YorkStewardship is not the same as ownership—but it does mean taking ownership of your place, voice, and power in the world. We aim to show that all of us have a stake in caring for our local environments, whether we own any inch of ground or not.
Abdallah Tawfic, CairoWe strive to understand the benefits of urban greenery and eventually have the chance to use it for good—that’s how we define stewardship in Cairo without acknowledging it as an understandable term on its own.
Diana Wiesner, BogotáWhen I encountered the word “stewardship”, I instantly thought of the Colombian peasants, all those who save and protect seeds, food variety and biodiversity, without looking for anything in return. / Cuando me encontré con la palabra “stewardship” en inglés, pensé instantáneamente en los campesinos colombianos, todos aquellos que guardan y protegen las semillas, la variedad de alimentos y la biodiversidad, sin buscar nada a cambio.
Fish Yu, ShenzhenIn China, “stewardship” seems to be a word related more to rural conservation, and its core idea of “taking care” embeds an emotional tie to the object, connecting to us equally. The relationship becomes much weaker and passive in an urban context.
Lindsay K. Campbell is a research social scientist with the USDA Forest Service. Her current research explores the dynamics of urban politics, stewardship, and sustainability policymaking.
Do you have a word or phrase you use for socially-driven environmental care in your region? Tell us in the Comment section.
In cities and communities around the world, people work to take care of their local environments. This activity can take many forms, from individual actions, to community groups acting to care for their neighborhoods, to larger civil society organizations acting in the public realm. What unites such diverse types of social organization and modes of action is that people are choosing to care for the environments that have meaning for them.
How do we describe or name these activities? How do we, across languages and cultures, express the idea of “actively taking care of things we care about, such as the environment”?
In the U.S. and some other English speaking countries, the word used is—often but not always—“stewardship”. People who take such actions might be called “stewards”. Our work with the USDA Forest Service has been to grow a network of collaborators involved in stewardship research and action across the globe. We have learned that the word “stewardship” in English (“western” and global north usage) has both possibilities and pitfalls through its multiple connotations of caretaking, rights, responsibilities, knowledge, and action. It is a word that often does not have direct translation to local languages. It does not necessarily even work among all English speakers. The concept resonates, but the words that describe the idea vary, and often are in development.
This roundtable was inspired by our workshop “Talk, Map, Act” at the TNOC Summit where we gathered diverse stories of engagement with stewardship from all around the world.
We want to continue this journey by exploring the words people use for the constellation of activities suggested by the English word “stewardship”. We are interested to hear how the act of environmental care is expressed in different languages and contexts.
So, we asked 25 practitioners—scientists, activists, artists, planners, practitioners—from five continents: in your context and experience, what is the word or phrase used for the concept of “actively taking care of things, such as the environment”?
The answers are all over the map. In many languages, there is no direct translation to the English word “stewardship”. But there are many phrases that convey the activity of care—activities that in many countries are newly developing and advancing. The diversity of responses leads to valuable questions:
What sort of multiple linguistic meanings are opened up by exploring how people describe the concept of “care for the environment”?
In addition to thinking cross-culturally, how does the concept translate across urban to rural gradients?
What might thinking deeply about the meanings and limitations of expression of this concept tell us about the role of citizens and the state in our relationships with the biosphere?
[This Roundtable is a collaboration between The Nature of Cities and the USDA Forest Service, and is an output of The Nature of Cities Summit.]
Dr. Erika Svendsen is a social scientist with the U.S. Forest Service, Northern Research Station and is based in New York City. Erika studies environmental stewardship and issues related to hybrid governance, collective resilience and human well-being.
Cecilia Polacow Herzog is an urban landscape planner, retired professor at the Pontifical Catholic University of Rio de Janeiro. She is an activist, being one of the pioneers to advocate to apply science into real urban planning, projects, and interventions to increase biodiversity and ecosystem services in Brazilian cities.
We need to be GUARDIANS, PROTECTORS and DEFENDERS in and out of the cities now. We must resist, all of us, for our common home: Planet Earth!
Since I was invited to write about how stewardship translates into Brazilian Portuguese—especially regarding my own experience in dealing with different people from public, private and civic backgrounds, as well as from different disciplines in the academic world—I have been challenged to define in words what I have seen happening without having to give an specific name to it during many years.
The words that I first thought of were “GUARDIÃO” (guardian), “PROTETOR” (protector), “DEFENSOR” (defender) of the forest, rivers, birds, trees, river springs, nature… Many public and private programs and projects use those names.
Public programs in Rio have helped to change the landscape since the mid 19th Century, when the Emperor D. Pedro II commissioned Major Archer to replant native and fruit trees in the hills of the city, aiming to restore water springs, offering numerous direct and indirect ecosystem services up to now. Actually the benefits were so great that the city is now an international UNESCO Heritage Site: “Rio de Janeiro: Carioca Landscapes between the Mountain and the Sea”. Following the same path, in early 1980”s a city program transformed many of the degraded slopes with collective tree plantings (Mutirão Reflorestamento). This is a term used to bring people together to stewardship nature in the city: MUTIRÃO.
In the last years in São Paulo, there have been numerous MUTIRÕES to plant “Pocket Forests”, “Community Gardens”, “Rivers Springs Restorations”, “Rain Gardens”. Those collective actions are usually led by residents.
In Rio de Janeiro and other cities many actions have also been happening, with residents working together to change gray paved surfaces into green areas, because people need nature where they are. They want to participate, get together and transform the harsh landscape into a livable one. We love to make it together.
In July I had a personal experience when I was engaged in the process of designing and implementing the first rain garden of the city in a famous cultural center in the downtown area: “Fundição Progresso“. I proposed to co-create and co-design it. We organized two workshops and collective plantings (mutirões) with Organicidade, the landscape architect Pierre-André Martin, and also with Celso Junius (a city server with decades of experience in urban greening), with full support of the “Fundição” and Bambuê (the architect company in charge of building the garden). I never thought that we would be named stewards of nature in the city, but that was exactly what we were doing. We depaved a “no-where” gray backyard, built an edible rain garden, with native Atlantic Forest fruit trees, non-conventional edible, medicinal and ritualistic plants. On 28 September 2019 the rain garden area was opened to the public in a wonderful event that turned the decades old cultural institution in the Green Fundição, that aims to connect culture, arts and nature. The ceremony brought indigenous people from tribes located faraway. There was so much symbolism to recover an area and praise Mother Nature back to the city with the original residents of our country, who have been under attack by the current Federal administration.
Actually, I believe that people steward nature, but in countries were millions are unemployed it is not a priority. The systematic destruction of the rich ecosystems that my country has is caused by the myopia of the economic system that only sees the economic value of what is under the forests, and the potential for economic growth on hard infrastructure destroying rivers and forests, with hydropower killing our rivers and culture and new roads crisscrossing protected areas. We need more than ever to be ashamed of this predatory vision of permanent growth and stewardship nature and indigenous people! We need to be GUARDIANS, PROTECTORS and DEFENDERS in and out of the cities now. We must resist, all of us, for our common home: Planet Earth!
Specialist in the field of urban planning and design and a uthor of the book “Big Plans in the Hands of Citizens”, Artur is currently an assistant professor at the Warsaw University of Technology.
In Poland, our phrase has been “lokalni gospodarze”, which translated back to English might be something like “Local Hosts”. It has enabled us to escape old schemes of thinking about civic participation and cross-sectoral governance.
In Poland, the idea of “stewardship” is opening a totally new perspective in thinking about responsibility for public space. So far, we have been rather stuck between two extremities; probably like most post-communist societies. On one hand, we have believed that only direct ownership guarantees honest and sustainable attentiveness to space. The argument here is that anything beyond individual ownership leads to blurred authority and never-ending quarrels … well, this makes the space nobody’s. The tragedy of the commons then is unavoidable. On the other hand, we have feared any private (i.e. individual, group, even community) ownership for being a serious threat to public character of common goods. If anything is somebody’s, then someone else is excluded, isn’t it so? In such a situation, the idea of “stewardship” breaks through the prejudices twofold. First, because the stewards are capable of taking care of spaces without being their legal owners at all. And second, because the stewards care for these spaces for the benefit of others. At least a fair number of examples proves it possible, even if it still sounds like the future for us here, in Poland.
Two years ago I co-curated an exhibition “Warsaw Under Construction” at the Museum of Modern Art in Warsaw. My part was dedicated entirely to the idea of stewardship. On that occasion we faced the linguistic challenge for the first time and ended up with the translation “Lokalni gospodarze”. “Lokalni” meaning devoted to environments, though not necessarily natural or green, actually any kind of urban spaces included. And “gospodarze” meaning the hosts, the ones who manage and keep space in good condition. Actually, if someone would try to translate the phrase “lokalni gospodarze” back from Polish to English, we might get something like “Local Hosts.” Fair enough as well. What is key, after all, is this combination of two fundamental elements. First, public environment considered within particular boundaries: the turf. And second, the ones who care for the turf. All the rest: their modes of operation, levels of cooperation, and ways of calling things might vary across the cases.
In Poland, the conceptual framework of urban—environmental, local, you name it…—stewardship has already proven its usefulness. In some cases, it has served as a handy term to describe and evaluate ongoing projects. In others, as a mind-opening perspective allowing for broadening the visions. On multiple occasions I conducted workshops and gave lectures for citizens, institutions, authorities, and business leaders to share this idea. Today I’m so happy to see that the term “lokalni gospodarze” has already been starting to be commonly used here as a way enabling to escape old schemes of thinking about civic participation and cross-sectoral governance, as we have used to call these things so far. The alteration is significant. The openness and flexibility of the term “lokalni gospodarze” enables us to work on collaboration without being constrained by any rigid formulas established in advance, especially since we still do not have many ready-to-use formulas (policies, programs) that would facilitate multiple and diverse stakeholders to collaborate in support of urban space preservation, maintenance, or development.
Patrick M. Lydon is an American ecological writer and artist based in Korea whose seeks to re-connect cities and their inhabitants with nature. He writes The Possible City series, is co-founder of City as Nature (Daejeon). He is an Arts Editor here at The Nature of Cities.
The human is steward of nature, yet only just as nature is steward of humans. Rather than hierarchy, there is mutuality built into this relationship.
Some years ago we met with a curious old Japanese fisherman on the island of Megijima, Japan, who told us, “I fish from the mountain.”
We were curious. Though this man was leader of the local fishermans’ association, and a lifelong fisher, he was somehow just as interested in the mountain as he was in the sea.
We asked if there was something lost in translation from Japanese to English.
The fisherman shook his head and reiterated: “I don’t fish from the sea”.
Sitting on the traditional tatami floor of the Fisherman’s Association building, all we could do was stare at him in confusion. He continued “You can’t fish by looking at the sea. Yeah? You’ve got to fish by looking at the mountains first. The lives of the fish in this sea start with the rains that fall on the mountains. That rain works through the forests, through the agricultural fields, through the town, and then, it becomes the sea. If the mountain is not a healthy environment for the things that live there, the same is true for the sea.”
I ask, timidly “So, you fish from your boat, in the sea, but you are looking at the mountain?”
The fisherman looks at me, not so much annoyed, but quizzically, as if to say, is there any other way?
The main fishing port on Megijima, Japan. Photo: Patrick M. Lydon
This man fishes from the mountain because he—and presumably most of the traditional village fishermen like him—understand that in some way everything in this ecosystem depends on the health of every other part.
It’s a recurring theme with the farmers, fisherman, monks, chefs, and traditional craftspeople we have met over the past several years in this part of the world; the human is steward of nature, yet only just as nature is steward of humans.
Rather than hierarchy, there is mutuality built into this idea of stewardship. It is a relationship.
From this viewpoint, humans are no more or less important than any other living being on this earth, and all actors in this ecosystem must play their part, taking their action with “truth, goodness, and beauty” as both fishermen and nearby natural farmers say.
This is not an isolated thought by old farmers and fisherman. Indeed, when the entire village here comes together to celebrate the sea, it starts the festivities from the mountain, moving through the town, and into the sea.
Village elders on the island of Megijima, Japan, carry a portable shrine into the sea as part of a ceremony to pay respect to the sea. Photo: Patrick M. Lydon
It took this particular fisherman 70 years living on this island, and generations of wisdom passed down to him, to know what it means to fish from the mountain. That the office worker in Tokyo knows almost nothing of this anymore is a critical problem for cities.
Here on the island called Megijima, when we witness the last generation of people who want a job that requires them to know their role within the ecosystem, we are witnessing the extinction of knowledge. The lessons we might learn, not only from Japanese fishermen, but from similar keepers of traditional knowledge around the world, are about to be lost forever.
We who dwell in the cities, believe that such knowledge has no relevance to our staunch urban fortresses. Yet, truth is, the walls of our cities will most certainly crumble with the loss of this knowledge.
The lessons we need in order to build something akin to a sustainable society will not come from technology. They will not come from reports, graphs, or data analysis of the people who live this way. They will not come from financial growth, profits, investments, or dividends. The lessons we need will only come from our willingness as individual human beings to go, see, experience, and learn from those who know how to live withthe land, and how to become partners again, with the rest of the natural world with which we dwell.
Only if we can do this, will we know what it means to be stewards, and to develop technology, monetary systems, and all else in appropriate ways.
Saving these ways of thinking, living, and being are not just odes to a time long gone, they are the roots that will ensure our continued survival as a species here, no matter if we live in mega city or fishing village.
Sunset on the Seto Inland Sea, with the island of Megijima rising to the right. Photo: Patrick M. Lydon
Ranjini is an interdisciplinary scientist at Azim Premji University. She is interested in studying human-nature relationships, especially the values that people have for nature, and how these are influenced by different drivers of change such as urbanization and climate change.
In Indian rural communities and even certain urban ones, the idea of stewardship permeates people’s lives in their everyday action, as a lived concept. Does the Western concept of environmental stewardship arise as an explicit concern only when the environment becomes visibly degraded?
Through our growing network of collaborators involved in stewardship research and action across the globe, we have learned that this word has both possibilities and pitfalls through its multiple connotations of caretaking, rights, responsibilities, knowledge, and action. We are interested to hear whether and how this word translates to different languages and contexts; and what sort of multiple linguistic meanings are opened up. In addition to thinking cross-culturally, how does the word translate across urban to rural gradients? What might thinking deeply about the meanings and limitations of this word tell us—for instance—about the role of citizens and the state in our relationships with the biosphere?
The idea of stewardship as protecting nature is reflected in the Indian Constitution as the responsibility of both the state and the individual. According to Article 51-A, “it shall be the duty of every citizen of India to protect and improve the natural environment including forests, lakes, rivers and wildlife and to have compassion for living creatures.”
To understand what stewardship means in specific contexts, however, we must turn our attention to specifics. Here we draw on our experiences working with communities in two very different parts of India: rural Spiti Valley, and urban Bangalore.
Spiti Valley is a cold desert in the Indian trans-Himalaya, inhabited by agro-pastoralists for millennia. The landscape is largely rural, though some parts of the valley are experiencing initial impacts of urbanization.
An exact translation of the English word “stewardship” is difficult to find in many Indian languages. There is unlikely to be a word in the local language Spitian (a derivative of Tibetan) for environmental stewardship. There also doesn’t seem to be a separate word for nature. However, the idea of stewardship permeates their lives in their everyday action, as a lived concept. It seems to be driven by the use of the natural world for their survival, religion, history, and culture. For example, there are rules established around the use of pastures and of water, to ensure sustainability of use and to enable fairness of access to all. These rules have been established by previous generations and are passed down as norms of accepted use. With tourism entering the landscape, there is a sense of a need to protect their sacred sites, water, and pastures from the ill effects of tourism, such as garbage.
A typical village in Spiti Valley with the agricultural lands in the foreground. The pastures used for grazing livestock extend for kilometers around the village. In the extreme left, the small white structure is a “Chorten”, a religious structure symbolising Buddha’s presence. Photo: Ranjini Murali
Religion also plays a role in stewardship here. The religion that is dominant here, Buddhism, preaches care and love for all living beings. This translates into everyday practices of stewardship. For example, local monasteries ask people not to collect berries from bushes, so that they are left for the birds. During the sowing season, while the yak is sowing the soil, a prayer is said to all the small insects who might get crushed during this process.
In contrast to rural Spiti, the south Indian megacity of Bangalore is facing a starkly degraded environment. Bangalore was once considered a garden city and a city of lakes, prized for its green and pleasant environment. In the local language Kannada, a variety of words such as ಉಸ್ತುವಾರಿ (ustuvaari—taking care of), ಕಾವಲು (kaavalu—to guard), ಕಣ್ಣಿಟ್ಟಿರುವುದು (kannituruvudu—keeping an eye on) and others come close to stewardship, but there is no direct equivalent of the word.
Citizen protests held in Bangalore in 2009, against the felling of trees for the construction of the Bangalore Metro. Credits: Harini Nagendra
In response to recent widespread tree felling and lake deterioration, environmental movements are on the rise. Environmental stewardship is often expressed as a concern of urban middle class residents, and focused on protecting aesthetic and cultural values. Urban residents are inspired to take up stewardship by activities such as waste composting, bird watching, and nature-themed art workshops. In certain wealthy and upwardly mobile sections of the population, the influence of global environmental movements can also be seen in the adoption of lifestyle choices such as veganism, cycling to work, carpooling or shopping local and organic, to reduce individual impacts on the environment.
Residents of informal settlements, and practitioners of nature-based livelihoods such as fishers and grazers, are important environmental stewards who often get left out of the discussion. The motivations for stewardship expressed by these residents of Bangalore is similar to that of Spitians in that they draw from everyday lived experiences of utilitarian and cultural values received from an everyday life immersed in nature. In contrast, our interviews with upper middle-class and wealthy residents of Bangalore show that their environmental stewardship seems to be driven by aesthetic values and concerns about health and pollution, shaped by a feeling of loss because of the destruction of natural spaces they loved.
This contrast raises a fundamental question in our minds. Does the Western concept of environmental stewardship arise as an explicit concern only when the environment becomes visibly degraded? We think there is a need for many more such comparative studies across different Western and non-Western, urban and rural contexts to enable us to make adequate sense of stewardship, and to understand the potential and limitations of global and local environmental movements.
Harini Nagendra is a Professor of Sustainability at Azim Premji University, Bangalore, India. She uses social and ecological approaches to examine the factors shaping the sustainability of forests and cities in the south Asian context. Her books include “Cities and Canopies: Trees of Indian Cities” and "Shades of Blue: Connecting the Drops in India's Cities" (Penguin India, 2023) (with Seema Mundoli), and “The Bangalore Detectives Club” historical mystery series set in 1920s colonial India.
Jean Ferus NIYOMUNGERI is a young Rwandan conservationist, born in Southern province, currently serving as a Community Conservation Officer under the Rwanda Wildlife Conservation Association (RWCA), the non-governmental organization he started with.
Working with local communities and getting them on the board has shown an impact. They live day to day with natural resources and, with education and understanding, they respect and become more responsible, embracing the benefits of conservation.
In Rwanda the word “stewardship” means the way of being responsible and taking care of resources. The word itself has no single word translation in Kinyarwanda, the language of Rwanda. When working in conservation, we translate it as “Kubungabunga umutungo kamere” which means “to protect natural resources”. Conceptually, there is a theological belief that humans are responsible for the world and should take care of it.
Rwanda has built different institutions mandated to manage different aspects of environmental protection, climate change mitigation and adaptation and disaster risk management.
Rwanda has also made efforts to engage people in environmental protection through different home-grown solutions, for instance whereby all communities across the entire country gather on the last Saturday of the month for community work “Umuganda”, such as cleaning, repairing roads or planting trees. This has contributed a lot towards Kigali being one of the greenest and cleanest cities in Africa. However, Rwanda is one of the low-income countries in Sub-Saharan Africa / East Africa. It is highly populated and more than 70% of people are engaged in agriculture as small-scale farmers. This has led to the loss of forests especially in urban areas as Rwanda’s natural resources and land are overstretched. Many of our natural forests are threatened by their transformation into settlement areas and agricultural land as well as demand for firewood as the main source of energy, and the use of trees for construction despite the government’s efforts towards conservation.
In this context, RWCA has contributed a lot to protect wildlife and natural habitats, engage and educate local communities while improving livelihoods and raise awareness of conservation issues. Our project of saving the endangered Grey Crowned Cranes where we work with people who kept cranes as pets in their home or hotel. With time, people have understood the issues contributing to the cranes’ decline in numbers and have changed their mind about keeping cranes in captivity and decided to contribute to the process of saving them. This project has showed how, with education and awareness raising, our communities were collaborative and supportive of the plan to reintroduce the cranes to the wild.
RWCA’s conservation model includes creating a sense of ownership and stewardship of cranes in order to create long term sustainable solutions to the project. Without this, the illegal trade would likely continue. For example, we have a team of 25 marsh rangers, recruited from the community around Rugezi marsh, a RAMSAR protected site rich in biodiversity and home to nearly a quarter of Rwanda’s Grey Crowned Cranes. Their role is to patrol and protect the marsh but a large part of that is educating people about the need to protect it and creating a sense of ownership over our country’s wildlife.
We also have a team of 30 Conservation Champions across the country located at key biodiversity areas and crane habitats. They are also recruited from within the communities they serve – they monitor cranes and other biodiversity in those areas and again educate people about the role of local communities in environmental protection. Our activities also include planting indigenous trees to restore habitats for the benefit of biodiversity. This activity also takes on the idea of stewardship, where we encourage communities to focus on “growing trees” not just “planting trees”, following up and caring for their trees in the long term. Working with local communities and getting them on the board has shown an impact since we started. They are the ones who live day to day with those natural resources and, with education and understanding, they respect and become more responsible, and embrace the benefits of conservation.
Kids participated in planting indigenous trees event. Photo: Maurice Uwineza
Ragene Palma is a Filipino urbanist currently studying International Planning at the University of Westminster, London, as a Chevening scholar. Follow her work at littlemissurbanite.com.
The words across the many languages of the Philippine to understand “steward” and “stewardship” are reflective of the peoples’ inherent nature to care for someone or something, to stand for duty, to protect, and to help or to respond to a certain need.
“Stewardship” is an understanding that transforms across the Philippine archipelago. With more than 7,000 islands and at least 183 alive languages (see Note), the term elicits a multitude of perceptions from the highland farmers to peoples with seafaring roots, from the urbanites who have a more built-up daily experience to the rural dwellers.
The scope of “Filipino”
Understanding Filipino (the national language) entails understanding the origin of the places where the many languages are spoken, how Filipinos have moved and lived across islands throughout history. Ethnologue provides detailed maps of the Philippine language families.
Source: https://www.ethnologue.com Used with permission.Source: https://www.ethnologue.com Used with permission.
Translations across the three major island groups of the Philippines would show similarities of meaning in understanding stewardship. Below are select translations from the different languages.
Luzon islands
In Tagalog, what comes to mind when translating “steward” is tagapangalaga (someone who provides care). A rapid survey would also draw responses such as bantay (someone who looks out for someone), katiwala (a person with whom one entrusts important things), tagapangasiwa (one who facilitates or manages), and gabay (guide). In Kapampangan, “steward” is manyese (someone who takes care of another), or maningat, which roots from ingat, meaning “care”. In Ilocano, “steward” is taga-aywan (someone who provides care).
Visayas and the Bicol region
In Cebuano (or Bisaya), Hiligaynon, and Ilonggo, “steward” is tinugyanan, tigbantay, and taga-atiman (carer); in Bicolano, it is translated to taga-ataman (ataman being word that means protecting, nurturing, and providing care).
Mindanao
In Meranaw, “steward” comes close to kithatandingan, meaning someone who is in charge of a responsibility; thatandingan would refer to the act of protecting one’s own jurisdiction as a form of duty. In Tausug, “stewardship” comes close to daraakun, which is the act of taking care of, and serving others. A common word of the Moro tribe (the Islamic groups of Mindanao) is pamarinta, meaning the authority and responsibility over a certain area. This understanding is very much rooted in how the Moros associate with their home and their environment; in fact, Meranaw means people of the lake (ranaw being lake).
In Binukid, there are related words to stewardship: tulubagën (literally, “to respond”) means a general sense of responsibility; pëgpangamangël leans towards a more directed sense of responsibility for the community and the ancestral domain, and katëngdanan (which stems from the root word katënged, meaning duty).
In the Spanish-Filipino creole Chavacano, cuida means “to act as a steward for”.
Stewardship reflects care, duty
The Filipino words to understand “steward” and “stewardship” are reflective of the peoples’ inherent nature to care for someone or something, to stand for duty (a trait that comes with strong familial responsibility), to protect, and to help or to respond to a certain need.
Filipinos have strong ties to land and the natural environment as a home. It is beautiful how our indigenous groups, who have lived way before the colonial period and the establishment of the government, refer to our lands as lupang ninuno (ancestral lands); this gives context as to why our languages show respect, a certain fierceness (for duty), and affection (giving care), in understanding “stewardship”
Thank you to the following for contributing the translations and context for the Filipino languages: Salic ‘Exan’ Sharief, Jr. (for the Moro tribe languages), Rachelle Santos (Kapampangan), Yowee Gonzales (Cebuano, Hiligaynon, and Ilonggo), Ceng Bilgera and Keesha Buted (Ilocano), Jessie Lapinid (Chavacano), PJ Capistrano (Binukid), and Peter Fraginal (Bicolano).
Note: Simons, G. F. and C. D. Fennig (eds.). 2018 Ethnologue: Languages of the World, 22nd ed. Dallas: SIL International. www.ethnologue.com/country/PH/languages (Accessed 4 October 2019)
Huda's experience and training combine urban planning, sustainable development and public health. She is a chartered town planner (MRTPI) and a chartered environmentalist (CEnv) with over 15 years' experience focused on visionary master plans and city plans across the Arabian Gulf. She is passionate about influencing Arab cities towards sustainable development.
“With God’s will, we shall continue to work to protect our environment and our wildlife, as did our forefathers before us. It is a duty, and, if we fail, our children, rightly, will reproach us for squandering an essential part of their inheritance, and of our heritage” —Source
The above quote from the founder and first president of the United Arab Emirates (UAE), Sheikh Zayed bin Sultan Al Nahyan, encapsulates the culture of environmental stewardship in the country. It is a view rooted in the Islamic concept of vicegerency: the responsibility bestowed by God on human beings, which entails them being trustees of the earth. More recent concepts of sustainable development and intergenerational equity are also echoed in Sheikh Zayed’s quote above.
Environmental stewardship in the UAE is rooted in the Islamic concept of vicegerency: the responsibility bestowed by God on human beings, which entails them being trustees of the earth.
While environmental stewardship is a core part of the UAE’s culture (and more widely the Muslim world’s culture), perhaps what has changed in the last few years is the breadth of the concept. The focus in the UAE during the second half of the 20th century was primarily on the conservation of local flora and fauna. In line with Sheikh Zayed’s vision, a number of associations and programs were set up from as early as the 1960s to protect and breed local endangered species such as the Arabian Oryx and the Houbara. This included introducing new legislation and designating environmental reserves and protected areas.
Sheikh Zayed’s environmental vision also included utilizing the best expertise and technological innovations to literally “green the desert”. This involved ambitious agricultural, tree planting, and forestry projects to help provide employment, food security, and aesthetically pleasing and comfortable cities and towns for the new country’s residents. The forests functioned as green belts, protecting farms and human settlements in the desert from sand storms. Of course, they came at a water cost with ground water being the only feasible water source.
Over the last decade, the discourse around environmental stewardship has evolved to encompass broader environmental aspects, particularly from a resources’ perspective. In 2006, the World Wildlife Fund (WWF) declared the UAE as the country with the largest ecological footprint per capita, surpassing even the United States. This served as a wake-up call for the country’s residents and policy makers.
Since then, environmental stewardship at a policy and grassroots level has developed to encompass water and energy conservation and carbon reduction, as well as ecological conservation. The UAE now has a national energy strategy which includes renewable energy and carbon reduction targets. Similarly, a national water security strategy has been developed to ensure sustainable access to water. These targets are also reflected in local strategies and increasingly in building codes and rating systems. Ambitious development projects such as the Masdar City project aim to pioneer environmentally-sustainable technologies for survival in the desert, and in other resource-constrained contexts.
Today as the UAE is about to celebrate its 48th national day, environmental stewardship remains a concept which carries meanings of visionary leadership rooted in a deep cultural appreciation and understanding of the environment’s value and the present generations’ responsibility towards preserving it for future generations.
Abdallah is an architect, environmentalist and urban farmer. He works at the German International Cooperation (GIZ) and he is also the cofounder of Urban Greens Egypt, a startup aiming to promote the concept of Urban Agriculture in Cairo.
We strive to understand the benefits of urban greenery and eventually have the chance to use it for good—that’s how we define stewardship in Cairo without acknowledging it as an understandable term on its own.
In the center of one of the busiest informal settlements in Cairo lies “Mattariya school for girls”. I had the chance to meet with a group of teachers who believe in the importance of the preservation and revival of natural environments in our cities. Informal settlements in Cairo are a jungle of concrete houses stacked together with minimum or almost no open and green spaces, making it very hard to practice the right of being connected to nature.
Looking at the history of this informal construction, those were productive agriculture land in the early 60s, that has transformed incrementally through time—with the absence of laws—into unplanned urban dwellings. The informal construction approach is usually simple:—“build on 100 % of the plot”—so imagine the 60 years aftermath of this continuous fertile land encroachments.
“The students do not understand why and where should we plant more trees and greens” said Omayya, a “Mattariya School for Girls” teacher whom we trained on rooftop gardens implementation & management. “Our urban pattern is challenging, the students living in the neighborhood are completely disconnected from nature”, she added.
The teachers have created rooftop gardening teams of interested students, where they get the chance to be reconnected to nature and learn more about how to produce their food within the boundaries of their neighborhood. They have learned new mechanisms of reviving the original function of this land in an innovative, environmentally responsible and contemporary way. They understand that this land has evolved long time ago to be agriculturally productive, and the aftermath of unprecedented urbanization should not stop them for seeking their rights to enjoy being around green spaces and learn how to locally grow their own food.
We want to change this persistent culture of environmental injustice that has accumulated over years. We want to create stewards taking the lead for a better and greener future.
The students deserve to understand the benefits of urban greenery and eventually have the chance to use it for their own benefits, that’s how we define stewardship in our city without acknowledging it as an understandable term on its own. Stewardship—Idaara in Arabic—is a classical translation for “supervision and management”. Teachers of Mattariya school for girls are stewards—or Environmental Managers if we wish to formulate it in English—who are passing the culture of rooftop community gardens to the new generations. They will one day not only apply it on their everyday activities, but create innovative approaches that improves the quality of life in such challenging living environment.
When I encountered the word “stewardship”, I instantly thought of the Colombian peasants, all those who save and protect seeds, food variety and biodiversity, without looking for anything in return.
Custodians of Life
In Spanish, the word stewardship has many translations: custodian, guardian, executor, administrator, caretaker, depository, protector, defender, keeper.
In this sense, the guardian of life is the one who takes care of something as if he had in his hands his own heart or his soul, he is the one who has the meaning of his own life, of his identity, of his culture.
When I was invited to take part in this reflection, I instantly thought of the Colombian peasants, all those who save and protect seeds, food variety and biodiversity, without looking for anything in return. They do it by conviction, as part of their own life, they have it rooted in their routine and in their sense of being.
So they say, “The seeds have no owner”, and question their marketing. Seeds are world heritage. In geographically isolated areas of Colombia, with social conflict trajectories, the tradition of saving seeds is part of existence. They call themselves “guardians of seeds”. In the tropical dry forest there are more than seventy peasant families for whom seeds represent powerful notions of solidarity economy, territorial rooting, renewal, identity, and cultural heritage. As Cristina Consuegra, an anthropologist and defender of agrifood heritage, points out, “this relationship of belonging, identity, and cultural memory symbolizes the very thread of people’s lives”, connecting them with the memories of their parents and grandparents. It is part of their family.
“My seeds, I adore them so much, I always look for the best place for them, for me, they are part of the family and they are my food”. — A woman from the village of Los Robles, Colombia.
Since 2002, in the department of Nariño, the Network of Life Seed Guardians began to be woven from the work of recovering seeds and crops in risk of extinction. The fundamental work of this network is focused on the conservation of native and creole seeds that are in danger of disappearing, through the rescue, preservation, promotion of sustainable use and consumption, and the transformation of food.
Besides the peasants, there are the so-called “neo-rural” groups, urban inhabitants who have migrated to the countryside with the conviction of having another consistent perspective with their principles of productivity, sustainability and family life. An example of this is a family that lives in the rural area of Bogotá, on the other side of the eastern hills of the city, who call themselves “family of the land, fruits of utopia” and seek to defend food diversity. They are the custodians of ancestral food and have rescued more than forty-five varieties of potatoes in spiral agroecology, traditional cultivation methods and prepare them with ancestral recipes, in one of the largest capitals of Latin America and humanity in general.
In the words of Jaime Aguirre: “we seek to rescue the biodiversity of the Andean edible seeds and to exchange with other agro-ecological brother processes; we aim to take care of seeds with love, dry them and cultivate them spiritually so that small farmers can continue «procreating» the land”; so that they can continue to be the guardians of life.
These are definitions obtained from the Network of Life Seed Guardians:
Guardián de semillas (Seed Guardian): the seed producer, who recovers, produces, conserves, investigates, selects and improves seeds in an agro-ecological context, shares them in a supportive and responsible way, and helps to dynamize their flow.
Semillistas (seedbed-ers): they are the future seed guardians, who are in the process of transition from conventional to agro-ecological agriculture. In the same way, they recover, produce and conserve seeds, without properly dynamize their flow.
Amigos de las semillas (Seed Friends): are people who help the network, making monetary donations or contributing with their work, from their profession, interest and energy, to the process of conservation and flow of seeds, without being producers themselves.
The custodians of life are all those who, through passion, conviction, a sense of identity and cultural memory, look after, guard and protect all expressions of life. The productivity of a country should be measured by its number of life custodians, which multiplies and promotes a deep transformation and rooting of the life identity in the regions.
References:
Consuegra, Cristina. “The thread of life: seeds and agri-food heritage”. University of the Andes. Department of Anthropology. Bulletin OPCA 10, Observatory of Cultural and Archaeological Heritage. April 2016. ISSN 2256-3139.
Gutiérrez, L. Seeds, common goods and food sovereignty. ” The Free Seed Network of Colombia” Available here.
Network of guardians of seeds of life Colombia “Sowing for the future”. July 1, 2016. Available here.
“I have the heart of my territory in my hands, I am its guardian. If I release it, it disintegrates”. Gabriela Villate, 9 years old. Photo: Diana Wiesner «Tengo el corazón de mi paisaje en mis manos, soy su guardiana. Si lo suelto, se desintegra». Gabriela Villate, 9 años. Foto: Diana Wiesner.Isabel, “custodio” de semillas, Rurality of Bogotá. Photo: Stefan Ortiz. Isabel, “custodio” de semillas, ruralidad de Bogotá. Foto: Stefan Ortiz.“Guardador” de semillas. Photo Andrés Estefan. Courtesy of Cristina Consuegra “Guardador” de semillas. Foto: El Salado Foto Andrés Estefan. Cortesía de Cristina ConsuegraNative potatoes. Photo: Stefan Ortiz. Courtesy of Cristina Consuegra Papas nativas, Usme. Foto: Stefan Ortiz. Cortesía de Cristina Consuegra
Custodios de la Vida
Cuando me encontré con la palabra “stewardship” en inglés, pensé instantáneamente en los campesinos colombianos, todos aquellos que guardan y protegen las semillas, la variedad de alimentos y la biodiversidad, sin buscar nada a cambio.
En el idioma español existen múltiples palabras que describen a un cuidador: custodio, guardián, albacea, administrador, depositario, protector, defensor, vigilante. Todos estos sinónimos nos sirven para designar a un «guardián de vida», que es quien prodiga cuidados como si tuviera en sus manos su propio corazón o su alma, es quien tiene el significado de su propia vida, de su identidad, de su cultura.
Cuando me invitaron a participar en esta reflexión, inmediatamente pensé en los campesinos de Colombia, en todos aquellos que guardan y protegen las semillas, la diversidad alimentaria y la biodiversidad, sin buscar nada a cambio. Ellos lo hacen por convicción, como parte de su propia vida, lo tienen enraizado en su rutina y en su sentido del ser. En cada región de Colombia a los guardianes se les llama de formas diversas: en Bogotá y su región se habla de custodios; en la costa son guardadores y en otras regiones cuidadores.
«Mis semillas, yo las adoro tanto, les busco siempre el mejor lugar, para mí, hacen parte de la familia y son mi alimento». Mujer de del Municipio de la Paz en la vereda los Robles. Cesar, Colombia.
Desde el año 2002, en el departamento de Nariño, se empezó a tejer la Red de Guardianes de Semillas de Vida a partir del trabajo de recuperación de semillas y cultivos en riesgo de extinción. La labor fundamental de la red está enfocada en la conservación de semillas nativas y criollas que están en peligro de desaparecer, a través del rescate, preservación, promoción del uso sostenible y consumo, y de la transformación de los alimentos.
Además de los campesinos, están los grupos denominados «neorurales», habitantes urbanos que han migrado al campo con la convicción de tener otra perspectiva coherente con sus principios de productividad, sostenibilidad y vida familiar. Ejemplo de ello es una familia que vive en la zona rural de Bogotá, al otro lado de los cerros orientales de la ciudad, que se autodenominan «familia de la tierra, frutos de la utopía» y buscan la defensa de la diversidad alimentaria. Son los custodios de los alimentos ancestrales y han rescatado más de cuarenta y cinco variedades de papas en agroecología en forma de espiral, métodos de cultivo tradicionales y las preparan con recetas ancestrales, uno de los mayores capitales que tienen América Latina y la humanidad en general.
En las palabras de Jaime Aguirre, cabeza de familia de la tierra: «buscamos rescatar la biodiversidad de semillas alimentarias de los Andes e intercambiar con otros procesos agroecológicos hermanos; buscamos cuidar las semillas con amor, secarlas y cultivarlas espiritualmente para que los pequeños agricultores puedan seguir “procreando” la tierra».
Definiciones obtenidas de la Red de Guardianes de Semillas de Vida:
Guardián de semillas: es el productor de semillas, quien las recupera, produce, conserva, investiga, selecciona y mejora en un contexto agroecológico, las comparte de manera solidaria y responsable, y ayuda a dinamizar su flujo.
Semillistas:son los futuros guardianes de semillas, que se encuentran en proceso de transición de la agricultura convencional a la agroecológica. De igual forma, recuperan, producen y conservan las semillas, sin dinamizar propiamente su flujo.
Amigos de las semillas:son personas que ayudan a la red, haciendo donaciones en dinero o aportando con su trabajo, desde su profesión, interés y energía, al proceso de conservación y flujo de las semillas, sin ser propiamente productores de las mismas.
Los custodios de la vida son todos aquellos que desde la pasión, la convicción, el sentimiento de identidad y la memoria cultural cuidan, guardan y protegen todas las expresiones de vida. La productividad de un país debería medirse por su cantidad de custodios de vida, lo que multiplica y promueve una transformación profunda y el enraizamiento de la identidad de vida en las regiones.
Referencias:
Consuegra, Cristina. «El hilo de la vida: semillas y patrimonio agroalimentario». Universidad de los Andes. Departamento de Antropología. Boletín OPCA 10, Observatorio del Patrimonio Cultural y Arqueológico. Abril de 2016. ISSN 2256-3139.
Gutiérrez, L. Semillas, bienes comúnes y soberanía alimentaria. «La Red de Semillas Libres de Colombia». Disponible aqui.
Red de guardianes de semillas de vida Colombia. «Sembrando para el futuro». Julio 1.º de 2016. Disponible aqui.
What is aloha ʻāina? Alo (face) and hā (breath) = aloha, to exchange breath with another being, the essence of reciprocity. Aloha is also love, affection, compassion. ʻĀina encompasses everything living.
Aloha mai kākou! Affectionate greetings to you all. We are part of Hālau ʻŌhiʻa, an intensive professional development training program in Hawaiʻi lifeways—of which stewardship is an embedded element—for developing the capacity of conservation and natural resource professionals in Hawaiʻi (Kealiikanakaoleohaililani et al. 2018). A hālau (literally “many breaths”) is a space of learning; ʻōhiʻa (“to gather”) are ecologically and culturally the most important native trees in Hawaiʻi (Metrosideros spp., Myrtaceae). Through Hālau ʻŌhiʻa we are learning to treat each other, our places, and all living beings like ʻohana (family). (See a previous post.) In doing so, we are learning how to steward relationships within ourselves, with our places, and with our communities.
Our understanding of stewardship is grounded in the Hawaiian concept of ʻāina. ‘Āina is land, sea, and all biotic/abiotic elements and processes. It is also sometimes translated as “that which feeds” because it nurtures the spirit and the body. People are in reciprocal relationships with ʻāina as part of an integrated system. In Hawaiian there is no word for “nature” as an entity that is separate from people. The proverb “I ola ʻoe, i ola mākou nei” underscores our interdependence. It means: your life depends on mine, and my life depends on yours. When you thrive, we thrive. We see that these concepts are foundational to aloha ʻāina, an ancient concept that we understand as stewardship.
What is aloha ʻāina? Alo (face) and hā (breath) = aloha, to exchange breath with another being, the essence of reciprocity. Aloha is also love, affection, compassion. ʻĀina, as described above, encompasses everything living. Through Hālau ʻŌhiʻa, we (the authors) have deepened our understanding of aloha ʻāina and our kinship to ʻāina. We recognize genealogical ties to ʻāina (i.e., I am connected to this mountain as much as I am to my maternal grandmother), and we care for the ʻāina as we would a dear family member (i.e., by protecting her). This is true for those of us born here and not, because we all drink the water and breathe the air of Hawaiʻi. The proverb: “I nā mālama ‘oe i ka ‘āina, na ka ‘āina malama iā ‘oe,” tells us if you take care of the ‘āina, she will take care of you. The opposite is also true, if we neglect the ʻāina, we will be neglected. The practice and process of aloha ʻāina requires pilina (relationship), in this case, relationships among people and place.
Aloha ʻāina is embodied in the protection of Maunakea (also Mauna Kea or Mauna a Wākea, “mountain of Wākea”, sky deity and ancestor of all Hawaiians). Since July 2019, kiaʻi (protectors or guardians) have occupied the sacred mountain in efforts to prevent further development for telescopes, specifically a telescope that would be 18 stories tall and 30 meters in diameter on an 8-acre footprint in a fragile, rare, subalpine ecosystem. This movement is based in aloha ʻāina and kapu aloha (multidimensional practice of compassion and peaceful consciousness for all especially for those perceived to have oppositional intentions). In the last three months as we have all held space—physically by being on the Mauna and also spiritually as we stay connected to the Mauna at home—we have all felt the cultural and cognitive shift being ignited across Hawaiʻi and around the globe. The momentum has energized and informed other communities to protect places from development and desecration, to promote opportunities to nurture pilina with ʻāina and with each other. The movement to protect Maunakea has become a reference point for aloha ʻāina and healing in Hawaiʻi and worldwide.
View from piko (center) of kiaʻi activity based at the kūpuna (elder) tent. Puʻuhuluhulu is the hill in the background. Photo (July 2019): Natalie Kurashima)
Kirk loves all aspects of Hawai'i. Throughout his life he has always been involved in uplifting and supporting communities of Hawai'i. His other passion is to continue to learn about the natural resources of Hawai'i and join the efforts to support and protect these important resources.
Lindsay K. Campbell is a research social scientist with the USDA Forest Service. Her current research explores the dynamics of urban politics, stewardship, and sustainability policymaking.
Lindsay Campbell, Erika Svendsen, Michelle Johnson
Stewardship is not the same as ownership—but it does mean taking ownership of your place, voice, and power in the world. We aim to show that all of us have a stake in caring for our local environments, whether we own any inch of ground or not.
Stewardship is far from a commonplace word in American English. However, it is invoked with some frequency in the context of natural resource management, often drawing upon historical roots going back to colonial settlement. The numerous indigenous peoples of the Americas have deep and diverse relations of caretaking and reciprocity with the natural world that we first want to acknowledge. In 1949, Aldo Leopold perhaps most famously invoked a theologically rooted “land ethic” through which humans have a moral responsibility to the land. Continuing the progressive utilitarian approach of Gifford Pinchot, our own agency, the USDA Forest Service, cares for the land on behalf of a “greater good”. On all United States lands, particularly National Forests and Grasslands, our agency is working toward a vision of “Shared Stewardship” with multiple stakeholders.
Our work as Forest Service researchers at the NYC Urban Field Station has aimed to advance the scholarship and practice of urban environmental stewardship, with a focus on the role of civic groups. We understand stewardship to consist of both caretaking for and claims-making on the environment. Anyone can have a personal experience of being a steward through acts of hands-on work, engagement in advocacy, expressions of love, and transformation of systems—and we’ve begun gathering personal accounts of people’s stewardship stories from all over the world. These narratives range from cherished memories, to everyday occurrences, to sparks that started social movements. To add your own story to the map, go here!
We have found that individuals rarely engage in stewardship alone—and often it takes the form of local civic engagement. Many stewardship groups start from a shared experience of friends or neighbors—out of a desire to improve a local community, restore something that was lost, or create something new. And there is incredible power in these civic groups, power that we have aimed to make more visible by mapping groups’ territories and networks through STEW-MAP.
Why a map?In our market-driven American society we have a finely honed sense of private property; public agencies have a clear sense of the lands that they manage and where their jurisdiction lies. But how do we visualize and map the role of the “third” sector, or the civic realm that also shapes so much of our governance and our green and grey environments? Stewardship is not the same as ownership—but it does mean taking ownership of your place, voice, and power in the world. And by mapping stewardship, we are attempting to level the playing field a bit—to show that all of us have a stake in caring for our local environments, whether we own any inch of ground or not.
Graphic depiction of stewardship groups’ territories, based on responses to STEW-MAP survey. Stewardship site types range across the green, blue, and built environment and exist at scales from window box to watershed. Image created by Pratt SAVI using STEW-MAP NYC 2017 data.
Dr. Erika Svendsen is a social scientist with the U.S. Forest Service, Northern Research Station and is based in New York City. Erika studies environmental stewardship and issues related to hybrid governance, collective resilience and human well-being.
Emilio Fantin is an artist working in Italy on multidisciplinary research.
He teaches at the Politecnico, Architecture, University of Milan, and acts as coordinator of the “Osservatorio Public Art”.
La Stewardship è una strategia di gestione responsabile che introduce un principio etico dell’uso delle risorse. (Stewardship is a responsible management strategy that introduces an ethical principle of resource use.)
“Stewardship,” una parola, molte applicazioni. Il termine anglosassone stewardship non è traducibile con un corrispettivo italiano, ma letteralmente significa: “gestione etica (responsabile) delle risorse”. Quali risorse? I beni comuni come l’acqua, il territorio, le foreste, la salute, le persone, i risparmi e i prodotti. (Stewardship, one word, many applications. The Anglo-Saxon term “stewardship” cannot be translated with an Italian equivalent, but it literally means: “ethical (responsible) management of resources”. Which resources? Common goods such as water, land, forests, health, people, savings and products.)
Stewardship is an ethic that embodies the responsible planning and management of resources. The concepts of stewardship can be applied to environment and nature, economics, health, property, information, theology, etc.
I have selected from the Net, three definitions of stewardship, two of them in Italian and one in English.
Only through an autonomous process of consciousness—suggested by the word stewardship—can we share the sacredness which lays behind human nature. It is not a matter of thinking about which future disasters will kill us, or whether we will destroy the entire planet, but rather a matter of acting on the true sense of our relationship with the existence of life around us.
All of them refer to the word Ethics, which can be defined in different ways but, in general, it refers to actions by human beings, in relation to all living organisms, human and not human, things and objects. Ethics is constituted by a set of values which arises from the relationship between culture and nature and it concerns human beings consciousness.
These values are applied to the idea of good and more specifically, collectively speaking, of common good. Ethics (also known as moral philosophy) is the branch of philosophy which addresses to questions of morality. But terms such as “strategia di gestione” (management strategy) or management of resources sound to me like terms which do not belong to philosophy or morality humanistic sphere. There is a big discussion about language, because specific words can be related to concepts which assume different meanings from the original ones, especially when these words do not originate in their own field but they are imported from other cultural spheres.
That is the case with words like “management strategy”, which evidently come from both economic, business, and military lexicons. I know they are commonly used in many other disciplines, but that doesn’t mean that they are properly used. “Stewardship of resources”, from my point of view, has to do primary with the word “care”, which means love put love into practice. If we intend the meaning of the words “stewardship of resources” as the result of a strategy, or we think that it concerns a hierarchical management structure, we reduce it to an abstract concept and we significantly diminish the possibility of a positive result. By-taking care of resources, we intend to individually develop a profound relationship with all resources and common goods such as: water, air, green, food, human beings, soil or animals. It means to understand the essential quality of a particular status, form and way of being of all these elements, their esthetics and functions. It means to respect them in the same way we respect ourselves. That’s it. Because by taking care of them, we reconnect ourselves to a horizon which doesn’t comprehend finalized aims or strategic attitude but a true form of love.
A strong movement of transformation can take place whenever each part of a whole starts to act autonomously, instead of following a common direction or strategy. Only through an autonomous process of consciousness—suggested by the word stewardship—can we share the sacredness which lays behind human nature. It is not a matter of thinking about which future disasters will kill us, or if we will be able to destroy the entire planet, but rather a matter of discovering the true sense of our relationship with the existence of life around us.
The CommunityAct Program encourages the engagement of the community and other stakeholders in various tree planting and environmental activities and to be stewards of their environment. In the case of the City’s Balayong Park—also known as People’s Park—interested individuals and groups were given the opportunity to adopt Balayong Trees, and receive responsibilities and certificates for doing so.
Stewardship is known as “Pangangalaga” in Filipino, from the root word “alaga” which means CARE. It is just but normal for somebody to care or manage properly the things that have value to him/her.
“Stewardship” is one of the strategies/approaches used by the Philippine Government in managing the natural resources of the country. It is making the qualified interested group/individuals as partners in managing properly the particular timberland areas by giving them authority/permits through issuance of appropriate tenurial instrument such as Certificate of Stewardship Contract (CSC)—(individual/family), and Community-Based Forest Management Agreement (CBFMA) (community/peoples’ organization).
Awarding/issuance of tenurial instruments comes with responsibilities that the beneficiaries/stewards should do to ensure that the area and the resources within the awarded timberland are properly managed with the perception that they own it.
The City of Puerto Princesa conducted various tree planting and other environmental activities in the past, but it was observed that the participants of those activities just come and go and didn’t mind what happens next.
This is the main reason for conceptualizing CommunityAct Program. The Program encourages the engagement of the community and other stakeholders in various tree planting and environmental activities and to be STEWARDS of their environment.
On the other hand, i-Tree Tool, a tree inventory tool developed by US Forest Service to quantify ecosystem services provided by trees, promotes Stewardship since the tool can change how people value trees. People will not only value trees for the lumber they can provide but also for the ecosystem services as well. Such information will give them more reason to be stewards of the trees in their areas.
In the case of the City’s Balayong Park—also known as People’s Park, where “Stewardship” was first applied in tree planting and environmental activities—interested individuals and groups were given the opportunity and/or privilege to adopt Balayong Trees; they were given Stewardship Certificate as a proof of tree adoption.
As stewards of the Balayong trees they have planted, they have the responsibility to ensure that their adopted trees will survive and grow well. Stewardship develops sense of ownership to the trees they have adopted. In addition, STEW mapping activities in Balayong Park is on-going.
Nathalie Blanc works as a Research Director at the French National Center for Scientific Research. She is a pioneer of ecocriticism in France. Her recent book is Form, Art, and Environment: engaging in sustainability, by Routledge in 2016.
The good of my well-being is connected to the protection of irreplaceable beautiful environment. The good of my well-being is also connected to my participation in a common good, resisting public policies or human behavior that is destructive.
The term stewardship, difficult to translate into French, essentially refers to the idea of being responsible for one’s environment. This includes responding to any damage to the integrity of the latter. Many authors speak of stewardship to describe collective movements that are defined by this relationship to the environment. These groups enrich the environment by maintaining its eco-sociosystemic integrity, but are also defined by their activity as a group in a given territory.
In this round table, I would like to propose extending the use of the term to much more ordinary forms of engagement in the environment, generally based on a lively sensitivity to the state of the latter, or even to not distinguish between the maintenance of human bodies in the environment and the health of this environment itself, modifying or even abandoning, thereby the use of the term “environment”.
The term “stewardship” is therefore likely to be based not only on a commitment to the environment, but also on the idea of its transformation. The objects created, the environments produced, the elements of nature reconfigured in the light of new perspectives, notably in terms of urban planning, are all potential indicators of a transformation of the environment and of people in time and space. In addition, taking care of the objects of the environment made sensitive, active for oneself and loved ones, so that they persist or that, at least, the value that one recognizes to them recurring, supposes to think about the modalities of factors of the environment, but also to the aesthetic and ethical theories that govern this care.
In fact, the aesthetic is crossed right through by the dimensions of the social and the cultural; it promotes, among other things, empathy, the recognition of a relationship between an environment and/or an object therein, and a feeling of pleasure, of self-recognition or of the collectives involved. One of the feelings that this relationship with others and the environment gives rise to is that of protection and the desire to reproduce its sources. These two desires and/or needs are related to the idea of ethics, which, as G. Agamben (2003) explains, is the sphere that knows neither fault nor responsibility, the sphere of the happy life. “Recognizing fault and responsibility is tantamount to leaving the sphere of ethics and entering into that of law”[i].
Engaging in stewardship projects requires us to recognize successes and failures in this area as well as life and death in the environment related to the free will of human beings. How to engage with and in the environment, invest fully, i. e. aesthetically, a living environment, to promote its image in the present and the future, is part of an ethics of “care”. Stewardship is about recognizing what is due to material and social vulnerabilities, the natural and cultural construct, the extraordinary beauties and violence of life, and the possibility of its disappearance. More simply, it is a question of highlighting—it is henceforth indispensable—elements of finiteness of human lives, animal and vegetal lives, of what they rely on to create life, in order to develop an ethic that integrates the environment as relational proximity, as being of the order of an objective concern. It is the impossibility of an overcoming in the manner humans know—that is to say, by the predation of other regions of the world, or other natural resources, or by the exhaustion of those present, or the extinction of a civilization. But an aesthetic reading of the environment predisposes to a prior concern, then corollary of the action towards it. It dramatically changes the perception of the environment’s agency; it creates new opportunities for relocating responsibility for what happens to it.
So, from an ethical point of view, we can’t deny the role of the environment in the sense of what surrounds us, or what the ecological question has produced in terms of a collective representation of the environment. The good of my well-being is identified in particular with the protection of this irreplaceable singularity that represents the beautiful object (or the beautiful environment)[ii] . The good of my well-being is also identified in the idea of participation in a common good in resistance also proactive and positive action to public policies or to human behavior that can be described as destructive. In this sense, the action to be taken is that exemplified by the good of my well-being in the continued adequacy to living conditions. Therefore we could use the word of « intendance » to translate stewardship but being related to nobility, it may raise suspicions, so we may as well behold on the english term.
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Le bien de mon bien-être est lié à la protection d’un environnement d’une beauté irremplaçable. Le bien de mon bien-être est aussi lié à ma participation à un bien commun, à la résistance aux politiques publiques ou à un comportement humain destructeur.
Le terme de stewardship, difficilement traduisible en français, renvoie essentiellement à l’idée de se montrer responsable à l’égard de son environnement. Il s’agit notamment de répondre en cas de dommage ou d’atteinte à l’intégrité de ce dernier. De nombreux auteurs parlent de stewardship pour qualifier des mouvements collectifs qui se définissent par ce rapport à l’environnement. Ces groupes enrichissent l’environnement en maintenant son intégrité éco-sociosystémique, mais se définissent également par leur activité en tant que groupe sur un territoire donné.
J’aimerais, dans le cadre de cette table ronde, proposer d’élargir l’usage du terme à des formes beaucoup plus ordinaires d’engagement dans l’environnement, se fondant, généralement, sur une sensibilité vive à l’état de ce dernier, voire qui ne font pas de distinction entre le maintien des corps humains dans l’environnement et la santé de cet environnement lui-même, invalidant, de ce fait-même l’emploi du terme « environnement ».
Le terme de stewardship, dès lors, repose non seulement sur un engagement à l’égard de l’environnement, mais aussi sur l’idée de sa transformation. Les objets créés, les environnements produits, les éléments de nature reconfigurés à l’aune de nouvelles perspectives en matière d’aménagement ou d’urbanisme sont autant de signes annonciateurs d’une transformation des environnements et des individus et collectifs dans le temps et l’espace. En outre, prendre soin des objets de l’environnement rendu sensible, actif pour soi et des proches, afin qu’ils perdurent ou que, tout au moins, la valeur qu’on leur reconnaît se reproduise suppose de réfléchir aux modalités de fabrique de l’environnement, mais également aux théories esthétiques et éthiques qui gouvernent cette prise en charge. En effet, l’esthétique est traversée de part en part par les dimensions du social et de la culture ; elle promeut notamment l’empathie, la reconnaissance d’une relation entre un environnement et/ou un objet qui s’y trouve et un sentiment de plaisir, de reconnaissance de soi-même ou des collectifs impliqués. L’un des sentiments que fait naître cette relation à autrui et à l’environnement est celui de protection et de désir de reproduction de ce qui en est à l’origine. Ces deux désirs et/ ou besoins sont liés à l’idée d’éthique qui, comme l’explique G. Agamben (2003) est la sphère qui ne connaît ni faute, ni responsabilité, la sphère de la vie heureuse. « Reconnaître une faute et une responsabilité revient à quitter la sphère de l’éthique pour pénétrer dans celle du droit » [iii].
S’engager dans des projets d ‘«intendance» exige que nous reconnaissions les succès et échec en la matière ainsi que la vie et la mort dans l’environnement en lien avec le libre arbitre des êtres humains. En quoi s’engager dans l’environnement, investir pleinement, i. e. esthétiquement, un milieu de vie, en promouvoir l’image au présent et au futur, participe d’une éthique du « care », traduit par « soin » ou « attention », qui met l’accent sur le souci du proche et de la proximité, l’attention au singulier. Il s’agit de reconnaître ce qui est dû aux vulnérabilités matérielle et sociale, au construit naturel et culturel, aux beautés et violences extraordinaires de la vie, et à la possibilité de sa disparition. Plus simplement, il s’agit de mettre en évidence – c’est désormais indispensable – des éléments de finitude des vies humaines, des vies animales et végétales, de ce sur quoi elles s’appuient pour se créer une vie, afin de développer une éthique intégrant l’environnement comme proximité relationnelle, comme étant de l’ordre d’une préoccupation objective. C’est l’impossibilité d’un dépassement à la manière que nous connaissons, c’est-à-dire par la prédation d’autres régions du monde, ou d’autres ressources naturelles, ou par l’épuisement de celles présentes, ou l’extinction d’une civilisation.
Or la lecture esthétique de l’environnement prédispose à un souci préalable, puis corollaire de l’action à son égard ; elle change dramatiquement la perception de l’agentivité de ce dernier ; elle crée de nouvelles opportunités quant à la relocalisation des responsabilités quant à ce qui lui arrive. Donc, il ne peut être question du point de vue d’une éthique de méconnaître l’environnement, au sens de ce qui nous environne, ni même ce que ce que la question écologique a produit du point de vue d’une représentation collective de ce dernier. Le bien de mon bien-être s’identifie notamment à la protection de cette singularité irremplaçable que représente le bel objet (ou le bel environnement) [iv]. Le bien de mon bien-être s’identifie également dans l’idée de participation à un bien commun en résistance à des politiques publiques ou à des conduites humaines que l’on peut qualifier de déprédatrices. En ce sens, l’action à conduire est celle qu’exemplifie le bien de mon bien-être dans l’adéquation poursuivie à des conditions de vie. Par conséquent, nous pourrions utiliser le terme «intendance» pour traduire «stewardship» mais, étant lié à la noblesse, cela peut éveiller les soupçons. Nous pouvons donc aussi bien utiliser le terme anglais.
Notes:
[i] Agamben, G. (2003). Ce qui reste d’Auschwitz. Paris: Payot Rivages, 25.
[ii] Breviglieri, M., Trom, D. (2003). Troubles et tensions en milieu urbain. Les épreuves citadines et habitants de la ville. In D. Cefai et D. Pasquier (Eds), Le sens du public: Publics politiques et médiatiques (pp. 399-416). Paris: PUF.
[iii] Agamben, G. (2003). Ce qui reste d’Auschwitz. Paris: Payot Rivages, 25.
[iv] Breviglieri, M., Trom, D. (2003). Troubles et tensions en milieu urbain. Les épreuves citadines et habitants de la ville. In D. Cefai et D. Pasquier (Eds), Le sens du public: Publics politiques et médiatiques (pp. 399-416). Paris: PUF.
Johan Enqvist is a postdoctoral researcher affiliated with the African Climate and Development Initiative at University of Cape Town and Stockholm Resilience Centre at Stockholm University. He wants to know what makes people care.
In Swedish, “Ta hand om” is a common phrase usually translated as “taking care of”; the literal meaning, is more like “taking in your hand”. “Ta hand om naturen” communicates both an individual responsibility to be careful with nature, but also the shared effort of joining hands to achieve in the interest of our co-dependency on nature.
Put your hand around nature
Writing this text was surprisingly valuable to me, and taught me new things about something that I had spent five years of PhD research investigating. After dissecting three words that I thought would together cover the meaning of stewardship—a word with no direct translation in Swedish—I have ended up instead focusing on the expression that I best think captures the notion of “actively taking care of things we care about”.
First, three Swedish meanings of stewardship. Förvaltning generally means management or custodianship, caring for something valuable on behalf of someone else. Most often it is used to describe some part of Sweden’s public administration and bureaucracy, which is meant to run the country for the benefit of the population according to the elected government. Skötsel describes the more everyday activity of taking care of a piece of land, livestock, crops, machinery, or facilities, but also one’s own health or general conduct. The verb sköta version can also refer to temporarily caring for someone else’s children, household, or business interests, temporarily while they are unable to do so. Skötsel implies moral imperative or duty, and professionalism and expertise rather than care or compassion. Vård refers to a nursing kind of care, usually for someone or something (animate or inanimate) that is harmed, sick, aging or exhausted and needs to heal, recover, or receive palliative care. Vården is generally used to describe the health care sector as a whole. An older meaning is to watch over something, like a guard-post, beacon, monument, or a guardian spirits or angels.
None of these words explicitly refer to nature (natur) or the environment (miljö), but all can do so by adding prefixes: Miljöförvaltning is a common name for municipalities’ environmental departments; naturskötsel and miljövård typically refer to activities to maintain and restore natural systems. However, there is a sense of empowerment and bottom-up aspect of stewardship that is lacking in these terms; the commitment that comes from working with something you are personally invested in.
Ta hand om is a very common phrase usually translated as “taking care of”. The literal meaning, difficult to capture in English, is more like “taking in your hand” or “putting your hand around”. It carries notions both of taking responsibility, expressing care and compassion, and making things happen to achieve results. Ta hand om varandra, “look after each other”, is something you affectionately say to an older child left alone with younger siblings, a newlywed couple embarking on a new chapter, or dear friends that leave behind when moving abroad—especially if either party is particularly vulnerable or in need of healing. Ta hand omnaturen communicates both an individual responsibility to be careful with nature, but also the shared effort of joining hands to achieve change (societal, behavioural, cultural) in the interest of our co-dependency on nature. Importantly, the idea of your hand directly applied to nature—even greeting it, “shaking its hand” as ta i hand translates to—also gives a sense of connectedness, of embodied care as opposed to the bureaucratic or professionalised meanings of förvaltning or skötsel. When that connection is established, when we can know the importance of nature, the need to ta hand om it. It is what you do for a heartbroken friend or a neglected houseplant, and it is what we ought to do with the environment more broadly. The metaphor of the hand even provides a helpful way of thinking of the different steps involved: in the friendly greeting and familiarisation, the hearty embrace and commitment, the concrete action and manual labour—and perhaps also, in symbol of the raised fist, a more transformative struggle to overhaul unsustainable societal and economic structures.
Kevin Lunzalu is a young conservation leader from Nairobi, Kenya. Through his work, Lunzalu strives to strike a balance between environmental conservation and humanity. He strongly believes in the power of innovative youth-led solutions to drive the global sustainability agenda. Kevin is the country coordinator the Kenyan Youth Biodiversity Network.
In day-to-day local applications, stewardship is also used to mean a guardian, a servant, and an agent. In rural villages where farming is predominant, farmers are regarded as stewards of their lands, farm animals, and produce.
In the Kenyan context, stewardship is a word that has many derivatives, all of which allude to nearly the same meaning and application. In Swahili, which is the national language for Kenya and which is spoken by nearly all the 44 tribes and 47 Counties, a raw translation of the term stewardship gives Uwakili, meaning being an advocate of. “Wakili” is an adjective coined from the noun Wakili which means an advocate. Another word, Wakilisha translates to represent, as it is in the case of a lawyer appearing before the court of law in place of their client.
Steward is also widely implied to a manager or person in charge. In local Swahili context, the term Msimamizi is in this case used, instead of Wakili. Good examples include Msimamizi wa hali ya hewa (air steward), Msimamizi wa duka (shop steward), and Msimamizi Mkuu (chief steward). In this regard, the steward is directly in charge and answerable to their respective areas of jurisdiction. Stewardship is also used to depict leadership.
As a largely religious country, Kenya’s faithfuls regularly use the term and execute stewardship in their contexts. In Christianity, for example, the Bible depicts Jesus Christ as the steward of the Church, with practical incidences in which He takes care of his flock and looks out for his lost sheep. Christians believe that Jesus is their leader, and they walk in His footsteps. In essence, the word “Christian” is a direct derivative of the term “Christ”, who is the Biblical head of the church. Furthermore, Christians are mandated to “Pro-create” and take care of all the creatures that God created. In Islam, Prophet Mohammed is another supreme being who is largely associated with the ethical stewardship and growth of the religion. Christians and Muslims in Kenya and by extension the world, are taught to live by the teachings of the Bible and the Quran, the respective Holy books that are expected to guide them.
In day-to-day local applications, stewardship is also used to mean a guardian, a servant, and an agent. In rural villages where farming is predominant, farmers are regarded as stewards of their lands, farm animals, and produce. On the other hand, in cities such as Nairobi, people are employed to take care of businesses, government and private property. Think of security officers, human resource managers, chefs, cleaners, gardeners, civil servants, and many other professions—they are all in-charge of a certain jurisdiction. In some cases, stewardship is also viewed as a specialization, with a certain level of understanding, professionalism, set of skills, experience, and abilities expected of the persons in question.
The mantle of stewardship can be passed down from one generation to another. In Maasai cultural setups in Kenya, sons are trained by their fathers on proper livestock techniques while mothers instill homestead management skills to their daughters. Since they are pastoralists, the Maasai people move with hundreds of heads of cattle from one place to another in search of pasture and water. The young boys are, in essence, taught proper stewardship of the cattle—livestock is a highly precious aspect of the family unit and a symbol of wealth. When they become of age, the young boys and girls are initiated into adulthood through a rite of passage in which they are taught how to take care of families and execute husband and wife duties responsibly. In more formal setups such as workplaces, handing over ceremonies depict the same aspect.
Stewardship elements also came out strongly in the olden Kenyan justice systems. Before colonization and subsequent independence that came with the current court systems, the commonly used traditional method of solving conflict and crime cases was through the jury system. In this case, the accused persons were presented before a council of elders who would listen to both the accused and the accuser, and in some cases witnesses, before making a final verdict on whether the person was guilty or innocent of the claims placed against them. The council of elders in this regard were stewards of the principles of the communities and guarded the moral values considered to be acceptable in society.
In ancient times, communities peacefully co-existed with nature. The Maasai and Ogiek people of Kenya are perfect examples, as their lives directly depended on the sustainability of forests and wildlife. While the Maasai exclusively practiced pastoralism and hunted wild animals for food, the Ogiek lived inside forests, depending directly on them for livelihood. This instilled a sense of conservation awakening and environmental stewardship. Well, until modern conservation happened.
Beatriz Ruizpalacios is a PhD student in Sustainability Science in Mexico City. She has worked with different communities in urban and rural settings facilitating sustainable development processes.
Stewardship means nurturing a thing or a place and the relationship we keep with it. We become responsible, and in turn the thing is a repository of our affection and care. There is no particular word for this kind of stewardship, but we prefer to use verbs that emphasize our responsibility and agency: Cuidar, Proteger.
Stewardship is a diffuse concept. We don’t have a specific translation into Spanish, at least not in Mexico.
Many governmental and private programs promote stewardship as being guardians of the environment. Stewards in protected natural areas are hired as park rangers encouraged to enforce regulations and communicate biodiversity and environmental services highlights to visitors. In many protected areas park rangers are residents whose traditional livelihoods depended on the use of natural resources. As the area was declared a protected area and regulations were implemented to control biodiversity use and change in land cover, the residents were considered problematic in formal conservation efforts, so they were offered jobs as park rangers, known in Mexico as “guarda parques”.
Another embodiment of stewardship is promoted by companies with outreach programs that involve their employees and neighbors in conservations efforts. Reforestation is a favorite because it gathers families, friends, and co-workers in collective outdoor activities that last a full day and offer the opportunity to reconnect with nature and strengthen community ties. Participants are encouraged to become defenders or guardians of trees and forests and hence of nature, while reclaiming public spaces and a sense of community and belonging. At the end of the day, these “guardianes de la naturaleza” go back home knowing they are part of a bigger movement that aims at building a better world for all species to thrive.
When we talk about the personal sphere, however, as civilians with personal initiatives in our community or family members in a household, stewardship entails a personal relationship with specific things. It becomes a one-to-one relationship with things that we are interested in, that we like, that we are fond of, that carry part of our history, and which we wish to preserve. In these intimate environments, stewardship means nurturing a plant or a place and the relationship we keep with it. We become responsible for its continuity and wellbeing and in turn the thing is a repository of our affection and care. It becomes part of our daily routine and something worth our energy and money. There is no particular word for this kind of stewardship, but we prefer to use verbs to describe the relationship emphasizing our agency and the subject in diminutive form, which expresses our affection towards it: “Yo cuido a mis plantitas”, which in English would be translated as “I take care of my little plants.” It is a personal relationship of ownership and responsibility of something tangible based on interests, personal experience and memory, and that derives into a relationship of obligation towards its welfare.
When I’ve talked to people in Mexico City about how they engage in stewardship actions, they are always careful to make the distinction between participating in activities promoted by the government, private companies, or large NGOs, from those they carry out as a hobby or personal interest by themselves. There is a growing interest in participating in community gardens, however, that works as an extension of their personal spheres and connects people to a larger community. These settings are a combination of guardians of nature and carers of plants they own, linking the sense of engaging in community and even planetary actions while still keeping personal relationships with things they can see grow. Whenever I mention the word ecoguardas or guardianes de la naturaleza, they associate it with specific activities and initiatives or need further explanation of what I mean. So far, we haven’t come up with any particular word that we agree upon and that fully expresses the care we put into things. The formality of the words most commonly used still lack the personal touch and endearing relationship that taking care of something really means. This makes me think that the conversation about being agents who can influence the world at different scales through care is just beginning.
Xin Yu (aka Fish) is Shenzhen Conservation Director and Youth Engagement Director of The Nature Conservancy China Program. Since 2017, he has overseen TNC’s first City project in Shenzhen, China, focusing on Sponge City
In China, “stewardship” seems to be a word related more to rural conservation, and its core idea of “taking care” embeds an emotional tie to the object, connecting to us equally. The relationship becomes much weaker and passive in an urban context.
Stewardship in Chinese and my work
My environmental NGO career has mostly taken place in urban China since 2006, previously as a campaigner in Beijing and then in Shenzhen as an urban conservationist with The Nature Conservancy. When I started thinking about “stewardship” in the Chinese language, I recalled that this word hasn’t been used much in my daily work in English communication. So, in order to help make sure my contribution brings broader understanding on the term, I asked several colleagues of mine who have worked much longer in rural China. Here is some interesting feedback I heard back.
Bob (Asia Pacific Cities Program Director): I remember having a discussion with TNC China staff about the meaning of stewardship almost 20 years ago. And it was used a lot in TNC in those days. For example, the old science department was called Science and Stewardship for many years. As I remember, the straight translation was “management” in Chinese, as in nature reserve management. That was the simplest way to translate it and I think that is what we mostly used. That’s my historical perspective.
Bo (Shanghai Conservation Director): I still remember the first time we met people from the Alliance for Water Stewardship, and I asked Bob what’s the meaning of stewardship. It was almost two years ago. After that, there has been no more chance to use the word with others. It is really a kind of challenge to give a nice and proper Chinese translation. Is this the same challenge for “city with nature” or “nature-based solution”?
Yue (Strategy & Planning Director): I think “stewardship” means two things in general: sustainable use and care. The specific translation for the term depends on the context. For instance, we usually say rangers carry out stewardship programs. In this case, it means 管护，management and protection. We also say environmental stewardship is everyone’s responsibility. In this case, it means 维护/保护, care/protection. We say the park has a citizen steward group, in this case, it means 守护, care/safeguard. Water stewardship should be in this category.
Lulu (Hong Kong Conservation Director): I personally understand stewardship as “to take care of something/some people/some place”. We often say at TNC we do our best to cultivate local stewardship by empowering local people, which is really to ensure people to take care of their natural environment after they understand the dependent relationship people have with nature.
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It seems to me that “stewardship” is a word related more to rural conservation, and its core idea of “taking care” embeds an emotional tie to the object, such as land, water and wildlife. We think they are connecting to us equally, as if everyone has a share of them. Nevertheless, the relationship becomes much weaker and passive in an urban context. People do not easily carry a feeling of responsibility about the built environment because it is always with a legal possessor, e.g. developers take the land, rich people buy building units, greening space is under property management, parks are managed by a park service… Urban residents use the term “protection” more frequently due to the urgency of their built environment being damaged. But passionately taking care of something (assumedly) owned by another party? Hardly a common phenomenon of urban mentality in today’s China.
The subtle difference between wildness stewardship and environmental protection reveals an essential effort of my daily work. We keep trying not only to lift the importance of biodiversity in the city environment—people have yet to recognize it as a basic need—but also to cultivate or recapture a citizenship where everyone has a stake in their city.
A review of Large Parks, edited by Julia Czerniak and George Hargreaves. 2007. ISBN 1-56898-624-6. Princeton Architectural Press, New York. 255 pages. Buy the book.
“Large parks are priceless, and those cities that do not have an effectively designed one will always be the poorer.” –James Corner
As a Regional Park Planner, I have to say up front that I love large parks, especially those embedded within urban areas. To me, there is nothing quite so compelling as temporarily leaving behind the sights, sounds, and smells of a bustling modern city and slipping into the magical realm of a large park. The jolt to my senses as I transition from one realm to the other is always profound.
When I am in a large park, I wake up to my surroundings—I become immersed in the sights, sounds, and smells of the world around me. As a regular large park visitor, I get to witness the playing out of natural and social processes over time, such that themes of constancy and change become a mirror to my own lived experience. To me, a large park completes a city and a large park completes my city experience.
“Large Parks” is at once thought provoking and sophisticated, helping us understand why large parks are complex—and vital.
That’s why I was so excited to be able to read and review Large Parks, a 2007 Princeton Architectural Press book edited by Julia Czerniak and George Hargreaves. The essays in this volume explore many of the dimensions of large urban parks from a landscape architecture perspective. Large Parks is at once thought provoking and sophisticated in its arguments and narratives. The contributors to Large Parks are some of today’s leading landscape architects, architects, design theorists, critics, and historians.
Large Parks emerged out of a series of events, including a conference held at Harvard University Graduate School of Design in April 2003, where ideas about the significance of size in relation to parks launched discussions relative to the planning, design, and management of past and future large parks. Subsequent colloquia, meetings, discussions, and debates helped to shape the eight essays contained in this volume. Large Parks follows The Landscape Urbanism Reader (2006) and Recovering Landscape (1999) as the third in a series of publications from Princeton Architectural Press that focus on a continuing and abiding interest in landscape.
James Corner starts things off with a stimulating Foreword that paints a picture of large parks as “extensive landscapes that are integral to the fabric of cities and metropolitan areas, providing diverse, complex, and delightfully engaging outdoor spaces for a broad range of people and constituencies.” He recognizes that large parks are also valuable for their ecological function, providing habitat for a rich variety of plant, animal, bird, aquatic, and microbial life, as well as essential ecosystem services such as storm water filtration, air purification, and climate regulation. Corner believes that large urban parks function as “green lungs,” helping to cleanse, refresh, and enrich city life.
While these essential functions of large parks have been fundamental to their establishment and on-going public support, Corner states that the creation of most contemporary large parks are now a by-product of expansive development schemes, or as remediation projects for abandoned industrial sites. Unfazed, Corner says these sites present us with enormous opportunities to create entirely new types of public parkland that still provide essential ecological benefits while also embracing often uncomfortable site histories. According to Corner, “the time to reinvent large parks has never been better.”
Corner lays out a central thesis of the essays contained in Large Parks by stating that the ecological, operational, and programmatic aspects of large parks is vitally important, but not very well understood in the development of large urban parks today. These concerns are particularly significant to landscape architects, because large parks are usually designed spaces.
Corner carefully argues that the creation of large parks is a long-term process, subject to revision and change over time. The trick for landscape architects, according to Corner, is to design a large-park framework “sufficiently robust to lend structure and identity while also having sufficient pliancy and ‘give’ to adapt to changing demands and ecologies over time.”
Central Park in New York City. Photo: David Maddox
Corner contends that if a large park design cannot address serious issues such as park stewardship, maintenance, cost, security, programming, and ad-hoc politics, that the result will be “the typical bland, populist pastoral pastiche that passes for most recreational open space today, with none of the grandeur, theatricality, novelty, or sheer experiential power of real large parks.”
In her Introduction to the essays, author Julia Czerniak delves deeply into the two words forming the title of this volume—“Large” and “Parks.” Czerniak makes the case that studying parks selected by size allows us look at parks not usually considered together. She argues that due to the present number of large parks in various stages of conceptualization, planning, and development, that a study of large park design, management, and use is timely and necessary.
Czerniak highlights the relevance of “large” in relation to parks, saying that size has practical and disciplinary consequences, and that as the “sole criterion,” the term becomes critical. For the purpose of the essays in this volume, Czerniak defines a park that is at least 500 acres in size as large. This definition in part derives from a statement made by Andrew Jackson Downing during the development of New York’s Central Park that “five hundred acres is the smallest area that should be reserved for the future wants of such a city…”
Oslo Park. Photo: Tim Beatley
Czerniak argues that large amounts of land are indeed necessary for ecological resiliency and for economic sustainability, in the sense that today’s parks must be big enough to include the resources for their own making. To Czerniak, size also implies ambition—or the embrace of “big plans” as exemplified by Daniel Burnham in talking about his plans for Chicago. Largeness also requires “considerable energy, vision, commitment, and innovation” by those who work to make these parks happen.
In her discussion of the term “park,” Czerniak acknowledges it is one of the most debated forms of landscape. While early park advocates tied its meaning to green open space with turf and trees, Czerniak notes that now the “character and image of parks, the roles they play, their emergence relative to cities, and their use by various publics has certainly changed.”
Czerniak rightfully notes that, together, “Large” + “Parks” claim a complex conceptual territory which allows for “inquiry at multiple scales and through diverse frameworks that may give rise to how we think about parks today.”
In her contribution to the book, “Sustainable Large Parks: Ecological Design or Designer Ecology?,” Nina-Marie Lister delves into recent shifts in perceptions of ecosystems as deterministic and closed to a more nuanced view of living systems as open, self-organizing, and unpredictable. To Lister, this view of ecological processes demands a new approach to the design and management of large parks. Lister argues that complex natural processes must inform how parks are envisioned to allow for self-organizing and resilient ecological systems to emerge. Lister further argues that designing a park to allow for an “operational ecology” is a basic requirement for long-term sustainability. Lister makes a clear case that large parks within metropolitan areas warrant special consideration and study, and that planning, management, and maintenance must provide for “resilience in the face of long-term adaption to change, and thus for ecological, cultural, and economic viability.”
Park connector in Singapore. Photo by Tim Beatley.
Landscape historian and theorist Elizabeth K. Meyer builds on Lister’s essay in “Uncertain Parks: Disturbed Sites, Citizens, and Risk Society,” where she discusses how many contemporary large parks are created from ecologically and culturally disturbed sites, such as abandoned factories, landfills, and military bases. These damaged sites are a byproduct of industrial era expansion and modern consumer culture. As such, they are “constituted by debris and toxic byproducts of the city.” Meyer doesn’t ask us to erase these site histories, but rather to view them as spaces to recollect and interpret precise site histories. Meyer interestingly advocates for telling the site’s particular story through park design and programming that reveal and blur the boundaries between “toxicity and health, ecology and technology, past and present, city and wild.” Meyer believes this will allow the public to confront “perceptions of ourselves as a collective of citizen-consumers and as residents of a risk society.”
Architect Linda Pollack’s contribution, “Matrix Landscape: Construction of Identity in the Large Park,” posits that a preoccupation with “thin green veneers” often masks a park’s heterogeneous character. She focuses her essay on the Fresh Kills Landfill, a 2,200-acre site that had served for more than 50 years as New York City’s landfill. An international design competition was held for the redevelopment of the site after it was closed in 2001. The design team Field Operations In New York won the design competition, and in 2006, a draft master plan was released for Fresh Kills Park. The project website stated that “the Parkland at Fresh Kills will be one of the most ambitious public works projects in the world…” Pollack elaborates on the conceptual and representational design strategy used by Field Operations, which she calls the “matrix.” According to Pollack, Field Operations conceptualized the project as a “reconstituted matrix of diverse life forms and evolving strategies” as represented in the spatial framework of threads, islands/clusters, and mats—which, Pollack says, can be understood as the “agent of a fluid set of ecological systems, allowing the interaction of programmatic, cultural, and natural elements to create the complex, synthetic environment.”
In his essay, landscape architect George Hargreaves asks, “why large parks”? To Hargreaves, who approaches the question from a design perspective, size does matter. In his words, large parks “afford the scale to realistically evaluate the degrees of success or failure of many of the issues embedded in public landscapes: ecology, habitat, human use and agency, cultural meaning, and iconographic import, to name but a few.” Hargreaves believes that these issues can’t be understood without considering the physical characteristics of the site itself, and that large parks reveal the importance of the designer’s attitude towards the site and its physical forms and natural systems. He argues, “the extent to which designers embrace or fight the physical history and systems of a site is an important determinant of a park’s long-term success.” Hargreaves provides seven case studies of parks that he has visited and photographed to showcase the work of designers who have grappled with these issues with varying degrees of success.
Landscape theorist Anita Berrizbeitia’s essay, “Re-placing Process,” examines potential associations between making places of lasting identity and value, and facilitating the natural and cultural processes that transform them. Berrizbeitia recognizes that large urban parks are complex and diverse systems that respond to change through time, and as such that they require a process-driven design approach that is open-ended and adaptable. Berrizbeitia believes that large parks “absorb the identity of the city as much as they project one, becoming socially and culturally recognizable places that are unique and irreproducible.” According to Berrizbeitia, successful large parks are the product of deliberate decisions that leave them flexible in terms of management, program, and use, and that they result from “equally conscious decisions that isolate, distill, and capture for the long term that which makes them unique.” Berrizbeitia’s essay captures the relationship between process and place, between those practices that leave a site open to “contingency and change,” and that also capture a place’s “enduring qualities.”
In his essay “Conflict and Erosion: The Contemporary Public Life of Large Parks,” critic John Beardsley writes about the “multiple, often conflicting publics that use large parks” and the possibility of even finding a large park anywhere in the world today that is fully public. To Beardsley, this means a park that is “entirely free and accessible in all places at all times and fully supported by public funds.” Beardsley writes that the complexity of large parks has an impact on how they are designed, such that there is an increased focus on “adaptability to accommodate different user groups at different times.” Beardsley is alarmed at what he sees as the most disturbing trend of all in contemporary parks, which is the increasing expectation that they will pay their own way. He states that “the pastoral park is obsolete; parks are now looking more like commercial landscapes or entertainment destinations…” In the end, Beardsley believes we must reaffirm that “unimpeded access to public parks is a crucial element of environmental justice,” and that we must reclaim large parks as “key features in functioning urban social and ecological systems.”
Editor Czerniak closes the book with her essay “Legibility and Resilience,” in which she looks at how large parks have “significant ecological, social, and generative roles in the contemporary city.” Czerniak argues that successful large parks share two essential characteristics: legibility and resilience. By this she means that a park must be understood in its design scheme, and it must be able to experience disturbance while maintaining its identity and function. Czerniak elaborates on the locational shifts of many contemporary large parks from the urban core to the periphery, where redevelopment lands are often located. She highlights winning schemes from recent international design competitions as case studies, examining how large parks can play vital roles in the city in three ways: as social catalysts, as ecological agents, and as imaginative enterprises. Understandably, Czerniak believes that “the large, the park, the city, and the future are intimately related” and that parks are something that, “both literally and metaphorically, must be cultivated.” She finally calls on those within the design field to understand why parks are necessary, the roles they can play, and how they can look.
The essays in Large Parks are individually and collectively stimulating, thought provoking, and often challenging in their observations and conclusions. The writers are at such a high-level that non-landscape architects may find the material a bit difficult to work through, particularly if they are not familiar with landscape design language and concepts. That being said, a careful read through Large Parks is well worth it, particularly if you are interested in gaining a greater understanding of some of the theoretical and practical considerations that design professionals are concerned with at this level.
As a regional park planner, I am familiar with natural area parks in an urban context, although the parks I work with are not “designer parks” per se; by Julia Czerniak’s standard, they would probably lack “legibility.” That being said, I’ve been fortunate to visit some of the world’s great large urban parks and I can certainly attest to their enduring and irreplaceable qualities, which I now believe stem in large part from successful landscape design strategies that facilitate emergent processes and spontaneous interactions, while also celebrating the familiar and beloved characteristics that bring people back time and again.
It would be hard to imagine the world’s great cities without their iconic parks. However, after reading Large Parks, I better understand the complexities inherent in designing, planning, and managing these often contested public spaces, and I have a greater appreciation of the challenges that they face now and into the future. I would recommend Large Parks to anyone interested in learning about one of our most important and enduring forms of public space from a highly informed landscape architecture perspective.
How do we translate global nature goals into actionable goals for nature in cities? The Nature-Needs-Half movement, applied to cities, is a possibility.
Even in an era of extreme political divisiveness across the globe, clean air, clean water, and land conservation are extremely important goals across the political spectrum. According to recent bi-partisan polling in the US, 84 percent believe we can protect land and water and have a strong economy at the same time, up from 76 percent in 2009. My work at The Conservation Fund (the Fund) has been a 25-year crusade to have land and water conservation in tandem with a strong economy. The organization was founded to develop solutions that make environmental and economic sense, demonstrating that land conservation is key for our future prosperity in human communities. Land conservation at multiple scales within cities and metropolitan regions are key to the future of both people and wildlife.
A hot topic within both global and metropolitan land conservation circles lately has been to articulate bold targets for land set asides. The highest profile of these recent efforts has been the Half-Earth Project, spearheaded by the E.O. Wilson Biodiversity Foundation. In 2016, Dr. Wilson, in an article in the New York Times, recommended that 50 percent of the Earth’s surface be conserved in a natural state to support and maintain biodiversity, which he felt was “the only way to save upward of 90 percent of the rest of life”. Since this declaration, the Half-Earth Project expanded in 2019 to include a Half-Earth Pledge and a Half-Earth Day on 7 October 2019.
While this has been the highest profile effort to date, the earliest article I could find researching the topic from a city perspective was on the Nature of Cities website by Lynn Wilson. In her 2014 article entitled “Nature Needs Half”, she documents the work of the WILD Foundation and its WILD Cities Project and references the Fund’s pioneering work establishing a conceptual green infrastructure framework and implementing green infrastructure at multiple scales to explain how the Capital Region District in British Columbia, Canada could consider and implement the Nature Needs Half concept, which advocates protection of 50 percent of the planet by 2030.
In April 2019, some of the same principals involved in the Nature Needs Half initiative reframed the aspiration in an article in ScienceMag by promoting a Global Deal for Nature, which targets 30 percent of the Earth to be formally protected and an additional 20 percent designated as “climate stabilization areas”, which, as defined by the article, are “habitats like mangroves, tundra, other peatlands, ancient grasslands, and boreal and tropical rainforest biomes that store vast reserves of carbon and other greenhouse gases”.
In the US in August 2019, a political advocacy group, the Center for American Progress (the Center), jumped on the bandwagon to try to convince policy makers they should adopt and implement a goal of protecting 30 percent of US lands and oceans by 2030. The Center is correct that the US “lacks a clear, common vision for how much nature it wishes to conserve, in what form, at what cost, and for whom” and therefore has vastly underutilized its capacity to conserve nature. I could not agree more on that point!
In our book The Science of Strategic Conservation: Protecting More with Less, Dr. Kent Messer and I point out that billions have been spent on land conservation but too little attention has been paid to how strategic and cost-effective these investments have been. To get to 30 percent or 50 percent protection of the globe or a specific geography, understanding priorities and the opportunity cost of investing in one form versus another is essential. And as the Center correctly points out in its Issue Paper: “A discussion of how much nature to protect—and how, where, and for whom—must honor and account for the perspectives of all people, including communities that are disproportionately affected by the degradation of natural systems; communities that do not have equal access to the outdoors; tribal nations whose sovereign rights over lands, waters, and wildlife should be finally and fully upheld; communities of color; and others.”
So how do we translate these global goals into actionable goals for nature in cities? Tim Beatley wrote about the Half-Earth project in his monthly column in Planning magazine in July 2018. He discussed the potential role of cities in implementing the concept with Paula Ehrlich, CEO of the E.O. Wilson Biodiversity Foundation. Beatley correctly points out that “urban areas can and must be part of the Half-Earth vision and strategy for it to succeed”.
To realistically move towards any aggregate protection goal in the US, or the world, will require metropolitan areas to establish bottom-up goals based on the geographies of their region. One such effort is being spearheaded by Houston Wilderness. In a precursor project to the Regional Plan completed in 2013 focused on green infrastructure and ecosystem services, the Fund found out that in a 13-county area in Houston, 62 percent of the land provided 91 percent of the ecosystem service benefits (see the map below).
A map of the Houston region’s ecosystem service benefits.
The 2019 Gulf-Houston Regional Conservation Plan covers eight counties in and around the City of Houston, the fourth largest US city by population, and has the following three goals: (1) Increase the current 9.7 percent in protected/preserved land in the eight-county region to 24 percent of land coverage by 2040; (2) Increase and support the region-wide land management efforts to install nature-based stabilization techniques, such as low-impact development, living shorelines, and bioswales, to 50 percent of land coverage by 2040; and (3) provide research and advocacy for an increase of 0.4 percent annually in air quality offsets through carbon absorption in native soils, plants, trees, and oyster reefs throughout the eight-county region. In implementing this 2019 plan, it will be important to understand a key lesson learned from the 2013 ecosystem service analysis that it is not just important to reach 50 percent but that it needs to be the right 50 percent.
Clearly, to come close to meeting percentage targets like this by a certain date are going to require significant investments at multiple scales. For instance, the US Federal Land and Water Conservation Fund will need to have appropriations much closer to its maximum annual accrual limit of US $900 million, and the magnitude of state and local bonds will need to increase (over US $3 billion in 2018).
Metropolitan areas in the US, such as Portland, Oregon, have developed Regional Conservation Strategies to help them protect strategically important areas and spend available money wisely, but they have not emphasized specific targeted percentages. The Intertwine Regional Conservation Strategy, in tandem with the Biodiversity Guide for the Greater Portland-Vancouver Region, defines the challenges that the region faces to protect local wildlife and ecosystems and offers a vision, framework, and tools for moving forward collaboratively to protect and restore natural systems.
In synthesizing all of these global and city initiatives, my concern goes back to some of the fundamental principles of green infrastructure that the Fund helped outline starting back in the early 2000s, culminating in the book: Green Infrastructure: Linking Landscapes and Communities. These percentage goals are not a substitute for a strategic analysis for identifying what is important to protect that keeps natural systems and human communities thriving. These goals are also not a substitute for building local constituencies to support achieving conservation goals, as the bi-partisan polling referenced at the beginning of the article suggests there is a disconnect between the general public and current political leadership on these topics. As I like to say: “Figure out where the green infrastructure should be and then build the gray infrastructure around that”. In city contexts, these percentage goals could have the unintended consequence of establishing protected lands that have little relative value for wildlife and people. In the case of both Portland and Houston, both are backed by rigorous analysis of the needs, and it is not that relevant that one has specific numerical goals and the other one does not. What’s most important are that there are intelligent, data-driven goals, and those goals will vary based on the metropolitan area.
Even if one has a conceptual problem with oversimplifying land conservation into percentages, Beatley articulates the value of these types of efforts. Embracing this type of vision “reflects the philosophy that all forms of life matter, that they have inherent worth, and that cities have an ethical duty to blanch biological hemorrhaging.” Beatley asks: “Is it possible a new kind of urban ethic could emerge, one that understands the imperative of cities to conserve and protect nature, local and distant? Can we enlist cities and urbanites in the global struggle to preserve species and ecosystems that are often removed from their daily sight or consideration?” Houston Wilderness and The Intertwine have made statements that they are serious about their role in global conservation. Who else will join them?
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 Town Cape Town is heavily invaded, most significantly by Australian species. But many of the original reasons for their introduction still hold.
David Burg, New York A surprising number of our millions of residents are willing to volunteer their time to keep the parks and green spaces they love weed free
Mark Davis, St Paul It is important to remember that ‘harm’ or ‘damage’ is in the eye of the beholder
Ana Faggi, Buenos Aires Ordinary people do not see differences between exotic and native species at all!
Katie Holzer, Davis Attempts at invasive species management that don’t succeed in the long run may simply be a non-ideal use of limited resources, but there is also increasing evidence that many intensive management actions have the potential to directly or indirectly harm native species.
Madhusudan Katti, Fresno A surprising number of our millions of residents are willing to volunteer their time to keep the parks and green spaces they love weed free
Deborah Lev, Portland Inviting community stewardship of our natural lands is a tremendous opportunity to introduce people to nature and build an appreciation for natural systems, ecosystem services, and the value of biodiversity.
Timon McPhearson, New York We should worry. Urban exotics species often have negative ecological and economic impacts and understanding the complex interactions among simultaneous exotic effects is very challenging. Let New York serve as a case study since it is one of the most “infested” states in the U.S.
Matt Palmer, New York Cities are heterogeneous. There are habitats that should be managed to maintain indigenous species. But also there are neglected green spaces—often with exotic species. These could be managed with a more inclusive view of urban nature.
Toby Query, Portland I have shifted my thinking from “combat all evil invasives” to a more nuanced approach that targets thresholds and moves the system to a healthier state with the lowest overall impact.
Carmen Silva, Los Rios We would prefer to design and plan parks and plazas with native plants only; however, the cultivation of native species and the knowledge about their management ) and behavior is still limited in Chile.
Glenn Stewart, Christchurch In the southern hemisphere our cities are filled with cultivated gardens and lawns dominated by Northern hemisphere grasses, woodlands full of species from around the globe, urban birds from every continent and mammals from the European hedgehog to the Norway rat!
Paula Villagra, Los Rios We would prefer to design and plan parks and plazas with native plants only; however, the cultivation of native species and the knowledge about their management ) and behavior is still limited in Chile.
Peter Werner, Darmstadt We should not be worried about exotic species in urban areas! Some species are pests or cause diseases, but that is not only true for exotic, also for native species.
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
Invasive alien plants in the City of Cape Town present a real conundrum. The City is heavily invaded, most significantly by Australian species, in particular Acacias and Eucalypts. These species were actively introduced for various reasons and have since run rampant, with huge losses in indigenous biodiversity, much of which is endemic. They use more water than indigenous flora with hydrological losses of a scale worthy of attention. As species from a similar fire-driven system, they are favoured by the fires that sustain the Cape Flora, but their much higher fuel loads serve to alter fire regimes and create hotter and longer fires, to the detriment of the local flora. So at a glance it seems like a clear case where the call for the eradication of these alien invasive species is imperative and without question the right thing to do.
However, the original reasons for their introduction in some cases still hold. For example Acacia cyclops and Acacia saligna were introduced to stabilize mobile dune systems across the Cape Flats. While obviously it would be ideal to have pristine, and indeed mobile, dune systems, the truth is that now these areas are heavily inhabited, largely by the City’s poor, and if these dunes started to move once again it would present a massive management problem. The indigenous flora of the Cape is typically shrub dominated, with few trees. In light of this, large stands of woody invasive aliens are a source of wood, used both for energy provision and as a livelihoods supplement by the urban poor who gather wood and sell it by the side of the road. A further complicated benefit is in the government public works schemes, such as Working for Water, which employs the indigent to clear invasive aliens to improve water gains.
So where does that leave us? I certainly feel the problem needs to be contained, and that there should be no further loss in biodiversity to invasive aliens. But in the case of Cape Town, the plight of the poor is no trifling matter and associated benefits of these emergent novel ecosystems have to be taken in to consideration. So, I would put my money behind biological control. Biological control requires that some of the original population of any invasive species remains to serve as host population to the control agent, but sees the invasive species contained. Much research is needed in this area, so that would be an area of critical importance. An additional spin off might be an associated public works scheme with the poor employed in control distribution, the clearing of die off, and the cultivation of control agents for distribution.
So it seems to me to be a problem that does not present an either-or answer, but rather one that requires a middle-road.
David Burg has been working on the environmental issues of New York and other metropolitan regions for over thirty years. He first started working as a naturalist in 1966, as a field assistant for the Department of Ornithology at Yale University. He subsequently worked odd jobs while hitch-hiking around North America, Central America, and Europe before resuming his naturalist career in New England and Israel.
Like most mega cities, New York has worlds within worlds. There are the well known human divisions of class and culture; most of us know that even if we live on the edge of an outer borough we can hop on a bus to a subway and travel from neighborhoods of chitlins and greens to Kosher Bukharian lamb, of Sichuan soup dumplings or gnocci Bolognese. But there is another New York.
Visit Breezy Point Queens in mid-winter and snow buntings swirl with real snow while white gannets dive for fish offshore. Almost every year a snowy owl roosts by day on the white dunes and watches the white breakers curl over the green waves. Or visit Pelham Bay Park in the Bronx in summer when the Great Granny Oak stretches her ancient limbs towards the Golden Meadow where goldenrod flowers are visited by clouds of butterflies and shiny green native bees. Prairie grasses nod in the wind next to little white orchid blossoms, all a three minute walk from the egrets feeding in the high marsh of Long Island Sound. In the blue dusk a great horned owl lands in the old oak and hoots softly while the fire flies twinkle below. Yes, there is real nature in cities, and it is good. Yes, we should be very afraid, very afraid of invasive species that wipe out our remnants of ancient ecosystems.
Even in the most highly built sections of cities wild nature persists. Native cherry trees and daisy flea bane flowers duke it out with invasive ailanthus trees in abandoned vacant lots. Peregrine falcons and red-tailed hawks breed on the cliff-like walls of the concrete canyons. We can do much more to encourage nature in the cities but we need to start by understanding and protecting what we still have.
Because big cites are global transit hubs they are often epicenters for invasive species, as they are for new diseases of humans. The cities are where the wooden boats brought in the first farm weeds from Europe, and where containerized cargo ships now bring in insects pests like Asian long-horned beetles that have stowed away in wooden packing crates. Cities are where jet liners bring in people with HIV and ebola and West Nile Virus. Preventing new invasions of pathogens should be a much higher priority than it has been. Ounce of prevention vs. pound of cure is trite but true.
On the other hand, when it comes to the expense of dealing with invasive plant control cities and suburbs have a built in advantage. A surprising number of our millions of residents are willing to volunteer their time to keep the parks and green spaces they love weed free. In more than thirty years of working to protect nature in cities there has been nothing more gratifying to me than the last twelve years of hands-on work to remove the few rampant invasive species that pose a threat. The Earth Tenders program of WildMetro has organized invasive control events to protect native diversity with a terrific diversity of humans. Everyone from an hundred bank employees doing community service to small numbers of inner city youth have helped. As in many such programs in cities around the world, people from eight to eighty are happy to get involved. Great exercise, great comaraderie — a classic case of doing well while doing good.
And except for a couple of times when we accepted some gloves and hand tools, we cost the city nothing. We use no power tools, no chemicals and we plant nothing. No need to. In site after site one sees that given a whiff of a chance even delicate species like wild roses come roaring back. Such conservative and cheap management of nature has a long history, and it is just common sense. While we were working in our quiet, patient, labor intensive way we were surprised to learn of the Bradley Method. This is a nearly identical approach developed by two sisters in Australia. We have not used any conservation grazing yet, but around the world, and even in New York City, goats and other animals are being carefully used to control weeds. Volunteers and other animals are the sensible, and affordable way to tackle the weed problem.
Sadly, these simple methods are not popular now with most government or non-profit agencies. Currently favored means of nature management and invasives control may indeed jeopardize public support for nature protection. Right now in New York City and much of the rest of the United States, the standard way of handling weeds is to use a variety of harmful options. So many government agencies now use what I call the 4Ps approach. They use Plowing, Plastic mulch, or Poison, then they Plant. These are modern industrial techniques at work. No thought of using careful slow hand work to nurture and protect the last of our ancient lineages of native species with their unique genetic heritage. We have had to overcome obstacles to just get permission to volunteer in parks, even though our results have been outstanding.
There are two really troubling aspects to current methods. The first is that tons of herbicides being supplied. New evidence continues to emerge about the dangers of even “safe” poisons like Round Up, one of the most commonly used formulations. Yes, the same chemical Monsanto developed to spray on genetically modified corn just went off patent and various formulations are now widely used in natural areas. And in addition to the harm they do in the environment, there is risk in the manufacture, storage, transportation and handling of any toxic substance. I recently learned that several government agencies in the city have been using Oust, a poison that is designed to kill all plants and seeds even before they emerge in the spring. Though some chemicals can be carefully painted on cut stems, I have recently seen the city using broad cast spraying of these poisons. This kills indiscriminately. Both the target species and the last native plants are eliminated.
But never fear, the agencies have a solution to the scorched earth policies they use. Giving the lie to the affordability argument, New York City alone is spending hundreds of millions of dollars to come in and plant trees. This is the second troubling aspect of current vegetation control. The trees they plant cost an average of $1400 a piece. They are a mix of native and non native, but few are raised from local seed. What is so insane about this is that even on vacant lots it takes work to keep trees from coming in on their own. Each tree can produce hundreds of thousands of seed a year. Many are carried by wind and birds. Planting trees in an abandoned lawn or meadow is a case of carrying coals to Newcastle. It is only a matter of time before citizens get outraged at this harmful waste. I only hope they do not turn against all urban nature protection in reaction.
Invasives are not the only threat to urban green spaces. For several years now New York and other cities have developed a mania for paved asphalt recreation roads for bicycles, roller blades and other devices with wheels. I love bikes, but these are often placed in the last green spaces. One such road (to add insult to injury they are often called Greenways) that was built on Staten Island went right through a patch of rare plants. Another one planned for Pelham Bay may be about to go right through a patch of rare iris and native sunflowers. And any large green space, especially near waterfront or low income neighborhoods, is fair game for housing development, sports stadiums, new highways and recently new gas pipelines. The impact of invasives on our last bits of urban nature is only one of many threats that are working together to unravel our green blanket. These weeds are, however, one of the more controllable problems. In cities we still have the opportunity to reweave the blanket, if we only have the will. The real worm in the Big Apple is not an invasive plant or animal species. It is greedy and ignorant people.
Like native species, some non-native species cause problems, some produce desirable effects, and most we do not think much about. When it comes to management, it is important that we worry about the right things. We should always worry about species that threaten human health, negatively affect the economy, and/or undermine ecological services. We should worry much less about species that are not producing any of these effects but are simply altering the composition of communities and other ecological processes. We should worry less about the latter species because we need to utilize the public’s limited management resources on the first group of species. Cities simply do not have the luxury to consider as harm mere ecological change.
It is important to remember that ‘harm’ or ‘damage’ is in the eye of the beholder. Normally, there is little disagreement over what constitutes a harmful species when the harm consists of threats to human health, the economy, and/or to ecological services. However, citizens may differ dramatically in how they view other non-native species. While a non-native plant may be viewed as harmful to a nativist simply because it is occupying space that could be occupied by a native plant, the same species may be viewed as desirable by an herbalist, and beautiful to someone else. Urban managers need to be careful not to assume that their view of such species is shared by all, or even a majority, of the public, i.e., those who are paying their salaries and funding their departments and agencies.
While we should worry about some non-native species, we need to remember that many non-native species are contributing positively to the environment and to the life of urban residents (human and non-human). For example, like native plants, non-native plants fix carbon, provide shade and reduce air temperatures, reduce erosion, provide habitat and food for native animals (including native pollinators), and many enhance the aesthetic experience of urban human residents. Since, in many instances, these species are growing in places where native plants do not thrive, eradicating the non-natives actually will compromise ecological services and quality of life of the human residents.
Without question, the traditional nativism approach to managing urban biodiversity has created obstacles to gaining widespread public support for the management of urban environments. While most of those schooled in conservation over the past several decades have been taught to prefer native over non-native species, simply on the grounds of their origins, many in the public have continued to take a much more nuanced approach to species, judging individual species on their actual effects and not on how long they have been here. Since many of these species have been in the city longer than any human currently alive, some of the non-native species actually contribute to the residents’ sense of place. A good example of this is the recent public backlash in San Francisco against a proposal to remove thousands of eucalyptus trees from a park and natural area. The wooded environment provided by these non-native trees had been highly valued by many area residents. If destroying a place they loved were not enough, the eradication methods were to involve large amounts of chemicals.
The public is getting smarter and less tolerant of the types of methods commonly used to eradicate and manage non-native species. Unless managers of urban environments abandon the simple-minded nativism approach, and begin following the public’s wisdom and start taking a more nuanced approach to species, they can expect to encounter an increase in public backlash in the future.
Ana Faggi graduated in agricultural engineering, and has a Ph.D. in Forest Science, she is currently Dean of the Engineer Faculty (Flores University, Argentina). Her main research interests are in Urban Ecology and Ecological Restoration.
How much should we worry about exotic species in urban zones?
Urban habitats are more or less intense modifications of the original matrix and native plants are often either eradicated or replaced with exotic ornamentals, since the structure of the city is heavily influenced by the cultural tastes of society and its fashions.
Urban green is in many cities a necessary component to improve the microclimatic conditions and make cities more livable. In Argentina, the urban forest in towns located in arid or semiarid zones are almost entirely composed of exotic trees such as blackberry, poplar, ash, etc. In such cases, there is no real chance of having an urban forest composed only by native woodland.
As cities extend across the rural landscape, they bring about the fragmentation of biotopes, thus creating novel habitats for alien organisms. Nevertheless, a certain degree of “naturalness” can be found in the riverine vegetation along watercourses, although natives species coexist with exotic trees and shrubs. This vegetation has important benefits for human welfare. In my opinion, the positive of promoting native species is that people can become familiar with them. Exotics, provided they are not invasive, are welcome, taking in account that they are very much appreciated.
How do we reduce damage from exotic invasives when management resources are limited?
Here it would be necessary to involve the local community in eradication programs. Students of forestry, agronomy and environmental science could lead projects involving other volunteers of all ages. These actions are ideal opportunities for the local community to connect more deeply with nature working together towards a common goal. Simultaneously they would allow people to understand the relationships between cultural and ecological processes.
Are there conflicts between management or eradication efforts and building general support for urban biodiversity?
Ordinary people do not see differences between exotic and native species at all! Generally they do not understand why the exotics should be eradicated. Therefore, exotic management in the city needs to be well communicated to the public, explaining with concrete examples the grim consequences of invasions in the local ecosystem.
Katie works with city managers to create urban natural areas that benefit both people and wildlife. She is a Ph.D. Candidate in Conservation Ecology at the Univ. of California-Davis.
What are major goals for urban natural areas, and how do invasive species management actions fit, or not fit, with them? In the face of continued urban growth worldwide and rapid climatic changes, one major goal for urban natural areas may be to create and maintain resilient, functional, and healthy ecosystems into the future, which may or may not be comprised entirely of native species. Another major goal for urban natural areas could be to provide a place for local residents to connect with and enjoy nature.
Cities house over 50% of the world’s human population, but take up less than 3% of the land surface. This demonstrates that cities may not be priority areas for conservation of rare native species, but they may be the most important place for many humans to develop an appreciation for, and connection with, nature. By understanding that they are part of nature, rather than removed from it, this can make people more likely to work to preserve it. If child in a city ventures out to a local pond to wade among the cattails and catch a frog, does she care more that there is a pond, cattails, and a frog that she can interact with, or that those species are native?
I think almost everyone can agree that it is important to isolate introduction pathways and vigilantly apply early detection and rapid response techniques to prevent introduction and spread of invasives in cities. It is of course also important to make sure that urban exotic species don’t become invasive outside of cities. But what about species that were introduced decades or centuries ago and are now well established in altered urban ecosystems? Control of established invasives is often more difficult in cities than elsewhere both because the landscape is more disturbed and because cities are a patchwork of management agencies, organizations, and private owners with differing goals, schedules, means, and methods. Consequently, particular invasive species are often controlled over small areas or short timeframes with low long-term success.
Urban youth enjoying pond with native and non-native species
Attempts at invasive species management that don’t succeed in the long run may simply be a non-ideal use of limited resources, but there is also increasing evidence that many intensive management actions have the potential to directly or indirectly harm native species. This harm can occur for a number of reasons, many of which are more pronounced in urban areas. Invasive control actions can produce substantial short-term disturbances (e.g. mowing or chemical removal of large stands of plants) which have the potential to negatively impact native species in any landscape, and can be especially detrimental in small, isolated urban natural areas where native organisms may not have other suitable places to move to for refuge. Urban organisms are often already stressed by many other factors, making them less able to cope with a sudden loss of cover.
In addition to potential increased harm by control methods, it is possible that urban wildlife species are less in need of maintaining entirely native species composition. Most native wildlife species have not been able to persist in urban habitats, and the subset that do are often those able to rapidly adapt to novel ecosystems and make use of new habitats that they may not have experienced before. These relatively adaptable species are often more able to utilize introduced plants as habitat than species that do not occur in cities.
Due to the unique challenges, potential harms, and possible lessened necessity of some invasive management actions in cities, invasive species management may not always have a strong place in working towards the major goals of urban natural areas.
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.
Reconciling native and non-native species in urban biodiversity
Humans are the most invasive species on Earth. Our cities, ecosystems we build and replicate around the world, are also focal points from which other species have invaded native habitats. Just as wanderlust defines our species, so does the biophilia which makes us take living elements of our habitats with us wherever we go. Carrying a suite of species as sources of food, comfort, companionship, and beauty, has always been part of our cultural and evolutionary baggage. Invasiveness is something evolution tends to reward, and our own evolutionary success springs from a certain restless invasiveness.
We have spent millennia figuring out how to make some species grow where and when we want them. Meanwhile, other species have latched on to our coattails making the most of this new mode of hyper-efficient long-range dispersal: the hairless ape that travels the world, with baggage. Only recently have we realized the often devastating consequences of bringing exotic species into native habitats. Invasive species fuel some of the most intense debates among conservationists, often laden with hysterical rhetoric about alien, exotic, invaders who must be exterminated. Yet we tiptoe around the fact that we are the most invasive, disruptive species on Earth.
Cities are where most humans now live, where we often first introduce new species, and whence some of these species launch invasions into new habitats. Indeed, cities themselves seem like invasive habitats proliferating in and destabilizing ecosystems around the world. Cities must therefore be central to our efforts to address the challenge of invasive species. Cities embody the contradiction between our desire to control nature, shaping entire ecosystems to suit our purposes, and our growing desire to conserve nature and biodiversity.
How do we reconcile our innate desire to build habitats for our own biological and cultural needs with a growing awareness that perhaps we should leave nature alone? It must start with owning our central role in this ecological conundrum. It requires us to transform our role beyond the dichotomy of active perpetrator / passive bystander in the drama of invasive species. We must embrace the role of more deliberate stewards of the lands we now dominate.
As more people recognize the problems of invasive species, many now seek ways to build native species friendly urban landscapes. Ecologists are good at understanding the effects of non-native species in native habitats, and in raising the alarm about invasive species. We haven’t done enough to actually transform the practices that contribute to the invasive species problem. Urban ecologists have been lax in engaging with one group who arguably wield the greatest influence on this challenge: gardeners, nurseries, and landscapers. The growing desire to make urban gardens native-friendly is constrained by lack of available species options in local nurseries, and of expertise in nurturing native species. Ecologists must fill this knowledge gap by developing better ways to support native species in urban habitats in partnership with the people who actively transform the landscape.
Forget “leave nature alone”; in cities we must become better ecosystem engineers, designing habitats more consciously to enhance native biodiversity while limiting opportunities for non-native species. We must also recognize that some non-native species have become naturalized to play important roles in their adoptive ecosystems, so simply eradicating them is not the ideal solution. People move and grow plants and animals to fulfill complex social, cultural, aesthetic, and emotional needs. We must develop a broader vision of biodiversity that includes both the ecological roles of species and their cultural resonance for people. Balancing these will be key to managing invasive species in and around urban landscapes.
Deborah Lev is about to retire from the position of City Nature Manager for Portland Parks & Recreation in Portland, Oregon, overseeing natural area management, environmental education, urban forestry, and community gardens.
As an increasing percentage of the world’s population lives in cities, biodiversity becomes more an urban issue. In recent decades, authors have expressed surprise and delight at the discovery of urban biodiversity hot spots. Perhaps we shouldn’t be surprised. Throughout history, people have gathered and established settlements in locations where we would expect biological diversity: the confluence of rivers, along estuaries, and at geographic transitions such as mountains to plains. Over these same few decades, we have seen an expansion of the world’s cities and an attendant expansion of invasive species.
It is not a surprise that high concentrations of people beget high concentrations of invasive exotic species; managing urban natural areas, it is apparent that invasive species are the primary threat to remaining habitat patches. Most of the terrestrial plant invaders that threaten our natural areas were brought to the region intentionally by people as garden ornamentals or land reclamation projects. People also serve as unintentional vectors of invasive species. Naturalized invaders from adjacent gardens and compost piles threaten our urban natural areas while hikers, bikers and their pets inadvertently spread seeds along park roads and trails.
People, of course, can be part of the ongoing management of these species as well. Inviting community stewardship of our natural lands is a tremendous opportunity to introduce people to nature and build an appreciation for natural systems, ecosystem services, and the value of biodiversity. Raising the awareness of invasive species in the urban population is necessary to combat these pests on private lands as well as public spaces. Community volunteer stewardship can also become a valuable tool in the resource constrained efforts to control invasives. Our integrated pest management system includes hand pulling of weeds by volunteers as well as use of herbicides by state-licensed staff and contracted crews. We deploy volunteers on sites where we will continue to invest in maintaining the improved conditions. Often, volunteer hand-pulling of vines and ground cover weeds is paired with the work of professionals to remove invasive trees or apply chemical herbicides where required.
Removing ivy.
Another way to manage scarce resources in the invasive species battle is to prioritize where to fight. Portland Parks & Recreation (PP&R) manages more than 8,000 acres (> 3000 ha) for habitat. A matrix of sites with axes of ecological health and ecological function potential dictates where resources are deployed. In general, we focus on maintaining the ecological health of sites already in good condition and improving the health of sites where ecological function can be achieved by combatting the invasive species. Other factors considered in setting work priorities include connectivity to other sites and community support, especially from an organized friends group willing to assist in management activities.
As a local government land manager we directly treat terrestrial plant invaders. We are also well aware of the key role that urban areas play in the migration of other critical invasive species. One example: international cargo ships, potentially harboring invasive species, call at coastal ports, primarily in urban areas. Entomologists predict that the Asian long-horned beetle is likely to appear in Portland via cargo ship. We are training park staff and volunteer partners to recognize this insect and its characteristic damage to trees. The preferred target species for these insects are maple trees which comprise 40% of Portland’s street trees and 60% of the trees in Forest Park, at 5200 acres (2100 ha), our largest City natural area. Portland is a likely entry spot for the continent — just one example of a potential threat in one port city.
Dr. Timon McPhearson works with designers, planners, and local government to foster sustainable, resilient and just cities. He is Associate Professor of Urban Ecology and Director of the Urban Systems Lab at The New School and Research Fellow at the Cary Institute of Ecosystem Studies and Stockholm Resilience Centre.
Exotic invasive species are damaging but here to stay
We should worry. Urban exotics species often have negative ecological and economic impacts and understanding the complex interactions among simultaneous exotic effects and feedbacks is ecologically very challenging. Let New York serve as a case study since it is one of the most “infested” states in the U.S.
Forests across New York State, including urban forests, are filled with exotic earthworms. Exotic earthworms have slowly re-invaded these forests since the last glaciation, first arriving with European settlers in the balls of soil around plants and soil used for ballast in ships. The earthworm invasion hasn’t stopped, if anything it is probably accelerating. For example, when people buy worms for their urban compost bins they buy exotic worms, and these get out and spread to local backyards and forests. Now there are about 45 species of exotic earthworm species in the New York region.
So what? For starters, exotic earthworms change nutrient dynamics and thereby alter the community structure and species assemblages of forests. Most forests have a layer of decomposed material (duff) that was laid down over thousands of years through the accumulation of deciduous trees dropping their leaves in the fall. Duff protects soil from erosion and provides critical habitat for many native species (ferns, wildflowers, salamanders). Earthworms chew through this later, aerating it, releasing carbon (a greenhouse gas), adding nitrogen, and thereby changing soil chemistry. This can completely alter forest diversity, structure, function, and may affect the provisioning of urban ecosystem services.
Indeed, scientific studies are showing that native plant species grow better when there aren’t any worms. Not only that, where exotic earthworms have invaded, so do other exotics, like Japanese barberry and Asiatic bittersweet, both invasive plants that are damaging forest diversity. So, exotic invasives not only can have direct negative ecological impacts, they can also create the conditions for further invasion by other exotics. How many simultaneous and interacting exotics can our natural areas handle before they shift into complete different system states or even collapse?
Quarantine areas in New York State for the Emerald Ash Borer.
New York City (NYC) is an epicenter for invasive species in the U.S. and functions as a major pathway for invasive species to the rest of the continent. One of the challenges we have in managing urban ecosystems is dealing with the wide variety of exotics, including their ecological interactions and feedbacks. Natural resource managers in the NYC region have to worry about Asian longhorn beetle, Emerald ash borer, Hemlock wooly adelgid, and many other insects pests, in additional to a wide range of aquatic (zebra mussels, water chestnut) and terrestrial (kudzu vines) exotic invasives. Chestnut blight wiped out American chestnut populations — more than 9 million acres of American chestnut forest from Mississippi to Maine. Ash trees, which are common in towns and cities, as well as in backyards of homeowners, are likely to experience the same fate from the Emerald ash borer (EAB). This beetle has killed 50 million ash trees in Michigan alone since 2002 and it is closing in on New York City. Unlike chestnut blight, EAB will probably end up killing off 20 different species of ash trees. As Ash trees start dying, removing the dead trees before they fall and cause property and other damage will be financially costly for municipalities and homeowners. The USDA Forest Service has estimated the emerald ash borer will cost communities in a 25-state area as much as $10.7 billion by 2020. In New York City, forested areas include 900 million ash trees, approximately 10% of the total NYC urban forest.
Map of outbreaks of Emerald ash borer across New York State. New York City is under quarantine to prevent infestation of the urban forest. (Source: NY Department of Environmental Conservation)
The impending decline of ash trees, is just one of a very long list of major ecological and economic effects of invasive exotic species. In urban areas like NYC, where we are trying to promote natural areas that both preserve native biodiversity and provide important ecosystem services for urban residents, invasives pose a difficult management challenge since multiple interacting species are already well established. Realistically though, we have probably already lost the battle over exotic invasives and need to begin turning our attention toward adaptation. Like climate change, exotic species are here to stay, and we need to spend some portion of the money spend to control invasives to develop innovative ways to harness their rapid growth, fast reproduction, and competitive ability for green infrastructure solutions to pressing urban challenges. For example, we may find from stormwater absorption, flood control, and air pollution to carbon removal and urban cooling, that some exotics are more effective than native species. Comparative scientific studies in cooperation with local management could go a long way towards improving our understanding of the potential benefits of exotics and how they can be employed to meet sustainability and resilience goals.
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.
Some exotic species are certainly causing problems in cities. In patches of remnant native vegetation, invasive exotics may be the primary threat to preserving native biodiversity. Those native species are important not just for the services they provide (e.g., habitat for wildlife, stormwater management, aesthetics), but also for the role they can play in connecting people to the nature of a specific place. In cases like this, managing invasive exotics — while almost always difficult — is probably a fight worth fighting.
For example, the Thain Family Forest in the New York Botanical Garden is a 16 ha old-growth forest in New York City. It is one of the few places that one can experience the landscape that once covered most of the city. There are several invasive exotic species present that displace native species. Staff from the Garden manage the forest quite intensively — including removing exotic species and planting native species — in an effort to maintain the forest in its historic condition. Urban restoration efforts like these may require so much effort that they essentially become gardening, but if the end goal is the preservation of indigenous species in their historical landscapes then intensive management may be the only way to succeed.
This being said, cities are full of wild or semi-wild areas that bear little resemblance to their historic condition. The environment has very likely changed with altered microclimate, hydrology, soil composition, and other factors. The kinds of disturbances and their frequency and intensity have likely changed — fires, floods, trampling, and pest outbreaks all have different dynamics in an urban matrix. And the plants, animals, and microbes that live in these areas are almost certainly different than those that were there before the city arrived. There’s a distinct set of cosmopolitan urban species — the “weeds” and “pests” familiar all over the world.
These weeds and pests — the classification of which is subjective — provide services that are generally undervalued. Exotic species in highly disturbed sites may be most of the biomass, which means those are the species doing the “greening”. For example, if the primary services provided by vegetation on a vacant lot are capturing some stormwater, cooling the air through evapotranspiration, and providing some habitat for insects and birds, these functions can be accomplished by both native and exotic species.
Some might argue that the urban ecosystem services provided by exotic species are less than those provided by native species. This may be correct, though I don’t think there is much convincing data on this question. However, it’s not really appropriate to compare the services from exotic species (which are often abundant in cities) with the services that could be provided by native species if they were present. If the native species are absent, rare, or declining, it generally consumes a lot of resources to manage them in a way that maintains their abundance. Those kinds of management require long-term investments of resources and face many practical challenges. There’s a much lower investment required to increase whatever services are desired from the species already present without worrying too much about which are native or exotic. It’s easier to tweak the system with the species you already have than to try to rebuild some historic system.
Cities are heterogeneous places. In almost every city, there are habitats that should be managed to maintain their indigenous species. But every city also has the neglected green spaces — often populated with exotic species — and these could be managed wisely with a more inclusive view of urban nature.
Toby Query is a father, husband, and ecologist. As part of the City of Portland’s Revegetation Program since 1999, he stewards natural areas for all Portlanders. He most values his work in collaboration and co-management with Indigenous peoples where he sees the possibilities of land and community healing. He founded the discussion group Portland Ecologists Unite! which created spaces to learn, discuss, and connect over ecological issues. Besides fungi, he loves to be in conversation with plants, emergent strategies, and artists.
As a manager of natural areas for the City of Portland, Oregon for the past 15 years, I have slowly shifted my thinking from one that “combats evil invasives” to a more nuanced approach. This approach targets thresholds and moves the system to a healthier state with the lowest overall impact. Interventions to restore habitat need to better evaluate the impact on the ecosystem as a whole.
In the past our crews cut down invasive Armenian blackberry (Rubus bifrons) around our planted seedlings in the middle of bird nesting season. We destroyed the occasional nest in blackberry bushes, but didn’t realize that many were “species of concern” including the little willow flycatcher (Empidonax traillii brewsteri). In 2006, another City of Portland initiative, the Terrestrial Ecology Enhancement Strategy, published documents demonstrating how to avoid damage to nesting birds. These documents, along with discussions with wildlife biologists, led us to shift our treatments to avoid the bird breeding season along with goals to reinstate lost structure and function for target species.
Each invasive species should be evaluated for its current and projected impact to the system, how well it is established, and if its presence is a sign of a degraded system or it is the cause of a community shift. In my experience, established invasive species will resist eradication even with the best orchestrated attempts unless they are detected early on. Thus, we should shift resources towards prevention of new arrivals and start to embrace some of our invasive species.
An example of this involves the much-reviled Canada thistle (Cirsium arvense). It occurs on most restoration sites that we manage, but how much damage is it doing, and can we effectively replace it? Canada thistle arrived in North America in the 1600’s and other species have been coevolving with it ever since. The seeds are an excellent food source for goldfinches, and the plant and nectar are valuable habitat for many native bees and butterflies. With this knowledge, ecologists, including myself, are starting to accept it, putting value on its services for our regions’ wildlife.
Our “love to hate” invasives mantra has led us urban restoration practitioners to potentially harm wildlife in our quest for eradication and control. Restoration performance success often involves meeting a minimum threshold of invasive plant species cover percentage. This needs to be re-evaluated, especially in an urban context, and instead use goals and objectives involving habitat structure and function. By choosing focal species’ preferred habitat (i.e. dense patches of shrubs for the flycatcher) or desired functions (like shading a stream), we will have a clearer path forward without jeopardizing what we seek to improve.
We need to do more evaluation of the causes of the stress to the system and fix those, rather than address the symptoms of a disturbed habitat (which can be expressed through the abundance of invasive plant species). Some of these fixes are outside the ecologist’s hands, such as nitrogen deposition and hydrological changes, but we can work to advocate for these solutions. This approach can save resources as well as build public support. When we frame our work as land managers as a war against invasives, rather than well thought out plans to improve ecological health, we have the potential of making simple decisions that don’t solve the problem. When evaluating an invasive species, we need to involve ornithologists, herpetologists, entomologists and others to more accurately assess what the effects of the “war” might be on the system as a whole. We need a more complex dialogue to reflect the challenges that we face as ecologists and continue to seek new pathways to enhance our urban wildlife habitat.
Glenn Stewart is Professor of Urban Ecology, Lincoln University, NZ. Current research is on Southern Hemisphere urban ecosystems and invasive species, successional processes and predicted changes in global climate.
These are my views from the colonies of Empire downunder. Here I am including South Africa, Australia and New Zealand. Although some of these thoughts and issues probably relate to North America as well. To put my views in context you need to know a quick bit of history here. The British Empire (god bless their soul) carried all things familiar to them to the colonies (to make them “feel at home”). And they took “exotic” plants and animals from the colonies back to mother England (but that is another story for another time). So in New Zealand for example we have many species of plants and animals that “do not belong”. Add to this the fact that the native flora and fauna evolved over millions of years in the absence of mammal browsing and in the absence of mammalian predators. That is why we have flightless birds and strange and wonderful ancient plants! At least 85% of all native plants, birds, frogs, and reptiles found in NZ are endemic to NZ. That is why we are one of the 25 global biodiversity “hotspots”. So what is the situation now after 800 years of Polynesian settlement and 150 or so years of occupation by Europeans? Here is a quick summary (numbers approximate):
2300 species of native plants, 2700 species of naturalised exotic plants (that reproduce and are invading), 33 species of naturalised mammals (the only terrestrial mammals prior to human settlement were 3 species of bats), and countless species of exotic birds. We also have on the order of 30,000 to 40,000 species of exotic plants in cultivation. And one of these species becomes naturalised every 3 months! That’s why NZ has such a stringent border control program!
So what does this mean for urban environments in New Zealand? Basically it means that our cities are dominated by exotic plants and animals — cultivated gardens of exotic species, lawns dominated by Northern hemisphere grasses, woodlands constituted of species from around the globe, urban birds from every continent on the planet and mammals from the European hedgehog to the Norway rat!!! And many of these mammals are predating our native birds and invertebrates. So one of the biggest challenges we face is to reduce the “exotic” influences and enhance and restore indigenous nature. Hence a real focus in the last 20 years or so on restoring native plant communities, and associated bird life. It is an enormous challenge!!
So the removal/reduction of exotic animal and plant species are one of the foremost issues that challenge us in restoring indigenous biodiversity in our cities. And also in restoring vital ecological services to enhance sustainable ecosystems.
Paula Villagra, PhD, is a Landscape Architect that researches the transactions between people and landscapes in environments affected by natural disturbances.
Our thoughts on this topic are influenced by our experience in landscape planning, design and ecology in the Chilean environment which lack of enough nurseries to produce native plants in the amount and standards needed for the development of urban landscape projects. Of course, we would prefer to design and plan parks and plazas with native plants only; however, the cultivation of native species and the knowledge about their management (e.g., water requirements in urban environments) and behavior (e.g., survival to municipalities’ management practices) is still limited (although developing fast!).
In this context, exotic plants are useful, because they are easily available, grow faster than many natives (at least faster than ours in Chile) and depict dramatic seasonal changes in terms of color and canopy density, which adds visual and temporal diversity to urban sites, making them attractive to people.
Nonetheless, including exotics in urban zones can be highly problematic if the selection and management is not taken care of. Exotic plants have higher water demands which on one hand is not sustainable, and on the other hand, if enough water is not provided, exotics take it from other plants, deteriorating the overall design and affecting mostly our natives (which do not have the standards to compete with them). Under extreme conditions, the exotic plants die faster, creating unattractive environment.
Other exotics usually used in urban sites in Chile (e.g., Acacia dealbata) can expand due to their invasive qualities and the ‘comfort’ they find in urban parks and plazas where water is provided regularly. Indeed, this kind of issue is usually ‘solved’ with environmentally toxic insecticides, diversifying the problem into the environment.
Besides, native plants commonly used in our cities increase health problems. Some (e.g., Platanus orientalis) cause severe allergies by the spread of seeds in the reproductive times of the year. While others (e.g., Melia azedarach), pollute the urban environment after the fruits fall and glue themselves to the pavement.
In terms of species interaction, the overuse of exotic plants has increased the presence of exotic over native fauna, altering urban “natural” systems. For example, exotic species are chosen due to their ornamental benefit (e.g., the fruit of the Cotoneaster sp.), which can be very attractive visually. However, they do not provide food for birds, which, as a result, leaves the urban environment resource-poor and require wildlife to search for other sites with better survival advantages.
All together, the problem of introducing exotic plants in urban sites affects ecological aspects, visual landscape qualities, and human well-being. In addition, it can cause a deep misunderstanding among the public, influencing human behaviors and the developing of environmentally unfriendly urban practices. In terms of the private landscaping developed by the general public, most people copy from public parks and plazas what they like and see. Hence, to overcrowd the public areas with exotics plants can convey urban dwellers the wrong message. If that is the case, people will introduce exotics into their private gardens (or increase the amount they have), which in turn, can intensify the problems exposed before, developing a local culture unaware about the role of native plants and their ecological and social values in urban sites.
We do not disagree with using exotics in the design and planning of urban environments when other options are not available; however, in our experience, the selection of exotic plants, the amount which they are introduced, and their distribution should be carefully studied by experienced professionals in landscape and urban ecology. Good results can be achieved when natives already on site are included in the landscape design, when exotics are chosen due to their aesthetic as well as ecological values, and when the community is involved during the process of design.
First of all, I have to state that I know more about plants than animals and that I have an European bias.
My answer for the first question is rather clear. We should not be worried about exotic species in urban areas! Some species are pests or cause diseases, but that is not only true for exotic, also for native species (e. g. rats, allergic potential of hazelnut). Exotic species and urban areas — these belong together. Why?
Cities are centers for political power, money, culture, ideas, goods, and so on. Therefore, they are locations of exchange and accumulation. They are market places, connected with the world, and that includes goods, which come from outside. Introduction of nearly everything is an inevitable feature of cities. It is estimated that around 16,000 ornamental plant species were brought to European cities from all over the world (Dehnen-Schmutz et al. 2007).
Urban areas are also places where strange, foreign persons, ideas, and things can exist, rather than outside of cities. The German phrase “urban airs makes you free” underlines it, describing a principle of law in the Middle Age. That includes the idea that exotics are not dangerous per se, but they are an enrichment for the society. Many humans become scared of the otherness.
In my mind you can transfer that picture to plants and animals, too. That means, as I mentioned above, you cannot imagine a livable, busy city in which exotics, including plants and animals, do not play an important role.
As you look to the fact, then you can see the following. Native species represent the majority of species in cities, more than exotics, and this is valid for birds and plants (see publication of Aronson et al. 2014, a working group which analyzed more than 100 cities worldwide). Common native species are still the dominant species in European cities, and that is also true for the inner urban areas. With respect to the species richness, the exotics enrich the fauna and flora in urban areas and compensate the lost of native species. The number of flowering plants, especially of the ornamental plants, and their blossom time over the year are increased in cities, and a lot of insects, notably pollinators, benefit from them.
Some species, for example the goldenrod (Solidago gigantea) in German cause problems in natural and semi-natural areas, but not in cities. Many people like the goldenrod as an ornamental plant in their gardens or gather it from wasteland, as I see it in my neighborhood, to bring it at home for a bunch of flowers. A problem can be that such exotic plants spread out from gardens to the outside, like fashion, which spread out from cities to rural areas, impacting cultural and natural landscapes.
The relationship that children and adolescents have with water goes beyond its basic function in daily life. Water is an element that awakens emotions and feelings in people, both individually and collectively.
Over the course of a year, we embarked on an emotional and conceptual journey of exploration and reflection on water with two groups of young people and children living on the border between urban and rural areas in the hills of Bogotá. This experience led us toward a comprehensive understanding of their relationship with water, beyond considering it only as an essential resource.
This article is based on the partial results of an ongoing project, developed in the year 2022, by the Cerros de Bogotá Foundation, under the coordination of Santiago Córdoba, Samuel Serna, and Héctor Álvarez. In addition, we had the enthusiastic support of a group of students who were passionate about architecture and the environment. In Bogotá, this project, carried out for Fondo Acción, has explored the relationship of children and adolescents with water, seeking to understand it from different perspectives: emotional, cultural, and ecological.
Water is an element that awakens emotions and feelings in people, both individually and collectively. To understand this relationship, different exercises and workshops were conducted to explore how water young participants feel about this source. The students’ daily experiences reveal three important manifestations of their relationship with water. First, the domestic uses of water, are linked to personal and environmental care tasks; they also highlight the importance of these daily chores, which can be both expressions of affection and culturally undervalued. Second, the weather, particularly rain, influences students’ emotions and decisions, from enjoying it to fearing it or adapting to it in their clothing and activities. Third, the presence of streams and drains in the surroundings of the students’ schools and neighborhoods is a reality that, surprisingly, many are unaware of, despite their proximity and relevance in the territory.
The nature of maps and how they can represent the relationship with water was also explored. Maps are not only geographical representations but also symbolic and emotional expressions of our environment. For the children and adolescents, defining what a map is and what elements it should include was an exercise that allowed them to reflect on how they perceive and represent the world around them.
What does water feel like?
Emotional mapping became a powerful tool for exploring young people’s relationship with water. Multisensory activities were used to allow participants to express their own perceptions and emotions related to water. Questions such as “What does water feel like?”, and “What does water sound like?” led to deep reflections and the creation of emotional maps.
Participants mapping out their emotions and perceptions of water. Photo: Fundación Cerros de Bogotá
An important aspect that was highlighted during these exercises was the language used to describe water and bodies of water in the environment. It was noted that many of the words used were derogatory, such as “puddle”, “pichal”, “caño”, indicating a disconnect and lack of appreciation for these natural resources. This underscores the importance of changing the way we talk about water and promoting a deeper understanding of its ecological and cultural importance.
Participants feeling water. Photo: Fundación Cerros de Bogotá
Photo: Fundación Cerros de Bogotá
How much water is there?
The diversity of responses reflected the multiplicity of facets that young people associate with water, from its role as a source of life to its use as a tool or even as a mystery factor. This diversity of meanings highlights the need to contextualize and better understand the concept of water, as it is more difficult to protect something that is not fully understood.
Photo: Fundación Cerros de Bogotá
In addition to exploring what water is, they investigated where it comes from. The answers ranged in context from the mythological to the scientific, showing the complexity of young people’s relationship with this vital resource. These questions have no single answers, opening the door to open dialogue and exploration of scientific and cultural concepts related to water.
“A monster brought it…”, “it comes from the mountain…”, “it forms in the clouds and falls as rain and hail…”, “it comes from the center of the Earth…” or “it comes from the wasteland…” are some of the answers to the question: “Where does water come from?”.
Spaces and experiences
The relationship of children and adolescents with water is forged on different scales and spaces, from the individual body to the community as a whole. Five “living spaces” were identified that influence their perception of water: their own body, the home, the school, the neighborhood, and the homes of people close to them.
Corpography exercises carried out by students from El Manantial school. Photo: Fundación Cerros de Bogotá
An interesting exercise was the “Corpographies of Water”, which explored how young people represent their bodies and their relationship with water through drawing. This allowed understanding of individual and symbolic perceptions of the presence of water in their lives. In addition, the importance of identity in the relationship with water was highlighted, as the recognition of the environment and belonging influence the care and protection.
Scientific name
Names given by the group
Scientific name
Names given by the group
Bomarea multiflora
Delirious bells
Taraxacum sp.
Queen of the plants
Lecanoromycetes
Mushroom plant
Acacia sp.
Stinky witch’s fart
Teloschistes sp.
Mushroom of hearts
Oxalis sp.
Limon bush
Astylus sp.
Soldier
Passiflora sp.
Skeep
Ukulel
Some names with which the group of children from El Manantial school baptized the local biodiversity
Young people’s everyday experiences with water also play a crucial role in shaping their imaginaries and emotional connections. The domestic use of water, interactions with rain, and the presence of bodies of water in their immediate environment are elements that shape their relationship with this natural resource.
This project has demonstrated the importance of understanding the emotional and cultural relationship of children and adolescents with water to promote their community protection. Emotional mapping has been a powerful tool to explore this relationship from multiple perspectives, and the results highlight the need to change the way we talk and think about water.
In addition, the importance of contextualizing questions about water and promoting a deeper understanding of its nature and role in our lives has been highlighted. Education and awareness raising are key to fostering a more sustainable relationship with it and inspiring concrete actions to care for and protect it.
Ultimately, this project demonstrates that the active participation of children and adolescents in reflection and action on water is fundamental to building communities that are more aware of and committed to the preservation of this vital resource. Their voice and vision must be taken into account in efforts to ensure a sustainable future for water in Bogotá and around the world.
This work has made us reflect on how we take water for granted in our daily lives, forgetting its origin. This type of exercise with children and adolescents allows us to explore the temporal, spatial, and social origin of water, as well as to map these questions into graphical results. In addition, we seek to balance the evaluation of water governance by considering sensory and emotional aspects rather than limiting ourselves to technical data obtained by adults.
Voces y huellas del agua percibidas por algunos niños niñas y jóvenes en Bogotá
La relación que niños, niñas y adolescentes tienen con el agua va más allá de la función básica que tiene el líquido en la vida diaria. El agua es un elemento que despierta emociones y sentimientos en las personas, tanto a nivel individual como colectivo.
A lo largo de un año nos embarcamos en un viaje emocional y conceptual de exploración y reflexión sobre el agua junto a dos grupos de niños, niñas y jóvenes que residen en el límite entre lo urbano y lo rural en los cerros de Bogotá. Esta experiencia nos llevó a adentrarnos en una comprensión integral de su relación con el agua, más allá de considerarla únicamente como un recurso esencial.
Este artículo se fundamenta en los resultados parciales de un proyecto en curso, desarrollado durante el año 2022 por la Fundación Cerros de Bogotá, bajo la coordinación de Santiago Córdoba, Samuel Serna y Héctor Álvarez. Además, contamos con el apoyo entusiasta de un grupo de estudiantes apasionados de arquitectura y medioambiente.
En Bogotá este proyecto, realizado para Fondo Acción, ha explorado la relación de niños, niñas y adolescentes con el agua, buscando entenderla desde diferentes perspectivas: la emocional, la cultural y la ecológica.
El agua es un elemento que despierta emociones y sentimientos en las personas, tanto a nivel individual como colectivo. Para comprender esta relación se llevaron a cabo diferentes ejercicios y talleres que exploraron qué sienten frente a este recurso los participantes. Las experiencias cotidianas de los estudiantes revelan tres manifestaciones importantes en su relación con el agua. En primer lugar, los usos domésticos vinculados a tareas de cuidado personal y del entorno; destacan, así mismo, la importancia de estas labores cotidianas que pueden ser expresiones de afecto, aunque estén subvaloradas culturalmente.
En segundo lugar, el estado del tiempo, particularmente la lluvia, influye en las emociones y decisiones de los estudiantes, quienes van el disfrute de la misma hasta el temor que les produce o la adaptación a ella en su vestimenta y sus actividades.
En tercer lugar, la presencia de quebradas y drenajes en el entorno de los colegios y de los barrios en los que viven los estudiantes es una realidad que, sorprendentemente, muchos desconocen, a pesar de su cercanía y relevancia en el territorio.
También se exploró la naturaleza de los mapas y cómo estos pueden simbolizar la relación con el agua. Los mapas no son solo representaciones geográficas, sino también expresiones simbólicas y emocionales de nuestro entorno. Para los niños, niñas y adolescentes definir qué es un mapa y qué elementos debe incluir fue un ejercicio que les permitió reflexionar sobre cómo perciben y representan el mundo que les rodea.
¿Cómo se siente el agua?
La cartografía emocional se convirtió en una herramienta poderosa para explorar la relación de los jóvenes con el agua. Se utilizaron actividades multisensoriales para permitir que los participantes expresaran sus propias percepciones y emociones relacionadas con ella. «¿Cómo se siente el agua?» y «¿cómo se escucha?» son algunas de las preguntas que llevaron a reflexiones profundas y a la creación de mapas emocionales.
Los participantes mapean sus emociones y percepciones del agua. Foto de : Fundación Cerros de Bogotá
Un aspecto importante que se destacó durante estos ejercicios fue el lenguaje utilizado para describir el agua y los cuerpos de agua en el entorno. Se observó que muchas de las palabras utilizadas eran despectivas, como «charco», «pichal», «caño», lo que indicaba una desconexión y una falta de aprecio por estos recursos naturales. Esta situación subraya la importancia de cambiar la forma en la que hablamos sobre el agua y de promover una comprensión más profunda de su importancia ecológica y cultural.
Los participantes sienten agua. Foto de : Fundación Cerros de Bogotá
Foto de : Fundación Cerros de Bogotá
¿Cuántas aguas hay?
La diversidad de respuestas reflejó la multiplicidad de facetas que los jóvenes asocian con el agua, desde su papel como fuente de vida hasta su uso como herramienta o incluso como un factor de misterio. Esta diversidad de significados destaca la necesidad de contextualizar y comprender mejor el concepto de agua, ya que es más difícil proteger algo que no se entiende completamente.
Foto de : Fundación Cerros de Bogotá
Además de explorar qué es el agua, se investigó de dónde proviene. Las respuestas variaron en un contexto que va desde lo mitológico hasta lo científico, lo que mostró la complejidad de la relación de los jóvenes con este recurso vital. Estas preguntas no tienen respuestas únicas, lo que abre la puerta a un diálogo abierto y a la exploración de conceptos científicos y culturales relacionados con el agua.
«La trajo un monstruo…», «viene de la montaña…», «se forma en las nubes y cae como lluvia y granizo…», «sale del centro de la Tierra…» o «viene del páramo…» son algunas de las respuestas a la pregunta: «¿De dónde viene el agua?».
Espacios y experiencias
La relación de los niños, niñas y adolescentes con el agua se forja en diferentes escalas y espacios, desde el cuerpo individual hasta la comunidad en su conjunto. Se identificaron cinco «espacios vitales» que influyen en su percepción: el propio cuerpo, la casa, el colegio, el barrio y las casas de las personas cercanas.
Ejercicios de corpografía realizados por alumnos del colegio El Manantial. Foto de : Fundación Cerros de Bogotá
Un ejercicio interesante fue el de las «corpografías del agua», que exploró cómo los jóvenes representan a través del dibujo sus cuerpos y su relación con este recurso natural. Esto permitió entender las percepciones individuales y simbólicas de la presencia del agua en sus vidas. Además, se destacó la importancia de la identidad en la relación con el líquido, ya que el reconocimiento del entorno y la pertenencia influyen en su cuidado y protección.
Nombre científico
Nombres puestos por el grupo
Nombre científico
Nombres puestos por el grupo
Bomarea multiflora
Campaneras
Delirios
Taraxacum sp.
Reina de las plantas
Lecanoromycetes
Algosa
Hongo planta
Acacia sp.
Apestosa
Peo de bruja
Teloschistes sp.
Hongo de corazones
Oxalis sp.
Mata de limón
Astylus sp.
Soldado
Passiflora sp.
Ovejita
Ukulel
Algunos nombres con los que el grupo de niños del colegio El Manantial bautizaron la biodiversidad local
Las experiencias cotidianas de los jóvenes con el agua también desempeñan un papel crucial en la formación de sus imaginarios y conexiones emocionales. El uso doméstico del agua, las interacciones con la lluvia y la presencia de cuerpos de agua en su entorno inmediato son elementos que moldean su relación con este recurso natural.
Este proyecto ha demostrado la importancia de comprender la relación emocional y cultural de los niños, niñas y adolescentes con el agua para promover la protección comunitaria de la misma. La cartografía emocional ha sido una herramienta poderosa para explorar esta relación desde múltiples perspectivas, y los resultados destacan la necesidad de cambiar la forma en la que hablamos sobre el agua y cómo la pensamos.
Además, se ha subrayado la importancia de contextualizar las preguntas sobre el agua y promover una comprensión más profunda de su naturaleza y su papel en nuestras vidas. La educación y la sensibilización son clave para fomentar una relación más sostenible con ella y para inspirar acciones concretas de cuidado y protección.
En última instancia, este proyecto demuestra que la participación activa de niños, niñas y adolescentes en la reflexión y acción sobre el agua es fundamental para construir comunidades más conscientes y comprometidas con la preservación de este recurso vital. Su voz y su visión deben ser tenidas en cuenta en los esfuerzos por garantizar un futuro sostenible para el agua en Bogotá y en todo el mundo.
Este trabajo nos ha hecho reflexionar sobre cómo damos por sentada el agua en nuestra vida diaria, olvidando su origen. Este tipo de ejercicios con niños, niñas y adolescentes nos permite explorar el origen temporal, espacial y social del agua, así como mapear estas preguntas en resultados gráficos. Además, buscamos equilibrar la evaluación de la gobernanza del agua al considerar aspectos sensoriales y emocionales en lugar de limitarnos a datos técnicos obtenidos por los adultos.
“The up and down cycle [is what] I’ve experienced…we’re down now, but we have a way of battling back, in the courts and in the court of public opinion”, says Semple. “I hope the American people will come to their senses”.
On 11 January 2018, a party was held to celebrate the retirement after 54 years of a man many people have never heard of, whose words, published in anonymity, have helped shape the United States’ environment and environmental policy for decades.
Robert B. Semple, Jr. worked for the New York Times for more than five decades, including 25 years as an editorial writer, and was the mostly unsung hero of the modern environmental movement. His carefully crafted editorials never bore his byline—unlike the reporters at the Times—but he was a confidant of Presidents, Secretaries of the Interior and Environment, leaders of national environmental organizations, and Senators and Members of Congress. His access to those leaders, and his unique ability to translate science and policy into credible explanations, made him the environmental conscience of the U.S.
And I say “mostly unsung” because, in 1996, Semple and the Times won a Pulitzer Prize for ten editorials he wrote the prior year, a rare honor for the writers who primarily toil out of sight, unrecognized by the byline that other journalists get.
Semple’s half-century tenure at the Times parallels the extraordinary growth of the environmental movement from marginal to mainstream and the creation of the nation’s most important and historic environmental protection laws and agencies. It is also likely that Semple’s work led directly to major environmental victories, influencing the nation’s leaders and environmental advocates to stop projects that imperiled some of our most precious parks and natural areas.
I had the good fortune to know Bob when he was writing, both through his wife Lisa Semple’s work on behalf of non-profit organizations I was affiliated with, and though his interaction with The Trust for Public Land and our press director, Tim Ahern. Tim is also semi-retiring after a distinguished career as a reporter and spokesman for governmental organizations and political operations, and he interacted with Semple when he was Press Secretary for the U.S. Department of the Interior and its Secretary, Bruce Babbitt. I recently had lunch with Semple and Ahern, and between bites of fried clams and oyster pan roast at the Oyster Bar in Grand Central Terminal in New York, got a download of that extraordinary half-century of political and environmental news and occurrences.
It was far from preordained that Semple would become an environmental super-hero. Given his youthful endeavors editing the Phillips Andover Phillipan and the Yale Daily News, a career in journalism might have been inevitable. He earned degrees in history from Yale and the University of California at Berkeley (Master’s), and spent a year as a Yale teaching fellow. After a few years working at Dow Jones, Semple’s career at the Times began when he was hired by then-Washington, DC Bureau Chief James Reston, in the fall of 1963. He started with a traditional but important role working on the Washington Bureau news desk, just before the assassination of President Kennedy.
When Thomas Wicker succeeded Reston, he made Semple the White House Correspondent, responsible for covering the White House of President Lyndon B. Johnson, among other things. Another management change, this time bringing Max Frankel to the Bureau, got Semple covering federal agencies. Then, in keeping with a peculiar tradition at the Times, a coin flip led to Semple’s getting the assignment of covering Richard M. Nixon’s presidential campaign and the subsequent six years of his presidency. Semple wrote the Times’ lead story on Nixon’s inauguration, and was assailed by then Secretary of State George Schultz in 1971 for the publication of the Pentagon Papers (that daring act, kept secret from all but a handful of Times senior staff, was something that Semple was also surprised to learn of by hearing the news from Schultz).
Semple also got to see a Nixon who gave eloquent speeches on the importance of protecting the environment, and under whose presidency a number of the most important environmental laws, including the Clean Air and Clean Water Acts and the creation of the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA). But Semple credits political savvy and pressure from Democrats and the public with forcing Nixon’s hand.
President Richard Nixon signs the Clean Air Act on December 31, 1970. Credit: Photographer unknown
“Nixon saw the first Earth Day—he was no fool, he jumped right in on the environment”, Semple remembers. “Nixon didn’t really care about the environment, but taking those actions got Congress off his back”.
Robert B. Semple, Jr. accepting the 1996 Pulitzer Prize in Editorial Writing. Credit: Photographer unknown
Subsequent assignments included Deputy National Editor, London Bureau Chief, Foreign Editor, and five years on the Op-Ed Page of the Times. In 1988, Semple was assigned to the Editorial Page, a position he occupied for the next three decades, serving as part of the prestigious, courted, and feared Times Editorial Board, writing hundreds of editorials, and developing a niche in the world of energy and the environment that won him and the Times that Pulitzer Prize.
But how did Semple develop that niche, and more importantly, turn environmentalism from an ancillary and obscure topic into a hot-button issue, allowing the Times to influence national and global policy for decades? Semple, who is willing to give everyone praise except himself, credits two key mentors at the Times. “With the help of Jack Rosenthal, and particularly Howell Raines [Rosenthal and Raines both served as Editorial Page Editor], we put environmental issues at the center of the New York Times”, says Semple. Environment and energy were not “A issues”, compared to crime, the economy, and politics, Semple related, but two things happened to pique his interest. The first was the 1989 Exxon Valdez disaster, which forced Semple to learn about energy and environmental matters, and the second was President George Bush and EPA Administrator Bill Reilly’s proposed updates of the Clean Air Act, with significant reforms and the introduction of emissions trading, among other factors.
Sensing the importance of the issues, Semple says he was “forced to learn the issues from scratch”. So he turned to experts both in government and the environmental advocacy community, including Katie McGinty, (Council for Environmental Quality Chair, 1995-1998), Paul Bledsoe (Director of Communications of the White House Climate Change Task Force, 1998-2000), Russell Train (the first chair of the newly created Council on Environmental Quality under President Nixon, and later the second head of the EPA); Mike Oppenheimer and Joe Goffman at the Natural Resources Defense Council, who were particularly helpful on the politics and science of power plants; and in particular Bruce Babbitt and his Press Secretary, Ahern.
“The good guys in the administration and in the advocacy groups were my sources”, Semple recalls. “But you had to choose them with care because not everyone is a scientist. You depended on people who would help you understand the science and the laws, and you have to get your facts straight so that your readers would believe you”.
On the other side of the equation, government agencies and experts knew Semple was extremely valuable—someone who could get their issues in front of Times readers, but more important, in front of the decision makers and shapers. In a time before social media, there was nothing more important than a New York Times front page story or editorial for getting your message out.
“When Bob Semple would call, the Interior Secretary [Babbitt] would drop everything”, says Ahern, whom Semple counted on to explain to him the complexities of the Antiquities Act. McGinty, head of the Council on Environmental Quality for President Clinton, would call from Capitol Hill, Semple recalls, and say “can you get something in the first edition?” McGinty turned out to be a key player in the issue that perhaps more than any showed Semple’s power to impact national policy—to get a President to act on a very specific issue—the Yellowstone/New World Mine.
When a Canadian company wanted to develop a gold and copper mine just three miles outside of Yellowstone National Park, Semple wrote a series of editorials in 1995 that helped turn the political tide against this “monumental and irreversible environmental catastrophe…[a] disaster-in-waiting…” as Semple wrote in his lead editorial on the topic. Semple went right at President Clinton in two August editorials, making him the key player in this eco-drama: “Mr. Clinton has been making an effort in recent days to polish up his environmental credentials”, Semple writes in an August 14, 1995 editorial. “Figuring out a way to stop this mine would surely help. He alone can make this a national issue it deserves to be. At risk is the oldest and greatest of our national parks”. Almost exactly a year later, President Clinton, in a ceremony at Yellowstone on Aug. 12, 1996, announced an agreement to end the mine, praising scores of people but not mentioning the anonymous man whose writing had possibly stirred him to action.
President Clinton addresses the crowd at the New World Mine buyout ceremony in 1996. Credit: Yellowstone National Park, Jim Peaco
“Yellowstone was entrusted into our care as a people, a whole people, more than 120 years ago now”, Clinton said that day. “And today we are saying to the rest of the world, to the rest of the country, and to future generations of America, that we have been worthy of that trust, and we are giving it to our children and our children’s children”. On a related note, it was The Trust for Public Land which put the final touches on the closing down of the mine threat, when in June 2010 it announced that it had purchased the “772 acres of mining claims in the New World Mining District near Yellowstone National Park”.
A dilapidated cabin sits on a bluff above a green valley in the New World Mining District outside Yellowstone National Park. Credit: The Trust for Public Land, Alex Diekmann
For those four editorials on the Yellowstone mine, and six others, including the much-lauded “Bud Shuster’s Dirty Water Act“, calling to task the then-Congress member (Republican, PA) for attempting to eviscerate the Clean Water Act—Semple and the Times won a Pulitzer Prize. This was the first Pulitzer ever awarded for editorials on the environment.
So what does the future hold for the not-completely-retired Semple, and for our nation and its environmental legacy? First, Semple will still be writing, perhaps a couple of new editorials a month. On 16 January 2018 for example, he penned an editorial lauding New York City Mayor Bill de Blasio for suing oil companies for their role in exacerbating climate change and its impact on NYC (while gently chiding the mayor for his penchant for driving in an SUV convoy to a gym 12 miles away most mornings). In the bigger picture—national and global—Semple worries about President Trump and his cabinet.
“Right now, in terms of environmental progress, we are in the pits”, says Semple. “We are in the pits because President Trump has appointed sworn enemies of the environment. He has hired people who not only don’t want things to get better—they want to roll all the progress back. The guy knows nothing and cares less about the environment. He’s therefore vulnerable to whatever somebody pours into his head”.
That said, Semple has a world view based on his five decades covering presidents and politics that leans to optimism:
“The up and down cycle [is what] I’ve experienced…we’re down now, but we have a way of battling back, in the courts and in the court of public opinion,” says Semple. “I hope the American people will come to their senses”.
We need Semple’s voice, and voices like his, to make sure that happens.
When there is a storm, trees can cause damage to homes, cars, and people—ultimately, the tree itself is a casualty of a storm.
The key to knowledge exchange is first to respect all actors for the individual roles they play in our urban fabric.
At these moments, generally, the public perceives arborists as the heroes of storms—arborists remove the “problem” from their properties. But at most other times during the year, when people see an arborist pruning or removing a tree, they perceive them negatively.
Photo: Julian Ambrosii
Throughout my doctoral research (2015), several narratives emerged from interviews conducted with field arborists and climbers across Southern Ontario, Canada—one of those stories was that public perception of arborists seems to change with the seasons or variances in weather. The arborists I interviewed considered themselves to be environmentalists and nurturers of the urban forest—general public opinion often contrasted this image with stereotypes that arborists mainly perform removals, or harm trees.
Oak is Oak and Euc is Euc and if the twain should meet;
although the work is better now, a Euc Man’s hard to beat.
The Oak Man tries to reason sense…The Euc Man’s more direct.
Make a cut too close these days, it’s a flush cut you’ll regret.
My interviewees raised the issue that they can be either glorified or vilified, depending on the season and whether there is a storm involved. When the public perceived them negatively, participants felt undervalued given their integral role in urban forest management and maintenance; this story is latent with power dynamics. As one participant noted, “We can do so much damage” (not just to trees, but to ourselves). Field arborists and climbers hold the power to physically shape the urban forest canopy of the future. Their awareness of their position and, often, the modesty with which they perform their roles, has earned my utmost respect.
One interesting story revolved around the notion that nature has its own agency and trees should be valued as living organisms for their own merits, not solely for the services they provide to humans. This was particularly true for large trees. One of my interviewees asserted: “You don’t really know how big a tree is until it’s lying on the ground, vulnerable, exposed and, at that point, dead. Then you truly appreciate its majesty even if you don’t understand its worth.” There is an interesting paradox in the conceptions of the public between the veneration and appreciation of large, older, heritage trees, and the lack of attention for smaller seedlings.
Within the subject of agency, participants included stories about decay and defenses and how vulnerability is a factor in preservation and management efforts. Climbers and grounds crews continually negotiate their positions according to the size and species with which they are working on a given day. Species type made a difference in some participants’ feelings towards their work. Specifically, Oaks and Maples were often regarded as good trees to climb, whereas Honey locusts and willows were not.
Photo: Julian Ambrosii
Lastly, the notion of control is enmeshed and often hidden in arborists’ experiences. Most arborists take pride in caring for trees as living organisms. Arborists do not fell trees needlessly; they manipulate trees carefully and knowledgeably. Arborists spend time with trees, touch trees, shape and construct trees; how these decisions are made is fundamentally based on understanding the variability of nature’s agency while simultaneously contending with the lack of a decision-making model that results from this variability.
Other stories revolved around language constructions; labour equality and gender issues; the material reality of nature’s agency; and the impact of educational inconsistencies (Bardekjian, 2015). Considering the perspectives of field arborists and tree climbers is useful for understanding tree growth and long-term sustainability for urban forests.
The key to knowledge exchange is first to respect all actors for the individual roles they play in our urban fabric; to keep an open mind and actively listen to one another; and, finally, to keep the lines of communication open through as many avenues and tools as possible (e.g. conferences, workshops, listservs, open-access resources, discussion forums, formal and informal education, community events). Examples of formal networks at our national level include the Canadian chapters of the International Society of Arboriculture and the Canadian Urban Forest Network. I would like to see more dialogue between these two groups of membership. A transdisciplinary approach that focuses on problem-based research and better integrating formal curriculum with critical social issues can help with exchanging knowledge (see here for a recent blog, “The Social Side of Things”). In addition, alternative models of sharing knowledge and stories through media platforms and artistic interventions can challenge our own biases and enable us to envision better collaboration between the different groups.
Photo: Adrina Bardekjian
Furthermore, I have always valued centres such as the Humber Arboretum & Centre for Urban Ecology for their work with surrounding communities, students, and public engagement; thus, the creation of provincial arboreta with learning or education centres is something that I’ve felt to be necessary in Canada—this could include programs featuring provincial trees coupled with stories of regional histories (e.g. social, ecological, aboriginal, political, economic). The location of such centres can be in conjunction with research or educational institutions, in collaboration with environmental non-government organizations and municipal partnerships. As the first line of inquiry and care, arborists are community educators on the ground and in the treetops and have a wealth of knowledge to share.
Photo: Julian Ambrosii
I had the privilege of working on a short film during my doctoral work called “Limbwalkers.” What I learned from this experience is that capturing stories of participating arborists on film was invaluable for communicating specific narratives to the public—in this case, a snapshot into climbers’ insights about a variety of topics. I’m hoping to secure funding to continue a series of micro-docs from the footage we have compiled over the years, which is currently sitting in post processing.
When talking about agency and considering the place and influence of non-human nature in our physical environment, artistic interventions can be powerful. For example, likening a dead tree (or one in the process of removal) to the art installation by Su-chen Hung, called “Tree with Arteries”, can evoke a visceral reaction—towards trees, towards workers. It invokes questions about vulnerability, affect, and agency.
It also goes back to the quote above regarding the perception of large trees and understanding their presence and grandeur only after they are lying on the ground. However, it’s important to keep in mind that this is also an abstraction and can sensationalize the issue at hand, while also propagating negative feelings about workers as discussed above.
My interest in urban forestry revolves around stories—people, trees, and the places each inhabit. I’m particularly interested in the notion of familiarity and how that stirs affect and motivates action. I am also interested in the connections between greenspaces and public health, particularly mental health. As such, I’m interested in continuing to contribute to the discourses of urban forestry and arboriculture by sharing social narratives that came out of my doctoral research through various methods, and by conducting new research with interested collaborators. It is important to me to share the stories of my participants because they raise significant issues in the fields of urban forestry and arboriculture that are rarely discussed.
Like my participants, I want to see the trade of arboriculture and the provision of tree services move from voluntary to mandatory licensing under the College of Trades and Ministry of Labour. This will take time and more discussion to balance disparate needs and interests. There is a strong feeling that mandatory certification towards a Red Seal Trade will encourage proper urban forest maintenance as well as garner public respect for the profession.
Bardekjian, A. (2015). Towards social arboriculture: Arborists’ perspectives on urban forest labour in Southern Ontario, Canada. Urban Forestry & Urban Greening: DOI: 10.1016/j.ufug.2015.10.014.
Tactical Urbanism: it’s one of the buzz words in the emerging people-centred planning paradigm. If you do a Google News search of the term, you’ll find articles from all the news sites beloved by urbanists: Next City Daily, CityLab, Slate, ArchDaily, et al. Often used in the context of citizen-led improvements to the urban environment, it can mean everything from small beautification projects to major city-led revitalization efforts. To me, it evokes images of renegade city-dwellers armed with spray paint, bollards, and patio furniture, taking urban planning matters into their own hands to improve their small piece of the city. But Tactical Urbanism can mean a lot of things: there is no unified definition to place it into the larger dialogue about citizen action in urban planning.
These many meanings are captured in Tactical Urbanism: Short-term Action for Long-term Change, a book by American urban planners Anthony Garcia and Mike Lydon, both leaders in civic advocacy and principals of The Street Plans Collaborative. By clearly laying out what tactical urbanism is—the authors define it simply as an approach to neighbourhood building and activation using short-term, low-cost, and scalable interventions and policies (in other words, according to Professor Nabeel Hamdi, Tactical Urbanism is “making plans without the usual preponderance of planning”)—the groundwork is laid to build on this theory of change by providing successful examples and providing guidance for making it work in practice.
I found it to be an accessible read, heavy on place-based examples, personal narratives, and photographs, while touching on planning and public space theory. As a person who studied urban planning and is most interested in working in the community sector, I found this book to effectively bridge the worlds of quick and visible on-the-ground action with less exciting but very rigorous long-term planning that sets out comprehensive frameworks for development. It also does a great job of celebrating the many successes of citizen-led action, while acknowledging an integral part of the iterative “build-measure-learn” cycle of tactical urbanism: having the courage to fail.
The Tactical Urbanism cycle: It’s about trying things out, then continually adapting and refining.
I found the tone to strike a positive yet pragmatic balance: it has a “you can do it” inspirational voice, but includes frank discussion of the bureaucratic obstacles that continue to prevent the kinds of straightforward, low-cost interventions championed in the text. This left me with the impression that it is possible to create lasting change in one’s community—but don’t expect it to be smooth sailing. A note on terminology: while this book uses minimal planning jargon, the term tactical urbanism itself may not resonate widely in its attempts to capture a movement that presents an alternative to the long-range municipal planning processes that shape our cities. An alternative term used by New York’s Project for Public Spaces is “lighter, quicker, cheaper”. Jaime Lerner’s term “urban acupuncture” also seems to have leverage with a non-planning audience, although it refers specifically to pinpointing vulnerable areas and then using design to re-energize them. “Trial-and-error urbanism” might also capture Garcia and Lydon’s framework: rather than spending a lot of time, money, and resources on coming up with the best plan, we would do better to test things out on a small scale to see if there is potential for wider applicability and sanctioned change.
I found the weaving through of examples that illustrate how we shape our cities by doing something in the short-term, with the view of changing conditions for the long-term, to be immensely helpful in understanding the strategic nature of tactical urbanism. While any intervention that alters the urban landscape, such as yarn bombing a chain-link fence or adding life to an underpass with graffiti or paste-ups, can change people’s perceptions of a space, what makes tactical urbanism tactical is its efforts to shift thinking and patterns of development by demonstrating what is possible with a little creativity and often a whole lot of DIY smarts.
Throughout the book, Lydon and Garcia highlight examples in which an unsanctioned project was eventually supported by government—often a city’s planning or public works agency. This gradual shift from unsanctioned to sanctioned can ease some of the burden of project maintenance on volunteers while allowing cities to take leadership on facilitating bottom-up planning. However, the authors embrace the idea of having a spectrum of projects, from those steeped in DIY culture all the way to “tactical economies”, such as setting up pop-up businesses to attract private investment in a stagnant area. Not all tactical urbanism efforts will be okayed by government, and that should not necessarily be the end goal of citizens looking to test out urban interventions.
This dance between citizen-led action and long-term policy change was a motif throughout the book, and one that I think has potential to provoke conversations about shifting public participation in planning from “show-and-tell” to deep collaboration. It was incredible to read about such a range of stories about projects that began as one-off, localized efforts but have now been scaled up or out by budging municipal policies. For example, on a recent visit to Portland, OR, I noticed that neighbourhood intersections were often adorned with murals.
A welcoming intersection in Portland’s Sunnyside neighbourhood
Turns out, this is thanks to a crew of Portlanders who, concerned about road safety in their neighbourhoods, obtained a block party permit to undertake “intersection repair”: painting a mural across the intersection, adding a tea station, community bulletin board, and more. Despite initially meeting resistance from the Portland Bureau of Transportation, the group persisted, demonstrating improvements to quality of life through resident surveys. Eventually, the City saw the light: facing a decrease in funding for art and public spaces, yet needing to fulfill livability and sustainability policies, they eventually adopted an Intersection Repair Ordinance. Examples like this show what is possible when residents pave (or unpave!) the way for city-level policies that enable more efficient and people-friendly planning.
For those who already have a tactical urbanism idea in mind, the book makes effective use of basic diagrams to explain the practice: one in particular that budding tactical urbanists might want to consult is the Tactical Spectrum, showing the range of projects from unsanctioned to sanctioned. In this context, unsanctioned refers to projects that citizens can go ahead and do without any government support; sanctioned describes projects that require support and approval from government, usually city departments, by nature of their scale or complexity.
The Tactical Spectrum: Where does your project fit?
While budgeting, permit application, and other logistical matters aren’t the most exciting parts of planning your tactical urban intervention, it is helpful to think about how much government support you will need so you don’t find yourself facing unforeseen obstacles.
Overall, though, the authors stress that no matter the nature, scale, and degree of government implication in the project, the most important consideration is how it will affect the community. This is something that I find often goes missing in conversation about urban revitalization: who is doing the revitalizing, for whom, and to what ends? In the second-to-last chapter, “A Tactical Urbanism How-To”, the authors present a series of questions that one needs to ponder before getting a project underway, from sourcing materials, to leveraging community support, to maintenance. I liked the emphasis on thinking through what the effects might be on the surrounding communities: it is easy to forget that what you think is a swell idea might not actually be what a particular group of people needs or wants.
This concern for ensuring that tactical urbanists do not end up adversely affecting the communities they are trying to improve gets to the crux of whether planning should come from the grassroots or “grasstops”. While tactical urbanism can bring alternative methods and accelerated timelines to municipal decision-makers’ attention, ultimately their goals are not so different than those espoused by planning policy: what city’s Official Plan doesn’t use words such as sustainable, vibrant, and resilient? One aspect of tactical urbanism that merits more exploring is what happens when the landscape of projects starts to become saturated. As with anything, the more people involved, the greater the need becomes for checks and balances. Does this kind of “lighter, quicker, cheaper” intervention only work when few people are doing it? How can multiple groups with competing visions negotiate the space of tactical urbanism without undermining each other’s’ efforts—and the visions, guidelines, and plans laid out by city government?
While these big questions aren’t answered in this book, the authors do suggest, through examples of informal partnerships between citizen groups and city government, the possibility of a new planning practice. This practice derives rigour from harnessing residents’ skills, energy, and imaginative foresight to balance comprehensive, long-term planning with the kind of quick-win, prototyping work that can get folks excited about improving the places they live. To refer back to Portland, the City’s Office of Neighbourhood Involvement coordinates a 95 neighbourhood-strong network of district coalitions and offices which provide support and technical assistance to volunteer-based neighborhood associations, community groups and individual citizen-activists. It may be in this type of supportive partnership that the strengths of both tactical urbanism and bureaucrat-led planning can be leveraged to build communities that are both functional and personable.
Until that happens, though, people will continue to find ways to mobilize and to shape the places they care about. It may sound cheesy, but seeing photos showing regular people doing work in their communities, wearing normal clothes, and using simple methods, reinforces the authors’ emphasis that truly, anyone can do tactical urbanism. It’s hard not to be inspired by the go-getters described in this book: from Baltimore resident Lou Catelli, who painted a crosswalk at a dangerous intersection when city staff failed to do the job, to Matt Tomasulo who created simple wayfinding signs to encourage people to actively rediscover their city.
Getting it done: Lou Catelli painting a crosswalk in Baltimore; Matt Tomasulo’s wayfinding signs in Raleigh.
In particular, understanding how to exploit loopholes in the web of planning regulations is a great skill to have in one’s pocket: from feeding the meter to roll out a temporary park in a parking space, to using a catch-all special events permit for “build a better block” programming, there are a surprising number of instances in which seemingly hard-and-fast rules can be reinterpreted, at least in the short term. Another takeaway message that seems obvious but may be underappreciated is the value of developing allies in city staff by getting them on board early in the process by documenting successes, including community buy-in. If staff perceive value in what you’re doing, they’re that much more likely to put pressure in their departments to make the big policy changes that can facilitate and even mandate what you’re championing.
Throughout the book, the authors encourage the reader to reconsider in-between spaces that often do not fit into traditional land-use planning. One shining example is an Orlando community group’s efforts to activate a strip mall parking lot by setting up a temporary night market: the Audubon Park Community Market. The market was so successful—thanks to buy-in from residents and nearby business owners—that the organizers have now opened a brick-and-mortar market two blocks away. This probably would not have been possible had they not demonstrated the demand for and benefits of a temporary community market. If a group of engaged residents can transform one of the least people-friendly places—the surface parking lot—into two thriving markets, I’d say we have a lot to be excited about for the future of city-building.
While it is the individual stories of citizen-led action that bring the book to life, the authors also provide context to these stories by tracing the evolution of five broad categories of tactical urbanism: Intersection Repair, Guerilla Wayfinding, Build a Better Block, Parkmaking, and Pavements to Plazas. These in-depth explorations trace the origins of each approach while sharing resources that readers can draw from along the way. For example, understanding the genesis of now-iconic programs such as New York City’s Pavements to Plazas (see: Times Square, Park Ave, and many more) highlights how far the idea of people-centric planning has come in a short time period—and what we can look forward to as these ideas become championed by municipal leaders such as the formidable Janette Sadik-Khan (check out her TEDTalk: NYC’s Streets Are No So Mean Anymore). One aspect of the book that folks with great ideas but limited resources will appreciate is that often the best interventions are simple, and start on a small scale. Daniel Burnham famously proclaimed “Make no little plans; they have no magic to stir men’s blood…”; rather, Lydon and Garcia posit that it is by testing new approaches in small ways that we create the kind of bigger shifts we’re yearning for in cities.
In addition to contextualizing tactical urbanism as a whole, the book brings in a bit of history: while the term is new to the city-building lexicon, the concept dates back more than a century, when city dwellers faced many of the same concerns that pervade discussions about cities today. For example, I didn’t know that Open Streets (championed in Canada by organizations like 8-80 Cities) can be traced back to Safe Streets for Play movements in New York in the early 1900s. It is inspiring to witness the progression of this simple idea—turning streets from car-centric transportation corridors to paved parks for all—that is now being embraced by diverse communities (see: Bogota’s Ciclovía, LA’s CicLAvia, Austin’s Viva Streets, Ottawa’s Sunday Bikedays, and many more). It’s a prime example of tactical urbanism because it starts with a simple action: replacing spaces for cars with spaces for people—and over time has become embraced by municipal planners (although perhaps not yet traffic engineers). Other fun historical tidbits: the bouquinistes along Paris’ Seine as early examples of unsanctioned commerce; Sears’ pre-fab, mail order houses as a basis for today’s shipping container architecture; bookmobiles as informing mobile services before city infrastructure is put in place
An early Bookmobile in New York City.
I would recommend this book to both world-weary city planners seeking to be re-inspired to improve public spaces and the next generation of municipal “intrapreneurs” who are driven to catalyze big changes—as well as folks working on the ground in their communities seeking guidance on strategic and logistical matters. While many of the examples may be familiar to anyone interested in urbanism, I certainly found a few new ideas that sparked further research. Plus, the “how-to” parts of the book ensure that you’re not trying to reinvent the wheel: the wonderful thing about tactical urbanism is that it’s open-source by nature, so learning from others’ successes and drawbacks is part of the process.
If you don’t have time to read the whole book, I would recommend spending an hour with the last two chapters. I guarantee you’ll come out with a practical idea or two on improving your own neighbourhood through tactical urbanism—while avoiding getting caught behind a wall of red tape.
Postscript: Are you keen to get you own tactical urbanism project a try? 100in1 Day is a good way to get started. It’s a global festival of civic engagement, designed to embrace our power as urban citizens by spending one day of the year testing out small urban interventions to ultimately improve one’s city. These can range from activities, to education, to installations that temporarily change the built environment. In 2015, 100in1 Day happened on June 6 in four Canadian cities. Check out the 100+ urban interventions that happened in Halifax (Nova Scotia), Hamilton (Ontario), Toronto (Ontario), and Vancouver (British Columbia).
Cities for People also hosted a webinar on 100in1 Day and Active Citizenship featuring Juan Carlos Londono and Cédric Jamet, two Montrealers who launched the 100in1Day movement in Canada. You can watch it here.
Which American president administration of the last century has the strongest record on preserving the environment and natural beauty? Presidents Theodore or Franklin Roosevelt, who created the National Wildlife Refuge System (protecting 230 million acres) and established the Civilian Conservation Corps, putting 2.5 million people to work building trails and planting trees, respectively? President Kennedy, who created the Cape Cod National Seashore? President Nixon, who signed the Clean Air Act and created the EPA? President Obama, who has led international efforts to address climate change?
Or was it the president who hosted a White House Conference on Natural Beauty, and spoke stirringly on the importance of a clean environment in his first State of the Union message?
In fact, the U.S. president with the strongest environmental track record (particularly focused on land conservation and the protection of natural beauty) is President Lyndon B. Johnson, who—alongside his activist first lady, Lady Bird Johnson—signed more than 300 conservation measures into law, establishing the legal foundations for how we protect the nation’s land, water and air.
What would President and Mrs. Johnson think now, as partisan politics and fringe political movements in the U.S. work to strip environmental legislation of its power?
Growing up in the 1960s, I found President Johnson to be a larger-than-life figure. Unfortunately, I associated him primarily with the start and the growth of the Vietnam War, a quagmire which grew deeper throughout his administration. But recently, and particularly with the 50th anniversary of his signing of the Highway Beautification Act (known derisively at first as “Lady Bird’s Law”) on October 22, my appreciation for the environmental legacy of President and first lady Johnson has deepened.
President Johnson signing the Highway Beautification Act. Image: White House Photo Office Collection
Lyndon Baines Johnson, or LBJ, was vice president under President John F. Kennedy, following a long career in Texas state politics and both houses of the U.S. Congress. He became president after Kennedy was assassinated on Nov. 22, 1963. He, his wife and two daughters moved into the White House soon thereafter, and he was elected president in November 1964.
President Johnson’s wife, born Claudia Alta Taylor in 1912 and nicknamed “Lady Bird” by her nanny, had spent much of her childhood in the meadows and woodlands of Karnack, Texas. She attended and graduated from both St. Mary’s College at Dallas and the University of Texas at Austin. She and the future president met and were married in 1934.
There is a lot of speculation as to why President and Lady Bird Johnson were so keenly interested in the environment and natural beauty; some think it is rooted in Mrs. Johnson’s loss of her mother at a very young age, after which she found solace in the flowers and plants around her childhood home. President Johnson—who led the passage of groundbreaking civil rights legislation and many other significant domestic policy acts of the “Great Society”—fully acknowledged his wife’s role as instigator of, and inspiration and advocate for much of his environmental legislation.
President Johnson’s environmental track record was established early. Just one year after being sworn in as president aboard Air Force One, he conveyed a strong and prescient philosophy towards the importance of a clean and improved environment in his State of the Union Address, in January 1965:
The Beauty of America
“For over three centuries the beauty of America has sustained our spirit and has enlarged our vision. We must act now to protect this heritage. In a fruitful new partnership with the States and the cities the next decade should be a conservation milestone. We must make a massive effort to save the countryside and to establish—as a green legacy for tomorrow—more large and small parks, more seashores and open spaces than have been created during any other period in our national history. A new and substantial effort must be made to landscape highways to provide places of relaxation and recreation wherever our roads run.
Within our cities imaginative programs are needed to landscape streets and to transform open areas into places of beauty and recreation.
We will seek legal power to prevent pollution of our air and water before it happens. We will step up our effort to control harmful wastes, giving first priority to the cleanup of our most contaminated rivers. We will increase research to learn much more about the control of pollution.
We hope to make the Potomac a model of beauty here in the Capital, and preserve unspoiled stretches of some of our waterways with a Wild Rivers bill.
More ideas for a beautiful America will emerge from a White House Conference on Natural Beauty which I will soon call.”
Less than two months later, at the urging of his wife and aides—including Nash Castro, White House liaison and deputy regional director of the National Capital Parks for the National Park Service—President Johnson and volunteer Chairman, Laurance S. Rockefeller, convened an unprecedented and never-imitated “White House Conference on Natural Beauty.” More than 800 people attended the two-day conference, held in late May. Castro, now 96, remembers the conference was so large they planned to hold it on the White House South Lawn. However, as Castro recalled in a recent phone interview, “the heavens opened up and we had to squeeze 800 people indoors—President Johnson stood at the door like a shepherd, herding the guests, saying ‘Come on in—hurry up.’ ”
Recently, the nonprofit organization Scenic America hosted a two-day event in Washington, heralding the accomplishments of Lyndon and Lady Bird Johnson and Laurance Rockefeller. In a draft report (discussed below), they note “The Governors of 35 states subsequently [to the 1965 White House Conference] convened statewide natural beauty conferences. A wave of citizen action followed, dedicated to neighborhood improvement, protection of the countryside and preservation of historic sites.”
The conference was both preceded by and paved the way for many legislative and executive accomplishments, foremost among them the Highway Beautification Act, the Land and Water Conservation Fund (which uses offshore oil and gas leases instead of taxes as a funding source), the Clean Water Act, the Wilderness Act, the Endangered Species Act, the Wild and Scenic Rivers Act and many more, including the creation of 47 new national parks.
Lady Bird Johnson first became known for the beautification of Washington via the Committee for a More Beautiful Capital, which she formed in 1964 with the help of philanthropist Mary Lasker; Washington Post publisher Katherine Graham; philanthropist Brooke Astor; Assistant Secretary of State Kathleen Louchheim; architects Nathaniel Owings and Edward Durell Stone; Laurance S.Rockefeller and other donors. Castro can still recite the precise accomplishments: I million daffodils planted throughout the city; 10,000 azaleas planted on Pennsylvania Ave; 1,000 dogwoods and a large portion of the cherry trees on Hains Point (part of a total of 3,800 cherry trees planted by 1965, which compose the annual, festive cherry blossom splendor for which the capitol is now known).
Lady Bird Johnson and two young people standing among blooming white azaleas. Image: LBJ Library/ Robert Knudsen
Lady Bird Johnson plants pansies as Sec. Stewart Udall and others look on. Image: LBJ Library/ Robert Knudsen
Lady Bird Johnson’s best-known accomplishment may be the Highway Beautification Act, a piece of legislation her husband fought for and which was mockingly referred to by Senator Bob Dole as “Lady Bird’s Law.” Castro and others recall how President Johnson promised a dinner and reception at the State Department, featuring a cameo from actor Fredric March. Despite Republican objections, the bill was finally passed, and the Congress got their promised reception very late at night.
Beyond the Washington political intrigue and drama worthy of a “House of Cards” episode, the Highway Beautification Act, though watered down somewhat by the billboard industry, led to the control of outdoor advertising, the removal of certain types of signs along the interstate highways, and the removal or screening of junkyards. It also encouraged scenic enhancement, which led to the requirement that a certain percentage of federal funds on highway projects be used for planting native flowers, plants and trees. Never resting on her laurels (or her azaleas), Mrs. Johnson made forays out to the national parks across the country on at least 11 separate trips, often with Castro and the media in tow, calling attention to the need to conserve, protect and enhance natural beauty.
Lady Bird Johnson dedicates California’s Highway 1 as the country’s first scenic highway. Image: LBJ Library/ Robert Knudsen
What drove Lady Bird Johnson in her mission to beautify an entire nation, from hardscrabble inner-city neighborhoods to vast national parks and highway systems?
Warrie Price, a very close family friend to the Johnson family (and roommate to first daughter, Lynda Johnson Robb, while they were freshmen at the University of Texas), recalls that natural beauty and plant life was “part of [Lady Bird Johnson’s] DNA as a child in Karnack…Outdoor life was her companion, partner, best friend.” According to Price, the “tragic ascension“ to the White House “put [Lady Bird Johnson] in a place where she decided that she would be a ‘doer’ nationally.” (Interestingly, Price herself went on to move to New York City from her home in San Antonio, where she also became a “doer” and led the creation of The Battery Conservancy, whose features include a spectacular perennial wild garden. Fellow San Antonians Elizabeth Barlow Rogers and Robert Hammond would create the Central Park Conservancy and Friends of the High Line—both urban repositories of great natural beauty—respectively. This prompts one to ask: What was in the water in San Antonio?
At the conclusion of the Johnson administration in 1968, the president presented his wife with a plaque adorned with 50 pens used to sign 50 laws related to natural beauty and conservation, and inscribed: “To Lady Bird, who has inspired me and millions of Americans to try to preserve our land and beautify our nation. With Love from Lyndon.”
After leaving the White House, Mrs. Johnson focused on Texas, leading the creation of a 10-mile trail around Town Lake in Austin (later renamed Lady Bird Lake) and promoting the beautification of Texas highways by awarding prizes for the best use of native Texas plants to enhance scenery. Her culminating action on behalf of nature was the creation of the National Wildflower Research Center in 1982, the year she turned 70. The Center, later moved to a new location in the Hill Country southwest of Austin, opened in 1995 as the Lady Bird Johnson Wildflower Center. The world-renowned organization, now spread across more than 279 acres, has more than 700 plant species on display and provides programs for adults and children. Alongside the American Society of Landscape Architects, the center also played a lead role in the development of the “Sustainable Sites” program, a rating system for sustainable landscape design similar to LEED for architecture.
So what would President and Mrs. Johnson think now, as partisan politics and fringe political movements work to strip environmental legislation of its power, to sell off federal lands for profit and exploitation, and to hold hostage the renewal of the Land and Water Conservation Fund, which expired in September 2015 due to Congressional inaction?
Happily and hopefully, the environmental legacy and passion for public-private partnerships between citizens and government continues to inspire citizens and nonprofit groups. On the occasion of the 50th anniversary of both the White House Conference on Natural Beauty and the Highway Beautification Act, Scenic America convened a conference and is working on a plan whose recommendations include increasing funding for the Land and Water Conservation Fund; establishing a national inventory of parks and open spaces; restoring the defunct National Scenic Byways Program; undergrounding overhead wires; and enacting federal and state legislation to prohibit the removal of trees to increase billboard visibility, among many conservation-oriented action plans. Other major groups, including The Trust for Public Land and The Nature Conservancy, are working as a coalition to press Congress to reauthorize and fully fund the Land and Water Conservation Fund. And as we all travel on highways and enjoy beautiful views of fields of wildflowers, we can remember with appreciation a White House that cared passionately about native plants, vibrant parks, a clean and healthy environment, and the values of natural beauty.
Before and after tree cutting on Interstate 95 in Jacksonville, Fla. Image: Scenic America
Billboards along an otherwise scenic I-85 in Georgia allowed because of a nearby business. Image: Scenic America
In the United States of America cities have long been gateways to opportunity. For centuries, people from all over the country and the world, including my own grandparents, came to our cities chasing the promise of a better life. America’s bargain with its citizens, rich and poor was, in many ways, a model for the world.
A new civic infrastructure, impact investing and civic engagement will drive change. But ultimately, leaders must have the motivation to build resilient structures, practices and solutions to sustain it.
Today, U.S. cities produce 85 percent of the nation’s GDP, are home to more than 50 percent of the population, and spend billions of dollars annually to educate, house and protect their citizens. Meanwhile, American cities are undergoing a major demographic shift. By 2040, America will be a majority-minority nation. And, events in Ferguson and Baltimore have underscored the destructive nature of existing disparities of income, education and opportunity between whites and non-whites.
Addressing these disparities is one of the key social issues of our time. But our current trajectory is too slow, obsessed with short-term wins and incrementalism, where leaders are constantly reinventing the wheel instead of building on the work of those who came before them. We celebrate improvements in one school on one block while tiptoeing around the fact that it is the entire system that needs fixing. We tell heartwarming stories about 100 kids served or 100 young adults placed in good jobs while averting our eyes from the millions more who remain disconnected from opportunity. We talk about how far we have come since the civil rights movement, but are uncomfortable with discussing how far we still must go to achieve true racial equity. Unless we ferociously change course, the new American majority will be less educated, less prosperous and less free.
In this new urban practice, local leaders will need to come together to build a new, more resilient and sustainable civic infrastructure that is focused on getting results. In many places, like Cleveland and other older industrial cities, the old civic infrastructure disappeared when Fortune 500 companies moved away. Today, public, private, philanthropic and nonprofit leaders are distributing the leadership needed for change so their efforts can survive inevitable turnover and drive large-scale results.
There is no better example of this dynamic than Detroit. With the government in disarray, local philanthropic organizations and business leaders have shared the leadership for more than a decade, making investments that now position the city to take advantage of its fresh start. For example, The Kresge Foundation was the first investor in the city’s new public light rail line with a grant of $35 million. Quicken Loan’s Dan Gilbert has invested $1 billion of his own money in downtown Detroit and moved 7,000 employees there.
However, one of the most exciting emerging movements around the U.S. is around municipal innovation. From the Offices of New Urban Mechanics in Boston and Philadelphia and the rise of Innovation Teams in the U.S. and Israel, to the racial equity work spearheaded by the City of Seattle, local government is changing the way it works, looking at issues through a racial lens and adopting innovative practices, so that its institutions not only contribute to a new civic infrastructure but its money gets better results for low income people. For example, Boston’s Citizens Connect, a maintenance-request app for reporting problems from broken windows to potholes, has been downloaded tens of thousands of times and been replicated in more than 20 countries. Its Discover BPS product is a Boston public school search engine that helps low income parents understand where their children are eligible to go to school.
Better Harness the Impact Investor
There is an emerging, global movement around impact investing. From what we know so far, impact investors look much like the charitable giver—they want their dollars to make a difference. They invest in what they’re passionate about and privilege investing in places, like their hometowns or other communities they feel a connection with. To date, a majority of impact investing dollars have gone to the developing world. Now, as more and more people look to cities as units of change, we need to give investors reason to believe there are investable opportunities in U.S. cities. And leaders must come together and create mechanisms for those dollars to land in cities and communities that need them the most.
Luckily, an exciting amount of place-based investment opportunities and approaches have emerged over the past few years, including pay for success, crowd-funding, peer-to-peer lending and locally funded venture capital. For example, Living Cities and other private and philanthropic funders have invested $27 billion in the Massachusetts Juvenile Justice Social Innovation Financing (SIF) Project, a pay for success initiative. The effort focuses on reducing recidivism and increasing employment for more than 1,000 at-risk, formerly incarcerated young men in the three Massachusettes cities: Boston, Chelsea and Springfield. As private investors, we assume the risk by financing the services up front, getting repaid only if agreed-upon measurable social impacts are achieved. In exchange for taking the risk, the investors receive a financial return. This means that precious government resources are spent only in the event of proven success and government savings.
Institutions like Living Cities and others committed to building this field must figure out how to promote, aggregate and form these options into market so people can more easily invest in the local context. We need to accelerate their growth everywhere.
Civic engagement with a focus on technology
America has long had a unique brand of civic participation—a combination of individual commitment and group action. Unfortunately, trends over the past few decades show that both are in decline. The 2014 midterm election had an individual voter turnout of 36 percent—the lowest in any election cycle since World War II.
Encouragingly, the work we are actively engaged in at Living Cities is providing us with evidence of a nation that is actively confronting these trends. Now, we have the opportunity to once again be a model for the rest of the world. We must embrace civic engagement not just as a ‘town-hall,’ but as a tool for cities to co-create solutions with their residents. We must use all the power of modern technologies to engage people and communities who have been historically left out of the processes.
We’ve already seen this idea taking seed in New York City, where a participatory budgeting experiment that began in 2011 with four Council Districts has now grown to 24 Districts. The city harnessed digital technologies to open budgeting decisions to community members. “So far, I love feeling like we have some say in what is done,” said Maggie Tobin, a participant from Kensington, Brooklyn, in Council District 39, to the New York Times. But as the ideas pass to the city agencies involved, she said, “I find myself already being distrustful.” The process has resulted in better budgeting decisions and arguably better results. In addition, more people of color turned out to vote, and Hispanics, in particular, voted at twice the usual rate. More needs to be done to ensure that those who participate, like Maggie Tobin, have faith that the process will result in meaningful change.
Ultimately just cities are built when leaders are committed to justice as a fundamental, long-term priority. As former Bogota, Colombia Mayor Antans Mockus recently said, “Change isn’t the biggest political challenge, sustaining it is.” Change happens when leaders decide they want to make it happen. I have made that commitment as the leader of Living Cities. I am also committed to supporting public and private leaders to do the same nationwide. These three elements—a new civic infrastructure, impact investing and civic engagement—will drive that change. But ultimately, leaders must have the motivation to build resilient structures, practices and solutions to sustain it. Only then will we have built a just city.
Sweden, especially its capital, Stockholm, is a very famous “green” city. Indeed, Stockholm’s green infrastructure wedges system is one of the most recognized and cited around the world because of the significant ecosystem services that it provides and because it acts as a source of natural biodiversity for an urban environment. These wedges are remnants of old royal and nobility’s parks and forests. Stockholm was also an initiator of the world’s first Urban National Park (27km2 in size).
Changing people’s attitudes towards “real nature” requires understanding “designed nature’s” historic precedents.
However, “ordinary” urban landscapes in Stockholm and other Swedish cities were created during the era of the multifamily “People’s Home” (1940-1959) movement and the “Million Program” (1960s- mid-1970s) later in the end of the 20th century, and employed quite a simple model for urban green development. A global, modernistic, prefabricated design was based on intensively managed lawns (as a major “matrix” of neighborhood green “canvas”) with some scattered trees and decorative shrubs and perennials (see photos below). There is a sharp edge between ”real nature” and this “designed nature”. By “real nature”, we mean native ecosystems (for example forests or grasslands) that developed as the result of natural processes, with no or limited human intervention.
The domination of prefabricated design in Swedish multifamily houses: canvasses of lawn with some scattered trees and decorative shrubs and perennials. Million Programme Holma, Malmö and People’s Home area Tunabackar in Uppsala. Photos: Maria Ignatieva
The tidiness and clear visibility of management are the main pillars of today’s vision of urban green areas in the majority of Swedish cities. Why are the most artificial, expensive resources and energy-consuming elements, such as lawns (or groups of trimmed exotic decorative shrubs) understood as real, truly “green”, and, ultimately, a substitute for the real nature?
One of the solutions for returning real nature to our urban neighborhood is creating a new landscape architecture style—which I call biodiversinesque—which will employ biodiversity and natural processes as major design tools that will make nature-based solutions clearly visible for urban citizens. Since lawns cover the most significant parts of urban green areas, searching for an alternative lawn is very timely.
In our ongoing transdisciplinary project “Lawn as an ecological and cultural phenomenon: searching for sustainable lawns in Sweden” we found that 51.8 percent of total urban green areas in Swedish cities are covered by lawns. Lawns are both a source and a sink for greenhouse gases. Based on our research, we concluded that grass mowing was the main contributor to greenhouse gases from most lawns. Reduced mowing frequency and the use of electrified machinery can lessen the carbon footprint of lawns.
We found out that majority of people love lawns and see them as a “must have” trivial element of green areas. However, even with this attachment to conventional lawns, a high number of dwellers would like to see more biodiverse meadows in their neighborhoods.
Swedish municipalities are also quite cost-conscious; therefore, they are open to alternatives to traditional lawns.
In the spring-summer of 2016, we established several alternative, experimental types of lawns in Ultuna Campus, Uppsala (Swedish University of Agricultural Sciences) and in Sundbyberg public park at the request of Sundbyberg Municipality (see photo below). We found inspiration for Swedish alternative solutions in rethinking and re-evaluating the history of the Lawn within a Western vision of the relationship between Man and Nature. The answer to how we can change people’s attitude towards the acceptance of “real nature” can also be found within its historic precedents.
Alternative lawn in Sundbyberg Park, Stockholm, July 2016. Photo: Maria Ignatieva
In Ancient Greek culture, nature had a very rich inner life animated by the spirits of the mountains and valleys, lakes and streams. Nymphs of flowers—anthousai—and nymphs of trees—dryads—inhabited forests and meadows. Architectural monuments and houses were included in surrounding landscapes and there were not too many disturbances to nature. People admired flowers in natural grasslands and forests. There were no gardens as they exist today. Education and exercises took place in sacred groves and valleys.
Pragmatic Romans completely changed attitudes to nature. Now, the World of Nature and the World of Gods had become separate spheres. From this particular moment, the predominantly materialistic view of the natural world developed in Western society. It was the starting point of a growing detachment from nature and “Withdrawal of spirits from human awareness”. Nature was seen as something “out there” to be viewed and exploited by human technological power. Roman poet Publius Papinius Statius (45-96 AD) expressed a pretty clear departure from nature when he started to associate “wild” with “unlovely” (Naydler 2006). Since Roman times, the concept of beauty has been linked with the concept of the human “taming” (training) of nature and human aesthetic control. In this sense, topiary—the art of clipping plants—introduced by the Romans is the finest concept of human ownership of nature. Through the practice of topiary, plants were made “faceless” and, inevitably, lost their spiritual essence (see photo). Roman gardens became specially arranged places for human well-being and pleasure, and reinforced human power over the natural world. Such a turn mirrored Roman culture’s basis on slavery and the master-slave relationship, which also extended to human dealings with the natural world. Even if there is no direct evidence that lawns were used in Roman gardens, ideologically, lawns—artificially created elements which need a tremendous amount of maintenance—could fit into Roman culture extremely well.
Topiary art is the finest example of human ownership of nature. Parterre in Isola Bella, Italy. Photo: Maria Ignatieva
Most researchers believe that the lawn, as a purely decorative, artificially-created plant community based on grass species (namely, a “velvet green carpet”), first appeared in medieval gardens. Green grass strips were used in small amounts (in turf benches and some pathways). Medieval enclosed formal gardens symbolized God’s soul triumphing over Nature (since gardens were created by humans, which are themselves created in God’s image). However, medieval people still felt that nature was an alive phenomenon full of spirits. Virgin Mary, the spiritual patron of every medieval garden, was interchangeable with Lady Natura. That is why flowery meadows were quite a common feature at that time. In this case, freely flowering meadows (which were also available in nearby nature) were not about control, but about the enhancement of natural beauty in a religious direction (each plant was symbolic and connected to the Bible). This particular period of medieval flowering meads came to be an inspiration for modern, grass-free (tapestry) lawns. This concept of lawns, comprising specific, mowing-tolerant, low-growing plants instead of grass, was introduced by Lionel Smith in the U.K. at the beginning of the 21st century.
Flowery meadows were quite a common feature in medieval gardens. “The Virgin Seated on a Low Wall Picking a Flower for the Christ Child, Saint Agnes, Saint Dorothea, and another female saint (possibly Saint Barbara) in an Enclosed Garden Beyond, an Extensive River Landscape with a City in the Distance,” by the Master of the Tiburtine Sibyl, oil on panel. Dated 1468.
The subsequent history of a Western vision of Nature continued the Roman’s concept of human ownership over nature. In the Renaissance, a garden displayed the classical culture of its owner and demonstrated human sovereignty over nature. In baroque formal gardens, lawns (decorative parterres), which departed from nature even further, started to be one of the essential features. Regularly cut green carpets emerged as perfect elements to serve human desire and express aesthetic ideals. From this particular point of view, green areas started to become the province of architects and were designed on drawing boards.
Interestingly enough, the modern vision of a global landscape is based on a Picturesque convention of using extended pastureland and lawns, which seemed so close to nature. However, this vision was mistaken for ecological quality, and this conception of an “ideal” landscape was accepted as a “real nature”, first in England and, later, in the rest of the world (e.g. Stowe Park). It is not surprising that modernistic urban landscapes follow this Western vision of Nature as something distant from people, and accept that it is a “right” attitude to create and design this “lovely” nature subservient to humans.
The results of the social studies of our LAWN Project in Swedish multifamily housing areas were not so different from U.K. or U.S. social studies’ findings in private gardens. People become attached to conventional lawns over generations, as they grow up amongst “designed” nature. Three alternative versions of lawns (grass-free lawn, a meadow-like lawn surrounded by mown strips (“cues to care”), and flowering annual pictorial meadows) received a range of opinions. For example, in some neighborhoods, grass-free lawns were considered very attractive. However, people stated that they were afraid of walking on such lawns because they worried about destroying nice flowers. Swedish stakeholders of multifamily housing areas advised placing meadow-like lawns in the periphery of housing areas. Meadows framed by mown lawns received quite a few positive responses.
Stowe Park: the English picturesque “ideal” landscape was accepted as “real nature”. Photo: Maria Ignatieva
Our vision of alternative lawns for Sweden was inspired by old, traditional Lövangar—trees within the meadow. Even though Sweden still has a significant number of native ecosystems, the amount of grasslands (natural and semi-natural) has dramatically declined. Our vision of alternative lawns is to create biodiverse, aesthetically pleasing, and cost-effective plant communities based on the diverse native Swedish flora. Such biodiverse lawns can help to return real nature into the urban environment. We work closely with the Swedish firm Pratensis—a pioneer in the conservation of natural Swedish grasslands that is promoting the use of biodiverse alternative solutions for lawns. The firm collects seeds only from natural plant communities within different parts of Sweden. Pratensis is grounded in local plants that are extremely cost-efficient and suitable for our northern climate. Our suggestions for biodiverse meadow-alternatives to lawns correspond to the character of meager Nordic nature, with its modest color and texture (see photo below). Such meadows were used and seen as beautiful by many Swedish generations of peasants and also in the 1930s by dwellers of Stockholm’s functionalist landscape school, which used meadows instead of lawns.
Meadows from Swedish native plants created from Pratensis seed mixture in the municipal park in Växjö. Photo courtesy of Maria Ignatieva
Our vision of creating meadows with only native plants contrasts with modern British and U.S. approaches of promoting a more “pictorial” aesthetic for alternative plantings. The British and U.S. argument asserts that modern people will accept naturalistic plantings in urban environments only if they have more color and texture (for example, by planting exotic flowering plants from prairies or Asian grasslands). It is clear to me that this is very much a continuation fo the Western trend and vision of “taming” nature, of creating “improved” and “lovely” nature. Such a vision insists on the inability of modern man to love unvarnished nature, with its weeds and untidiness. Why not to try to find a solution wherein people appreciate nature as it is? In its “wild” originality?
The question which needs to be decided in the nearest future is: How can we design “wild” nature in urban environments? How can we teach urban dwellers without special knowledge to appreciate “wild” plant communities next to their houses, and not to be afraid of them—that they can experience grass-free lawns by stepping or sitting on them?
Grass-free lawn in SLU, Ultuna Campus Demonstration Trial. Photo courtesy of Maria Ignatieva
Results of our LAWN project social surveys have shown that people are tired of the monotonous lawns that surround them. Actually, people are ready for variety in green areas. We believe that our new types of alternative lawns, based on native plants and models of plant arrangements which mimic native plant communities, can be one of the types of “designed real nature” in urban environments. Why not suggest, at the level of neighborhood design, to arrange different solutions that include conventional lawns (recreational and sport field) and different ranges of “mixed nature”, such as “cues to care” (combinations of meadow-like lawns framed by regularly cut lawns), as well as “designed real nature”, such as grass-free lawns, and biodiverse meadows?
Suggestion for variety of alternative lawns in one of neighborhoods in Göteorg. Design: U. Bergbrant and S. Andersson
The most important part of this new paradigm’s development for designing urban “real nature” is experimentation and trying new solutions to ascertain what is suitable for each country and even for a particular neighborhood.
Grass free lawn (tapestry lawn) with 29 native plants at SLU Campus experimental site in Ultuna, Uppsala. Photo: Maria Ignatieva
Meadow bench in SLU Campus, Ultuna Photo: Maria Ignatieva
A review ofPlanning for Community Resilience: A Handbook for Reducing Vulnerability to Disasters, by Jamie Hicks Masterson, Walter Gillis Peacock, Shannon S. Van Zandt, Himanshu Grover, Lori Felid Schwarz, and John T. Cooper Jr. 2014. ISBN: 9781610915854. Island Press, Washington. 256 pages. Buy the book.
Resilience certainly is the buzzword of our time, symptomatic of an era of greater uncertainty and risk, and more regular shocks and crises. But as some commentators argue, the more or less universal uptake of resilience is itself a way of framing challenges that fits with a neoliberal agenda—placing the burden of action on individuals, households, and communities, while deflecting attention from the systemic failings of states and markets that are contributing to emerging vulnerabilities and risks. It is in this context that guidebooks about how to operate at the community level need to be considered.
An engaged process, as outlined in this book, could be a catalyst for a type of planning that addresses some of the core systemic (and political) concerns that resilience building tends to neglect.
Guides, toolkits, and toolboxes proliferate. There is clearly a need. It’s often difficult to know what, exactly, resilience means. Indeed, there have been a number of campaigns recently to encourage people to explain, in their own terms, what resilience means to them. There is a danger here that resilience will come to mean all things to all people and, as such, that it means everything and nothing. There are several attempts now available to guide us through building resilience, with much of this focused on the level of community.
Here, two powerful buzzwords—resilience and community—come together, yet often with little critical reflection. Both words combine an everyday meaning with positive connotations, as well as a more technical meaning from social and ecological theory. When they enter the realm of public policy, they can support a whole range of (sometimes) unexpected policy narratives; both resilience and community are often associated with narratives of standing on one’s own feet, of being stoical in the face of shocks and crises. As such, they, can deflect attention from the very causes of crisis, and the need for more transformative—often political—change, and the role of the state in providing support.
Community resilience building opens a conceptual and discursive quagmire; there is clearly a need for how to steer some meaningful action. Working one’s way through the maze of resilience theory, discourse, and practice is a challenge—perhaps there is a need for a guidebook to the guidebooks. Each set of tools seems designed to offer a unique perspective, with innovative approaches that mark them out from others that are available. But it is often unclear whether what is being proposed is anything new.
With the proliferation of climate related shocks and crises, building resilience in the face of shocks and crises surely is a good thing, and any contribution to helping us make sense of what this might mean and how it might be achieved is certainly welcome. Planning for Community Resilience: A Handbook for Reducing Disasters is a comprehensive book, which is quite an achievement in less than 200 pages.
The book begins with a compelling explanation of the emerging threat, pulling no punches with the introductory chapter: “The Era of Catastrophes.” It then outlines an overall approach to resilience preparedness, a seven-step process that forms the structure of the book itself: Organize; Connect; Assess; Envision; Prioritize; Implement; Monitor, Evaluate; and Update. This is the basis of the substance of the book, with a series of exercises that are intended to guide planners, citizens, researchers, and other concerned stakeholders through a community-scale resilience building process. Part of the motivation here appears to be to overcome current disaster management practices that emphasize structural infrastructure solutions over soft solutions that might focus on ecological responses, or those that address underlying planning weaknesses.
Yet the book is also based on extensive research and analysis, and a thorough post-mortem of disasters, particularly the experience of Galveston, Texas. Presenting such research insights in an accessible how-to guidebook poses a difficult balance to strike, with the risk that the expectations of two very different readerships might not be met.
For me, reading Planning for Community Resilience: A Handbook for Reducing Disasters has been something of a journey to another world. Sitting in one of Asia’s mega-cities as we are about to approach a drought, only a few years after devastating floods, the book provided insight into a planning context in which actual planning appears to occur; where legislation operates with land use planning, zoning, and building codes; where communities have access to public finance, with rights and the capacity to organize; and where there is a degree of accountability and transparency. I couldn’t help but marvel at the differences, while also wondering about the applicability of the handbook for other parts of the world, outside of the United States.
This is clearly unfair. The handbook targets a part of the world I know little about. But nonetheless, I found myself wondering how more marginalized, poorer communities, and local authorities with limited capacity and financial resources, might begin a process of community resilience building, while also facing other demands and pressures. In some ways, the handbook is too comprehensive—it makes the task seem overwhelming, in a way that is all too familiar. With so much to do, so much detailed analysis, mapping, and consultation, where would one begin? Are there shortcuts, or stripped down approaches that could be applied and modified?
Throughout the book, the emphasis is on building a process of public engagement as the basis for community resilience. Such an emphasis is very much welcome. The authors highlight the importance of public participation and inclusive processes, while also pointing to the necessity of understanding and planning around community dynamics and differentiation. Too much of resilience writing presents it as a rather managerial, technical exercise for experts often overlooking the need to make choices, each with winners and losers. It is less common to find such insights into how to bridge the technical dimensions with a process that can mobilize stakeholders, and put the choices in the public domain.
They do so by introducing concepts of assets and capabilities, drawing on the sustainable livelihoods literature that is probably more familiar to the development and humanitarian world than to urban planners. This is welcome. Going back to established concepts grounded in the political economy of vulnerability that have often been neglected in the sphere of resilience takes some of the burden off resilience theory, which is notoriously weak at addressing issues of power. Rather than mold resilience to something for which it is not designed, it makes more sense to complement resilience theory with such approaches as sustainable livelihoods. Framing the book in this way allows the authors to ‘pull together the pieces,’ including the social, ecological, political, and institutional dimensions, of community resilience. The authors have done an impressive job of assembling a great deal of material from different disciplines. It is rare to come across planners presenting a handbook that also talks about issues of power and participation, critical—but often overlooked—elements of community engagement and action.
Early on, the authors delve into explaining what resilience is. However, this is balanced by being largely based on an array of definitions, with an interesting set of boxes spread over several pages offering definitions from different authors and disciplines. This provides a useful resource for students of resilience, but it is not clear what the value of the boxes is within the overall purpose of the handbook. As important as it is to define resilience as a term, greater effort is needed in laying out the theory of resilience. There is an intellectual history to resilience thinking that tends to be neglected in favor of attempts to capture its richness in simple definitions. Fortunately, the authors then point to some of the risks of applying these kinds of definitions to what they term ‘social systems,’ because there may well be something so fundamentally wrong with the ‘system’ itself, that building resilience really requires transformation of that system. For a handbook on community resilience, this is an important argument, but one that has obvious dimensions of politics, power, rights, and justice.
In addition to discussing definitions of resilience, the book would have benefited from outlining some of the key concepts of resilience theory and how they might be applied to community-scale actions. For example the book would have benefited from a deeper discussion of core urban systems—water, food, energy, transport, waste—and an explanation of critical theory, which underscores the dependence cities on infrastructure and technology; issues of interconnected and interlinked dependencies; cascading impacts of shocks and crises beyond location; and the increasingly complex institutional arrangements that these require. Similarly, including information about the characteristics of resilience, such as safe-failure, redundancy, and diversity might have helped structure some of the later sections of the book. It is in this area of characteristics of resilience that much of what is new about resilience theory becomes more meaningful, providing insight into what it would mean to reimagine and reshape urban systems around managing potential failure as a result of shocks and crises; rather than managing around unrealistic hopes for fail-safe urban systems.
The meat of the handbook takes the reader through a lengthy step-by-step journey of planning. There is a huge amount of information guiding us through each step, interspersed with tables, photographs, and graphics to make it more accessible. This is a thorough section but requires some patience to work one’s way through. It details a method that is enormously data-intensive, requiring a range of data and information, analytical tools, and processes. The authors seem aware that this might be overwhelming and try to point to ways in which data needs can be met.
The book is targeting a readership of planners, citizens, and researchers that have access to a wealth of resources, and a planning process that is based on evidence. I am not convinced that this is the situation in communities across the U.S. It certainly is not the case in most parts of the world. The book could have been strengthened by considering the case of marginalized communities in the U.S. itself, and how such a public process as they outline could be implemented.
There is clearly a balance that needs to be struck between the need for data and information and the need for a process that is public and driven by citizens as much as by planners. If approached from a more aspirational perspective, the book has value for those working in other parts of the world. Even from a baseline of limited (and largely inaccessible) data, an engaged process as outlined in this book could itself be a catalyst for a different type of planning—for generating publicly owned data and opening public spaces that can be empowering and that can foster innovation, and thereby addressing some of the core systemic (and political) concerns that resilience building tends to neglect.
As long as public transport and high-rise living is seen to be a “budget option”, the middle class is bound to aspire to vehicle ownership and detached homes as an upgrade. The solution could be counter-intuitive, but might lie in making these lifestyle choices more expensive, at least for some people.
Cities are not only hosting 68% of the world’s population by 2050, but a growing population of mobile-toting, car driving, and home ownership aspiring middle class. For rising middle class cities such as Jakarta and middle-income trapped citieslike Kuala Lumpur—middle income trapped cities are cities in countries that are unable to push GNI per capita above $12,056 per annum—the immediate pain of an unaffordable mortgage is often felt more intensely than the global impacts of climate change. Land-locked cities often push affordable housing to the suburbs, encouraging sprawl that further chokes the city with highways and fuel burning vehicles.
The solution, some suggest, is to build affordable housing back in the city to reduce commute times and enhance livability for the growing middle class. But in a land-sparse city like Kuala Lumpur, this line of logic has led to defenseless green spaces being targeted for redevelopment, justified by the need for affordable housing. Several prominent green spaces in Kuala Lumpur have already been sacrificed, including football fields, parks, and even areas adjacent to forest reserves. How then can we ensure adequate provision of affordable housing while preserving nature in cities? Are both these aspirations a dichotomy?
Not necessarily.
The premise for divergence rests on the lack of land in the city. Land scarcity is in turn a function of city living preferences such as landed detached homes and car commute as the desired option. Cities can well afford more space for nature if preferences swing towards high-rise living and public transport-based commuting. Therefore, the true challenge is to convince the person on the street that nature in cities is of greater value than his or her middle-class lifestyle aspirations.
But how?
Like all sales tasks, the first step is to gather intelligence about our citizens and their current behaviors. Do they value living in high-rises or public transportation? Why not? In Kuala Lumpur, we attempted to understand this with data of home prices within walking distance of urban rail systems. Turns out, citizens are frustrated with station construction and prices of homes is practically flat on completion, indicating that residents don’t value public transport much currently.
Price premium of homes close to completed and under construction rail train stations. To read this chart, each par represents a premium or discount paid by a homeowner for a property relative to average neighborhood prices. We then classified the bars to within 500m from a train station or within 1km of a train station. Here, it shows that homebuyers mostly paid only 1% more than neighborhood prices to be within 500m of a train station. Credit: Chaly Koh
The second step to convert our middle-class neighbors into people who value green is to build rapport that resonates with their values and priorities. One way is to convert the value of “nature in cities” to a monetary value that they can directly compare to their immediate concerns of mortgages and housing value. In Kuala Lumpur, we achieved this by showing that homes within walking distance of green spaces were valued 3% higher than those without. In other words, the removal of parks and forest reserve translates to a $3,000 depreciation on a $100,000 home. Most middle-class folks would think twice before letting $3,000 wrung out of their wallets!
Perhaps the most complicated step would be step three, when we attempt to place our middle class to a desired future, where his or her change of behavior would bring a positive impact to their individual lives (not the greater good). A practical approach to this would be to highlight the individual wealth creation of public transport commuting and highrise living in a nature-rich city. In Kuala Lumpur today, 12.7% of household disposal income is spent on transport, which translates to $US3,338 annually, based on median income.
The monetary value would help with the rational hemisphere of the brain, but it boils down to the emotive aspiration that would turn the tables. This is because as long as public transport and high-rise living is seen to be a “budget option”, the middle class is bound to aspire to vehicle ownership and detached homes as an upgrade.
How then can we reframe this world view?
The answer could be counter-intuitive, but might lie in making these lifestyle choices significantly more expensive, at least for some people. Consider the Starbucks effect, which has benefitted coffee distributors all over the United States at the turn of the century. Starbucks gave all coffee and not just Starbucks coffee a new cachet, increasing the desirability of all coffees. In other words, the offering of a luxury version of a product could elevate the overall desirability of the product class of coffee without pricing people out, because not everyone needs to have Starbucks. In Kuala Lumpur, we see the rise of the cafes had such a strong impact that its presence impacted home prices.
Can this convert the middle class to nature-friendly city lifestyles?
The idea, like Starbucks effect, is to create a luxury brand could elevate the status of ALL types of coffee, while still maintaining the price range and options. Not everyone has to have a Starbucks but now there is more demand for coffee.
Similarly, not everyone needs a $50,000 bicycle but it might get more people to buy other bikes and use them instead of cars. We are beginning to see this change with the rise of ultra-luxury bicycles and the status that comes with penthouse living. Maybe, if all the marketing and advertising agencies harness their superpowers for nature in cities, public transport can be as sexy as the next BMW release.
What would you do if you had the opportunity to design and build a new village or city? These opportunities do not come around often, so when one does we have to make the most of it!! The opportunities abound in Christchurch after the devastating earthquakes of 2010 and 2011. Now a new city must be built!
For some background and to see the amazing opportunities available in re-building a new city watch this short video: http://vimeo.com/46589834
As part of the city rebuild a competition was established. It is called “breathe”—the new urban village project….. an international competition to design and build a new place for living in the Central City.
A design competition for a new urban village
Designers and developers from all around the world were invited to submit entries for a sustainable and commercially viable urban village for Christchurch, to inspire fresh creativity in the city’s rebuild following the devastating February 2011 earthquake. The challenge was to develop a concept for medium density living—a new urban village that provided a variety of housing options and lifestyle choices based on sustainability, innovation and a strong sense of community. Architects were given three months to create a concept in three drawings that would change the way people think about urban living, by designing an exemplar housing development that will be the catalyst for modern urban living in the heart of the city, and attract a new and diverse residential community back into the Central City.
Fifty-eight valid entries were received from fifteen countries, and the judges identified four finalists and three highly commended concepts. To view the finalists, visit the “breathe” site.
The four finalists now have three months to take their initial concepts through to a more developed design. The winning concept will be built adjacent to Latimer Square, offering its residents an exceptional quality of life, with local parks, entertainment, recreational facilities, and the central business area nearby.
“These are visions of Central City living in our city’s exciting and prosperous future”
Being an alternative life-styler, an ecologist, and an advocate of anything green, sustainable and native it is not surprising that my favourite of the four finalists is The Viva Project. [Full disclosure: I am not a judge for this contest.] Viva! is an exciting project that was initiated by a group of Christchurch people committed to actively promoting sustainable developments for the central Christchurch rebuild. The team’s vision was:
“to create a vibrant urban village, an innovative and inspiring example of sustainable design and connected community.”
The Viva folks have been collaborating with Jasmax on the development of their entry in the competition. Together, their unique strengths make for a powerful combination. Viva! represents the collective voice and participatory leadership of the people of Christchurch and Jasmax brings its cutting edge design experience, as well as the sustainable values of the Living Building Challenge, “the built environment’s most rigorous performance standard.”
The ‘Living Village’ team comprises the Viva! Project, a 300-strong collective of Christchurch citizens passionate about creating a sustainable rebuild for Christchurch, and award-winning New Zealand architectural practice, Jasmax, with additional support provided by developer Evergreen Realty, whose mission is to create affordable and sustainable living environments.
Jasmax Principal and Design Team Leader Greg Boyden commented:
“The collaborative vision for the ‘Living Village’ community is to create an innovative village model, based on social, environmental, cultural and financial sustainability. The design incorporates a housing model that optimises the needs of the individual as well as the wider community.”
The judging panel, including international judge Kevin McCloud from the UK commended the design stating:
“The village uses natural materials and native plants to harness rainwater and capture energy from the sun to deliver an exemplar of ‘one-planet’ living. The design delivers a strong sense of place and community created through its diverse housing and shared amenities surrounded by an inviting garden city setting. A further strength of this unique community-based development model is that its modest approach addresses housing affordability issues.”
The judges particularly praised the strong community involvement and very high sustainability standard. This Living Village is based around three courtyards with a community centre near the heart and a mix of houses, apartments and a small amount of retail. It is net zero energy, very efficient in water use and the physical design encourages a strong sense of community, with many informal gathering places and layers between private and common areas. The landscape and architectural design acknowledges the history of the land, its natural environment and the cultures that have passed over the land.
The design draws on local identity and wisdom reflecting, both Tangata Whenua (Maori, the early Polynesian arrivals to New Zealand 800 years BP) and Pakeha (white Europeans who arrived and settled in NZ 150 years ago) influences. Innovative design features include solar electric panels, organic food-growing areas, on-site water treatment, a café, green space, a community house and positioning of homes to encourage social interaction.
Viva! Project Co-Convener, Jane Quigley said:
“Being selected to progress onto the next stage of the competition is a huge honour and an endorsement for all involved in this ‘people-led’ design. We believe that the Living Village will serve as a flagship example of what can be achieved not only in Christchurch, but around the world. We also commend the organisers of the competition for giving the people of Christchurch the opportunity to have an authentic say in the rebuild and revitalisation of their city.”
Wow! Maybe Jane is onto something here!
If you would like to know more about successful eco-villages in New Zealand then I urge you to check out one of the most well known, the eco-neighbourhood in Auckland called Earthsong. The founders of Earthsong were committed from the very beginning, in 1995, to building a neighbourhood that was as socially and environmentally sustainable as possible, with a vision:
“to establish a cohousing neighbourhood based on the principles of permaculture, that will serve as a model of a socially and environmentally sustainable community.”
Here is a recent snapshot of the village, about 12 years after establishment in 2001.
New York City (NYC) is an epicenter for invasive species in the U.S. and functions as a major pathway for invasive species to the rest of the continent. One of the challenges we have in managing urban ecosystems is dealing with the wide variety of exotics, including their ecological interactions and feedbacks. Natural resource managers in the NYC region have to worry about Asian longhorn beetle, Emerald ash borer, Hemlock wooly adelgid, and many other insects pests, in additional to a wide range of aquatic (zebra mussels, water chestnut) and terrestrial (kudzu vines) exotic invasives. Chestnut blight wiped out American chestnut populations — more than 9 million acres of American chestnut forest from Mississippi to Maine. Ash trees, which are common in towns and cities, as well as in backyards of homeowners, are likely to experience the same fate from the Emerald ash borer (EAB). This beetle has killed 50 million ash trees in Michigan alone since 2002 and it is closing in on New York City. Unlike chestnut blight, EAB will probably end up killing off 20 different species of ash trees. As Ash trees start dying, removing the dead trees before they fall and cause property and other damage will be financially costly for municipalities and homeowners. The USDA Forest Service has estimated the emerald ash borer will cost communities in a 25-state area as much as $10.7 billion by 2020. In New York City, forested areas include 900 million ash trees, approximately 10% of the total NYC urban forest.
These many meanings are captured in Tactical Urbanism: Short-term Action for Long-term Change, a book by American urban planners Anthony Garcia and Mike Lydon, both leaders in civic advocacy and principals of 
In the United States of America 
With the proliferation of climate related shocks and crises, building resilience in the face of shocks and crises surely is a good thing, and any contribution to helping us make sense of what this might mean and how it might be achieved is certainly welcome. Planning for Community Resilience: A Handbook for Reducing Disasters is a comprehensive book, which is quite an achievement in less than 200 pages.
Glenn Stewart
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