What we choose to name and the names we choose to remember, for the places, people and things around us, says a great deal about what is important to us. It is commonly said, and accurately so I believe, that we will not care about what we do not recognize.
That we increasingly lack the ability to recognize and name the common species and plants and animals around us is commonly acknowledged. My own work confirms this, as for several years we administered a “what is this” slideshow to my students that generated disappointing outcomes. Very common species of birds, trees, and plants went largely unrecognized. Only a handful were able to recognize a silver-spotted skipper, a very common and visually distinctive butterfly, but many proclaimed it to be a Monarch butterfly (which I came to conclude was virtually the only species of butterfly that Americans seem to know, if incorrectly, and can come up with).
Red Banded Hairstreak. Photo: Tim Beatly
Native Virginians taking my visual survey had a hard time recognizing their state insect (only a handful could), the visually spectacular and quite distinctive eastern tiger swallowtail, and only a few could identify the female of our state bird, the cardinal (not the bright red of the male that most everyone knows). What’s important is not that the images are of species that are in some way “official” flora or fauna, but that they are so common. These students had a good chance of having seen these animals on the way to the class in which they took this quiz. While many respondents (they were largely students) generally didn’t do very well in recognizing the plants and animals, they were themselves sweetly alarmed at this. On the answer form I had a number of students express some sense of being sorry or being disappointed in themselves for not being able to recognize these images. I had comments like “I’m embarrassed about how few birds I can identify,” and “I’m sorry, I just don’t know.” There was not a blasé attitude about this, but, encouragingly, a sense of genuine concern about how they fared on this unusual test.
Photo: Tim Beatly
Other studies have reached similar conclusions about our limited ability to identify common species of flora and fauna (e.g. Cassidy, 2008). Andrew Balmford and his colleagues at Cambridge famously designed a flashcard experiment that found children much better able to identify Pokémon characters than native species of plants and animals, leading them to conclude: “it appears that conservationists are doing less well than the creators of Pokémon at inspiring interest in their subjects: during their primary school years, children apparently learn far more about Pokémon than about their native wildlife and enter secondary school being able to name less than 50% of common wildlife types” (Balmford, et al, 2002). “People care about what they know,” Balmford et al conclude, something I agree, and these findings do not bode well for future conservation, urban or otherwise.
Perhaps this paucity of natural history knowledge is just a symptom of the times, of our profound disconnect from place, land, history. Our knowledge of the natural environments and landscapes in which we live is limited to nil and our direct experience of it ever more infrequent. We have limited understanding of where and how food is produced, how and from where water and energy arrive at our homes, and little sense of where the many wastes that we generate end up. We buy houses and make real estate investments, but we don’t join communities or neighborhoods. We don’t understand ourselves as creatures of actual places, embedded within and caring about landscapes and communities, but rather as temporary occupants, in a kind of ephemeral “holding in place pattern”, with seemingly little interest in or commitment to where we actually are. Contemporary American culture makes deep understanding of actual places and the people and nature that inhabit them difficult, to be sure. Children seem especially disconnected today, suffering from what Richard Louv has termed “nature-deficit disorder.” Kids today are more likely to know about African elephants or Bengel tigers than local flora and fauna, and better able, moreover, to recognize the ubiquitous corporate symbols (McDonalds, or Target) than an indigenous species of dragonfly or wildflower (I have written extensively elsewhere about this trend in Beatley, 2005).
Similarly, other forms of local knowledge seem supplanted by the more generic, the more general, the globalized and universal. Few here in Central Virginia know much about our traditional regional foods, for instance, apple butter or sourwood honey. “Is there really more than one kind of honey?” is not an unusual view to hold. Our understanding of place histories appears in most cases shallow indeed, and where at least some of the contours of this history (geologic, economic, cultural) are widely known, often lacking is an appreciation for the complexity and nuanced nature of that history. Historical knowledge is shockingly limited, simplistic and often just plain wrong.
The value of naming?
Why should we worry about the ability to name birds and trees and plants? What does knowing the name of a common local species indicate or suggest. Why does it matter at all?
I think there are several important reasons to hope for an urban populace and citizenry that can at least recognize common species. Partly I am concerned because naming implies claiming—not in the private property sense, but in the sense of seeing and perceiving something as being profoundly a part of the community of life of which we are a part. For something to exist in our human field of perception, it must be nameable.
The ability to attach a name to something seen in the landscape is critical for a number of reasons. Naming and recalling names implies a profound familiarity, and a recognition. To make the human parallel, my calling you by your name imparts a familiarity, an intimacy, and attaches a level of significance, importance, or attention that without a name is diminished.
A booklet of plant species names. Photo: Tim Beatly
A species common name often carries with it its own built-in trigger to stimulate the next set of questions, such as “how does this species live?” Trap door spiders indeed construct tunnels with camouflaged and silk-hinged trap doors that they can swing open to capture prey in response to insect vibrations. The biology of this fascinating creature, while of course more complex, is conveyed by its common name.
The words we attach to things are important on many levels. They signal the ways we interface and interact with the things—animate and inanimate—around us. Just as our ability to call a person by his or her name personalizes that individual, indicates a level of care and familiarity, our ability to name things in our larger place community must have the same psychological effect. The naming patterns of native peoples contrasts significantly with the Western European settlers, with a high density of names and naming that captures and conveys a special depth of knowledge and nuance.
When I visit a favorite nearby forest, and hear the lovely trill of a Northern Flicker, there is an emotional connection from that recognition that should not be undervalued. I know when I hear that distinctive rattle, I look around, searching for that wonderful, magical living creature with which we share the audible and physical spaces of the city.
Learning as much as we can about the nature around us is also arguably an element of basic citizenship—a necessary step in learning about and respecting the co-inhabitants of a biodiverse city.
Recalling names may be important for other reasons. Being able to recall the name of a species of fish, a type of rock, a valley or landscape or a human-designed structure, helps us to organize and remember information about these things: details and stories, and recollections, that further deepens our connection and ultimately our caring about them. Names then are sort of like place-holders; they provide us the opportunity to share and call forth additional texture and meaning.
Naming adds immensely to our enjoyment of the natural areas we visit in cities, and in the process of naming and recognizing, there is the development of a kind of nature competency that is at once rewarding and enjoyable, and imparts an important element of meaning to life.
Names as passwords to our hearts?
I’m certainly not the only one to wonder what limited knowledge and limited ability to identify things might bode for the future of community and environment. Paul Gruchow, a notable Midwest writer and essayist, has been one of the most eloquent of observers. He tells the humorous story, in his book Grass Roots, of the local town weed inspector who arrives at his home, in response to a neighbor’s complaint about an unkempt yard, only to be unable to identify any of the offending plants and shrubs in the yard (all of which Gruchow knew, and knew well).
More disturbing to Gruchow was the nature walk to a nearby lake he took a group of high school seniors, with similar inability to name or recognize the most common of Midwestern plants. Gruchow eloquently connects this to love, that essential thing that binds and connects us to one another and to the places and natural environments that make up our home.
“Can you,” Gruchow asked those high school seniors, “imagine a satisfactory love relationship with someone whose name you do not know? I can’t. It is perhaps the quintessentially human characteristic that we cannot know or love what we have not named. Names are passwords to our hearts, and it is there, in the end, that we will find the room for a whole world.”
Passwords indeed. They have become mysterious, unknowable passwords, that unlock intimate relationships that we have lost and are losing.
Now there are certainly many obstacles here and I am aware of the practical limitations of recognizing and naming more species. There are more than 10,000 species of moths native to North America, for instance, many quite small and hard to distinguish from one another, unless you are an amateur or professional lepidopterist. Much of our biodiversity in cities is difficult to see, of course, because it is very small, or is nocturnal. There are typically on the order of 40 or 50 species of ants in a typical American city, with a few common species that residents are most likely to come in contact with, but closely watching ants, and with an ability to analyze their anatomy sufficient to identify them can be challenging.
And we have been a culture that celebrates mobility and moving-on: the species and biodiversity of Los Angeles will be different than in Louisville, making it difficult to build up a deeper competency and personal knowledge base if one moves around a lot.
There are many other ways in which our contemporary approaches to names and naming raise questions about connections with nature in cities. We name many things in the human world, from sports arenas to automobiles, and often there are missed opportunities to name in ways that foster connections and impart knowledge about our natural environments. I have often thought that more could be done to tie our naming practices and protocols to the actual environments and landscapes in which we live.
Go Blatterworts!
Several years ago, in an effort to understand how schools tend to select the names of their mascots, I went in search a few statewide lists of high school mascots, to see the range of mascot choices, and if there were some more frequently chosen than others. A full list of high school mascot names for Illinois, for instance, was quite telling. There are some 27 high schools in Illinois (at least at that time) with “eagles” as their mascot, 23 that are the “tigers.” Most use one from a small pool of common mascot names—trojans, titans, hornets, lions, cougars, to name a few—that often have no particular connection to place, and no reference to native fauna or flora. Many of these choices represent species (if they are real at all) that are rather unlikely to be sighted locally. A sampling of Chicago area high schools includes cobras, golden tigers, mustangs and dolphins. One is (hopefully) not likely to encounter a cobra on a patch of green anywhere in the Chicago region, but perhaps has the desired effort of instilling fear in one’s basketball or football opponents.
Some of these Illinois mascot names are, to be sure, distinctive and some rather humorous—the Coalers from Coal city, the Appleknockers from Cobden, the Cornjerkers from Hoopeston. But there’s still a missed opportunity.
In recent presentations I have been challenging my audiences to imagine school mascots that might build on local biodiversity, especially plants, as a way of moving us towards a new nature and place sensibility. I usually offer some tongue-in-cheek examples: perhaps the Charlottesville hooded pitcher plants, or the Potomac painted trilliums, or the Albemarle Eastern Blue Curls, or perhaps the Lexington long bristled smartweeds. My all-time favorite imagined mascot is the Herndon Horned Blatterworts. “Go Blatterworts,” I’m not sure how this would sound at a track meet or incorporated into a cheerleading cheer, but it would certainly attract some attention, and I suspect residents would (begin) to at least know something about this plant. Would athletic jerseys be able to accommodate the “Johnson City Jack-in-the Pulpits.” This is not clear, so maybe this is a problem I need to work through.
While these suggestions for mascots usually get some laughs, there are legitimate and real issues here for us to consider. Partly out of expedience, and partly from a lack of imagination, many schools end up with bland (safe?) emblems and names that help to further extend and expand the patterns of sameness.
The names we choose for new buildings and public facilities are often equally telling. And what a different message this name sends than what is the increasingly common practice of naming dorms and buildings after large university donors. Everything in the modern university seems a commercial opportunity to raise money in these cash-strapped times. I find much in Michael Sandel’s critique of the application of market values to every aspect of our lives (see his terrific book, What Money Can’t Buy: The Moral Limits of Markets, 2012), including the naming of buildings and public spaces, notably sports arenas. While naming a dorm after a millionaire alumnus, or increasingly after a corporate sponsor, might serve to generate cash in hard times, naming after a local plant seems to help in not insignificant ways to counterbalance the otherwise ubiquitous messaging of what is valuable and important in the world.
Some interesting, though not perfect, examples can be cited of efforts to seize these naming opportunities on behalf of the natural world. When I issued my challenge about naming a school mascot after a plant at a recent talk in Arizona, I received an email on efforts there (Arizona State University) to rename the buildings in a dorm complex after local native plants. ASU students were given some options and asked to vote on possible plant names. Eventually the following seven were chosen as dorm names, all native flora: Chuparosa, Fluffgrass, Jojoba Bush, Wooly Daisy, Devil’s Claw, Fairy Duster and Golden eye. A positive and helpful step to take, especially in a city and a part of the world that in particular has lost any real connection to its natural setting, the effort has been belittled a bit by the students. Writing in the ASU newspaper, student Christopher Drexel has a humorous take, yet a serious concern about the chosen name (Drexel, 2006):
“But does anyone really want to live in Wooly Daisy Hall? It sounds funny on paper, but think of the poor saps—no pun intended—that will actually have to call the buildings home. What if you’re hosting your buddy from out of town and show him around old Chuparosa? What about if you’re bringing a member of the opposite sex back to your pad to hang out, only your pad is called Fluffgrass? What if your parents come in for family weekend and find you sleeping in Jojoba Bush. It would be embarrassing, plain and simple.”
This particular student, furthermore, rails at the University’s rule, the idea that such a practice of the Arizona-specific naming of buildings would be mandated. I must say that my immediate response to the student’s plea above is to say emphatically, “Yes, I would love to live in Wooly Daisy dorm”—it would sure beat many (most) of the alternatives.
Cynically, today much of the practice of naming buildings is about money: who has given it, and what it can buy. At a typical university today, the stadium, or dorm, or even a single classroom, often carries a donor’s name. That kind of recognition may or may not be deserved, but the message is clear—money and wealth are important, this is what we prize and honor and value, and will acknowledge. Such accolades and attention, moreover, are buyable and salable. The ecological naming practices that I have in mind send a different kind of message, I believe.
Sometimes, of course, efforts to apply names of natural and landscape features to built projects falls flat and seems hollow. Naming that new housing subdivision after the farm or forest that was destroyed to build the neighborhood is more an exercise in cynicism. But sometimes names like this can send helpful place cues that educate and orient. In my own city, there is a 1960’s shopping area Meadow Creek Shopping Center, a reference to the stream that runs through and around this site, and can still be found in a more open form just a few hundred feet away.
Photo: Tim Beatly
Understanding our local flora and fauna, being able to recognize and identify it is important indeed, recognizing the value of it to us, the importance and the esteem with which we hold it, are valuable alternative messages, made the more potent in this era of hyper-materialism. And if the dorm name elicits a “giggle,” so be it. It provides a point of conversation, a learning opportunity, a chance for some to point out the need to better understand the other creatures and life forms that co-occupy the landscape with us and upon whom we depend for so much.
I also wonder if a shift away from naming practices that celebrate the predatory and violent in nature, towards the deeper fascinating biology of place, would help in other ways. Perhaps one less high school supports team imagining victory and success in some other way than through gladiators and titans, in this way, the eastern grey tree frogs, or wooly daisies, might help to foster a gentler, less violent society (though to be sure, nature has its share of predation and fury). So much of the treatment of nature in the popular press is sensationalist and single-dimensional—emphasizing the fear of animals, whether bats that might carry rabies, or sharks or coyotes. The messaging is be careful, fearful, there is danger here, not wonder, not fascinating life-cycles or biology.
Not long ago I had the great privilege of interviewing Vandana Shiva, prominent Indian scientist, activist and environmentalist. She strongly believes that the language we choose sends important messages, often as at a deep psychological level. Our words send clear messages, and influence how we think as well. Shiva says: “Language shapes your imagination, not just communication.” She does not like the word “food chains,” for instance, because it reminds her of slavery, and so she prefers food webs, which better conveys the interconnected nature of our food relationships. She observes the brutal, violent names that companies like Monsanto give to their herbicides: “machete,” “squadron,” “avenge.” Our choice of names sends signals, but also shapes us and our relationships to nature in deep ways.
They are very important for many reasons, and part and parcel of our larger concern about (and remedies to) our disconnection from place and environment. Place and building names convey, or have the potential to convey messages, societal cues and signals about what is important.
An urban culture that values seeing and recognizing the nature around us?
What can or should be done to help kids and adults alike to advance or foster a culture and urban context within which we recognize (many) local species and are able to add them to our personal realm of community?
Starting at an early age, and conveying (parents, grandparents, neighborhoods) the message wherever we can, that recognition of and ideally knowing at least the common name of local species is valuable, important and rewarding—something worth doing, for a host of good reasons, including lifelong personal enjoyment and satisfaction.
Truth be known, it is less important to know the name than to recognize the species, and most important to care about and show interest in the nature around us—evidencing the spirit of wonder and curiosity (though again the former helps to cultivate the latter). In this way I agree with Rachel Carson’s eloquent call for parents to demonstrate this interest in nature even when they may lack the specific knowledge about the species and its biology. As she says so eloquently,
“It is not half so important to know as to feel. If facts are the seeds that later produce knowledge and wisdom, then the emotions and impressions of the senses are the fertile soil in which the seeds must grow” (Carson, 1956, p.46).
There are many things we might do to make this recognition easier. Clever and effective signage in parks and other public spaces would be helpful. We should also extend these educational and interpretative opportunities beyond the usual places—what might one see while waiting for the bus, or walking to the grocery store, or in the neighborhood cemetery?
Schools could play a greater role here. Several years ago I had the chance to visit an impressive elementary school in Western Australia, where birds and plants and other indigenous flora and fauna had been integrated into the curriculum of the school. At Noranda Primary School, several things stood out. First, it had behind it a rather large, restored bushland, an area of native gums and grass trees, and a place where students were likely to visit at some point during the day during their math or science classes. Many students there were even more deeply involved, participating in an after-school club called Bush Wardens. And most impressively students in all grades were exposed to a curriculum that involved learning about (and recognizing) the native plants and animals around them. I was surprised in seeing the guidebook used by the teachers that students would be expected to recognize common species of trees and birds, many of which would be typically seen on a stroll through the school’s backyard bushland park.
Photo: Tim Beatly
Being able to recognize and differentiate different species of gum trees is viewed, in this school anyway, as a necessary and important competency for students to develop. And the school had another important asset in in this task, the small area of natural bush behind the school where students and classes frequently visit, and where lessons in many subjects from mathematics to science to English find useful application in the bush.
Every city must provide abundant opportunities to participate in outdoor nature activities that help to build up interest and competencies and knowledge of the species around them. From birding clubs to neighborhood nature family adventure clubs to Bio-Blitzes that engage children and adults alike in the discovery and recording of nature, there are many news ways in which kids and adults alike can develop these recognition skills. Active assistance and coaching are helpful, as in programs like the Seattle Aquarium’s Beach Naturalist Program—some 200 citizen volunteers who, once having gone through training, spend time on the City’s shoreline parks, during low-tides, helping citizens to recognize and understand the amazing marine life that appears then. In the spring and summer of 2012, according to Janice Mathisen, who runs the program, these volunteer naturalists, wearing distinctive vests and red hats, provided information in more than 37,000 contacts with park visitors.
New citizen science initiatives further help in this way. For instance, the School of Ants, which encourages the identification and collection of ant species around the country, something greatly aided by a terrific online guide to identifying ants. The latter, a kind of flow chart for identifying key physical differences between common ant species, becomes an important tool for moving beyond simply “ants” to a richer, fuller understanding of at least some of the different species of ants, that co-occupy urban spaces.
Perhaps every home or apartment ought to come equipped with an insect aspirator—a funny device with a tube for sucking ants or other insects into a plastic or glass cylinder, making their identification much easier. And what else do we need? Certainly a good set of guidebooks near the window, perhaps a microscope at the ready.
Indeed this is one important measure, I believe, of a biophilic city—the extent and diversity of the opportunities and enticements to enjoy and learn about the nature around. From official fungi forays to classes in animal tracking, there are many ways that cities can foster and facilitate these intimate connections with the natural world.
Photo: Tim Beatly
New technologies and applications may of course help us here as well. I-birds and I-trees that make it easier and quicker to identify birds and trees. Sound-recognition apps might make it possible to wave a phone and immediately recognize the organism creating a sound, whether a bird or a snail. But one wonders, of course, about the overreliance on these new technologies, and if they will make it too “easy”, in a sense, something like the way GPS has made it easier to bypass learning about actual geography and physical orientation of a place.
There will be particular moments in life when people may be much more open to listening and watching, and learning the names of species around them. Moving to a new home, and a new neighborhood, might be one of these opportunities and I have long advocated for a kind of “ecological owner’s manual” that new occupants would be encouraged to read at least as closely as the manual about the new dishwasher or the garage door opener. These are opportunities when it might be possible to convince people that they should understand their new “home” in a broader sense—in terms of its biology and biodiversity, in terms of the watershed in which the house and yard sit, and, yes, in terms of an ability and to recognize and name the fellow creatures, those other neighbors, who are as much a part of your new home.
How many highways are named for the things they ruin? And how many places in New York are named after people made money from slavery? A lot, it turns out.
I spent the last few years working on and off on a book that I tentatively titled Who Was That Major Deegan Anyway? That title reflected the book’s origin story. My husband Allen and I used to get stuck in traffic on the Major Deegan every time we tried to visit my parents in Pennsylvania.
Photo of Maj Deegan Expwy by Rebecca Bratspies
I would grumble (ok, curse) and ask, “who was that Major Deegan anyway.” Finally sick of my whining, Allen said “why don’t you find out.” Out of that casual challenge, a hobby was born—finding out about the lives behind the names that adorned so much infrastructure in New York City. Major Deegan was first, but I soon became hooked on this whimsical pathway into the history of the City I love.
One thing led to another, and I became a local world’s expert on New York City’s named roads, bridges, and institutions. People would ask me questions, and before I could stop myself, I would be giving mini-lectures on New York history. Nobody likes a know-it-all, so I learned to focus on the soundbites. Did you know that the Outerbridge Crossing was named after a person named Outerbridge? That the New York Times called Van Wyck “the most corrupt mayor in New York City history“? That the Holland Tunnel was named after its Chief Engineer? That Gracie was business partners with Alexander Hamilton? That Peter Cooper invented Jell-O? There are fascinating life stories behind each one of the names that have become New York City’s urban short-hand for traffic jams, culture, and recreation.
I started this book in 2014 after Allen suffered a catastrophic cardiac arrest. He was in the hospital for 6+ months, with the first month in a coma hanging between life and death. I had no emotional energy for my usual environmental scholarship, but desperately needed a project to keep me mentally engaged as I sat by his bedside. Working on this book was a way to connect with our past as I waited to see if he would recover. That story has multiple happy endings. Although he has limitations, he made a truly miraculous recovery and is even able to compose again. And. . . I wrote a book.
I was having a hard time starting this blog post. Since the academy is all in a tizzy about AI, I asked ChatGPT to write an essay about the sustainability lessons from how we name infrastructure in New York City after famous people. Here is how the AI post began:
“New York City is one of the most iconic cities in the world, and as such, its streets, monuments, and landmarks have been given names that reflect its history, culture, and values. From the Statue of Liberty to the Empire State Building, the names of many of New York City’s most famous places commemorate the individuals and events that have shaped the city’s history.”
Not a bad start. Sort of. If you ignore that, unlike so much of New York City’s infrastructure, the Statue of Liberty and the Empire State Building are not actually named after individuals or events.
Rather than relying on technology, I preferred to rely on my network of friends and colleagues.
His brother, author and artist Jeff LaGreca made the book’s fantastically silly trailer.
Environmental reporter Andy Revkin and environmental educator Lisa Mechaley graciously consented to be among the book’s earliest readers. For a book blurb, Andy wrote:
“In the rush of daily life, we tend to traverse our communities with little awareness of the visions, struggles and travails of those who shaped vital structures or whose lives are memorialized in their names. For the world’s greatest metropolis, Rebecca Bratspies has helped fill that awareness gap by crafting an illuminating guide to the people behind New York City’s transportation, recreational and institutional landmarks.”
He and Lisa shared that they “always joke ruefully about how many parkways are named for the things they ruin.” Their examples—the Hutchinson River Parkway and the Sawmill River Parkway—both of which cut off community access to the rivers. Moreover, the salting of these roads, not to mention the traffic they create, contributes significantly to air and water pollution that drives a host of health impacts in the surrounding community.
Aside from the fact that my friends are far more talented and insightful than any AI could ever dream of becoming, this project taught me two important lessons about urban sustainability.
First, that no amount of road construction will ever solve the problems of congestion. The justifications for the Holland Tunnel, the Goethals Bridge, and the Pulaski Skyway in the 1920s, and for the Van Wyck in the 1950s was to alleviate congestion from automobiles. These names are now synonymous with congestion. This lesson is critical as we consider the role of public transportation, and ongoing proposals to expand the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway and the New Jersey Turnpike leading to the Holland Tunnel―you guessed it, to alleviate congestion. Initiatives to reduce private automobile travel through congestion pricing are far more likely to succeed. After years of wrangling, New York finally seems poised to implement congestion pricing for parts of Manhattan. And, of course, the best way to reduce congestion is to invest in more and better mass transit and to continue to build the protected bike lanes that have proven immensely popular.
Second, profound economic transformation is possible. It was educational (read: shocking) to discover just how much New York infrastructure is named for those who participated in and profited from the slave economy. From its earliest days as New Netherlands, until it was finally made illegal in 1827, slavery was “part and parcel” of New York’s economic organization. Among those I write about in Naming Gotham, Alexander Macomb enslaved 12 Black persons, the Rikers family enslaved at least 10, and Lennox enslaved 4. Even after the formal end of slavery in New York, trade in goods that were made by enslaved persons continued to enrich a generation of New Yorkers. The names of these enslavers are familiar, even if their association with slavery is not. There is still tremendous work to do to acknowledge that history, and to grapple with what these names mean going forward. Yet, there is an additional lesson to learn. The visionary campaigners who fought against the evils of slavery were often derided as impractical dreamers who were unable to face economic facts. Nevertheless, they persisted. And they won. It was a long, hard, and bloody struggle, one that faced resistance every step of the way from those whose fortunes rested on the enslavement of others. But we ended the economy that put enslaved labor at its core. This gives me hope that we can do the same for the economy built on fossil fuels.
Imagine what New York City will look like if we learn both lessons at once. We can eliminate our dependence on congestion-creating private vehicles while we simultaneously replace fossil fuels. We can have city streets that are safe for pedestrians and bicyclists, with rapid, non-polluting mass transit. Not only can we do this, we must! The IPPCC’s latest report makes that abundantly clear. What then of New York City’s network of roads, bridges, and tunnels that all have congestion as their rationale? And most importantly, what will we name our new, more sustainable infrastructure?
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.
Méliné Baronian, VersaillesThe place of nature must not be limited. Let us change and adapt public services based on nature’s skills and know-how.
Maud Bernard-Verdier, BerlinIs Berlin already a national city park in everything but the name? Perhaps integrating such bottom-up initiatives into the overarching plans developed by city planners and experts may be what a Berlin national park would be all about.
Ioana Biris, AmsterdamIn 2025 Amsterdam will celebrate its 750th anniversary. This could be the perfect moment to join the family of National Park Cities and act together with other cities around the world to the common purpose of creating greener, healthier and wilder urban environments.
Timothy Blatch, Cape TownThe more I consider the idea for Cape Town, the more I see its potential to provide an umbrella under which actions by a diverse range of stakeholders can increasingly contribute to co-shaping a collective urban future that is rich and sustainable.
Aletta Bonn, BerlinIs Berlin already a national city park in everything but the name? Perhaps integrating such bottom-up initiatives into the overarching plans developed by city planners and experts may be what a Berlin national park would be all about.
Geoff Canham, Tauranga The National Parks City Movement is a reflection that nature is a basic human right. It also serves as a vehicle to ask what is it that we need from our landscape, what does a city need from nature to sustain itself?
Samarth Das, MumbaiEven though Mumbai is one of the few cities in the world that has a National Park within the municipal limits of the city, we argue that instead of having one “Central Park” in the city that everyone travels in order to access and enjoy, having smaller and more accessible neighbourhood parks promotes healthier and active lifestyles. This is why the London National Park City initiative is such an exciting prospect.
Gillian Dick, GlasgowI’d love the Glasgow conurbation to think about being a national park city. But it needs to be a co-production that all interested stakeholders can comfortably sign up to. Not something that is foisted on the city because of a bright shiny campaign.
Luis Antonio Romahn Diez, MeridaWe achieved a connection between public spaces and community, which is one of the main ingredients in a National Park City. With all these actions we start to gradually diminish the biggest challenge; engaging people with the resources of our city, coexisting in harmony.
Ana Faggi, Buenos AiresEven if efforts were made to increase public green space, the surface area of green would not be sufficient to house populations of native fauna. That is why we believe that the National Park label would be inadequate.
Eduardo Guerrero, BogotáNational Park City and Biodivercities in Colombia are necessary evolutions of traditional paradigms in urban and peri-urban planning. In cities, nature conservation and citizens wellbeing are part of the same equation, not contradictory goals.
Sue Hilder, GlasgowIn Glasgow, we need to create a grassroots groundswell of support across a broad demographic by sharing our passion; by being generous with our time and knowledge; by amplifying and celebrating the work of our partners; and by being inclusive and open to new ideas and alternative pathways.
Mike Houck, PortlandAt a time of transition in Portland’s greening movement, I believe a “gap analysis” regarding how both London and Portland have evolved our respective urban greening efforts over the past thirty years would be a significant value-added effort.
Sophie Lokatis, BerlinIs Berlin already a national city park in everything but the name? Perhaps integrating such bottom-up initiatives into the overarching plans developed by city planners and experts may be what a Berlin national park would be all about.
Scott Martin, LouisvillePerhaps in the National Park Cities framework we will find the vocabulary of shared values necessary to address the urgent urban ecological and health crises that elude, frustrate, and imperil us all.
Sebastian Miguel, Buenos AiresEven if efforts were made to increase public green space, the surface area of green would not be sufficient to house populations of native fauna. That is why we believe that the National Park label would be inadequate.
Gareth Moore-Jones, Ohope Beach The National Parks City Movement is a reflection that nature is a basic human right. It also serves as a vehicle to ask what is it that we need from our landscape, what does a city need from nature to sustain itself?
Rob Pirani, New YorkThe US National Park Service has a planning process for managing national parks. It is founded in purpose, significance, and fundamental resources and values. Can New York articulate these elements? Absolutely.
Julie Procter, StirlingIn Scotland, we already have a strong and supportive policy framework. We now need the ambition, imagination, and confidence to think and do things differently, to break out of traditional sector and organisational silos, to work in ways which are collaborative and empowering.
Tom Rozendal, BredaBreda likes joining the movement of National Park Cities because it is in line with its ambition to become a city in park.
Snorri Sigurdsson, Reykjavík Reykjavík is well suited to be a National Park City—it has all the elements and already many projects that could fit in to this kind of premise. But Icelanders are deeply independent, and any NPC effort will only succeed from the ground up.
Lynn Wilson, VictoriaDaniel Raven-Ellison made it happen for London, but each city will need its own leader(s) to emerge who can inspire and motivate enough people to make it happen in their particular circumstances. Who?
Daniel is a guerrilla geographer, National Geographic Explorer and led the successful campaign to establish London as the world's first National Park City.
Cities are constellations of green, blue, and grey spaces. Some cities have more green and blue space than others, but in just about every city such spaces are an idiosyncratic mix of some big parks, small parks, neighborhood spaces, open spaces both formal and informal, community gardens, private gardens, ivy covered walls, flowerpots, and window boxes.
Cities are also our habitat, places where 70% of the world’s population will live by 2050 and where green, blue and grey spaces are home to a surprising diversity of life. They lie at the frontier of the crucial relationships between people and nature that will enable responses to climate emergency and nature loss.
Often we think of spaces in cities as individual, administered differently, distinct. But just like aggregations of street trees, private trees, and park trees can add up to an “urban forest”, so too can the broad constellation of urban green, blue, and open spaces “add up” to something bigger: a city-scale park.
The London National Park City idea is both a formal recognition of the scope and benefits of the macro-park that is all London’s open spaces, and also a call for London’s population to see and get engaged with their myriad green spaces.
London’s communities have recognized and celebrated the role of the network of green and blue spaces in the life of the city in the form of a grassroots campaign to make London the first National Park City—asking “what if” questions to create a vision where spaces and our relationship with them have value that is more than the sum of their parts. What if you didn’t have to choose between city or nature? What if nature started on your doorstep? What if the sights, smells, sounds, and colours of the city were not just of humans and machines but also of nature? What if everybody could lose themselves in nature?
The six year campaign saw London National Park City launched in 2019. Other cities will follow. The idea is both a formal recognition of the scope and benefits of the macro-park that is all London’s open spaces, and also a call for London’s population to see and get engaged with their myriad green spaces. It is a place, a vision, and a city-wide community that is acting together to make life better for people, wildlife and nature. A defining feature is the widespread commitment to act so people, culture, and nature work together to provide a better foundation for life. Because it’s about the city’s entire landscape, everybody can be involved every day and it has the potential to exist forever.
Can this idea be applied in other cities? How? We asked a variety of people involved in parks and open space around the world. Some are in cities actively contemplating such a national park city approach. For others, it was a new idea. We asked: What if your city were a National Park City, analogous to what London created? What it would be like? What would it take to accomplish?
We are interested in your thoughts on this question also, so please take moment to answer some short questions, below.
Special thanks to several people who helped put this roundtable together: Neil McCarthy (World Urban Parks), Ingrid Coetzee (ICLEI Africa), Dominic Regester (Salzburg Global Seminar). This roundtable is an outgrowth of the TNOC Summit Session “Spreading the London National Park City idea”.
Alison has spent over 20 years of her professional life in roles linking the natural environment with people, currently as the Chief Officer at New Forest National Park Authority. Alison is an elected Fellow of the Landscape Institute and the RSA and is a Trustee of the National Park City Foundation.
Méliné Baronian is an Energy Engineer for the City of Versailles. She has been in charge of implementing the PCAET (Plan Climat- Air- Energie Territorial) of the urban community. This project aims to reduce greenhouse gas emissions and energy dependence, while promoting adaptation to climate change.
The place of nature must not be limited. Let us change and adapt public services based on nature’s skills and know-how.
What if we imagined a national park city as a continuity of green and blue spaces? Currently these spaces are interspersed with grey spaces. What if it were the other way around? We want a return of nature to the cities, after we have made it disappear in favour of mineral cities. A national park city must therefore be able to give nature all the necessary space and in all its forms. When we open a map, we should be able to see this continuity and create not grey interconnections. but green interconnections.
A national park city must allow:
To enhance the diversity of its blue and green spaces, in size and type (large parks, small gardens, neighbourhood space, ).
To optimize available spaces and brownfield Each city currently has its own urban planning constraints. But they all deal with the same environmental issues. Acting in a standardised way is not the solution, only appropriate actions can be effective.
To enhance these green and blue spaces at the centre of urban policies in order to preserve all the benefits they can bring to reduce the impact of grey nuisances (noise, pollution, difficult access, etc.) that could reduce the benefits of these places.
To achieve this, it is necessary to build on existing initiatives, connect stakeholders, facilitate their implementation, and disseminate results.
We often think that we have to reinvent ourselves to move forward when there are already many materials available before our eyes. The awareness and awakening of citizens is very important. They are the ones who appropriate, discover, and enjoy these places. They are in the best position to provide an informed opinion on the necessary improvements and, above all, to contribute to the success of the project.
Full stakeholder engagement is crucial. No approach, no project can succeed when we do not have the same objective. The methods can sometimes diverge, but it is dialogue and co-creation in respect of others that will make it possible to find the best compromises.
Also realize that each action, regardless of its individual scope, has a significant impact. It resonates beyond its expectations and contributes to creating more livable cities.
In an increasingly complex and regulated society, we are trying to frame a phenomenon that does not need us to accomplish itself: to let nature expand again. It is time to remove all the administrative and regulatory obstacles that sometimes penalise relevant and favourable actions. Common sense and simplicity must be restored to enable these many initiatives to be carried out.
To contribute to the creation of a national park city, the place of nature must not be limited. Let us change and adapt public services based on nature’s skills and know-how. Public lighting, roads, public buildings, stormwater management, waste treatment would become the driving force for improving the well-being and health of the inhabitants.
The city of tomorrow may be greener, more liveable and, finally, less dense because its natural spaces will no longer be only recreational spaces. They will also be spaces capable of guaranteeing the public services of tomorrow. By building cities inspired by nature, connectivity and human-nature interactions would only be enhanced. This will help us to become aware of the services and benefits that nature brings us, and also to better preserve it.
Ioana Biris is a social psychologist and co-owner of Nature Desks, a social enterprise that promotes urban nature, work and wellbeing. Nature Desks redesigns our relation with the urban green through events, content, products and placemaking.
In 2025 Amsterdam will celebrate its 750th anniversary. This could be the perfect moment to join the family of National Park Cities and act together with other cities around the world to the common purpose of creating greener, healthier and wilder urban environments.
Three years ago I accidentally read about a plan which immediately captured my imagination: London National Park City. “A city as a national park.” A combination of words I would never have thought of. It sounded big, crazy, and impossible, but awfully inspiring. Initiator Daniel Raven-Ellison embarked upon a 500km walk across all 32 boroughs and across the city of London campaigning for his plan. A large paper folded map of green London was crowdfunded, designed, and printed. Around the same time, Esri Nederland—a specialist in maps technology—created a StoryMap of the greenest cities in the Netherlands. They measured the percentage of land use which is considered “green”. At the top of the list was Breda (61% “green”). This southern city is still a frontrunner in green ambitions. The local authorities are strongly committed to make Breda the first European “City in a Park”. The numbers 8, 9 and 10 in the list were The Hague (31%), Amsterdam (29%), and Rotterdam (19%).
Another study shows that the amount of green in Amsterdam has decreased constantly over the last years. The capital is growing in terms of population and housing but the number of “green” square meters in the city is not growing at the same pace. Looking at the positive side, the water of Amsterdam (almost 25% of the city’s land use) has never been cleaner, a “green” local government was elected in March 2018 and—for me personally the most relevant fact—the bottom-up civil movement promoting a healthy, sustainable, and green city is continuously growing. People organize themselves and find each other, share information, are proactive, have great ideas. The community is involved.
My city is—just as all other cities in the world—so much more than its streets, buildings, culture, or economic activity. Amsterdam is a unique green and blue urban landscape which we unknowingly share with more than 10,000 species of flora and fauna. There are now more than 873,000 residents. By 2040 this figure will rise to 1,000,000. The dynamic infrastructure of the city is under immense pressure to accommodate this influx. We will have to maintain the right balance between growth and wellbeing, while at the same time respecting the quality of urban nature around us.
Can Amsterdam become a National Park City? Yes, the city has the right ingredients to make this happen: the authorities are currently developing a “green vision” and there is a strong bottom-up civil movement. Can we build a better relationship with the nature? Definitely. Do we want a greener, healthier, and wilder city, that is connected with the surrounding nature? Surely.
You might be familiar with the unique Delta Works construction which was created in the southwest of the Netherlands after the North Sea Flood of 1953 to protect a large area of land from the sea. In 2014, a new Delta Programme was announced. The Dutch government will invest 20 billion euros over the next 30 years to protect the country from flooding, mitigate the impact of extreme weather events, and secure supplies of freshwater. It is now the time for a new Delta Programme: the “Delta Plan for Biodiversity Recovery”. This amazing new plan was presented in December 2018 after scientific research showed that the biodiversity is rapidly declining. “Farmers’ organizations, food supply chain partners, researchers, nature and environmental organizations as well as a bank have joined forces for the first time to reverse biodiversity loss in the Netherlands and embark on the road to recovery”.
And event was organized in Amsterdam in November 2019 where local government, bottom-up initiatives, (nature) organizations, artists, and other stakeholders were asked to make a local contribution to this national Delta Plan for Biodiversity Recovery. A manifesto will be presented soon.
In 2025 Amsterdam will celebrate its 750th anniversary. This could be the perfect moment to join the family of National Park Cities and act together with other cities around the world to the common purpose of creating greener, healthier and wilder urban environments. Do you recall the information I shared about the greenest city in the south of the country? Breda will possibly be the first Dutch city to aim for a National Park City status.
Timothy is an urban development professional with a background in the social sciences and city and regional planning. In his role as a Green City Consultant at AIPH, the world’s champion for the power of plants, Timothy is responsible for progressing strategic partnerships within the Green City programme and for coordinating the AIPH World Green City Awards.
The more I consider the idea for Cape Town, the more I see its potential to provide an umbrella under which actions by a diverse range of stakeholders can increasingly contribute to co-shaping a collective urban future that is rich and sustainable.
As an urban planner and nature-based solutions professional in ICLEI’s Global Cities Biodiversity Center, an organisational partner of the National Park City Foundation, I am passionate about nature in cities. I am also passionate about the National Park City concept. However, this has not always been the case. Personally, the concept has lead me on a long journey from staunch opposition to eventual support for the movement. If you had asked me a year ago whether the concept would work in South African cities, my answer would have been a confident “no”. Since then, however, my opinion has shifted to believing, and even hoping, that it would.
When I first heard about the idea, it seemed an exciting next step for developed cities who are already committed to living in harmony with nature. But I was certain it would be impossible to replicate in the African urban contexts within which I am more accustomed to working.
As a Zimbabwean living in Cape Town, the concept simply did not seem transferrable. This was partly because open spaces, and even urban parks in the cities I have lived in have never been places that have typically been desirable for urban residents. In many cities in Africa, parks are crime magnets and are generally perceived as unsafe and undesirable. Their value in urban quality of life and human wellbeing is poorly understood and horribly taken for granted. Furthermore, the maintenance of these spaces has also typical been neglected, rendering them forgotten remnants of an inherited urban form that are fast disappearing under the pressure for development.
However, the Cape Town example is an exceptional one, in the sense that it is already a national park city, although not in the same way London now proudly defines the movement. The City of Cape Town has historically developed around the perimeter of the base of Table Mountain National Park. Table Mountain rises prehistorically at the heart of the city, and is home a large part of the unique, abundantly biodiverse, and largely endemic Cape Floristic Kingdom that the region is famous for.
However, the Cape Town you see in the picture above is only a small part of the city’s story. The majority of the Cape Town population are still affected by the racially motivated spatial dynamics that were characteristic of the Apartheid era, and do not enjoy the same level of access to the city’s rich natural resources. You see, the majority of the city’s population do not live in the areas the picture above depicts, and many still live in less than favourable conditions, with little access to even the most basic of services.
With much competition for a diminishing public fiscus, trade-offs are essential and the provision of housing and sanitation are understandable priorities. The idea of igniting a wave of change around a contextually nice-to-have concept only seemed possible among a small percentage of the more affluent Cape Town population. Pitching the idea to the critical mass necessary to meaningfully say there was sufficient buy-in to a national park city in the way London, and the Universal Charter define it, seemed a futile exercise in the face of the reality that faces many Cape Town residents.
So, although Cape Town has a number of national parks within the metropolitan boundary, it is only a national park city in so far as the protected areas legislation defines it to be, and not necessarily in the socio-ecological sense. Coupled with this is the fact that the very notion of a national park has a complex history in South Africa and the very word “national” has loaded contextual implications for local implementation.
As I started to become more familiar with London’s ambitious vision, I was encouraged by its flexible nature and bottom-up approach. Even though I am certain that it would look very different in the South African context, my thinking has evolved in the sense that a vision for a greener, wilder, and healthier city is a vision that every city should strive to achieve.
I spent many hours wondering and dreaming of how this concept could be made a reality in Cape Town. It would take a lot of awareness-raising. It would take years of work to mainstream nature-based solutions and build the capacity for strong governance and prioritisation of nature. It would take public participation and collaboration on a massive scale. It would take a whole-of-society approach that we often talk about, but somehow defies our best efforts to achieve.
However, more and more, I am convinced that it is possible. The more I explore the city, the more I am awakened to the many initiatives that are taking place to bring nature into the daily experiences of residents. Small collective action has the power to trigger large scale impact, and I am constantly reminded of this through my work with cities around the world. The national park city movement has certainly triggered a longing for what may be possible and has stirred up interest in the idea of experiencing nature all around us in our urban lives. Nature has the power to transform our cities, and the need for transformation is critical in Cape Town.
The more I consider the idea for Cape Town, the more I see its potential to provide an umbrella under which actions by a diverse range of stakeholders can increasingly contribute to co-shaping a collective urban future that is rich and sustainable. The concept has every likelihood of succeeding in the long-term, only if we are able to ensure just and equitable access to nature and its benefits in Cape Town. Similarly to how my approach to the concept has shifted favourably over time, I hope that with sufficient investment, will, and passion, the readiness to achieve such an ambitious vision might shift favourably, too, in South African cities. In the same way that we protect the Kruger National Park to ensure the highest quality habitat for the species who call it home, surely we should also aim to ensure our human habitats, which are increasingly urban, are healthy places for us to live and thrive in. The national park city concept offers us a solution, and London has demonstrated that it is indeed possible to achieve.
Geoff is a Principal Parks and Recreation Specialist and Accredited Parks and Recreation Professional (ARPro). Geoff runs GCC, a specialist parks and recreation consultancy.
The National Parks City Movement is a reflection that nature is a basic human right. It also serves as a vehicle to ask what is it that we need from our landscape, what does a city need from nature to sustain itself?
The forefront of the Parks’ movement occurred approximately a 150 years ago and was a similar one to the National Parks Cities movement. In the 1800’s, what we know to be the parks sector began as leaders and communities fought to ensure that areas of green and wilderness where we lived and some beyond that were saved from being lost (then, to the Industrial Revolution). It was reflected that these lands needed to be saved if we were going to survive and enjoy life ourselves. Then, the focus was setting aside specific areas and having something left. Land was saved or repurposed as “Parks” and the setting aside of “National Parks” was set forth from that time.
Parks are democracy. Parks are the best expression of democracy, community, and society, and one that transcends politics, issues, and the negative side of our species more than anything else. But why “ring fence” these areas at all or away from where we live, why disassociate our species from the settings where we perform the best?
The National Park City Movement honours parks perhaps more than National Parks themselves. The National Parks City Movement seeks to ensure that people don’t have a detrimental effect to the environment but through individual and collective actions, and positive impact, leave the environment better than when they found it. The National Parks City Movement achieves a range of existing environmental goals: e.g. carbon zero, various environmental initiatives, etc. Indeed, the statutory National Parks could learn a thing or two from National Parks Cities Movement. In National Parks people are removed from the setting or the Parks are curated as a place where nature is at best conserved and attempted to be preserved. In actual National Parks there is an uneasy relationship with human visitors where they are excluded, managed, regulated and often kept at arms’ length with a range of additional policies that probably best suited to where we live as opposed to where we visit.
Waihi Beach, coastal area of Bay Of Plenty National Park. Photo: Geoff Canham
The National Parks City Movement is a reflection that nature is a basic human right. It also serves as a vehicle to ask what is it that we need from our landscape, what does a city need from nature to sustain itself? It is a platform for leaders to share a vision for a good future. It’s a reminder that people don’t follow ideas, they follow feelings. When ‘feels good’ to people, people will do it again. The appeal and power from National Parks City Movement is that it’s “bottom up”, it’s about sharing the vision for a good future, it’s about optimism and hope.
At the international launch in London July 2019, many speakers reflected that if we are to have a future we need to look to leaders and some of the things we need to be repeating to our communities. We need to find leaders to remind us not to fear nature but look to engage with it through this optimism of hope. To paraphrase Nelson Mandela, we are a people that make better choices when we make those choices reflecting our hopes, not our fears. Another one of the speaking points was that the National Parks City Movement is in effect a collective and enlightened self-interest. The National Park City Movement is another way of engaging with people that lets them relate to their surroundings and if it feels good then people will follow.
In New Zealand we would use a Maori proverb and to date a number of presentations have been given where this has resonated:
“Na to rourou, nā taku rourou ka ora ai te iwi”. “With your food basket and my food basket the people will thrive”.
Pataka (Community Food Sharing Stand) at Kopeoeo, Allandale School Te Puna te Taiao (Combined Park and School) Whakatane, New Zealand. Photo: Geoff Canham
Aotearoa/New Zealand is a country that people have settled in over the past 700 or so years, either escaping over-population of smaller lands, or to simply find more resources. I can report from the other end of the globe from London that this is it; there is nowhere left to go next. We have to make the best of what we have and as it is, most of us live in cities anyway. Even in New Zealand, compared to the rest of the world, where around 83% of the world’s population live in cities, here 87% of us living in urbanised cities. This is good news for the land where the food needs to come from but highlights that National Park Cities is the future. We are the only species that wants to better ourselves, the only species that tells stories, the only species that can turn imagination into something-it’s time we got a better story.
If you’ve seen some of the bigger trilogies recently, you’ll know New Zealanders love a quest. Our quest with Bay of Plenty National Park Region is to take a group of small cities close to each other and the small towns nearby, in an already beautiful area known as the Bay of Plenty bordered by National Parks, and to create the first National Park Region.
Gareth has been involved in the sector for 30 years and has been CEO of NZ Recreation Association, National Sport & Recreation Manager for NZ YMCA, interim CEO of Outdoors NZ, and as public health planner in the health sector .
Samarth Das is an Urban Designer and Architect based in Mumbai. Having practiced professionally in Ahmedabad, Mumbai, and subsequently in New York City, his work focuses on engaging actively in both public as well as private sectors—to design articulate shared spaces within cities that promote participation and interaction amongst people.
Even though Mumbai is one of the few cities in the world that has a National Park within the municipal limits of the city, we argue that instead of having one “Central Park” in the city that everyone travels in order to access and enjoy, having smaller and more accessible neighbourhood parks promotes healthier and active lifestyles. This is why the London National Park City initiative is such an exciting prospect.
Mumbai city—with an area of 480 km2—has over 320 documented and listed gardens and parks and over 1200 recreation and playgrounds covering a mere 13.7 km2 of area. With a population of over 13 million, Mumbai has one of the poorest ratios of open spaces to people compared to any city in the world. But what makes the city unique in many ways is the rich diversity of natural assets that are found interspersed across the city’s ever expanding fabric. A city that has all the elements in place to transform itself into a world class Natural Park City. Our natural assets include over 140 kilometers of coastline—which are one of the most bio-diverse zones of the city—16 kilometers of beaches; 40 kilometers of rivers; over 70 km2 of creeks, mangroves and wetlands; 50 kilometers of “nullahs”—open storm water channels—and almost 58 km2 of hills and forests. In order to transform Mumbai into a National Park City the very notion of how open spaces are defined needs to go beyond gardens and parks to include these incredible, vast, and diverse natural assets.
Mithi River running through the heart of the new business district of Mumbai. Image: PK Das & Assoc.
Unfortunately, owing to unplanned and ad-hoc development, these natural features and assets have been neglected, abused, and misused, thereby rendering them as backyards. Even the city’s development plan has failed to recognise the importance or potential of these natural assets. Apart from their undisputable role in protecting and shielding the city from in-land flooding, sea level rise and storm surges, these natural areas can be integrated into the neighbourhoods to become the forefront of public realms that are accessed, enjoyed and protected by one and all.
Picture this: Preservation programs such as those in Jamaica Bay (New York), nature trails through biosphere reserves like those in Sian Ka’an in Mexico, walking and cycling paths along the canals of Amsterdam, boardwalks of KRKA National park in Croatia, leisure and recreation opportunities seen in Central Park in New York City and Hyde Park in London; remediation of water bodies like the ongoing efforts in Gowanus Canal in New York city; along with outdoor classrooms promoting active learning through planting programs and nurseries, bird viewing galleries along wetlands; and programs engaging locals in art amongst other means of interacting with their natural surroundings. All of these would constitute integral elements of a larger vision of Mumbai as a National Park city, a vision constantly under works and one that is continuously evolving.
Through our professional practice, PK Das & Associates, and several of our community-led initiatives, we have successfully implemented neighbourhood-based projects in the city that aim to achieve precisely these objectives. The Irla Nullah Rejuvenation Project in the western suburb of Juhu in one such project which aims at re-appropriating a neglected and dirty open storm water channel into an accessible public space with several parks and gardens along its edge, thereby bringing the several communities that live along it together geographically as well as programmatically. We hope for many more such initiatives across the city.
The Irla Nullah Rejuvenation Plan, Juhu. Image: PK Das & Assoc.
In Mumbai the primary challenge has always been the enforcement of policies and ensuring the safeguarding of our natural areas. With the city unable to provide adequate housing and cope with the speed of population growth over the years, informal settlements sprung up in the most neglected areas of the city—which most often tend to be the edges and buffers of these natural areas. The idea of the National Park City concept demands attention to not just our natural areas, but also a more comprehensive and holistic approach that integrates infrastructure solutions for housing and amenities with neighbourhood based planning, builds in new non-motorised modes of transport into our mobility plans, and most importantly, creates a transparent and open platform for local advocacy groups that can demand definite time periods for responses/ actions taken by local and state machinery to address grievances and complaints. Nature, in our city, is in an advanced state of degradation and it is an immense challenge to reconcile with and rejuvenate these sensitive ecosystems in order to bring them back to their past glory.
Even though Mumbai is one of the few cities in the world that has a National Park within the municipal limits of the city, we argue that instead of having one “Central Park” in the city that everyone travels in order to access and enjoy, having smaller and more accessible neighbourhood parks promotes healthier and active lifestyles. This is why the London National Park City initiative is such an exciting prospect: it allows for every individual, regardless of age and gender, to participate equally in their surroundings while also being able to voice their opinions when needed!
I’d love the Glasgow conurbation to think about being a national park city. But it needs to be a co-production that all interested stakeholders can comfortably sign up to. Not something that is foisted on the city because of a bright shiny campaign.
The idea of Glasgow as the next National Park City is gaining momentum. A campaign group of knowledgeable individuals have been set up and they are gathering support from third sector organisations who think this is a good idea. But how does it feel from the point of view of an employee of the City that is the target of this campaign?
For London to become the first national park city a movement was created around a campaign to get all 32 boroughs and the London Assembly to sign up to the concept and then to agree a shared charter. For Glasgow to become a National Park City it would only require possibly eight councils to get on board to create a shared vision for a liveable, sustainable and green city. It could be argued that the Council’s in and around Glasgow are already working on a shared vision through their individual Development Plans; Open Space Strategies and colloborative work on the City Region and delivery of the Central Scotland Green Network. As Council officials we are already working collaboratively with partners, whether governmental, community or third sector to provide great places that allow the community to live, work and play.
Whilst welcoming the campaign, there is a real risk that it could distract from the good work that is already ongoing within the City and the surrounding Councils, and bring an added layer of complexity that is difficult to deliver. Conversations with the campaigners have identified that they are developing a vision that they would like campaign supporters and possibly the City Authority to sign up to.
But the campaign doesn’t start from an understanding of what the baseline for open space is for the City or Scotland. There appears to be an assumption that the City doesn’t understand fully what open space can deliver for its communities. The campaign doesn’t appear to acknowledge the difference between legally protected open space and development or vacant and derelict land that has naturally greened. It doesn’t do anything to recognise the limited resources that are available within Cities and the evidence base that is being worked on to try to raise the profile of open space as a key asset for Local Authorities (here and here).
The ideas that fed into the campaign in London are already being worked on in Scotland. The recent Planning bill has made the creation of open space strategies a statutory requirement for all Scottish Councils. The development and use of the Place Standard and the Place Principal are emphasising the health benefits of open space. As a front runner city for the H2020 Connecting Nature project www.connectingnature.eu is developing the ideas of nature-based solutions that deliver great spaces with multiple benefits for society, economy, environment, and health and wellbeing. Early conversations are being held at a national level about updating the typologies for open space; for example, how you measure their quality and whether they are fit for function and how you judge there accessibility for all. Community empowerment is encouraging more citizen science and citizen engagement in our places and spaces.
It’s very easy to campaign today. All you need is a phone and internet access for your voice to be heard. It’s really easy to shout at people and say you should be doing this and look at all the people who also think that you should do this. It’s easy to say there are only a few of us doing this in our spare time, we’re not a big noise.
But it only takes one voice saying something that captures the imagination. In the UK we know this from the political climate we are currently living through. It is far harder to be part of the solution. It would be better to spend energy working collaboratively with the eight Councils that cover the Glasgow area and other supporters to co-produce a vision for what calling Glasgow a national Park city would actually mean in reality. Imposing a vision upon the city employees to implement, without due regard to the political landscape that we are working in, is not collaboration. In fact, it could create conflict and difficulty, and runs the risk of polarising views.
I’d love the Glasgow conurbation to think about being a national park city. But it needs to be a co-production that all interested stakeholders can comfortably sign up to. Not something that is foisted on the city because of a bright shiny campaign. Because at the end of the day, it will not be the campaigners that will implement any designation. It will be the folk that work for the Councils and Scottish Government who will have to make this happen. Please work with us and stop shouting at us.
Disclaimer: the views expressed in this response are those of the author, and not necessarily those of her employer.
He is the president of the National Park Association of Mexico, leader of the World Urban Parks for Latin America, vice president of the World Parks Academy and member of the City Parks Alliance Board of Directors in the United States.
Luis is the author of the book “Building My Park - From citizen participation to the administration of public space”. He has worked for the last 9 years in urban park projects and public spaces in the world through models of participatory design, community building and financial sustainability.
We achieved a connection between public spaces and community, which is one of the main ingredients in a National Park City. With all these actions we start to gradually diminish the biggest challenge; engaging people with the resources of our city, coexisting in harmony.
The definition of a National Park City includes many characteristics, including a place, a vision, and a community of the whole city that acts together to improve people’s lives, wildlife, and nature. With this idea, we believe it is one of the most important new ideas, but also a great challenge. How do we get people involved with the fauna, flora, nature, and all the resources that your city has to offer?
People who enjoy public spaces most of the time do not have the opportunity to give their opinions and understand the process and, with this, those who are in charge of making these places happen do not have an idea of what works for the community and, more importantly, its true needs. The role of public servants in the development of the parks of our cities is transcendental—they have the capacity to make decisions that improve our environment.
For this reason, we need public servants committed to public space and their support in conjunction with citizens. At the National Association of Parks and Recreation of Mexico (ANPR Mexico), we have been involving people in their communities through our process to design, build, and maintain our public spaces.
The ANPR Mexico promotes the creation, revitalization and maintenance of urban parks and recreation in our country to improve the quality of life of all citizens through public spaces. Our efforts are reflected in developing information into better content for the training of professionals dedicated to urban parks and public spaces. These activities range from monthly webinars, our parks magazine, educational content, blogs, and the star of the show: our annual urban park congress.
Together with our mission, we have been collaborating with professionals to achieve, in the short and long term, the best place for people who live in it. The design principles and processes for parks are extremely important, since they should be considered for the attractions that will take place within the site, the activities that can be done and its equipment, as well as what happens around it.
Taking into account that, cities are composed of elements and initiatives that make them unique. The importance of play in children, specific socio-cultural characteristics, recreational bicycle projects, resilience, among many others are some issues on which we work continuously from both sides. When the projects begin, we go directly to the people and with this, they begin to develop a sense of belonging and take the public space as their own.
In the end, we achieved a connection between public spaces and community, which is one of the main ingredients in a National Park City. With all these actions we start to gradually diminish the biggest challenge; engaging people with the resources of our city, coexisting in harmony.
Although in our city many people realize the importance of our public spaces, in some areas we still lack the commitment of all the parties involved, from government to the people who benefit from these. As we know, it is a timely cultural choice, a commitment to a sense of place and way of life. We are involving people in the decisions, with their health, with the community, with nature and more. Every action requires time and slowly we are walking towards making our city a National Park City 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.
Even if efforts were made to increase public green space, the surface area of green would not be sufficient to house populations of native fauna. That is why we believe that the National Park label would be inadequate.
Buenos Aires as a National Urban Park? It is a fantasy for a city like Buenos Aires that is characterized by the little green, polluted rivers and streams, noise, and high traffic. A great challenge that could arise for the future as the increase of green in quantity and quality in its different types of parks, squares, urban reserves, bio-corridors, urban trees, remnant areas would mitigate environmental urban evils with a significant improvement in the life of the population.
Going back to reality, if we take the case of the green infrastructure, the quantitative deficit of total area of public green space per inhabitant is known and also poorly distributed. Official statistics say that there is an average 6m2 while international standards set minimums of 10-15 m2 (WHO 2012).
Many of these green areas have insufficient vegetated and absorbent soil, and the vast majority of the vegetation that we find in squares and in the trees along the streets of Buenos Aires is exotic. The absence of elements of the typical Pampas vegetation limits the presence of the possible 200 species of birds and 100 species of native butterflies that we could observe in the original landscape.
In Buenos Aires, by the late nineteenth century, green spaces began to be relevant urban areas in social life. Large public parks arose under the influence of French and English landscaping models, coinciding with the hygienist movement in its attempts to relieve the burden of urban living. Many private gardens have low biodiversity and are getting smaller and smaller, as single-family homes are demolished to build multistory buildings (image below).
Block of the Belgrano neighborhood in Buenos Aires with absorbent surfaces invaded by constructions today. Private gardens are small and unconnected. Credit: Emiliano Fernandez
Even if efforts were made to increase public green space, in the areas that are generated today by coastal filling in the estuary of the Rio de la Plata, or creating new parks on vacant areas of the railroad, the surface area of green would not be sufficient to house populations of native fauna. That is why we believe that the National Park label would be inadequate. However, visioning the future, we could strive to reach situations that could be framed in a conservation figure such as a Nature Biosphere Reserve with cores of greater conservation value that dissipate towards the edges. This would be a chance for the city to understand and manage changes and interactions between social and ecological systems what is currently missing.
Biosphere reserves are areas comprising terrestrial, marine, and coastal ecosystems, promoting solutions that reconcile the conservation of biodiversity with its sustainable use. As defined by United Nations they have three interrelated zones that aim to fulfill three reinforcing functions:
The core area is devoted for the conservation of landscapes, ecosystems and species.
The buffer zone surrounds or adjoins the core areas, and is used for activities compatible with sustainable practices and a transition area where the greatest activity is allowed.
In Buenos Aires, the current trend that raises the new building code is to increase the built surfaces in a compact and high way. To increase green infrastructures, this height development should require that new buildings in both the public and private domain have a greater proportion of internal courtyards with absorbent and green surfaces that mitigate the effects of climate change and become local biodiversity shelters. Vegetation of terraces and walls should be added.
In turn, the city should allocate the hundreds of thousands of square meters of sidewalks and public urban interstices that have the possibility of becoming absorbent soils, small landscaped spaces and green corridors. They should also consider that part of the remaining sites could become re-wilded, areas that are still very little present in Buenos Aires, as we described in a previous roundtable. This would significantly improve the environmental conditions of the city, especially in the pedestrian and at the neighborhood scale.
At the ground level of a city block, the transition zone built up by green corridors, absorbent surfaces and walking and bike roads, can encourage mixed uses programs. At the high level: canopies of trees and green urban roofs, crossed ventilation and exposure buildings to sunlight can mitigate heat. At the underground level, the development of urban infrastructures as water storage and parking may create a better city for pedestrians (image below).
Redefinition of the city block following the new planning code to improve the Belgrano neighborhood by creating a homogeneous ground level at +6.00 m with green roofs (5) and internal limit line of constructions to guarantee crossed ventilation and exposure to sunlight (1, 2, 3, 4). The area of a connected green infrastructure is increased, which allows greater abundance and richness of species on private gardens. Credit: Emiliano Fernandez.
In coincidence with the ecological urbanism mentor, Salvador Rueda, who proposes to create ecological urban links at the three levels of a neighborhood, we believe that the idea of a Biosphere Reserve is possible (image below).
Road section in the Belgrano neighborhood applying the principles of “ecological urbanism”. Increased afforestation and rain gardens on the sidewalks. Credit: Emiliano Fernandez.
Reference: World Health Organization. Health Indicators of Sustainable Cities in the Context of the Rio+20 UN Conference on Sustainable Development. WHO; Geneva, Switzerland: 2012.
Architect and Master Architectural Design (University of Buenos Aires). Director Bio-Environmental Design Lab (University of Flores- Buenos Aires). Professor and researcher at Catholic University of Salta (UCASAL). Principal at Sebastian Miguel Architects & partners (Buenos Aires). Member of Argentinean Association of Renewable Energies and Environment (ASADES)
Eduardo Guerrero is a biologist with over 20 years of experience in projects and initiatives involving environmental and sustainable development issues in Colombia and other South American countries.
National Park City—similar in spirit to the Colombian initiative Biodivercities— are necessary evolutions of traditional paradigms in urban and peri-urban planning. In cities, nature conservation and citizens wellbeing are part of the same equation, not contradictory goals.
Is there nature within a city? Of course, yes. Even more: is there wild nature in a city? The answer is, again, yes. Not pristine wild nature but nature transformed by human society, which shows many ecosystem attributes and functions.
When you arrive by plane into a city, what you see from the air is a city inserted in a regional landscape. The ecosystem matrix of Colombian cities is quite diverse. Some urban centers have been built inside Andean or Caribbean ecosystems, other Amazonian, or within the Orinoquia region or in the middle of the Pacific tropical rain forest.
A city is not an isolated landscape from its regional surrounding territory. On the contrary, cities are immersed into biomes. From a broad landscape perspective, they are patches of transformed soil in the middle of natural ecosystems. So, the question is: should we plan cities as part of nature or aside nature?
Under this perspective, what’s the role of urban protected areas? What’s the role of designed green spaces and green infrastructure? Should urban metropolitan parks, pocket parks, street trees and urban protected areas be part of the same functional ecological network?
In Colombia we have positioned the concept of main ecological structure, that is the natural resources base, as a tool to integrate protected areas and other green spaces to land use planning. With the support of Ministry of Environment and regional and local environment authorities, many cities have identified their main ecological structure trying to link these with regional ecological networks which support socio-economic development.
There is a discussion dealing with the official status of urban protected areas. The National System of Protected Areas does not include them, despite local authorities have declared many. The National Parks agency recognizes them under a secondary figure named “complementary conservation strategy”, related to the Convention on Biological Diversity’s concept of “Other Effective Area–Based Conservation Measures (OECM)”. Debate is opportune and important because it stimulates a reflection about urbanization, nature, and sustainable development. Even if small and transformed, urban protected areas and other green spaces have a key function, not only in terms of ecological connectivity but also in terms of social and economic sustainability.
In the real world, regardless of formal recognition, many of these urban protected areas show remarkable conservation achievements thanks to effective synergies among authorities and citizens.
A Colombian initiative analogous to London’s National Park City campaign
Beyond the name, I share the vision which inspires the National Park City idea: to make cities where people, places and nature are better connected.
In that sense, the example of London is quite motivating. I like such an initiative driven by a collective partnership of citizens, NGOs, and local authorities to convince cities and their residents to be greener, healthier, and wilder.
National Park City initiative challenges the classic concept of National Park. A National Park City is not seeking to be declared as an official National Park under the national protected areas systems. Official or not, what is important is the campaign itself and its effectiveness mobilizing a city around a powerful idea.
Coincidentally, in Colombia, national government is developing an initiative called “Biodivercities”, aiming to integrate biodiversity and the main ecological structure as the foundations for a sustainable urban development.
Under the logic of this initiative, an urban center is aimed at the adopted and adapted concept of “biodivercity” when planning, organizing its territory, and managing its social and economic development in a sustainable and innovative way in harmony with its natural resources base.
A valuable element of the initiative is the synergy between conservation, innovation, and green entrepreneurship. A “biodivercity” not only must conserve biodiversity to preserve ecosystem services. It is also expected to promote bioeconomy, science, technology, and innovation as structural axes of sustainable development and, at the same time, use natural resources efficiently, with a focus on circular economies.
Ideas such as “National Park City” or “Biodivercity” (the Colombian initiative) challenge the conventional and traditional approaches to urban nature. The point is that we need a paradigm evolution in urban and peri-urban planning. In cities, nature conservation and citizens wellbeing are part of the same equation, not contradictory goals.
Simon Bolivar Metropolitan Park, Bogotá. Photo: Eduardo Guerrero
Sue is an outdoor access specialist, currently at Glasgow City Council, with a background in conservation volunteering and environmental sculpture. She is passionate about greenspace and ecology, and believes both in the intrinsic value of species and habitats for their own sake and in their importance for the physical, spiritual and mental health and wellbeing benefits they offer to the people and communities that live alongside them.
In Glasgow, we need to create a grassroots groundswell of support across a broad demographic by sharing our passion; by being generous with our time and knowledge; by amplifying and celebrating the work of our partners; and by being inclusive and open to new ideas and alternative pathways.
Everyone with an interest in, or a passion for delivering, a greener, healthier, wilder city, from a child growing cress on a windowsill, to a major organisation developing a nature park, would feel they were part of a big, inclusive, positive movement. Glasgow National Park City would be as much a network of people communicating with, and supporting, each other, as a network of physically connected green and blue spaces.
What would it be like?
If Glasgow were a National Park City, there would be an extensive network of engaged, empowered and passionate individuals and organisations working together to achieve a future Glasgow:
where nature is thriving and spaces and places are connected;
where everyone has the opportunity to be engaged with nature and the outdoors;
where every child has the chance to learn and have fun in nature every day;
where the air is clean and healthy;
where communities are enthused, confident and have the skills to make their neighbourhoods greener, more resilient more environmentally just;
where people are proud of their natural and cultural heritage;
where everyone has access to green, healthy, sustainable travel;
where health and wellbeing statistics are a matter for celebration, rather than despondency;
where excellent design delivers buildings and spaces that respond to the needs of people and nature;
where everyone feels empowered to create, and entitled to expect, a greener, healthier and wilder city.
What would it take to accomplish?
We (Glasgow National Park City Group) know that there’s no magic wand and no undiscovered funding pot. A Glasgow National Park City will only be achieved by developing trust, and sharing knowledge, skills, and ideas, amongst people and organisations who are already committed to, or at least interested in, delivering greener, healthier, more resilient, and more biodiversity rich neighbourhoods. We need to create a grassroots groundswell of support across a broad demographic by sharing our passion; by being generous with our time and knowledge; by amplifying and celebrating the work of our partners; and by being inclusive and open to new ideas and alternative pathways. There is no value in a top-down approach; this has to be achieved by “infection”.
Our small group of volunteers needs to grow into a bigger team, and we are inviting people to join us through our website and social media channels, by running and speaking at events, and by word of mouth. We’re realistic about the time it will take to promote the idea and get people on board, and at the same time we will do what we can to take advantage of amazing opportunities like the COP26 climate summit coming to Glasgow in 2020.
Mike Houck is a founding member of The Nature of Cities and is currently a TNOC board member. He is The Urban Naturalist for the Urban Greenspaces Institute (www.urbangreenspaces.org), on the board of The Intertwine Alliance and is a member of the City of Portland’s Planning and Sustainability Commission.
At a time of transition in Portland’s greening movement, I believe a “gap analysis” regarding how both London and Portland have evolved our respective urban greening efforts over the past thirty years would be a significant value-added effort.
Given our long history of urban greening connections with London, I couldn’t resist David Maddox’s call for a response to his Roundtable discussion response to discuss the relevance of London’s recent designation as a National Park City and the National Park City movement in general to our work in the Portland, Oregon-Vancouver, Washington USA metropolitan region. We have benefited tremendously from London’s efforts to protect, restore, and manage green spaces, dating back to the mid-1980s under the leadership of Dr. David Goode and his colleagues at the London Ecology Unit and later at the Greater London Authority. Likewise, we’ve learned from more recent urban greening efforts such as Dusty Gedge’s habitat-focused green roof designs.
I spent a couple months visiting Camley Street Natural Park and other sites in and around London in the late 1980s, after having met Goode at a “wildlife in the urban environment” event on the east coast of the United States several years previous. Subsequent to the London foray, Dr. Goode to spoke several times in Portland, once to our City Club and several times to local park professionals, park advocates, and elected officials. On his multiple visits Goode, as an “outside expert”, validated what many of us had been working on for decades to elevate the importance of integrating the natural and built environments locally and regionally. It is not an exaggeration to attribute what successes we have had with protection, restoration, and management of urban nature largely to examples Goode brought to Portland over a decade of collaboration.
All that said, while the tenets and actions advocated by London’s National Park City movement are in direct parallel with our own work, we have worked for years on our own “marketing” campaign, making adoption of the National Park City moniker unnecessary. The City of Portland did recently join the ranks of Biophilic Cities via the Biophilic Cities Network. Likewise, we have benefited greatly from our relationship with The Nature of Cities community.
Expending energy on an additional international campaign would be far less effective and efficient than working to implement elements of both Biophilic Cities and the National Park City movements than expending the political capital it takes to get agreement on joining yet another international organization. I do, however, agree that we would continue to benefit by London’s example as we have in the past by expanding our work through The Intertwine Alliance in the 3,000 square mile Portland-Vancouver metropolitan region. At a time of transition with our own greening movement, I believe a “gap analysis” regarding how both London and we have evolved our respective urban greening efforts over the past thirty years would be a significant value-added effort.
What would take for us to be a candidate National Park City? In my opinion, building more social capital, addressing issues related to equity, racial and ethnic disparities, and capitalizing on the increasing attention to the nexus between human physical and psychological health and access to nature. While we have always understood our work embraces all of these issues the connections have been largely implicit. Of course, access to nature improves human health. Of course. social and environmental justice and equity issues should be integrated into our ecologically-focused work. However, there are those perceive our work as being led by organizations and institutions viewed that are the “white-dominant, mainstream environmental movement”, and inherently tone deaf with regard to racial disparities, social and environmental justice, and cultural diversity.
From my viewing London’s National Park City blogs, articles, and videos it is clear that it explicitly promotes a culturally specific, multiethnic, and environmentally just urban greening movement. London’s highly creative and socially focused efforts provide a template that might inspire us to be more creative in our marketing and to broaden our focus from what heretofore has been principally a biodiversity and ecosystem-based vision. To be fair we, have, in fact, begun efforts at the local and regional governmental levels and through the non-profit sector including The Intertwine Alliance to achieve that goal. That said, we would of course continue to focus on responding to climate change through mitigation and adaptation programs; continue to institutionalize urban green infrastructure as a mandated feature of urban planning; and continue to integrate efforts to protect regional biodiversity through acquisition, restoration and management of parks, trails, and natural areas, but with an explicit goal of building social capital.
Maud is a postdoctoral researcher at Freie Universität in Berlin, Germany. Her research spans community ecology, invasion ecology and evolutionary ecology, with a special focus on novel ecosystems.
Maud Bernard-Verdier, Aletta Bonn and Sophie Lokatis
Is Berlin already a national city park in everything but the name? Perhaps integrating such bottom-up initiatives into the overarching plans developed by city planners and experts may be what a Berlin national park would be all about.
Berlin is sometimes referred to as the “greenest capital in Europe”, and while cycling through the forested Tiergarten, past a pack of young boars, you might agree.
While there may be cities with even larger areas of greenspaces, nature and urban wilderness are surely part of Berlin’s identity. It was always important for Berlin to keep urban parks as “green lungs” for air cooling and air pollution control as well as for recreation during times of enclosure by a wall. In addition, derelict railway tracks owned by the former GDR Deutsche Reichsbahn offered places for nature to reclaim their place during the Cold War times. Today, between its endless oaktree alleys and overgrown wastelands, urban life pulsates. It thrives, enlaced by meandering rivers and lakes, where on occasions dead fish and beer bottles wash up on the shore. Sometimes you will spot a kingfisher or catch a glimpse of a diving beaver. Berlin, indeed, has a great potential to become a National Park City.
A divided city grows together
Berlin’s history is unique, and so is its nature. This November (2019) marked the 30th anniversary of the fall of the Berlin wall. Information plates on contemporary history alternate with those on plant and animal life along a 160km long cycle track around former West Berlin: the Mauerweg, path of the Berlin wall. In its central northern section, the Mauerweg connects an aggregation of half a dozen small to large scale parks and nature areas, mainly former railway areas and freight yards. These wild urban nature areas are invaluable—and novel—ecosystems. Whereas the distribution of green spaces in Berlin are usually highly correlated with socioeconomic status of the neighbourhoods, a fact that fosters environmental and ecological injustice among inhabitants, the Green Belt stretches right through the densely populated northern centre of Berlin, granting access to nature to residents of all income.
A capital of urban ecology science and grassroots movements
The Berlin Green Belt is a striking illustration of an urban planning that is rooted in a long tradition of urban ecology research in Berlin. The story goes like this: from 1961 to 1989, ecologists and naturalists in West Berlin, trapped behind the wall, turned to study the only nature they could access, thereby pioneering the field of urban ecology. Post-war Berlin was a pockmarked city whose many open abandoned areas and ruins welcomed a new growth of wild urban nature. Since reunification, reconstruction and rapid densification of the city has progressively reclaimed the green areas, but some remnant open spaces, such as the Mauerweg, have been actively protected.
The integration of nature conservation in urban planning goes back to the 1980s with the launch of the Landscape Program in 1988. This ambitious program was developed by leading urban ecologists such as Herbert Sukopp, in concert with landscape and city planners, originally for the isolated western sectors of the city. After the reunification of the eastern and western halves of Berlin, it was extended to encompass the whole city area and later joined by additional policies, including the Berlin Strategy for Biodiversity Preservation in 2012 and the Berlin Pollinator Strategy early 2019. What made the landscape program so special was that it was preceded by detailed ecological assessments of habitat types and went hand in hand with a strategy on biodiversity conservation. Therein, the Stadtbrachen—the wild, vacant and entirely novel ecosystems so typical for Berlin—were granted special conservation priority.
“Stadtbrache” Berlin Südgelände, one of several former railway areas that have been transformed into parks that integrate cultural life, recreation and biodiversity conservation. Credit: WikiCommons
So, is Berlin already a National Park City in everything but the name? Some decades ago, efforts to transform the areas surrounding the city into a national park were halted when the population protested that they did not want live in a reserve. How would the citizens of Berlin welcome the whole city being granted special National Park City status? Berlin inhabitants have already demonstrated their strong commitment to urban nature and protecting open spaces. The recent community-led referendum to protect the Tempelhofer Feld is testament to the citizen’s wish to maintain wild and open places in busy urban centres—the former airport field is now transformed into a gigantic open grassland and recreational area, despite being situated in a sector with the highest increases in property values. There is a strong and growing commitment of Berlin citizens and environmental and conservation organizations to conserve and even restore urban nature within the city realms. In a time where many people are disconnected from nature, also termed “extinction of experience”, urban nature attains a special importance. Indeed, in Berlin we see a thriving, creative community garden scene, a rejuvenated interest in allotments by young and old, as well as movements like Mundraub to enjoy edible natural cities, many initiatives to promote insects, e.g. Berlin Summt!, or citizen science projects such as the NABU Insektensommer to reconnect to nature by learning-by-doing.
In addition, nature-based solutions to climate adaptation, such as air cooling through street trees and other larger urban green and blue spaces, will be essential to safeguard citizens in a warming climate. Already, we can see a striking urban heat island effect with differences of up to 10°C in hot summer nights from Alexanderplatz to Grunewald, and promoting urban green and blue spaces can contribute to a climate resilient city. In addition, urbanisation has been linked to a rise in mental health issues, such as depression, and biodiverse urban nature can serve as a natural medicine—it will be important that citizens can actively enjoy nature in their daily life.
Perhaps integrating such citizen-led bottom-up initiatives into the overarching plans developed by city planners and experts may be what a Berlin national park would be all about? Berlin could set an example how daily life can be linked with nature. Conservation of our city nature would serve as active investment into the liveability of Berlin—ultimately a National Park City would not only enhance biodiversity but also public health and wellbeing.
Aletta Bonn is professor of ecosystem services and works at the German Centre of integrative Biodiversity Research. She is interested in the complex interactions of people and nature and employs participatory research methods, including citizen science.
Sophie Lokatis is a phD candidate at Freie Universität Berlin. Her main interests lie in biodiversity research, urban ecology and education for sustainable development.
Scott has worked for over 25 years on urban park and conservation teams across the United States. He is presently Director of a Louisville (Kentucky) regional NGO at work creating a new 600-acre urban park system on the banks of the Ohio River. He also serves as a board member with World Urban Parks.
Perhaps in the National Park Cities framework we will find the vocabulary of shared values necessary to address the urgent urban ecological and health crises that elude, frustrate, and imperil us all.
I live in the Louisville (Kentucky)/Southern Indiana area with 1.3 million neighbors. We live in a remarkably diverse deciduous forest along one of the continent’s largest rivers, the Ohio. Four distinct seasons are experienced each year. Brisk, sharp winters with infrequent snow, brilliant springs highlighted by an explosion of green, humid and hot summers, and lingering autumns beautifully articulated by orange, red, purple, and yellow foliage define our trip around the sun. These seasons also make our exceptional bourbons possible.
Given these seasons, the incredible diversity of plant and animal species found throughout our forests, and the wonderful Fredrick Law Olmsted-designed system of parks and parkways throughout the city, my neighbors and I should be among the most active and “nature aware” urban residents across the globe. This is not the case.
The Trust for Public Land’s 2018 Park Score ranks Louisville #81 out of the 100 largest US cities for the four characteristics of an effective park system: access, investment, acreage, and amenities. Because of high heart disease and diabetes rates, conditions that are closely related to obesity, Louisville was ranked the fifth-unhealthiest city in America by the American College of Sports Medicine. Perhaps most dangerous of all may be our urban heat island. In 2012, Georgia Tech University analyzed urban heating in the fifty largest cities in the States, and Louisville came out on top—above even Phoenix. Phoenix created a city in a desert. We created a desert in a forest.
Our inability to mobilize solutions to these known challenges, acknowledged across the political spectrum, suggests that is isn’t our leaders’ fault. The fault lies in our imagination. We need a new approach. Thus, the National Park Cities provocation matters.
The implementation of a National Park Cities framework introduces a new vocabulary for place; it provides us with a “string theory” for the urban ecosystem. It provides language that people can understand and quickly personalize. This new vocabulary may allow us to outgrow the adolescence of urbanization where we fought so hard to separate the built from the wild.
So, what could happen if my city became a National Park City? What would be different if we woke up one day with the awareness that we share a special, valuable, and unique urban green space?
We listen to the wisdom of our elders and the traditional owners who thrived here.
We celebrate the annual return of migratory songbirds and understand with whom we share them.
We sustain space for wildlife and healthy corridors for people.
We walk and bike more.
Our private development and public conservation communities collaborate to green our cities, neighborhoods, and urban core.
We thoughtfully give our waterways room they need to flood.
Our students learn about oaks.
Our rich and diverse bodies of faith strengthen their believers’ connection to Creation.
Our burgeoning tech sector deploys platforms that engage people daily with the outdoors just out their doors.
Our couches and gyms empty. Our parks and trails fill.
Nature is reflected in the work of our visual and performing artists.
We demand good answers to questions like, “What if the Ohio River was clean enough to swim?”
Local proteins and produce are found in our home kitchens, restaurants, schools, and senior centers.
Local plant stores and nurseries sell native plants that sustain our wildlife.
Any citizen from any community can register for any recreation program in any city.
We build aerial highways for flying squirrels through our neighborhoods.
We demand buildings with windows that open.
We intentionally incorporate time outdoors into every single day of the year.
We make space in our yards, parks, and buildings for wildlife. We then experience their stories of life, and death.
In doing so, we recover small bit of our humanity.
We make the choice to be better than we were.
We inspire the youngest among us to do more than we ever did.
Could Louisville become a National Park City tomorrow? Certainly. I believe our local elected officials would sign the charter as presently written. We would also see short-term rallying to the cause. However, I don’t believe this will be enough.
The Charter challenges us to recast our thinking, our expectations, our understanding of interdependence, and our accountability to one another to deliver lasting change. Organizing ourselves to its objectives across diverse city landscapes requires changing what it means to build, operate, live in, and sustain our very urban (and nature-divorced) lives.
Frankly, I don’t know if my city is ready for that leap. While the signatures will be easy, finding the ability to foster, in a culture that celebrates consumerism and industrial-level consumption, the awareness and vulnerability necessary to sustain stewardship and collective accountability to the Charter’s objective will be much more difficult. And that’s ok because real, lasting, big change should be hard.
The National Park Cities idea, as now expressed in the Universal Charter, provides the framework, a vocabulary if you would, that elevates the possibility of what our urban environments can do to support healthier people and sustainable ecological communities. That these values are shared in cities across the globe only strengthens my resolve that this work matters.
Robert Pirani is the program director for the New York-New Jersey Harbor & Estuary Program at the Hudson River Foundation. HEP is a collaboration of government, scientists and the civic sector that helps protect and restore the harbor’s waters and habitat.
The US National Park Service has a planning process for managing national parks. It is founded in purpose, significance, and fundamental resources and values. Can New York articulate these elements? Absolutely.
How is a city a park—and can we make it more so?
London calling! And their bold declaration promises that considerations of nature in the whole will elevate all the fragmented bits and pieces in our midst. The idea of a National Park City makes for a wonderful and I believe effective campaign and marketing strategy. And it encompasses a host of sound landscape conservation and recreation management practices as well. The trick of course is getting the specifics right.
To think about how application of the National Park City idea might play out in New York, I turned to the planning process deployed for management of National Parks in the United States. The four steps deployed by NPS are to identify the park purpose, its significance, the fundamental resources and values that speak to that significance, and the interpretive themes that will resonate with visitors. To be clear, the mandate is not the same and the analogy not perfect. But the premises and process used by the National Park Service offer the right questions for anyone seeking to improve and celebrate place.
So here are my considerations for nominating New York as a National Park City (with acknowledgement to the recent Management Plan established for our local Gateway National Recreation Area):
The park purpose is a specific reason why a park was established. The National Park Service starts with the premise that that units of the national park system reflects the diversity of the nation and that, as a whole, the National Park System tells America’s story through these cultural and natural resources. The purpose statement provides the most fundamental criteria against which the appropriateness of all planning recommendations, operational decisions, and actions are tested.
Any city can offer testimony to its own purpose and role in shaping a nation’s character. Here is an appropriately modest one for New York:
Park Purpose:
New York City is the heart of the nation’s largest metropolitan area, regional economy, and cultural center. Its forests, beaches, marshes, waters, scenic views, and other public spaces offer critical habitat and resource-based recreational opportunities to a diverse public. Its parks and public spaces include notable examples of the most significant design and management innovations of the last 200+ years.
Statements of significance define what makes the park/city unique—why it is important enough to warrant designation as a park and how it differs from other places. These statements are tools for setting resource protection priorities and for identifying appropriate experiences. Every park—and every city—contains many significant resources, but not all these resources contribute to why the park/city might be designated. The notion is to identify three or four statements that capture the essence of a place.
Here is one example that—again immodestly—captures one feature makes New York as Park significant. My own thinking is that this would be one of four statements; the other defining characteristics of New York National Park City would be Recreational Resources for a Diverse Population; Streetscapes and Urban Mobility; and Parks and Public Space Innovation.
Significance Statement: Ocean & Estuary New York City lies in one of the world’s greatest estuaries. The interaction of the Hudson River and Atlantic Ocean support an important assemblage of coastal ecosystems, including oceans, beaches, barrier islands, bays, tidal rivers, and maritime uplands. The habitats and rich biota that compose these ecosystems are rare in such highly developed areas. These features provide opportunities to restore, study, enhance, and experience coastal habitats and ecosystem processes for a diverse urban population.
Fundamental resources and values are the park/city’s attributes—its features, systems, processes, experiences, stories, opportunities for visitor enjoyment, etc—that are critical to achieving the park’s purpose and to maintaining its significance. These fundamental resources provide a focus on what is truly most important, and where to focus effort and funding.
Relative to the significance of its Ocean & Estuary, New York City’s fundamental resources and values are the variety of coastal and estuarine ecosystems and the most important places and habitat, like the Rockaway Peninsula or the lower Hudson River. But it should also include unique experiences like walking on a sandy beach, kayaking down an urban stream, or witnessing the spring migration of fish and birds.
These resources and values are communicated through the park’s interpretive themes. These themes are based on the park’s purpose and significance and connect resources to relevant ideas, meanings, beliefs, and values. They describe the key stories and concepts on which educational and interpretive programs are based. Here is one drawn right from the Gateway Management Plan that might also fit New York City as whole:
The Natural Wonders, Dynamics, and Challenges of an Urban Estuary. The natural resources of [New York City] are remarkably diverse given their location in the nation’s most densely populated urban area. The mosaic of coastal habitats is a refuge for both rich and rare plant and animal life intrinsically governed by the rhythms, processes, and cycles of nature, yet also continually shaped by people and the surrounding built environment. These resources provide unique and surprising opportunities for experiencing the wildness of the natural world while within the city’s limits, and a model for studying, managing, and restoring urban ecosystems.
It is easy of course for one person to get through this four-part test; not so simple for a room (or city) full of diverse and valid opinions.
So, back to our prompt question: Would management of New York City’s natural and cultural resources truly enhanced by considering the city as whole?
I think so. Considerations of the whole City frames decisions and investments in ways that speak to ecological process, whether it is watershed conservation, creating connective greenways, or restoring guilds of representative species. Creating personal experiences that speak to whole city landscapes—like art that celebrates buried watercourses or massive, collective citizen science efforts that capture a day in the life of the Hudson River—can help reveal nature in our urban midst. The challenge would be defining which processes, and which experiences, are most important to elevate.
Julie Procter is Chief Executive of greenspace scotland. With over 25 years’ experience working in the environmental sector, she is passionate about the importance of greenspace close to where people live and the many benefits it delivers for people, places and communities.
Julie Procter
In Scotland, we already have a strong and supportive policy framework. We now need the ambition, imagination, and confidence to think and do things differently, to break out of traditional sector and organisational silos, to work in ways which are collaborative and empowering.
When Scotland becomes a nation of National Park Cities…
Our parks and public greenspaces will no longer be caged like animals in a zoo. Green fingers, fronds and tendrils will reach out across the city, as street trees, rain gardens, green roofs and walls colonise our streets and neighbourhoods.
Children will no longer be imprisoned in classrooms and nurseries. Every day they will enjoy and be inspired by learning and playing outdoors and experiencing nature at first hand.
Local food growing will break free from the shackles of allotments and soon we will be sowing and growing everywhere—from pop-up gardens at the bus stop and vertical growing up the office wall, to edible playground planters and tasty community street orchards.
Commuters will be liberated from the cars as walking, cycling and active green travel is now the easiest way to get around the city.
Escaping from the car we will connect again at a human scale—noticing the flowers blooming, the wind blowing through the leaves, the sweet sound of birdsong and breathing clean air.
Communities will no longer be entangled in red tape when they want to take action to make their homes, streets, and neighbourhoods cleaner, greener, and healthier or simply enjoy a community event in their local park.
Once again, we will enjoy the sight and sound of children playing outside…and make time to stop and chat with neighbours and friends.
All of this adds up to a greener, healthier, happier city where people, places and nature are better connected, where communities thrive and we all enjoy longer lives, better lived.
Realising the ambition of a National Park City is as much about changing mindsets as it is about changing the fabric and the infrastructure of the city
In Scotland, we already have a strong and supportive policy framework where national outcomes are aligned to the UN Sustainable Development Goals. Our national outcomes include: people value, enjoy, protect and enhance their environment; people live in communities that are inclusive, empowered, resilient and safe; people are active and healthy.
Research already provides a strong and growing evidence base on the multiple benefits of green and blue space for our health, communities, economy and environment.
We now need the ambition, imagination and confidence to think and do things differently, to break out of traditional sector and organisational silos, to work in ways which are collaborative and empowering. We need to be bold and ambitious about how we want to live our lives and shape our cities.
Then we can realise a Scotland that is a nation of National Park Cities, where our green and blue spaces are our natural health service, our children’s outdoor classrooms and our cities’ green lungs.
Breda likes joining the movement of National Park Cities because it is in line with its ambition to become a city in park.
Breda, National Park City?
The city of Breda is inspired by initiative and words of Daniel Raven-Ellison that made London the first National Park City of the world. Breda, a city in the southern part of the Netherlands, has for 2030 set three big ambitions on the themes green, hospitality, and a borderless city. For green this is translated: in 2030 Breda wants to be the first city in Europe that lies in a park. This ambition was chosen together with the inhabitants of the city Breda. Residents and organisations agree that the power of Breda is partly located in the green nature and water that is present in large amounts both in the city and the outer area. From this strong position, the municipality wants to work together with residents and interest groups to further strengthen the green. The emphasis is placed in particular on connecting nature reserves through built-up areas. In addition, Breda will strengthen the green already present in the city of Breda.
Breda is a historic city in which nature occupies an important position. The city originated on the River Mark. Breda is committed to making the river visible again in the city centre. In the final phase, bringing the river back must be combined with nature development. Especially on the outskirts of the city we find nature reserves whose origin goes back to the 12th century. Together with the National Forestry, the municipality of Breda wants to make the green an even more prominent. Based on the figures of Esri-Nederland, 61% of the area of the municipality is green. Breda believes that a green city contributes to solving problems such as heat stress, climate change, and health problems.
Breda also wants to be an attractive city for its residents and businesses in particular. Due to a good location climate, people would like to live in Breda and stay here. Companies are increasingly choosing Breda to settle. Visitors to Breda combine their day of shopping in a historic centre with a day outside in nature. In short Breda profiles itself as a green city where its inhabitants feel at home and who can be proud of their city.
Breda likes joining the movement of National Park Cities because it is in line with its ambition to become a city in park. Breda is also convinced that it can learn from other cities when it comes to involving residents and parties from the further greening of the city. It is also prepared to share the knowledge it has with other cities. For a good future for our children and grandchildren, it is not enough that only Breda will turn green; all cities should be moving in this direction.
Breda has already invested a lot in the further strengthening of green and nature. Especially in the outer area, the city has made great advances. In the coming years, the municipality will work to mobilise other parties that can contribute to our ambition. In the “week of the future”, residents and organisations are challenged to think about with how this ambition can be shaped—ot only by the municipality but also the partners who are already committed. Furthermore, meetings are organized with architects and Breda is one of the organizers of the “Landschapstrienale”.
Together with our other two ambitions—hospitality and a borderless city—Breda becomes a city in a park and a National Park City.
Dr. Snorri Sigurdsson is a biologist, who has worked for the Department of Environment and Planning in the City of Reykjavík, Iceland for the last six years.
Reykjavík is well suited to be a National Park City—it has all the elements and already many projects that could fit in to this kind of premise. But Icelanders are deeply independent, and any NPC effort will only succeed from the ground up.
London National Park City is a fantastic initiative. Its immediate strength lies in the fact it is a movement and a collective spurred on by partnership and breakout ideas and projects. Even though the „national park“ title may allude to a rigidly governed institution, which is surely not the case here, it also signifies a status of importance and value. That this value is being shared via communal use and ownership of London‘s multitude of green spaces and natural heritage is a real triumph. Hopefully, this fabulous concept will be happily received and supported by the citizens and guests of London.
View over central Reykjavík.
It‘s a no-brainer to imagine this idea being applied in other cities. The City of Reykjavík, where I live and work, is truly rich in nature, with pristine habitats of great diversity and value. It is a coastal city, surrounded by the vast blue stretches of the North Atlantic, colonies of breeding seabirds and visiting migratory shorebirds fill the skies and waters and the crown-jewel is a glorious salmon river right in the middle of the city. In addition, as to be expected in Iceland, the geological heritage is rich, with lava fields, volcanic pseudocraters, glacial sediments and rock formations scattered through-out the city landscape. This rich nature is very accessible to the citizens, in easy walking distance for most.
Reykjavík has grown fast in the last decades, and only recently has the rapid sprawl of development been halted by city officials with focus on densification in the name of climate-friendly sustainability. While the positive environmental effect of this strategy is obvious, there has been a conflict when densification occurs in green spaces. One positive impact of the previously dominating sprawl city growth is that green spaces in Reykjavík are numerous and widely spread. Not nearly all are renowned parks or natural areas, some are nameless plots that happen to be vegetated and utilized by people living by them. Thus their use for densification has been protested and remains a contentious and difficult topic for the otherwise very “green-minded” politics ruling the city council.
City Hall by Reykjavík Pond on a foggy day– one of many natural areas in the city.
A new city-run project called the Reykjavík Green Net aims to strengthen the status of the green spaces in the city, with focus on improving connections between green areas by adding various types of green infrastructure, walking and biking lanes as well as blue-green solutions for surface water runoff where applicable. Green spaces also feature highly in projects aimed to improve citizen involvement. “My neighborhood” is a citizen participatory platform where people vote for various features and events in their neighborhoods such as installations for sport and recreation. The vast majority of the features usually voted for are in green areas.
Reykjavík is well suited to be a National Park City—it has all the elements and already many projects that could fit in to this kind of premise. It could be a great opportunity for city officials to kickstart such a project and improve the dialogue about green areas. What makes the NPC concept so inviting is the creation of a platform of true partnership. But this could be its greatest challenge in Reykjavík. Despite there being no bounds to creative examples of collaboration in Reykjavík, there is a strong sense of independence in the typical Icelandic mind-set. Being told what to do, especially by politicians or officials, is never likely to lead to success. Therefore, the NPC concept would have to be introduced ground-up from community organizations, private or NGOs, even youth movements, to really gain traction. Following that, the city council would undoubtedly gladly support the idea.
Puffins are among the bird species breeding in Reykjavík.
Daniel Raven-Ellison made it happen for London, but each city will need its own leader(s) to emerge who can inspire and motivate enough people to make it happen in their particular circumstances. Who?
Who can argue that a National Park City isn’t a great idea? When you look at the National Park City website it is full of colorful and catchy images and words that make it virtually impossible to not want your own city to become one. The idea of a National Park City is framed to be accessible and inviting and easily understandable to everyone—all can participate, no matter your background, socio-economic status, zip code, or other markers of life in the city. As posited, a National Park City is a vision, a movement, and a community that you can join. At its core, it’s about getting people in touch with the nature around them, improving the green and blue spaces embedded into a city’s fabric, and promoting the “brand” value of being such a city to the rest of the world. Being a National Park City has cachet, and it certainly promises increased visibility, attention, and status to the network of cities that eventually join its ranks.
While the pull of becoming a National Park City will certainly be strong for many global urban centres with already well-developed green and blue infrastructure, there are serious things to consider before going down this path. One that immediately pops out is the value that a city might place on being identified as a “national park” city—with its inherent identity politics in relationship to a federal government. While we may think that national park systems elicit inherently positive attitudes, this may not be true in every circumstance. Not all citizens have a positive view of their national governments, and the idea of giving the national government “credit” for the best parts of their city by branding it as a National Park City might not sit so well with some. Along those lines, many communities, cities, and regions possess a strong sense of “local” with already well-developed global brands that work for them. In such cases, will the layering on of a National Park City label only serve to dilute these well-established identities?
Another very important consideration about becoming a National Park City is the fact that each city will need a “champion” like London’s National Park City idea originator, Daniel Raven-Ellison, who worked tirelessly for years to bring about his vision. His success is inspiring for so many, but it shows that to become truly successful, a National Park City requires vision, time, commitment, energy, resources, as well as a bit of luck and magic to make it happen. Daniel Raven-Ellison made it happen for London, but each city will need its own leader(s) to emerge who can inspire and motivate enough people to make it happen in their particular circumstances.
It is clear from the London National Park City website that key components of realizing their vision includes the creation of a governing charter, the establishment of a partnership (comprised of groups and organizations) led by a steering group, and the development of a foundation to provide the leadership, fundraising, partnerships, and administration necessary to undertake the day-to-day work to keep it all going—which is to say that a lot of hard work and persistence are required to see this through. A key question for those considering joining this movement is the extent to which this necessary formula can successfully be replicated elsewhere?
That being said, and on balance, I truly believe it is worth endorsing the idea of National Park Cities because the vision is so compelling and timely, the motives for undertaking the work are so pure, and the potential benefits so critical to the continued health and well-being of humans and nature alike. After all, who wouldn’t benefit from living in a healthier, wilder, and kinder city of the type promoted by the National Park City movement? To this end, I, for one, sincerely hope that 25 cities will find what it takes to become a National Park City by 2025.
I think my own city of Victoria, British Columbia, Canada would be an excellent candidate for a National Park City. We enjoy a stunning natural environment, we’re continually investing in our blue and green infrastructure, and we’re passionate about preserving and sharing our high quality of life on beautiful southern Vancouver Island. Now is the time for a local Daniel Raven-Ellison to emerge who will lead the charge and inspire us to become Canada’s first National Park City. If this happens by 2025, it will be truly amazing!
According to the United Nations, the second biggest problem for humanity after global warming is disorganized urbanization—urbanization without planning and integration of natural environments. Since 2008, for the first time in history, the majority of people live in urban areas, and this pattern is expected to keep increasing in the oncoming decades, until 5 billion people are living in cities in 2030. In general, urbanization occurs at fast rates in tropical countries relative to temperate countries and it is expected that the biggest increase of urbanization will occur in Asian and African countries.
Changes in the structure of the surrounding environment affect the occurrence of native species in remaining natural habitat fragments in cities.
Urbanization reduces natural habitats (such as forest, grasslands, and wetlands), creates new habitats (such as parks, lagoons, and gardens), increases the levels of contamination and species introduction, favors disease dissemination, and produces changes in temperature, wind currents, and the water cycle. Aside from contamination, fragmentation is probably the most influential issue for preserving natural habitat and the species that inhabit it; because fragmentation separates populations, it prevents species movement between patches, reduces the area available to inhabit, changes wind currents and temperature levels, increases temperature and noise levels, and allows alien species to colonize the patches, just to mention a few examples.
Each of the previous effects of habitat fragmentation (and others) may act alone or as a part of a set of effects to cause that native species to go locally extinct. For example, if a fragment starts to be noisy due to the occurrence of more people and traffic, animals that use acoustical signals to attract pairs, defend territories, or announce predator presence—such as crickets, frogs, or birds—must change the structure of their vocalizations (e.g., frequency and duration) by singing at higher volume or changing the periods of singing (e.g., diurnal species singing at night), to allow the message in its vocalizations to arrive at the receiver without degradation caused by the additional, new noise. If individuals of the species cannot change the acoustical properties of their vocalizations or their behaviors, the species is likely to be driven locally extinct from the habitat fragment. Likewise, if the remaining fragments are more open than the original, continuous habitat, the fragment is likely to be brighter and drier because light and heat will arrive more directly to the understory and ground. This will cause species adapted to dense and dark habitats, such as fungi, mosses, understory plants, some insects, insectivorous birds, and newts, to locally disappear or to be reduced in abundance.
Fig. 1. Modification and fragmentation of natural habitats create new structures that may be used by alien species to reproduce, as this White-winged Dove (Zenaida asiatic a), which has invaded many fragments of montane forest in the Costa Rican Central Valley, the most urbanized area of the country.
These two examples of habitat fragmentation and modification illustrate how changes in the structure of the surrounding environment affect the occurrence of native species in remaining natural habitat fragments. But, these are not the only problems that face the remaining native species in fragmented habitats, because when the native species cannot survive in the new fragment conditions, other species more adapted to these conditions—such as pioneer plants, open-area animals, and introduced species—arrive and colonize the empty space. Those species are named alien species and could have two possible origins: (1) species that naturally inhabit the country, state, or region but inhabit other habitats and ecosystems different from the fragmented one, or (2) could be introduced species from other countries or continents by humans. Under this scenario, native species start to compete and interact with the alien species in a war that determines which species will survive and flourish in the fragmented habitats.
In the Neotropics, fragmentation of natural habitats allows dry forest species to colonize what were once more humid habitats. In this case, although dry forest species are native to several countries, they are alien to humid forests. For example, Hoffmann’s Woodpecker (Melanerpes hoffmannii), White-winged Dove (Zenaida asiatica), and Rufous-naped Wren (Campylorhynchus rufinucha), which are Mesoamerican dry forest species, have colonized more humid habitats after fragmentation in the Caribbean rain forest or Pacific rain forest. Hoffmann’s Woodpecker started to increase its distribution along the Caribbean coast of Costa Rica in approximately the last 10 years (Sandoval & Vargas 2007). It was able to compete for nesting substrates with the native Black-cheeked Woodpecker (M. pucherani) because both species use the same type of substrates for nesting and are territorial against other woodpeckers. Based on its actual occurrence on the Caribbean coast (using data from the citizen science-based app, eBird), Hoffmann’s Woodpecker is pushing Black-cheeked Woodpecker out from urban places. This pattern is apparently occurring with other dry forest species, which are pushing out the native species of humid fragmented habitats (Biamonte et al. 2011). For example, in Mexico, after cloud forest fragmentation, the most common species in the remaining fragments are Great-tailed Grackle (Quiscalus mexicanus) and Brown Jay (Psilorhinus morio), which are alien species associated with disturbed habitats. Insectivores and large frugivores are now less common or have disappeared from small fragments (Rueda-Hérnandez et al. 2015).
Introducing alien species into fragmented habitats, where they compete, parasitize, or predate native species, occurs more commonly by human intervention. For example, house cats (Felis catus), both pets and feral, occur in all urban environments and are one of the biggest predators of wild birds in fragmented habitats around urban areas. Researchers estimate that between 1 and 3 billion birds are predated each year by house cats in the United States (Dauphine and Cooper 2009, Loss et al. 2013), between 350,000 and 1 million in Canada (Blancher 2013), and approximately 27 million in the United Kingdom (Woods et al. 2003). A more detailed study showed that house cats are responsible for 47 percent of nest predation in Gray Catbird (Dumetella carolinensis); house cats are directly affecting the recruitment and population growth of the species (Balogh et al. 2011). However, house cats also predate rodents, lizards, and large insects, locally reducing or extinguishing a large set of native species. In this case, it is necessary for humans to intervene to avoid local extinctions and to control the species dynamics inside natural habitat fragments.
Fig. 2. Rock Pigeon (Columbia livia) is an alien species common in the majority of parks around the world, where it competes with native pigeons, doves, and other birds for nesting sites and food.
These few examples represent scenarios in temperate and tropical habitats where native animal species are losing the war against alien species in fragmented habitats inside urban areas. How native plant species respond to the occurrence of alien species is less well-understood because, in some cases, a single individual or small population can persist several years in a place completely isolated from other individuals of its own species, giving a false perception of a lack of harm by alien species to the occurrence of native species. It is important to remember that fragmentation affects the occurrence of native species at several levels by changing the structure of remaining habitats and allowing the occurrence of other, better-adapted alien species in the fragmented habitats. I recommend the development of studies that evaluate how native and alien species interact in fragmented habitats inside urban areas throughout the world, if we want to understand whether those fragmented habitats are working as a reservoir of native species or as a black hole where natives will be replaced by alien species in the near future.
Good management of residual natural habitats inside cities will aim for the preservation of native species because native species (e.g., animals, plants, mushrooms, and bacteria) interact to keep populations and their surrounding ecosystems balanced. For example, a bird species that eat insects (e.g., flycatchers or wrens) keep insect populations under control, preventing them from becoming a plague. Similarly, native plants provide nectar for nectarivorous animals; these animals pollinate flowers, allowing fruit production.
However, to help native species win the war against alien species, it is necessary to consider whether the natural habitat fragment inside the urban area is recent, old, or intermediate in age. The age of the fragment will influence how possible it is to manage and preserve the native species within it, as well as avoiding or reducing the occurrence of alien species. Recently-created fragments will have more native species and less alien species; in this case, with the correct management and relatively low costs, it is possible to preserve the habitat and maintain a large diversity of native species. On the other hand, older fragments that have gone unmanaged probably will have more alien species than native species. In those cases, the cost to help return and maintain the native species could be very expensive and require a lot of management. Therefore, it is very important to analyze the age of fragment creation and the proportion of each type of species (native and aliens) before deciding whether it is prudent to actively manage the fragment.
Balogh, A. L., T. B. Ryder, P. P. Marra. 2011. Population demography of Gray Catbirds in the suburban matrix:sources, sinks and domestic cats. J Ornithol (2011) 152:717–726.
Biamonte, E., L Sandoval, E Chacón & G. Barrantes. 2011. Effect of urbanization on the avifauna in a tropical metropolitan area. Landscape Ecology 26: 183-194.
Blancher, P. 2013. Estimated Number of Birds Killed by House Cats (Felis catus) in Canada. Avian Conservation and Ecology. 8(2): 3. http://dx.doi.org/10.5751/ACE-00557-080203
Dauphine, N., and R. J. Cooper. 2009. Impacts of free-ranging domestic cats (Felis catus) on birds in the United States: a review of recent research with conservation and management recommendations. Proceedings of the Fourth International Partners in Flight Conference: Tundra to Tropics 205-219. [online] URL: http://www.pwrc.usgs.gov/pif/pubs/McAllenProc/articles/PIF09_Anthropogenic%20Impacts/Dauphine_1_PIF09.pdf
Loss, S. R., T. Will, and P. P. Marra. 2013. The impact of freeranging domestic cats on wildlife of the United States. Nature Communications 4:1396. http://dx.doi.org/10.1038/ncomms2380
Rueda-Hénandez, R., I. MacGregor-Fors, & K. Renton. 2015. Shifts in resident bird communities associated with cloud forest patch size in CEntral Veracruz, Mexico. Avian Conservation and Ecology 10 (2): http://dx.doi.org/10.5751/ACE-00751-100202
Sandoval, L. & E. Vargas. 2007. Melanerpes hoffmannii (Aves: Picidae) en el Caribe central de Costa Rica. Brenesia 68: 87-88.
http://www.unfpa.org/urbanization
Woods, M., R. A. McDonald, and S. Harris. 2003. Predation of wildlife by domestic cats (Felis catus) in Great Britain. Mammal Review 33:174-186. http://dx.doi.org/10.1046/j.1365-2907.2003.00017.x
Those engaged in the native versus non-native debate should perhaps avoid becoming too polarised. While some non-native plant species certainly have proven highly invasive and damaging to native habitat, the impact of the vast majority appears to be (so far at least) relatively benign. Indeed, many non-native species can be beneficial for native wildlife and provide other functions.
When evaluating or seeking to enhance the biodiversity interest of an urban greenspace, a key attribute to consider is its floral composition. Floral composition can be native, non-native or a variable mix of the two. A species is defined as native to a given region or ecosystem if its presence is the result of only “natural” processes; that is to say, not by human agency. A non-native species by contrast is one that has been introduced by human action, either accidentally or deliberately, outside of its natural range.
The relatively high prevalence of non-native species is a key defining feature of urban floras (McKinney, 2006). Non-native plants are valued in residential gardens and urban parks for various reasons including colour and foliage qualities, flower size, culinary and cultural attributes, and sometimes also as discussed here, their value to wildlife. However, in seeking to maximize biodiversity value, there appears to be growing momentum behind selecting native over non-native plant species when designing both public greenspaces and residential gardens (McKinney, 2006; Hulme et al., 2018). In favouring native species, it is also argued that various potential adverse impacts associated with non-native planting can be avoided. In this respect, the harmful effects resulting from the introduction of non-native species that then become invasive is claimed to be one of the most significant threats to global biodiversity (IUCN 2000; Simberloff, 2015). The IUCN further asserts that urban centres and ornamental horticulture are principal pathways for the introduction and spread of invasive plant species (Ham et al., 2013).
Award-winning linear wildflower meadow (biannually managed), created in Crest Nicholson’s Harbourside development in the heart of Bristol, UK; design by Grant Associates and Biodiversity by Design. Photograph courtesy of Grant Associates.
Nevertheless, a scepticism about the scale of this impact has been simmering for some time, and quite recently has been emphatically reemphasised by a relatively small but vocal element (Hobbs et al., 2009; Davis et al., 2011; Luscombe & Scott, 2011; Pearce, 2015). In their opinion, long-established place-based management approaches that focus on maintaining historical floral and faunal assemblages need to change. They contend there should be greater recognition of emerging “novel ecosystems”, often consisting of many non-native plant species, which better respond to climate change, as well as various environmental transformations occurring due to urbanization, including micro-climatic variation, compacted and contaminated soils, and altered drainage patterns. These commentators assert that the risks associated with non-native species are overstated, and that a more balanced approach is needed that embraces them alongside native species as an integral element of the urban landscape.
This article is concerned primarily with the pros and cons of native and non-native planting, specifically with respect to their biodiversity value within publicly accessible greenspaces (excluding large-scale urban habitat restoration projects) and residential gardens. The relationships that native and non-native plants have with pollinators and phytophagous insects is particularly emphasized. The former insect group is, inter alia, critical in providing pollination services, while the latter is crucial in conveying energy up the food chain to a multitude of birds, reptiles, amphibians and mammals.
It is recognized that landscape designers and gardeners aim to achieve many other goals when devising planting schemes, including providing aesthetic/visual interest, a sense of place, multicultural appeal, ground-cover, multi-seasonal colour, legibility, and ease of management. Discussion on these additional aims is abundant elsewhere in the literature and so is not discussed further here.
Relatively formal courtyard planting, consisting of ornamental but nectar-rich herbaceous cultivars, within the Crest Nicholson Centenary Quay development in Southampton, UK; design by Allen Scott Landscape Architects and Biodiversity by Design.
The case for native planting
Opportunities for native insect fauna
It is frequently claimed that native plants generally support greater faunal diversity and biomass than non-native planting. For example, a US study by Burghardt et al. (2008) found that caterpillar and bird abundance and diversity was significantly higher in urban gardens with predominantly native planting compared with gardens dominated by non-native planting. Many birds of course rely on caterpillars for feeding their nestlings.
The apparent preference of native fauna for native flora is often explained by their long history of association, the two having coevolved over millennia. While plants have evolved a variety of physical and chemical means to defend themselves against attack by insects (and other species), those insects that have co-evolved with them are believed to be much more likely to have the specialized behavioural and physiological adaptations to overcome these defensive barriers, allowing them to consume, grow and reproduce on their host plants (Tallamy, 2004).
While both a greater diversity and abundance of herbivorous insects are generally considered beneficial from an ecological perspective because of their importance in the food web, many people, if not most, appear to consider such species as pests, revealing an awkward philosophical contradiction in wildlife gardening. Unlike plant-devouring insects, however, pollinators appear universally cherished (although some species can both pollinate and consume plants dependent on their life-stage). A number of studies have found a negative association between the degree of urbanization and both pollinator abundance and species richness (Hernandez et al., 2009). While the high coverage of impervious surfaces in urban areas is important in explaining such relationships, it is also suggested that the high proportion of non-native species might also be a key contributing factor.
While a co-evolutionary explanation may again partly explain the apparent differences in pollinator preference between native and non-native plant species, the degree of horticultural modification of the latter might also be important, as selective breeding can result in reductions in floral reward or changes to flower structure that inhibits pollinator access (Comba et al., 1999). For example, the double-flowered trait constrains access for insects to pollen-bearing centre parts, and in some cases is produced at the expense of reproductive floral components such as anthers or carpels.
Invasion by non-native flora at the expense of native flora
The close relationship between native plants and co-evolved herbivorous insects is believed to partly explain the “invasion paradox”. This is the ability of exotic plants to colonize and spread more readily than native species, contrary to intuition that would suggest that native species would be better adapted to local conditions. Certain alien plants are believed to proliferate in their new environments partly because they have become unshackled from coevolved herbivores and other natural enemies—the so called “enemy release hypothesis” (Tallamy, 2004).
An additional factor that might cause non-native species to spread beyond their intended confines relates to the reduced competition that they face from native species in urban sites that have experienced high levels of anthropogenic disturbance, such as brownfield sites (previously developed land that is not currently in use), and along transport corridors and watercourses (McKinney, 2006). The disturbed early successional conditions found in such sites are often highly unrepresentative of those occurring across the wider landscape and thus may be inhospitable to many localized native species and communities (hardy native ruderals being an exception).
It has also been suggested that the ‘high performance’ traits of invasive non-native plant species, which for example relate to physiology, various size characteristics, growth rate, fecundity and adaptiveness, confers an advantage over many native species, thereby helping them to rapidly colonize such environments (Jauni et al., 2015). Plant breeders may have specifically selected for such traits in many invasive ornamental species to facilitate ease of cultivation.
In spite of such processes seemingly favouring the spread of non-native plants, Williamson (1996) has estimated that only 1% of alien plant species are self-sustaining outside of cultivation, while only 0.1% can be considered invasive. However, such estimates have not gone unchallenged. Certainly, where non-native species do become invasive, they have potential to dramatically transform native biodiversity, many examples of which are provided by Ham et al. (2013). Simberloff (2015) also argues that because modern invasion biology is still in its infancy, many non-native species have yet to be studied in detail and therefore it is premature to assume their effects are only benign, particularly as global warming unshackles species that are currently being contained by climatic limits.
Biological Homogenization
The proliferation of invasive non-natives is also said to be causing ‘biological homogenization’, i.e. the same urban-adapted plants are becoming progressively dominant in towns and cities across the world (McKinney, 2006). The high number of invasive species shared between cities is in part related to people’s shared preferences for particular ornamental species. While an influx of non-native plant species may diversify local biodiversity, global biodiversity is said to be reduced by these species as they outcompete more uncommon localized plant species.
Native plantings can be effective analogues of more valuable semi-natural or natural habitats
While most wildlife gardeners face spatial constraints, park managers have more opportunity to establish native plant species together in large numbers to form recognizable native plant communities, thereby contributing to local biodiversity strategies (Plate 1). While complicated large-scale urban ecological engineering projects are not discussed here, it is relevant to reference the opportunities for smaller-scale native habitat analogues that can be achieved relatively easily. In the UK two-thirds of publicly-managed urban green infrastructure consists of amenity grassland, i.e. regularly mown (virtual monoculture) grassland (Forestry Research, 2006), while in Chicago in the US, amenity grassland (or “turf grass” as Americans refer to it) covers 21% of the city (Davis et al., 2017). In many cases, relatively substantial areas of amenity grassland have potential for conversion to native wildflower meadow (or other native habitat types) without unduly compromising sporting and other amenity interests, which in turn has been shown to increase the abundance and diversity of pollinating insects (Garbuzov et al., 2015).
The case for non-native planting
Enhanced opportunities for insects
Influenced by the various studies discussed above, the consensus in invasion biology and ecological thinking more generally, has been that non-native species are generally harmful, impoverishing biodiversity and even upsetting the benign “balance of nature”. As with a great many things, consideration of the research in its entirety actually reveals a more nuanced picture, with some research challenging ecological orthodoxy regarding the relative ecological benefits of native and non-native planting, and also the underlying causes behind the patterns.
Studies suggesting a negative relationship between the abundance of non-native plant species and the prevalence and diversity of pollinating insects are often based on a limited sample of plants and certainly do not tell the whole story. There are thousands of plant varieties available to landscape designers, a large number of which are not double-flowered and are in some cases rich in pollen and nectar, and thus highly beneficial to insects (Garbuzov & Ratnieks, 2014) (Plate 2). Indeed, in the UK the Royal Horticultural Society operates the “Perfect for Pollinators” certification scheme, championing wildlife friendly cultivars on sale in plant nurseries.
Some studies have found that certain non-native planting can actually attract a greater abundance of pollinators than many native species (Morales & Traveset, 2009; Matteson & Langellotto, 2011). It is even suggested that some non-native plants may be too effective at attracting pollinating insects, reducing visitations to native plant species and thereby threatening their reproductive success (Bjerknes et al., 2007).
The success of some ornamental plantings might partly be explained by the fact that many species have been selectively bred to have extended flowering periods and large flowers, features that are associated with increased nectar and pollen production (Matteson & Langellotto, 2011). Possibly due to these enhanced qualities, some studies are suggesting that bee species-richness might actually be higher across urban areas compared with neighbouring countryside (Baldock et al., 2015). In adjoining intensively farmed rural landscapes, crop species are only in bloom for a limited period, many trees and hedgerows have been removed, and herbicides have greatly reduced the abundance of wildflowers.
Such urban/rural comparisons of species richness can depend heavily on the specific nature of the sites being compared. Certainly, brownfield sites that are often rich in non-native species, can help sustain a high-level of biodiversity, clearly surpassing that of many neighbouring farmland areas. In the longer term such novel ecosystems can also set the stage for ecological recovery, helping to gradually repair degraded soils and ultimately lead to the re-establishment of more recognizable native habitats (Ewel & Putz 2004; Pearce, 2015). Pearce (2015) further contends that non-natives generally do not compete with or displace native species from established habitats but instead fill empty niches in disturbed environments that may be unsuited for colonization by localized native species and/or communities.
Other research from the UK is indicating that there is little difference in pollinator abundance between native and near-native plant mixes, which is perhaps unsurprising given that many of the UK’s native pollinators are also present on the European continent, and so will have coevolved with and readily identify many near-native plant species as a feeding resource (Salisbury et al., 2015; Brodie et al., 2017). Smith et al. (2006) suggests that a much larger proportion of native phytophagous insects could be utilizing non-native plants as hosts than previously recognized for the same reason.
Climate change adaptation, disproportionate cost, low extinction risk and risk of botanical xenophobia
Those objecting to the focus on ‘nativeness’ further assert that: non-natives could be nature’s saviour as climate change renders conditions unsuitable for many native species; that estimated eradication and confinement costs for non-natives are greatly exaggerated and that such programmes are sometimes unjustified; non-natives generally pose a negligible risk of native species extinction (island populations being the main exception); and the militaristic style of language used in describing non-native species, e.g. as ‘alien invaders’, is non-scientific, pejorative and even xenophobic. All of these additional objections are in themselves sizeable topics for debate and so readers are directed to Davis et al. (2011), Luscombe & Scott (2011), Pearce (2015) and Thomas & Palmer (2015) for further discussion, but also to Simberloff & Strong (2013) and Simberloff (2015) for robust counter arguments.
Conclusions
When designing greenspaces to enhance biodiversity, a key consideration relates to plant species selection and the particular mix of native and non-native species. This article has focussed on the respective values of native or non-native plants to insects, which perform various critical ecosystem functions, including pollination and providing a primary food source for other taxa. While some of the evidence is contradictory and there are confounding factors, on balance a preference for native species in planting schemes is likely to achieve the greatest benefit for biodiversity. Large scale planting (or seeding) of native species into recognizable communities can also create impressive habitat analogues that can make important contributions to biodiversity targets.
Moreover, some non-native plant species have proven highly invasive and damaging to native habitat, and so care must always be taken to assess invasion risk when designing planting schemes, especially when adjoining habitat is closer to natural than semi-natural, or next to river corridors.
However, those engaged in the native versus non-native debate should perhaps avoid becoming too polarised. It should also be acknowledged that a great many non-native species are also valuable for wildlife and provide other functions. The vast majority of ornamental plants appear, so far at least, to have had little negative ecological impact, and where they have spread it is frequently as opportunists, filling gaps in disturbed environments unsuited to many local species and/or communities. Often novel environments such as brownfield sites, including heady mixtures of both native and non-native ruderal species, can develop into rich and valued havens for native fauna.
While there are many opportunities for including more native plants and communities in urban planting schemes, some pragmatism is also required amongst conservationists, recognizing that unadulterated native habitat creation is not always optimal in many urban contexts. Non-native plant species will have a continued role to play in planting schemes, bringing vibrancy and joy, and sometimes also considerable value to native fauna.
This article is an abridged version of a chapter included in Routledge’s forthcoming Handbook of Urban Ecology. [Douglas, I; P. Anderson; D. Goode; M.C. Houck; D. Maddox; Harini Nagendra; and T.P. Yok (Editors). 2020. Handbook of Urban Ecology, 2nd Edition. Abingdon: Routledge Press. In press.]
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In Russia, few home gardeners use native species and they are not available in nurseries. In creating Recollections of the Meadow, we hoped to test-run the approach where native plant species would be used to build a flower bed, and we intended to share the resulting algorithm with everyone willing to follow suit.
Last year in spring, we came up with an idea of creating a flower garden that would only feature native plant species. Why is that both difficult and important? And what conclusions can we draw after a full year of watching the flower garden grow and seeing how both community and specialists respond to it?
Plants and pollinators have been evolving together for millions of years and depend on each other. For example, Moscow is home to the red bartsia bee (Melitta tricincta) which only visits red bartsia. And the small tortoiseshell caterpillar feeds almost exclusively on common nettle, a stinging plant considered a weed.
But the share of indigenous plants in the cities has been decreasing across Europe, and that has been dragging along insect and even bird biodiversity. Over the last 150 years and by the end of the 20th century, the share of indigenous species in European flora decreased from 88% to 68% (Kent, 1975). The majority of the deleted species, 27%, belonged to meadow communities. Meanwhile, the share of alien species has been on the increase. Popular in landscape gardening, they “escape” their cultured environments and invade local communities displacing wild species. Lupin (Lupinus polyphyllus) and Canadian goldenrod (Solidago canadensis) have already made it among Russia’s top 100 most dangerous invasives occupying huge territories of natural ecosystems, while 7 species of Moscow’s native and very common bellflower have already been listed as threatened (Red List).
One can speculate about the need to promote “proper” landscape gardening and use only native plant species that can support pollinators. Let’s actually do it. What would we have to face? Last year in spring, our “Architects of the Meadow” team which consists of landscape architects and biologists took the chance to recreate a meadow with wild grasses in an ordinary Moscow yard, so that it could both compete with other flower gardens in beauty and stand out significantly in terms of how it “benefits” wildlife. We wanted to make a point that, in Russia, native species were undeservedly forgotten and raise this awareness among both professionals and local residents.
A month ago, our “Recollections of the Meadow” was awarded a prize by Moscow Urban Forum, Russia’s main architectural forum—the flower garden was put up for voting by an independent jury, and the winner was determined by Moscow residents in a month-long voting session at the main city website. But the road to victory and attention was bumpy.
Photo by Michael ScheglovPhoto by Michael ScheglovPhoto by Michael Scheglov
No planting material in plant nurseries
Before starting the work, we made a list of 46 plant species that we would like to grow in our flower bed and divided them into 5 groups—to be planted in blocks, to form the core of the flower garden, to create a structure, to support the middle layer, and early bloomers to decorate the flower bed in early spring. This way, our garden would turn out diverse and as attractive as possible in every season of the year. Eventually, plant nurseries could only provide a third of the list, which meant 14 plant species. But we decided to go ahead with what we managed to find while asking local residents to bring those species from our list that grew on their own on their countryside plots. They are still common in the countryside, whereas in the cities, trimmed lawn prevalence has already made them a rare find.
Native plants are not easily found for sale in Russia. Landscape nurseries hardly ever grow them as there is no customer demand, while consumers do not want to pay for something that is perceived as a weed, is mown off, and grows for free. As a result, even landscape gardening specialists—landscape architects—have little knowledge of the local flora, the names of those plants, and their bloom potential. So, it turns out there is no one—neither a customer nor a contractor—to initiate planting a native flower in a flower bed.
Professionals surprised by plant “character traits” in a flower bed
Working with native species was a professional challenge for landscape architects who were responsible for drafting the flower garden concept. The way plants would behave in a flower bed could mostly be imagined in theory only — knowing how they bloom and grow in the wild is one thing and having them in a closed area of a flower bed is quite another. Eventually, we were in for both pleasant and unpleasant surprises. For example, field bindweed (Convolvulus arvensis) grew so big that it even tipped some of the other plants to the side by twining around them. On the other hand, common mullein (Verbascum thapsus) was so grateful for fertilized soil that, instead of being predictably noticeable, it grew incredibly gigantic and could not but be a real pleasure for the eye.
Constant need to educate local residents
From the very beginning, we decided to build the flower bed in a community where locals would support the idea and be ready to tend the flower garden on their own. As this is a volunteer project for us and many team members live far from where the flower bed was built, we knew we would not be able to either water it every day while the plants take root or ensure other types of regular care. Eventually, we did right by relying on the community. More than 50 people helped us plant the flower bed (which is no less than 200 square meters big!), more than 100 people participated in the crowdfunding efforts to finance its creation, and the garden was regularly watered throughout the hot summer. We started a chat that was joined by the most active gardeners. It seemed that everyone was on the same page exchanging photos of the blooming plants while in the chat and pie recipes while around the flower bed. But then winter was over, spring was late, and it became clear that not many residents understand and, most importantly, accept the natural concept of their yard’s central flower garden. Plant nurseries did not have early bloomers in stock, so our mini garden did not have them either, and after the snow melted, it was first russet, and then bright yellow dandelion heads started covering it—either their seeds had been brought by the wind or their roots had been left intact. And Moscow residents associate dandelions with the most aggressive weeds—that is, if you are fond of even lawns.
So, despite our belief that this yellow-colored meadow was pretty, discussions started sprawling across community chats suggesting the flower bed needed other flowers as the existing ones were not decent enough. We understood that a one-off educational session on the mini garden’s natural concept was not enough and that regular educational activities had to be included in such projects. When offered an explanation of why this very type of flower garden has been created and what its benefits and advantages are, former critics embraced the idea. And knowing the exact months when the plants in the flower bed are going to blossom—and that they simply need some time—makes other opponents come to terms with it too.
As a result, discussions about the lack of decorative value in our flower garden had subsided by early June when many garden’s plants reappeared and began blossoming in all their natural glory. July, in its turn, would be a downright fabulous time to endlessly enjoy the garden’s colors.
Photo by Michael Scheglov
When creating Recollections of the Meadow, we hoped to test-run the approach where native plant species would be used to build a flower bed, and we intended to share the resulting algorithm with everyone willing to follow suit—featuring places where flowers can be found and ways to plant them to get a beautiful and useful result. But we have to admit it turned out we still haven’t a ready and simple scheme for doing this, even though a lot of Moscow residents who care about nature would like to implement a similar project in their yards. One cannot foresee what choice plant nurseries will be able to offer (especially given the low demand for native species) and what the soil or lighting of the plot will be like, meaning that each similar project will be individual and labor-intensive—and consequently, poorly scalable. On the bright side, people’s eagerness is scalable, judging by the interest our project sparked in social and mass media, by the feedback from people seeking advice or help, and eventually, by the prize we received. And that means one day the plants native to the city will be able to return there as “residents” in their own right.
Environmental traumas are here. Global climate is a reality that is bringing extremes in weather as we have seen recently with the devastating impacts of Hurricane Sandy in the northeast of the USA. And in the last several years there have been massive earthquakes that have devastated cities in Japan, Haiti and New Zealand. To manage the effects of these traumas on the urban environment, we first must identify the socio-ecological drivers governing the urban ecosystems and then ascertain the degree of departure of the “new-normal” state from the pre-trauma conditions. Individual and institutional responses set the trajectory of recovery and subsequently create a “new-normal” not only for ecological but also social systems.
The Christchurch earthquakes that began in September 2010 provided a unique opportunity to address the impacts of traumas on the urban environment and in particular, identifying “resilient” components of coupled ecological-social systems. In this blog I will outline a study focussing on urban vegetation succession post-earthquakes. In later contributions I will update the findings of this study based on further data analysis and discuss other aspects, such as the effects on urban fauna, and implications and options for future urban greening thru ecological design.
A shallow earthquake of 7.1 magnitude struck the South Island of New Zealand at 4:35 am on 4 September 2010. The quake caused widespread damage and several power outages, particularly in the city of Christchurch, New Zealand’s second largest city. Mass fatalities were avoided as the quake during the night when most people were off the street.
Aftershocks have continued into 2012 with some causing significant damage themselves. The strongest to date, of magnitude 6.3, occurred on 22 February 2011. Because this was centred very close to Christchurch and it occurred during the day, it was much more destructive, with 185 fatalities. Significant liquefaction affected the eastern suburbs, producing around 400,000 tonnes of silt. The total cost to insurers of rebuilding has been estimated at NZ$15 billion, making it by far New Zealand’s costliest natural disaster, and the third-costliest earthquake (nominally) worldwide.
In the aftermath of the earthquakes (and there have been >12,000 aftershocks as I write this) significant decisions meant that several parts of Christchurch city would not be re-built as the ground was deemed too unstable. This residential “red zone” (see the map below) includes over 7,000 residential properties which have been abandoned and are being progressively demolished.
The current proposal for the residential “red zone” is to convert it into a public park called Avon-Otakaro (see the map below). Here is an excerpt from the Avon-Ōtakaro Network [AvON] charter:
“Avon-Otakaro is a network of individuals and organisations promoting the future use of the residential red zone lands as an ecological and recreational reserve. We wish to establish a community-driven science-informed living memorial to rejuvenate and nurture the long-term environmental, economic, community and spiritual wellbeing of the eastern suburbs and of those living throughout greater Christchurch. Our aim is to turn a tragedy into an opportunity, a polluted drain into a vibrant river system, and exhaustion and despair into hope and inspiration.”
Various volunteer groups have been collecting ecological information on the area, particularly on the occurrence of notable mature native and exotic trees that should be preserved.
The majority of the properties in this zone were abandoned after the earthquakes in September 2010 or February 2011 with little or no subsequent maintenance to gardens and road verges. We sampled 100 properties over 9 suburbs with a view to determining the regeneration responses of native and exotic woody tree and shrub species after abandonment. The regeneration of native species has been rapid and, in some situations, prolific.
Native Plagianthus regius (lowland ribbonwood) seedlings 1.5m tall established on silt (liquefaction) in the front garden of a residential property. Photo: Glenn Stewart.
In the absence of garden management we are seeing a “new” vegetation dynamic driven by new substrate availability, dispersal of seeds by birds, and the presence of surviving seed sources. The most common native seedlings are cabbage tree (Cordyline australis), Coprosma spp. Pittosporum tenuifolium, P. eugenioides and Solanum aviculare, all of which have fleshy fruits and are dispersed by birds. There has also been a dramatic increase in seedlings of exotic species as well. Examples include Scotch Broom (Cytisus scoparius), Elderberry (Sambucus nigra), Prunus spp., Sycamore (Acer pseudoplatanus), and Buddleja spp. This is not surprising as disturbed substrates and a high light environment provide an ideal environment for exotic invasion, especially if persistent seed banks are already present.
Native Coprosma repens seedlings established in an untended “herbaceous border” in a residential property. Photo: Glenn Stewart
Substantial planting of native trees and shrubs in city residential gardens over the last several decades has provided a seed source for this regeneration. Seedlings are more abundant in suburbs with more mature native trees and also with greater numbers of “perch” trees (for bird-dispersed species). There was also a distinctive pattern of compositional change in native species (seedlings) with increasing distance from the coast. For example, the dioecious shrub Coprosma repens (naturally a coastal species) was more prevalent close to the coast. Prior to the earthquakes this species would not have been as common as it is not regularly planted in residential gardens. But after property abandonment it is increasing rapidly as a result of natural successional processes.
A typical “abandoned” property in the residential “red zone”, Christchurch. NB the front lawn now resembles an unkempt pasture and contains abundant exotic herbaceous and woody weeds. Photo: Glenn Stewart.
Conclusions and further research
Early indications are that the native flora is remarkably resilient. So much so that it seems certain that in the absence of human interference a substantial native-dominated urban forest will establish in the residential “red zone”.
On the other hand, vigorous and intensive on-going management will be required to control exotic species that are both adaptable and aggressive. The introduction of other native species that currently lack a seed source would also increase biodiversity and offer other important food sources for native birds, lizards and invertebrates. This area (Avon-Otakaro) has the potential to add to the rich tapestry of natural habitats in the city and become an area of considerable native biodiversity.
The preliminary results from our pilot study highlights the need for further studies of vegetation dynamics in urban landscapes and the nature of chronic and catastrophic disruption on the mechanisms of and management of vegetation within the context of dynamic physical, social and ecological systems.
The preliminary results from our pilot study highlights the need for further studies of vegetation dynamics in urban landscapes and the nature of chronic and catastrophic disruption on the mechanisms of and management of vegetation within the context of dynamic physical, social and ecological systems.
“It is estimated that 220 natural catastrophes, 70 technological disasters and 3 new armed conflicts occur each year”. Alexander (2005)
The urban environment and community are key indicators and drivers of a nation’s adaptability and resilience to catastrophic events such as earthquakes, fires, floods, tsunamis, dust storms and hurricanes. Yet the urban environment is often ignored or is an afterthought in planning even though accessible and diverse green space is regarded as a predictor of human health, happiness, equity, and biodiversity. In fact, the value of urban green space and more specifically biodiversity is critical to providing ecosystem services, services used by humans to survive and live and achieve resilience in the face of impending global disruption and despite the coming associated environmental and economic trauma(s).
With almost all of my career (and most of my adult life) spent working in or around city parks, I was recently surprised to learn an astonishing fact. In American’s largest cities, more than half contain park systems that are more than 50 percent “natural.” In fact, in America’s 10 largest cities, all but one (Chicago) have park systems where more than half are natural.
The idea that our nation’s largest cities are repositories of natural areas of significant size flies in the face of not only the perception of cities as crowded “concrete jungles,” but also of the popular image of city parks all being in the Olmstedian tradition, of designed, heavily manicured greenswards or large modern recreational facilities — ballfields, tennis courts, golf courses, running and cycling tracks, and skating rinks.
That so much of the park systems of our largest cities are natural has profound implications for the future not just of the park systems themselves, but also for the environmental sustainability of cities and for all of the factors that go into planning, designing, constructing, and managing parks. And as cities confront climate change, rising sea levels, increased storm water runoff, or drought, and in some cases burgeoning populations, their parks and especially their natural areas, will play even more important roles, particularly as they are recognized for providing ecosystems services and other benefits.
Importantly, city officials, park managers, scientists, landscape architects, planners, engineers, and open space advocates understand the value of natural areas in cities, and are taking steps to protect, study, manage, and, in some cases, restore natural areas.
These facts can be found in the recently issued 2014 City Park Facts (CPF), written and published by The Trust for Public Land’s Center for City Park Excellence, a “think tank” for urban park issues. For readers wondering how America’s biggest cities — some of them very densely populated and developed — have so much natural land within their borders, it is important to first define the terms. According to CPF, “Natural areas are either pristine or reclaimed lands that are open to the public and left largely undisturbed and managed for their ecological value (i.e., wetlands, forests, deserts). While they may have trails and occasional benches, they are not developed for any recreation activities beyond walking, running, and cycling.”
CPF also takes pains to define “Designed Parkland”: “Designed areas are parklands that have been created, constructed, planted, and managed primarily for human use. They include playgrounds, neighborhood parks, sports fields, plazas, boulevards, municipal golf courses, municipal cemeteries, and all areas served by roadways, parking lots, and service buildings.”
In most cases, the natural areas were deliberately preserved as part of official efforts to save large open spaces and preserve their natural aspects. In other cases, the preservation of natural areas was somewhat accidental at first, as open space acquired to develop as active parkland sat fallow due to lack of resources or civic will, or formerly disturbed areas (garbage dumps, filled-in freshwater and tidal wetlands) were naturalized as human intervention tailed off.
The “benign neglect” theory applies to New York City, by far the nation’s largest city, and the largest city to have a park system more than 50 percent natural. I have some experience with that, as for two years in the late 1980’s, I was the Director of the NYC Parks Department’s Natural Resources Group (NRG). The NRG was created in 1986 under then Parks Commissioner Henry J. Stern. Stern had a personal fondness for natural areas and especially for trees, and his First Deputy Commissioner, Robert Santos, proposed creating the NRG to assess and develop management plans for the City’s natural areas.
This was a watershed moment for NYC, and perhaps for urban park management nationally, because generally speaking, the then quite vast areas of woodland, meadow, and salt and freshwater wetland (approximately 10,000 acres of city parkland; another 7,000 acres of Federal parkland were mostly “natural” as well) were shown on park maps as “undeveloped land.” While recent Federal and State regulations offered some protections for wetlands, the natural areas were all subject to being “developed“ for active recreation purposes, or in some cases for roadways. With the creation of the NRG, we set out to determine what the resource was, see how healthy it was, assess the types of restoration or other intervention that might be appropriate, and also promote the values of the wild areas through education and the creation of trails and nature centers, helping people to understand, appreciate, and use them more.
How did NYC come to possess so much “natural” open space? Some of it was deliberate — though Robert Moses is reviled for filling in wetlands and building major highways along shorelines, he also presided over the saving of what was left of the open spaces of Jamaica Bay, including land that would later be transferred to the National Park Service as part of Gateway National Recreation Area. Much earlier, in the early 1880s, John Mullaly led an effort to acquire and protect as parkland almost 6,000 acres of woodlands and meadows and wetlands in the Bronx, creating Pelham Bay Park — still the city’s largest park and almost four times the size of Central Park — along with Van Cortlandt Park and Bronx Park, later the homes of the Bronx Zoo and NY Botanical Garden.
But other “natural” parks are former dumps, filled-in wetlands, and areas of designed parks that either naturalized due to lack of maintenance, or were deliberately restored or managed as natural areas.
In many other cities, the preponderance of natural areas is due to “the idiosyncrasies of city boundaries” according to the CCPE, but also because many cities have within their boundaries large Federal or State parks or natural areas. In that vein, Anchorage, Alaska leads the pack. Its astonishing 501,785 acres of parkland include just 2,400 acres of designed parks, and the vast majority of its parkland is contained in the Chugach State Park, with 490,125 acres within the Anchorage city limits. Spacious natural parks also dominate in cities with large populations as well as in those not as densely populated.
Of the 36,113 acres of parkland in Los Angeles, more than 26,000 are natural, with the State managing over 10,000 acres, and the Mountains Recreation and Conservation Authority managing almost 6,000 acres. Phoenix, Arizona also has a huge park system, mostly city-owned, and 43,610 acres are natural, with 5,654 acres designed. Of Scottsdale, Arizona’s nearly 29,000 acres of parks, a scant 974 are designed. In New Orleans, Louisiana more than 24,000 of the total 28,432 acres of parks are contained in the Bayou Sauvage National Wildlife Refuge.
Bruce Vento Nature Sanctuary in St. Paul, Minnesota, a Trust for Public Land Project. Image from The Trust for Public Land database. Photo: Allen Brisson-Smith
So with all of this natural land in many cities, what are the best strategies for protecting and even expanding these areas? Some of them face threats that may include inappropriate development (such as utility rights of way), lack of funding for maintenance and security, and the effects of climate change. Is there consensus among city leaders, or even among environmental managers, for how best to take care of the resource? For example, in many places there have been efforts to restore natural areas through the careful eradication of non-native, exotic species of plants, and even of animals. But that is an expensive proposition, with no certainty of a desired outcome, and some professionals, such as Peter del Tredici, suggest that we should respect the tenacity and success of certain invasives and not try to fight an ultimately losing battle against them.
What are the challenges confronting natural areas in cities and the benefits they provide? How can cities best address these challenges, and who are their potential allies?
First, the impetus to protect and enhance urban natural areas must start locally. In a number of cities, municipal and county government and non-profit organizations have come together in productive partnerships. The Green Seattle Partnership provides a sophisticated stewardship model for urban woodlands. In Portland, the Intertwine brings together a variety of levels of government and the non-profit sector to address the varied needs of natural spaces and the connective tissue of greenways. The Chicago Wilderness Alliance links together public and private entities with a focus on the prairie ecosystem.
But a stronger partnership between the three prominent levels of government may be the key to success in the preservations and productive use of urban natural areas. In New York City, the NRG is partnering with the US Forest Service in the operation of an “Urban Field Station,” a jointly run laboratory where city, state, federal, and academic researchers and practitioners are studying the impact of natural areas and trees on the environmental health of cities. The Million Trees NYC project, that has led to the planting (so far) of nearly 850,000 trees, is now the focus of research projects thorough the Urban Field Station. It is accepted that trees and woodlands play an important role in cleaning the air, storing carbon, mitigating the urban heat island effect, and processing storm water, but how much of a role do they play, relative to other design features? Which trees function best in the difficult urban environment, and what is the mortality rate of small whips planted in old landfills, compared to large balled-and-burlapped trees planted in sidewalk pits?
Part of the funding for the research, and for base level assessments of the natural areas of NYC is coming from a major public-private partnership focused on helping protect and manage the resources, known as the Natural Areas Conservancy, which in just a few years has already raised over $5 million in donations from private funders. Also in New York City, a conservancy has been formed to partner with both the National Park Service and the NYC Parks Department on caring for and programming the 10,000 acres of mostly natural parklands of Jamaica Bay, and a research institute focused on the damaged ecosystem of the bay has recently been created.
But the biggest lift may be the one of changing attitudes. Too many elected officials still look at large natural areas and see them as “empty” or “undeveloped,” envisioning active recreation facilities, roads, container ports, or real estate developments. In coastal cities, at least, drastic weather events such as Hurricanes Katrina and Sandy have shown the perils of building anything in flood zones, but as cities grow and feel the pressure to create housing and economic development, will we forget the cruel lessons of the recent past?
Particularly in cities affected by extreme weather events, we have seen an evolution and new appreciation for the ecosystems services value of natural areas, and even the value of creating green infrastructure to capture storm water and mitigate storm surge, with the attendant layers of value as parks and habitat. And there may be additional, less urgent, but equally interesting challenges.
There are a number of metrics that have been developed for calculating the value of trees on city streets and in landscape designs, but not necessarily for urban forests. Can we develop metrics for the value of large urban natural areas? How much carbon dioxide can be processed by one tree? What are the optimum species and sizes? What is the rate of return of a large wooded area? Does size matter, or is it density and species composition? The groundbreaking work of Richard TT Forman in landscape ecology offers ways to predict the soil’s carbon storage potential in different types of forests or other landscapes, based on such factors as types of plants and rainfall data. Are all wetlands generally helpful in storm surge mitigation, or must they be of a certain magnitude? Can we develop metrics that would suggest an ideal amount of tidal wetland or number of trees per person for an environmentally healthy city?
Three decades ago, forestry school graduates and ecologists were looked at as batty to practice their trades in or focus research on cities — surely, no real “nature” was taking place there. But as people around the world and in the US (83 percent at last count) live in cities, and as we come to understand the extraordinary value of natural areas to cities, the cutting edge research and practice of natural area protection and management will increasingly take place in urban areas. Elected officials, public sector managers, non-profit and academic partners, and citizens can help to effect a sea change in how our urban natural areas are viewed, appreciated, and treated going forward.
A review of the book Animal Internet: Nature and the Digital Revolution by Alexander Pschera (English translation from German by Elisabeth Lauffer). 2016. 209 pages.ISBN: 9781939931351. New Vessel Press. Buy the book.
Apply the sunscreen, fill the water bottle, and put the damn phone at the bottom of the pack. My (precious) time outside, in the woods or on the water, often starts with disconnecting from the internet. Losing that tether is for me a liberating experience that makes me present in my surroundings. Indeed, the internet and its distractions is usually considered an impediment towards bringing people closer to nature. Its offerings easily draw us (and especially our children) away from the complex beauty, the here-and-now wonder of the lives of plants and animals.
Pschera sees the animal internet as fundamental to revolutionizing human-animal interactions. It provides us with the basis for giving wild animals an individual identity that is critical to the protection of them and their habitat.
But what if ecology truly extended to the digital realm? As smart streets and cities becomes the norm for urban managers, can our screens also become a regular means of embracing the wild around us and more critically managing our interactions with plants and animals (and their interactions with us)?
That is the prospect offered by Animal Internet by Alexander Pschera. Pschera draws on the example of Animal Tracker, an app developed by the Max Planck Institute that follows wild animals all over the world in near-real time, to offer valuable insights into the social, ethical, and a few of the management implications of an “internet of animals”. While light on technical details and some practical management considerations of remote sensing of wildlife, this smart book will trigger all kinds of interesting discussions about how tech can change our relationship with nature.
A bit of background: Animal Tracker draws its data from another free online infrastructure also housed at the Institute, Movebank, used by researchers to store and share data on daily and seasonal migrations. The aggregated information is used for research and management, and has that in common with apps with more targeted management objectives such as Whale Alert, which tracks individual whales and is used by agencies, NGOs, and shippers to reduce ship-strikes and other conflicts in Boston Harbor and other locations. But Animal Tracker also enables community sourcing of supporting information, including uploading individual observations and photos of tagged (and named) animals to Animal Tracker. It intentionally seeks to create an online community in support of public understanding, similar to those fostered by other apps such as iNaturalist and its Bioblitzs’ and City Nature challenges.
But the scientist behind Movebank and Animal Tracker, the ornithologist Martin Wikelski, sees a broader purpose. Tapping into the swarm intelligence of birds, turtles, fish, and insects by tracking their movements can be put to a broad array of purposes. Experiments are how underway to use migration patterns to predict and monitor earthquakes and floods, track vectors of disease and climate change, and monitor fisheries and agriculture. His ICARUS project, backed by the German and Russian space agencies, launched a satellite in February 2018 designed to facilitate the tracking of animals from space and lowering costs; a big step toward creating the animal internet that is the subject of the book.
It is the social and ethical dimensions of this change where Pschera, a student of philosophy and chronicler of the internet, makes his most astute observations. He posits that by tracking the movement of creatures in handheld apps and other digital tools can help increase the transparency of the natural world, and bring it closer to our lives and the life in our cities. The close observation of wild animals and any notion of developing a real relationship with them is difficult for most city residents. Naming animals, following their movement and perhaps feeding or reproductive success through webcams and posted photos, both illuminates their world and connects it with ours. It can help humanize apex predators like mountain lions or sharks or celebrate the arrival of migratory birds and fish.
Pschera does his best writing in describing how these interactions, and the power of social media and the internet generally in defining new social spaces and modes of being. He argues that our inherent need to relate to other living things can be well served by this digital world, in part by reducing the physical barriers and expertise once required to closely observe animals. This transparent nature is indeed critical to overcoming the traditional divisions of green and gray. By revealing life through the flexible mechanisms offered by technology around us we will bring animals back into our lives and reaffirm their utility to society. The animal Internet is “nature after nature”, a symptom of the Anthropocene era.
His discussion of the practical implications of the animal internet is not as well developed. The massive and practical challenges of storing and sharing data between scientists, agencies, and the public is not really acknowledged. I would have liked to have some more concrete examples and considerations for how the data could be displayed or shared, what has worked and what has not when it comes to using the internet to engage the public and drawing their interest into difficult policy and management questions.
Also relatively unexplored is some of the darker side of all this information gathering. Tracking animals is as valuable for poachers as it is for managers. Pschera argues that transparency will overcome these issues, and offers some good examples. But as with the internet of people, the harvesting of big data can be used for ill as easily as for good, and Pschera could have gone deeper into these questions.
But perhaps that is the point and the book’s real contribution. The internet of animals is surely coming here in one form or another, and with it “an ecology after ecology”. Coming to grips with what this means is more about ethics and understanding than quality assurance plans and user agreements. Pschera sees the animal internet as fundamental to revolutionizing human-animal interactions. It provides us with the basis for giving wild animals an individual identity that is critical to the protection of them and their habitat. The creation of stories about real animals will personalize them and make their lives real to people.
Can the data become as much of the management of cities as crowd-sourced traffic data and shopping patterns? That is left to others to determine.
Engagement is the first step toward active acknowledgment, inclusion, and stewardship of the environment. Nature Atlas provides a rich tapestry of options for engaging with urban nature.
Edward O. Wilson popularized the concept Biophilia more than 30 years ago, in 1984, describing it as “the urge to affiliate with other life forms”. In short, Biophilia is a hypothesis that suggests the innate affinity of humans towards nature. We agree that humans possess the tendency to seek connections with nature—whether as a place for escape from the busy and chaotic city life, or as scientists curious to learn about other life forms, or designers seeking inspiration from natural habitats/environments, or as artists fascinated by colors, forms, shapes, and habits—we all share a love for living systems. It is this tacit, inherent connection between humans and nature that we explore in this essay and wish to make explicit through a research project based on Ruchika Lodha’s master’s thesis, called Nature Atlas, which excavates hidden layers of urban environments by mapping relationships between humans and nature. With this project, we hope to broaden the spectrum of human engagement with nature, to deepen awareness and knowledge, invoke curiosity to observe, interact, and engage, all as a way to help create a culture of stewardship toward our urban (and non-urban) environments.
The purpose of Nature Atlas is to invoke diverse ways of perceiving, understanding, and engaging nature by actively and consciously interacting with our environments through various practices across disciplines, inclinations, expertise, and capacities.
In the Anthropocene, people may be aware of and concerned about the environment, but there are many factors that deter them from being actively engaged with the nature around them. There are time constraints, lack of knowledge or expertise, fear of nature, and many other possible reasons. Engagement is the first step toward active acknowledgment, inclusion, and ultimately stewardship for environments (accreting toward nature at large). Personal associations and attachments that people build with environments provide stronger and more permanent motivations for engagement and stewardship (Nassauer 2011). The aim of Nature Atlas is to involve people with various interests and expertise to create a collective consciousness toward our environments.
Developed over 2016 and 2017, Nature Atlas employs alternative mapping techniques that go beyond top-down, two-dimensional spatial visualization to employ mapping as a reflexive, sensorial, and immersive methodology to excavate the unseen, tacit, or disregarded layers of nature within a case study in New York City, the Gowanus Canal in Brooklyn. This kind of mapping provides a wide range of inspirations and real-life projects to evoke readers to engage with the environment in their own ways without suggesting one universal or “best” strategy. The Atlas, thus, is a compendium of interpretative and speculative maps, diagrams, illustrations, and stories visualizing quantitative, qualitative, archival, scientific, empirical, and anecdotal research.
We envision the Nature Atlas as a step toward the creation of a broader collective of knowledge that yields diverse ways to actively and consciously recognize, interact with and engage nature through sensorial experiences, reflection, and speculation to understand how we (may) intervene with/in the Anthropocene to shift the present toward a more desirable future, Good Anthropocene (Bennett et al. 2016, McPhearson et al. 2017). Below we iteratively map layers of history of the Gowanus Canal, Brooklyn as a basis for exploring the current landscape of contemporary imaginaries and engagement of this changing nature in the city. This historical lens provides an opportunity to compare shifts in human-nature relationships through time.
“Primitive nature”
About four centuries ago, Gowanus was a saltwater marshland and meadows called Gouwane after the chief of the Lenni-Lanape group (Alexiou 2015), who were its earliest inhabitants.
The natives lived well off the tidal inlet of the marshland—a creek, then—through subsistence farming (of corn in the outlying lands), seasonal fishing, and collecting shellfish. These early inhabitants shared resources and lived intimately with nature, ebbing and flowing with its bounty.
Humans (as inhabitants) subsumed within and living intimately with nature (habitat). Credit: Ruchika Narendra Lodha
A speculative representation of primitive nature where human subsistence depends on natural topography. Credit: Ruchika Narendra Lodha
European Encounter
Europeans first arrived in Gouwane around the 1630s and settled in the area, intrigued by its plentiful and pristine nature, which was unlike the ordered and complex European cities (Alexiou 2015)[1]. The Europeans introduced new concepts of land ownership, property, and regulation. They appropriated and tamed the topography by delineating land, water, fields, settlements, constructing mills and roads for farming, fishing, trade, commerce, and navigation. The creek became a means to cultivate and transport produce from Gowanus to Manhattan markets. These delineations between land and water, labor and leisure, nature and society that were nonexistent or mutable before the arrival of the Europeans became clearly defined boundaries with distinct meanings and functions. Nature was therefore “tamed” and appropriated to create an ideal middle ground or pastoral ideal between wild, primitive nature of Gowanus and highly organized European societies to fulfill needs beyond subsistence, arguably producing a dichotomous relationship between nature and society.
An abstraction of the pastoral image as the ideal middle ground between wild nature and civilized society. Credit: Ruchika Narendra Lodha
The introduction of property and land ownership changes human perceptions of, and implications on, nature. Credit: Ruchika Narendra Lodha
Commercial nature
The nineteenth century saw the establishment of many early industries along the creek. Political and economic structures increasingly influenced and subsumed the topography of Gowanus. Infrastructural systems including the construction of the canal were seen as engineering marvels that eased the processes of manufacturing, trade, and commerce providing economic gains and convenience for sewage discharge. The canal became a raw material for exploitation and a waste receptacle for industries and society rather than an environment to inhabit and appropriate based on needs for subsistence (as in the 1600s). Mechanized labor, driving economic and political systems, and technological advancements, dictated its use and form changing the perception, function, and interaction with inhabitants intensifying the separation between society and nature.
Increased alienation between nature and society due to mechanical, industrial, political, and economic systems. Credit: Ruchika Narendra Lodha
The implication of the political grid plan on topography of Gowanus Canal. Map source: https://issuu.com/proteusgowanus/docs/gowanus_canal_maps_1639_2004. Credit: Ruchika Narendra Lodha
Post-industrial detritus
Since the stock market crash during the Great Depression in 1929, development and construction in Gowanus were almost completely at a stand-still due to lack of investments. The century and a half long industrial history that led to its glory, progress, and development also resulted in extreme contamination and toxicity in the canal. Map 4 hyperbolizes the post-industrial landscape of Gowanus Canal. It is a juxtaposition of industry, trade, commerce, prosperity, stagnation, toxicity, grime, romanticism, and charm. This perception of Gowanus Canal exposes contesting and overlapping epistemologies of nature. In the early twenty-first century, after residents and government officials raised concerns and voices, the site was studied and sampled producing reports of contamination levels and its effects on public and environmental health. This was representative of the acknowledgment of the interconnectedness between nature and society. After two years of deliberation, the government eventually designated Gowanus Canal a Superfund site, placing it on the National Priority List 2010. The site is now managed by the United States Environmental Protection Agency (USEPA) and undergoing remediation and cleanup.
Map (iv) is a representation emphasizing the industrialization of Gowanus Canal. Credit: Ruchika Narendra Lodha
Abolishing the idea of nature to envision reality without binaries (of society and nature). Credit: Ruchika Narendra Lodha
Contemporary nature
The current remediation plan envisions Gowanus Canal as an amenity to human society, an accessible piece of nature with flourishing habitats for plant, animal, bird, and aquatic species. Even though there are efforts to clean the canal and employ design strategies to acknowledge, address, include, and improve habitats for other species that cohabit the environment with humans, the vision co-opts the idea of a pastoral “garden” that manifests the reconciliation between deteriorating wild nature and extremely chaotic society through technology. Although there is awareness of the interconnectedness between societies and nature, nature is still perceived as an externality that supports and situates society. The knowledge produced through literature and scientific research that promote ecological thinking are often inaccessible or abstruse to laypeople.
A rendering by dland studio for the restoration of Gowanus Canal Sponge Park, is a composition of overlapping layers of various perceptions of nature (pastoral garden, industrial charm, ecological). Credit: DLand Studio
Actionable engagement
In this section of the Atlas, we list projects and practices that critically engage with nature through various disciplines and skill-sets including science, research, design, photography, art, and pedagogy as a pathway for the multi-scalar approaches for initial and ongoing environmental engagement. This collection hopes to provide inspiration and invoke readers from various backgrounds, with diverse inclinations and capacities to engage with nature by actively observing, acknowledging, interacting and engaging with their environments. The Atlas may also become a live archive connecting people and building networks among similarly-inclined practitioners and aspirers while bridging the gap between the literature on nature and empirical experiences through multidisciplinary practices.
Practice 1: Cartography, research. Source: Gowanus Canal Public Health Assessment Final Release and the New York State Department of Health, January 2017. Credit: Ruchika Narendra Lodha
Interpretive reporting is a method to translate long, tedious, and abstruse scientific reports into accessible and legible (visual) information to a population that is not academic or scientifically-inclined.
Practice 2: cartography, theory, research. Source: Gowanus Canal Public Health Assessment Final Release and the New York State Department of Health, January 2017. Credit: Ruchika Narendra Lodha
Relational reporting allows us to map the relations between things, facts, implications, causes to understand the connections within a situation or context under consideration.
Practice 3: Pedagogy, research, multi-disciplinary collaboration. Photo: Ruchika Narendra Lodha
The Verge Workshop, “designing for inclusion” aimed to engage students and scholars from various backgrounds in an open-ended collaborative discussion around invisible actors, systems, and structures within the framework of extractive economies and environments.
Ellie Irons is an interdisciplinary artist with a background in environmental science whose practice explores human-nature relationships through interactive, exploratory, recreational, and fieldwork-based methods. The Invasive Pigments project focuses on what she calls “spontaneous urban plants” or invasive weed species that rapidly grow within densely populated and developed urban landscapes in order to make pigments to produce paintings, diagrams, or field guides. Whereas, the Next Epoch Seed Library is an archive and seed exchange program that promotes awareness of and engagement with urban plants.
Conclusion
Nature is a complex realm with many meanings and manifestations and for many can be daunting to engage with. Ambiguous genealogies discussed as part of the history of the Gowanus debunk the need for a universal theory to understand or know nature. Our interest here lies in exploring the multiplicities of epistemologies of nature and the shifting relationships of humans within nature to elicit new ways to engage with nature within situated urban environments. This collection of “maps” is both a research method and a presentation technique that expands the scope of and translates abstract and esoteric literature to understand and engage nature within empirical context in two ways: one, by re-telling the story of Gowanus with the focus on human-nature relationships, and two, by addressing the diversity of epistemologies of nature through an assembly of praxis projects in order to create a collective knowledge of and engagement with nature.
As a research method, the Atlas suggests observing and interacting with the environment in a conscious, analytical, and sensorial manner by revealing covert layers. In the case of the Gowanus Canal, the alternative mapping techniques incite the acknowledgment of smells, weeds, “inanimate matter”, and micro-ecologies within the water and soil of the canal. As a presentation technique, the Atlas distills complex information like the transformative history of the landscape of Gowanus, and scientific reports on contamination and health impacts into easily comprehensible visuals through story-telling techniques. In both capacities, the Nature Atlas provides for a pedagogical tool that helps conscious, and more involved interaction and understanding of our environments. Bringing this into local neighborhoods, classrooms, community organizations, and backyard barbecues is the next step to link multiple ways of understanding and to connect to the everyday nature in our communities and streets.
This research, including mapping, interviews, and workshops, was conceived and conducted as part of Ruchika Lodha’s unpublished graduate thesis (2017) for MA in Theories of Urban Practice at Parsons School of Design.
Bennett, E.M., M. Solan, R. Biggs, T. McPhearson, A. Norstrom, P. Olsson, L. Pereira, G.D. Peterson, C. Raudsepp-Hearne, F. Biermann, S. R. Carpenter, E. Ellis, T. Hichert, V. Galaz, M. Lahsen, M. Milkoreit, B. Martin-Lopez, K. A. Nicholas, R. Preiser, G. Vince, J. Vervoort, J. Xu. 2016. “Bright Spots: Seeds of a Good Anthropocene.” Frontiers in Ecology and the Environment, 14(8): 441–448, doi:10.1002/fee.1309
McPhearson, T., D. Iwaniec, and X. Bai. 2017. “Positives visions for guiding transformations toward desirable urban futures.” Current Opinion in Environmental Sustainability (Special Issue), 22:33–40 DOI: 10.1016/j.cosust.2017.04.004
Nassauer, Joan Iverson. “Care and stewardship: From home to planet.” Landscape and Urban Planning 100, no. 4 (2011): 321-23. doi:10.1016/j.landurbplan.2011.02.022.
Alexiou, Joseph. “Gowanus: Brooklyn’s Curious Canal.” New York: New York University Press, 2015.
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.
Nature in cities benefits our health, but how can we bring this fact into more specific guidelines and insights? Here are seven key messages for planners and designers.
What the pandemic we live in revealed is something we knew, experienced, but had not well-evidenced at scale: nature in cities is fundamental for maintaining and regaining our physical and mental health. There is a broad literature on the benefits of green space for promoting physical activity and health, reducing obesity, diabetes, and cardiovascular and cardiometabolic risk. Green space can also increase mental and psychological well-being through different mechanisms (e.g., relieving stress, reducing concentration problems, significant improvement in self-esteem and cognitive functioning). In addition, green space can improve the sense of place, neighborhood satisfaction, social cohesion, and social capital, and reduce crime and incivilities, all related to social determinants of health. The provision of green space can, therefore, potentially counteract some of the health-related manifestations of inequality (Jennings, Larson, & Yun, 2016; Sharifi, Levin, M.Stone, & Nygaard, 2021; Sugiyama, Leslie, Giles-Corti, & Owen, 2008).
During the Nature of Cities Festival 2021, we brought together different perspectives on what matters for planning and designing urban green spaces or urban ecosystems that can mediate or contribute to better physical and mental health. Our dialogue session brought forward seven key messages for urban planners and urban designers to consider building from evidence in Australian cities:
Quality and quantity of urban parks matters for healthy cities;
Access to urban parks can be a small step towards addressing health injustices in cities;
Access to urban green spaces improves well-being;
Shocks alter behavior and perceptions of people for using urban green spaces;
Urban parks were preferred gateways to other peri-urban nature areas during the pandemic;
Plan and design cities with green should be done with wise considerations on different heat effects during the day and night.
Every bit of green matters when dealing with heat in cities.
First, efforts to design and maintain high-quality urban parks can contribute to people’s health. It is well known that physical inactivity is a major cause of chronic diseases, and moderate-intensity physical activity such as walking is protective against them. An important contribution of urban parks is to provide people with an opportunity to be physically active. Research has found that high-quality urban parks with various features (e.g., walking paths, grassed areas, amenities) are conducive to recreational walking and park visits (Sugiyama et al 2015). Improving the quality of urban parks thus has the potential to increase residents’ physical activity. In addition, visiting parks means exposure to natural environments and a chance to interact with neighbors, which are beneficial for mental health and well-being. It is important to point out that renovating urban parks is much easier than improving other environmental factors that are known to be related to walking (e.g., population density, street network, public transport) and there is public support for park improvement (Sugiyama et al 2018). Local governments are recommended to consider improving their parks to enhance residents’ health.
Second, urban parks may be used to mitigate socioeconomic inequalities in health. There are systematic and persistent disparities in health between the deprived and affluent, and reducing such health inequalities is a key priority in public health (Bleich et al, 2012). Studies have shown that areas with higher levels of deprivation and those with lower levels do not differ in terms of the number of parks, but they differ in the quality of parks: parks in deprived areas tend to have more incivilities (e.g., litter, graffiti, poor maintenance) and fewer amenities than those in less deprived areas (Crawford et al, 2008; Hughey et al, 2016). Given that people of lower socioeconomic status are less physically active during leisure time than those of higher socioeconomic status (Beenacers et al, 2012), it is possible to mitigate health inequalities by improving the quality of parks and encouraging recreational physical activity in deprived neighborhoods. This can be a small step toward tackling health injustices in cities.
Third, access to green spaces in cities is associated with higher levels of subjective well-being. To effectively contribute to bringing this knowledge closer to policy front, we develop a novel green space accessibility index that, unlike conventional measurement approaches, considers all green spaces that can be accessed from a locality. The access index is affected by the distance to green space, the crowding of that green space, and the area of green space. Our gravity model is built to indicate that the importance of green space decreases when the distance increases but does not disappear. (Sharifi, Nygaard, M.Stone, & Levin, 2021). To analyze the effect of green space, we build a hedonic model of subjective well-being. The results reaffirm and emphasize green space’s role in supporting well-being and the importance of protecting or enhancing green space provision in urban environments. In the next step, we examine the effect of different green space qualities, in terms of size, on subjective well-being. The results indicate that only the large green spaces — greater than about 1 hectare — have a significant and consistent effect on subjective well-being. To increase green space efficacy, therefore, policy initiatives need to consider developing interconnected green spaces, combining them with walkable areas that support local jobs and social networking (Sharifi, Nygaard, & M.Stone, 2021).
Fourth, shocks like bushfires and the COVID pandemic alter behavior and perceptions of people for using urban green spaces. During the 2019-20 summer bushfires, it was unsafe for Canberrans to go outdoors, because bushfires in the state of New South Wales have resulted in smoke haze that worsened air quality in Canberra (ACT Emergency Services Agency, 2020). During the COVID pandemic, in order to stop the spread of COVID-19, Canberrans were encouraged by the local ACT Government to avoid mass gathering and non-essential travel. Furthermore, preliminary evidence suggests that these two recent shocks have also affected the ability of residents to interact with and use various forms of urban green space and green infrastructure in Canberra. Green spaces are important to people through the provision of various general and mental health benefits (World Health Organisation, 2016, Astell-Burt and Feng, 2019), which are particularly vital for maintaining wellbeing during stressful times of shocks. It is crucial that the impacts of shocks are taken into consideration during the design and management of urban green spaces in the future, as the occurrence of shocks are expected to be more frequent.
Fifth, urban parks are gateways for connecting with nature and people and are preferred to other peri-urban nature areas during the pandemic. Urban parks play an important role in the everyday lives of urban residents. In Canberra, many activities take place in urban parks and in the presence of green infrastructure. Urban parks are often regarded as community hubs, where residents could come for exercise, or gather for BBQs and picnics. Alternatively, they are also a place for relaxation, where Canberrans could rest, and enjoy the natural environment. Preliminary evidence suggests that urban parks are highly valued during the COVID pandemic in Canberra. Local parks were also more accessible during the pandemic compared to peri-urban nature areas, which are often further away. Visits to local parks became a chance for residents to leave home, after spending more time working remotely, and to restore their well-being. This has helped people to maintain their health and to enhance their resilience during the pandemic.
Sixth, when planning for bringing vegetation or trees to cities, it needs to be done in consideration of the day and night heat effects it will have on people. Excess urban heat is a major issue to the health and the thermal comfort of city occupants. In the Australian context, 86% of the Australian population residing in cities and frequent, severe heatwaves caused the second-highest mortality among all other natural disasters in Australia. Therefore, urban heat mitigation should be in the discussion with a high priority. Urban surface characteristics and their aerodynamics can cause excess heat in cities with altered urban energy budgets. Hence, my recent work is focused on how different urban surface characteristics are related to urban heat (Herath et al., 2021). Among “green” surfaces types in cities, canyon vegetation, urban trees, and green roofs proved to be potential heat mitigation strategies during different times of the day; in daytime and nighttime. Urban green proved to be highly effective to reduce nighttime temperature, therefore, urban green is applicable as Urban Heat Island (UHI) effect mitigation strategy. It is important to highlight when cities are planning with green spaces, designing should consider their effectiveness in the time of the day and the spatial distribution. This could be effective in terms of urban heat as well as with other ecosystem services by green in an urban ecosystem.
Seventh, we should appreciate and count every bit of green for dealing with heat in the city. In the study in Melbourne, the best results for heat reduction were obtained from extreme ratios of surface types such as green roofs and cool roofs (Herath et al., 2021). But in realistic conditions, urban designs with green and cool surfaces have to be limited. As revealed in correlation analysis, urban vegetation, green roofs, and cool roofs depicted high, strong negative relationships. On the other hand, the canyon vegetation performed linearly for minimum temperature in the CBD, as the higher the urban trees ratio, the lower the nighttime temperature. Moreover, strategic improvements in surface characteristics should be made in the overall city, regardless of the urban condition, CBD, or the rest of the urban because it is essential for the best thermal performance in the entire city. Also, since the effectiveness of different surfaces differs with the time of the day, we propose experimentations for strategic combinations of different surfaces for maximum effectiveness. Therefore, it is evident that every bit of green counts equally for cooling cities; however, with an accurate arrangement.
Nature in cities benefits our health; how to bring this into more specific guidelines and insights for urban planning is an on-going quest. As the main motivation and mission of the Nature of Cities Festival 2021 was to connect different perspectives and find connections and bring different pieces of the puzzle together, we hope that our blog post from the dialogue session provides a summary of such an attempt.
Takemi Sugiyama, Farahnaz Sharifi, Zirui (Jerry) Yao, Prabhasri Herath, and Niki Frantzeskaki Melbourne, Melbourne, Canberra, Canberra, and Melbourne
On The Nature of Cities
References
ACT EMERGENCY SERVICES AGENCY 2020. ACT Emergency Services Agency Operational Review of the Bushfire Season 2019/20, Canberra.
ASTELL-BURT, T. & FENG, X. 2019. Association of Urban Green Space With Mental Health and General Health Among Adults in Australia. JAMA Network Open, 2, 198209-198209.
Beenackers MA, Kamphuis CBM, Giskes K, et al. Socioeconomic inequalities in occupational, leisure-time, and transport-related physical activity among European adults: A systematic review. International Journal of Behavioral Nutrition and Physical Activity. Sep 19 2012;9116. doi:10.1186/1479-5868-9-116
Bleich SN, Jarlenski MP, Bell CN, LaVeist TA. Health inequalities: Trends, progress, and policy. Annu Rev Public Health. Apr 2012;33:7-40. doi:10.1146/annurev-publhealth-031811-124658
Crawford D, Timperio A, Giles-Corti B, et al. Do features of public open spaces vary according to neighbourhood socio-economic status? Health & Place. 2008;14(4):889-893. doi:10.1016/j.healthplace.2007.11.002
Herath, P., Thatcher, M., Jin, H., & Bai, X. (2021). Effectiveness of urban surface characteristics as mitigation strategies for the excessive summer heat in cities. Sustainable Cities and Society, 72(June), 103072. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.scs.2021.103072
Jennings, V., Larson, L., & Yun, J. (2016). Advancing sustainability through urban green space: Cultural ecosystem services, equity, and social determinants of health. International Journal of environmental research and public health, 13(2), 196.
Sharifi, F., Levin, I., Stone, W. M., & Nygaard, A. (2021). Green space and subjective well-being in the Just City: A scoping review. Environmental Science & Policy, 120, 118-126.
Sharifi, F., Nygaard, A., & Stone, W. M. (2021). Heterogeneity in the Subjective Well-being Impact of Access to Urban Green Space. Sustainable Cities and Society, 103244.
Sharifi, F., Nygaard, A., M.Stone, W., & Levin, I. (2021). Accessing green space in Melbourne: Measuring inequity and household mobility. Landscape and Urban Planning, 207, 104004.
Sugiyama, T., Gunn, L.D., Christian, H., Francis, J., Foster, S., Hooper, P., . . . Giles-Corti, B. 2015. Quality of public open spaces and recreational walking. American Journal of Public Health, 105:2490–2495. doi: 10.2105/AJPH.2015.302890
Sugiyama T, Carver A, Koohsari MJ, Veitch J. Advantages of public green spaces in enhancing population health. Landscape and Urban Planning. 2018;178:12-17. Doi: 10.1016/j.landurbplan.2018.05.019
Sugiyama, T., Leslie, E., Giles-Corti, B., & Owen, N. (2008). Associations of neighbourhood greenness with physical and mental health: do walking, social coherence and local social interaction explain the relationships? Journal of Epidemiology & Community Health, 62(5), e9-e9.
WORLD HEALTH ORGANIZATION 2016. Urban green spaces and health – a review of evidence, Copenhagen.
Farahnaz Sharifi is a researcher at the Centre for Urban Transition. Farah utilises advanced GIS and quantitative methods to analyse the relationship between urban amenities and subjective well-being from the just city perspective.
Zirui (Jerry) Yao is an environmental science student and researcher with an interest in the research domains of urban green infrastructure and urban sustainability. His recent research focuses on the access to green infrastructure and wellbeing of Canberra residents.
Prabhasri Herath is an environmentalist and a researcher with an interest in sustainable, resilient and liveable cities. Her research work focuses on excess heat mitigation with Nature-based Solutions in cities.
Niki Frantzeskaki is a Chair Professor in Regional and Metropolitan Governance and Planning at Utrecht University the Netherlands. Her research is centered on the planning and governance of urban nature, urban biodiversity and climate adaptation in cities, focusing on novel approaches such as experimentation, co-creation and collaborative governance.
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.
Rebecca Bratspies, New YorkThe grim reality is that far too many communities of color, and low-wealth communities must fight tooth and nail for clean air, clean water, and a healthy environment. This situation is neither accidental nor inevitable.
PK Das, MumbaiI argue participation in planning and design ought to be a right too. Planning that is inclusive takes all existing reality—life forms, activity, and places as the basis of planning.
Marthe Derkzen, ArnhemThe prompt ‘How can we uproot structural inequity in the provision of nature?’ sounds as if something radical needs to happen, something that makes the earth shiver, a need to completely revise what we are doing now. But in reality, oftentimes, a small turn of direction can make a big difference.
Joost Gerretschen, ArnhemOne group that ‘scores’ low on nature quantity, quality, and access, are residents of social housing units. They often live in small rental houses in working-class neighborhoods with little public greenery and may not have the means and/or little opportunity to visit parks, forests, and other nature areas. For them, having a garden can potentially make a big difference.
Rob McDonald, BaselEcologists should advocate for nature as a universal service if we are serious about uprooting structural inequality in nature access, and then be willing to engage in the messy policy discussions about how this policy can be achieved consistent with other goals of city residents, including affordability.
Maria Mejia, BogotáWho gets the best piece of urban green first has to do with abilities to create stories of protection; secondly, the ability to mobilize it and make it popular but these possibilities are, of course, linked to race, gender, class, and historical implications
Praneeta Mudaliar, IthacaFostering meaningful diversity and inclusion within environmental departments will inevitably be accompanied by significant growing pains, as the chorus for addressing structural inequities becomes louder.
Steward Pickett, PoughkeepsieStructural inequality is globally ubiquitous, reflecting consumer capitalism, profligate resource extraction, settler colonialism, and violent enclosure of indigenous lands.
Stephanie Pincetl, Los AngelesThe provision of nature is something that humans have been active agents in delivering for millennia. The degree of structural inequality today is an artifact of the triumph of capitalism, that rode into the far reaches of the globe on the back of Imperialism and fossil energy.
Rebecca Rutt, CopenhagenThe lens of environmental justice brings social disparities into focus but, historically, has imparted a partial view emphasizing human inequality. We do not believe we will ever ease the great disparities across the human species if we do not also deconstruct the artificial separation of humans from the rest of nature.
Huda Shaka, JeddahI would suggest that nature provision is embedded into social infrastructure planning policies and procedures, especially since nature does provide many social services.
Henriette Steiner, CopenhagenHow can we humans place all species in the realm of deserving benefits and broader well-being? How can we remember that ‘nature’ is not there waiting to be provided, but a web of life within which we are deeply embedded? How can we deepen awareness of our own dependency on everything else
Ebony Walden, RichmondOnce we see differently, we can act differently and be disruptors. Otherwise, we will try to solve the problem with the same heart, mindset, and biases that created the problem. To be disruptors we have to uproot these things in ourselves, first and on an ongoing basis.
Steward Pickett is a Distinguished Senior Scientist at the Cary Institute of Ecosystem Studies in Millbrook, New York. His research focuses on the ecological structure of urban areas and the temporal dynamics of vegetation.
An Invitation to Nature for All: Uprooting Structural Inequity
As an African American born in the (then officially) segregated South of the United States, I have always understood the oppressive effects of racism. My understanding was originally shaped by two myths that in fact helped reinforce the oppression. Myth One is the idea that racism is in the hands of individual bad actors. Racism emerges from the words and deeds of individuals who happen to be bigots.
Myth One suggested that the oppression of racism could be overcome by countervailing individual action: whatever individual people of color chose to do, we had to work harder at it than the bigots. Of course, that is an oppressive assumption in itself: “Just spend your life being more productive than the people who hate you. No problem. Work harder and the doors to natural benefits in city and country will open.” If that sounds ridiculous, that’s because the “solution” can only live in a world governed by a second myth.
Myth Two was that racism in the United States was an affliction of the empowered white majority alone, leaving people of color unaware of how Myth One distracted everybody from the social, economic, and cultural system that was the deep source of individual bigotry in the first place. In other words, the first myth is a symptom of the operation of the oppressive system purposefully obscured by Myth Two. The second myth makes us blind to the fact that we are all participants – oppressors and oppressed — in an interlinked system of social, cultural, and economic processes. Even while chafing against it, sometimes the oppressed unknowingly support the system by accepting one or both of the myths. One doesn’t overcome such a large, oppressive system by working longer, harder, or more cleverly. Oppressors have too much at stake in the system to admit that it even exists, or that it favors them, or that it is anything other than the outcome of supposedly inherent, negative attributes of the oppressed.
Forget both myths. As societies and individuals, we only overcome such a system of oppression by recognizing it and dismantling it. Dismantling might require a kind of reverse engineering. Is that too slow? If so, is the approach to figure out where the wrenches are best thrown into the gears? Making us all look away from the larger machinery of racism is one of the racialized machine’s most insidious strategies for its own perverse resilience.
Of course, such oppressive systems do not just operate in the United States. The gigantic social-environmental system of racism has dimensions of colonialism at global and within-nation scales. In traditions where race doesn’t provide the operative hierarchy, colorism often stands in. Oppression has other dimensions too: religion and sect, gender, class, migrant status, and access to training and education, among others. Research on such things as the global extent of segregation, or the deep, lasting legacies of colonialism in both the “periphery” and the “mother country,” demonstrate the virtually universal importance of a structurally inequitable system that affects access to nature’s benefits.
This round table asks scholars, activists, scientists, and humanists having diverse perspectives, experiences, and geographic spheres to examine how to address the myths supporting inequity that they see at work; to explore how the situations in different global regions, countries, or different social-cultural perspectives shape the modes and opportunities for dismantling the network of structural inequities confronting marginalized and excluded groups and persons. What stands in the way of access to nature’s benefits, and the avoidance of any hazards that can emerge from nature’s energies? How do we sweep those barriers away?
Rebecca Bratspies is a Professor at CUNY School of Law, where she is the founding director of the Center for Urban Environmental Reform. A scholar of environmental justice, and human rights, Rebecca has written scores of scholarly works including 4 books. Her most recent book is Naming Gotham: The Villains, Rogues, and Heroes Behind New York Place Names. With Charlie LaGreca-Velasco, Bratspies is co-creator of The Environmental Justice Chronicles: an award-winning series of comic books bringing environmental literacy to a new generation of environmental leaders. The ABA honored her with its 2021 Commitment to Diversity and Justice Award.
If we are going to uproot environmental inequality, we must take two critical steps. First, we must “see” the problem. Second, we must reorient the machinery of urban environmental decision-making to prioritize protecting the most vulnerable.
We all deserve to live in healthy communities. Yet, the grim reality is that far too many communities of color, and low-wealth communities must fight tooth and nail for clean air, clean water, and a healthy environment. This situation is neither accidental nor inevitable.
Consider New York City. The city’s racial segregation was carefully planned. This link shows a map of the New York City neighborhoods that were redlined nearly a century ago. It is a map of structural racism — of the government’s deliberate decision to exclude racialized Black and brown neighborhoods from the economic prosperity of the New Deal.
The choices New York City has made since then have only reinforced the inequalities driven by structural racism. Tracking where the city sited its power plants, its wastewater treatment plants, and its waste transfer stations creates a map of New York City’s environmental racism. Unsurprisingly, this map is virtually identical to the redlining map, and also closely tracks the neighborhoods targeted by the city’s unconstitutional stop and frisk policy and that continue to suffer most from mass incarceration.
Now take this map of structural and environmental racism and add neighborhoods with few green spacesor street trees. Add neighborhoods where environmental enforcement is lax. Add neighborhoods where kids struggle with asthma and miss too much school because they are sick. Add neighborhoods where residents bear a disproportionate cardiopulmonary disease burden. Then add the neighborhoods most vulnerable to the city’s heat island effect, and finally add the neighborhoods where COVID-19 hit first and hardest. Once again it is largely the same map. This is the map of New York City’s environmental injustice, the places where the polluting industry has the biggest impact on the health and welfare of residents, and the city has failed to address the environmental needs and priorities of the community.
These combined maps grew out of both the legacy of past de jure racialized exclusion and of current de facto racial discrimination. Past and present combine to create structural inequality in the provision of nature and its benefits to people. Yet, history is not destiny. The future does not have to be an endless replication of environmental inequality, but it will take active intervention to uproot environmental inequality and build a greener, fairer, more equitable city.
If we are going to uproot environmental inequality, we must take two critical steps. First, we must “see” the problem. That means acknowledging that profound inequalities exist in our cities with regard to air quality, water quality, tree canopy, and access to green spaces. And it means confronting the reality that these inequalities are, in fact, structural. They cannot be reduced to market forces, or about the accumulation of private preferences. Instead, environmental inequalities are a manifestation of the racialized, structural inequality that sits at the core of so much public decision-making. Once we recognize that the problems are structural, it becomes clear that the solutions must be structural as well.
This brings us to the second step. We must reorient the machinery of urban environmental decision-making to prioritize protecting the most vulnerable. In 2021, New York took an important step toward this goal by adding Art. I, Sec 19 to the state constitution. This amendment reads, in its entirety, “Every person shall have the right to clean air, clean water, and a healthful environment.” In adopting this language by an overwhelming majority, New Yorkers put themselves on the right side of history. They joined the United Nations, and 150 states in recognizing that clean air, clean water, and a healthy environment are basic human rights that belong to everyone. Everyone! Not just those with enough money, not just those living in the right zip code, or having the right complexion, accent, or religion.
Putting the right to a healthy environment at the center of urban decision-making can be a way to get us from environmental racism to environmental justice. By drawing a clear starting point that no communities are sacrifice zones, this approach to urban decision-making reorients priorities.
P.K. Das is popularly known as an Architect-Activist. With an extremely strong emphasis on participatory planning, he hopes to integrate architecture and democracy to bring about desired social changes in the country.
I argue participation in planning and design ought to be a right too. Planning that is inclusive takes all existing reality—life forms, activity, and places as the basis of planning.
We have two important questions before us in this round of discussions—overcoming structural inequity and accessing nature services and their benefits by all. Let us deliberate.
1 Overcoming structural inequity
Inequity in the access to nature and its benefits is a structural issue, intertwined with larger inequity questions—exclusion, oppression, discrimination, and abuse of vast sections of people, places, and the environment. This wide spectrum of inequity, injustice, and violent conflicts is being relentlessly carried out by the ruling dispensation through many divisive means—religion, caste, race, faith, gender, classes, and so on. Addressing or dealing with one or the other issue individually will not yield any significant structural change in the prevailing conditions of inequity.
The way forward is to comprehensively address these fundamental inequity issues across the various divide that have over the years violently fragmented and severely damaged the ecology of places—people & nature; and build close relationships across various social, environmental, and political rights struggles. As a matter of fact, access to nature and nature services equally by all could form an effective means for spearheading the larger coalition and unity objective. The issues relating to nature and its services, particularly their segregation from people’s lives, has come to be one of the most critical concern–having resulted in catastrophic climate events and the compounding existential crisis of the planet itself.
Alongside the need for building larger forces of unified struggles, an understanding of the significance of nature and its services little understood is a necessary step. Knowledge dissemination through wider public campaigns, dialogues at all levels—including engaging governments, protests, and deeper study and research are necessary tools for the achievement of the objective of overcoming inequity at all levels, including nature and its benefits.
2 Accessing nature services and benefits by all
Benefits of nature and its services must be equally accessed by all. As a matter of fact, such access must be considered a right. Not a matter of decision and discretion in the hands of a few who direct the supply and provision. Being a right would mean decision-making in the hands of collectives in which all the people―being increasingly aware, participate equally, towards the achievement of the objective of democratizing natural elements and assets.
In what form do we relate to nature and its benefits, establish close relationships between people and nature, and thereupon access equally? Such forms, also being the means in providing wider awareness and knowledge, re-enforces the resolve of the various movements demanding equity and justice for all. For example—it is the restoration, conservation, re-invigoration, and integration of nature and its services with development objectives, through participatory planning, and design of our places of habitation at all levels—cities, towns, and villages. Therefore, I argue participation in planning and design ought to be a right too. Planning that is inclusive takes all existing reality—life forms, activity, and places as the basis of planning.
This would mean an exercise by the collective of movements in evolving through participatory means an open data and mapping of the natural areas, thereafter the understanding of their impact and benefits, with an objective of promoting nature-led planning as the way forward. To make this process successful, it would be prudent to address planning at the neighborhood level as a bottom-up process in city/town planning.
The catastrophic climate events and the existential crisis warrants the urgency for re-inventing our places of habitation—the expansion of commons. A paradigm shift from the ways by which business is carried out as usual—top-down authoritarian planning with an objective of colonization of the commons, including nature, to individual and corporate interests.
Hopefully, the above understanding of the macro-issues and the need for mobilization of people’s collective forces would facilitate and enable a structural shift towards the achievement of equity of nature and all its benefits for all.
Dr. Marthe Derkzen is a researcher and lecturer with the Health and Society chair group. She studies urban nature from a social justice perspective with an interest in climate adaptation, local food, healthy neighborhoods and stewardship of the commons.
The prompt ‘How can we uproot structural inequity in the provision of nature?’ sounds as if something radical needs to happen, something that makes the earth shiver, a need to completely revise what we are doing now. But in reality, oftentimes, a small turn of direction can make a big difference.
The prompt ‘How can we uproot structural inequity in the provision of nature?’ sounds as if something radical needs to happen, something that makes the earth shiver, a need to completely revise what we are doing now. But in reality, oftentimes, a small turn of direction can make a big difference. I will share an example from my hometown Nijmegen in the Netherlands where a few good-intended people are making big, green changes.
In the Netherlands, as in many countries, a decisive factor in structural inequity in nature provision (and many other things) is where you live: in a spacious suburban residential area or in a working-class neighborhood? In an apartment or a detached house? And do you rent or own your home? Inequity in the provision of nature and its benefits to people are related to quantity (the amount of nature available), quality (does it serve people’s needs), and access (for anyone anytime). One of the groups that ‘scores’ low on nature quantity, quality, and access, are residents of social housing units. They often live in small rental houses in working-class neighborhoods with little public greenery and may not have the means and/or little opportunity to visit parks, forests, and other nature areas.
For this group, having an attractive garden can potentially make a big difference. But if you work long hours, fall ill, if your children keep you busy, or you just don’t have a green thumb, designing and maintaining a garden can become too much. Also, in some cities, it used to be practiced to completely remove a garden and strip it back to sand or tiles when a new renter would move in. So, in many social housing areas, sealed front and back yards keep nature far away. The private sphere is hard to influence, and there is no tax on sealed surfaces (yet), so if you want to make a change, you need to get personal.
Start talking to your neighbors. That is what they thought at the housing corporation Portaal and community center De Broederij in Nijmegen. In 2021, they piloted the Groenpost: a team of community center volunteers, living in the neighborhood, who maintain gardens of residents who are not or who are no longer capable to take care of their gardens. In a few months, several gardens have been transformed so that residents can start enjoying their outdoor space. Sometimes, a vegetable garden is brought back to life, other times it is weeding that gives a garden a fresh new look. The goal is not to turn the garden into a nature paradise, but to let residents enjoy and make use of their garden rather than perceiving it as a burden or something to be ashamed of. And a goal of the Groenpost pilot that is at least equally important, is to grow social contacts among neighbors.
Gardens transformed via the Groenpost project. Photos: De Broederij
The gardenwork performed by the volunteers brings them benefits also. The Groenpost volunteers are not otherwise employed, and admit they have few social contacts themselves. The Groenpost is a reason to leave home, helps structure the week, and gives meaning to their lives. Volunteers indicate that the work brings them joy and energy and that it benefits their mental health. They experience feelings of purpose, self-esteem, and independence. Working in a team also brings along responsibility and a feeling of togetherness, reducing the risk of loneliness according to one participant. The fact that the volunteers are personally acquainted with many issues that are common among residents of this neighborhood, helps them in establishing contacts. Decreasing social isolation and increasing social control drive the participants to continue their Groenpost work.
Mid-2022, DeBroederij, Portaal, two other housing corporations, and the local government have signed an agreement to collaborate and continue with the Groenpost pilot. This is just a small example of how structural inequity in nature provision can be uprooted by good intentions and personal action – and that governments should play a role in facilitating citizen engagement.
Joost recently graduated from Wageningen University and Research (WUR) in the field of environmental sciences, having specialized in the relationship between urban climate adaptation and socio-economic inequalities. He now works for the Dutch Association of Municipalities (VNG).
Dr. Robert McDonald is Lead Scientist for the Global Cities program at The Nature Conservancy. He researches the impact and dependences of cities on the natural world, and help direct the science behind much of the Conservancy’s urban conservation work.
Ecologists should advocate for nature as a universal service if we are serious about uprooting structural inequality in nature access, and then be willing to engage in the messy policy discussions about how this policy can be achieved consistent with other goals of city residents, including affordability.
To think about how to uproot nature inequality, we need to be clear about its causes. These are complex, and vary a lot by society (and indeed, one study found very little nature inequality in Singapore) and the type of natural feature. In the United States, where I have conducted the bulk of my research, tree canopy cover is very unequally distributed, for at least two (related) reasons. Structurally, most households of low income or of people of color are in dense neighborhoods often near the urban core, whereas most households of high income or of non-Hispanic whites are in less dense suburban or exurban neighborhoods. This leads to a degree of structural inequality in tree cover since denser neighborhoods have higher impervious surface cover and hence lower tree canopy cover on average. One could argue that income inequality (or past discriminatory policy) leads to land inequality which leads to inequality in tree cover. Even after controlling for differences in density, poor and minority neighborhoods tend to have lower tree cover than equivalently dense higher-income or white neighborhoods. This residual inequality can be more directly attributed to unequal investment in tree planting and maintenance, either on public or private sector land.
Concerted efforts by the public sector to invest in tree cover improvements in currently less-green neighborhoods could go a long way toward rectifying tree cover inequality. This is especially true for “residual” inequality, which my coauthors and I estimate could be rectified in US cities by planting 62 million trees for around 18 billion dollars. But for structural inequality, solutions must also be found on private land, whether yards or buildings, simply because it is difficult to plant enough trees on public land in dense neighborhoods to reach tree cover levels in less dense neighborhoods. Other solutions must be sought.
I would argue that the provision of nature in cities is undergoing a transition to being thought about in a way equivalent to other urban services, such as the provision of water, sanitation, and electricity. Sanitation and drinking water provision was, for instance, thought of for centuries primarily as the responsibility of individual households, with some important exceptions (the aqueducts and sewers of the Romans among them). In the 19th century, however, the germ-theory of disease and other factors led to the development of what has been called the Sanitary City. Sanitation and water (and later electricity and phone service) became universal services supplied by the state to all, an expectation of urban citizens. In the same way, there is a movement toward thinking of access to nature as a universal right. This movement goes stronger each day, as the evidence of the mental and physical health benefits of nature grows.
Imagine if workplaces and schools were required to have a certain minimal level of nature, with thresholds varying depending on the circumstances of the building. This would parallel the requirement for natural lighting as much as possible in the European Union workplaces. Imagine if homes, before they were sold or rented, were required to have certain minimal levels of nature, with the threshold varying by building circumstances. This would parallel requirements of services such as water, sanitation, and electricity.
Urban planners, of course, have many factors to consider. They must balance competing demands such as traffic flow, energy use, cost of construction, and residents’ preferences. Creating affordable housing is often a key concern and should be considered in any plan. A mandate for equitable provision of nature would require someone (city governments, landowners, employers, or individuals) spending money and would increase property values of greened neighborhoods relative to not-yet-greened ones. But universal mandates for water and sanitation provision also require substantial public and private sector investment, one which we now think of as worthwhile (and do not blame for gentrification often, because services are provided universally). Ecologists should advocate for nature as a universal service if we are serious about uprooting structural inequality in nature access, and then be willing to engage in the messy policy discussions about how this policy can be achieved consistent with other goals of city residents, including affordability.
My heart is scattered across Colombia, Germany, the United States. and the Philippines. I have worked with incredible teams (Asian Development Bank, German Cooperation Agency, PIK Institute, etc.). Now back home, I'm currently leading the BiodiverCities by 2030 Initiative at the Humboldt Institute of Colombia. Editor of Urban Nature: Platform of Experiences (2016) and Transforming Cities with Biodiversity (2022). Volunteer at Fundación Cerros de Bogotá. Friend of TNOC since 2013.
Who gets the best piece of urban green has to do with abilities to create stories of protection, secondly, the ability to mobilize it and make it popular but these possibilities are, of course, linked to race, gender, class, and historical implications.
“Carnival for Life” or Carnaval por la vida was a 5.000-people mobilization organized by activists of comuna 18 and corregimiento La Buitrera in Santiago de Cali (Colombia) in 2014. The aim was to raise awareness of the need to protect the Meléndez River—the City’s pride back in the 50s and now significantly transformed. An important front of this struggle was El Morro (“The Hill”), an area locals attached environmental and cultural values to but designated for housing developments by the City Administration. The Meléndez River medium-low basin is home to a low-income, working-class community. Read more here: https://epub.uni-bayreuth.de/4520/
I’m interested in how urban biodiversity conservation is no longer a field lying exclusively on scientific knowledge, but rather what we are witnessing is that it is becoming an issue for civic engagement, for collaborations between activists, scientists, researchers, artists, and they are shaping new stories to protect nature in cities. In two words, my interest would be the civic turn that urban nature is taking!
Who gets the best piece of urban nature and why?
Place yourselves in Stockholm, Sweden. Civic associations stopped the building of motorways and houses in a park by interlinking royal heritage values with animal habitat preservation. On the other side of town, however, a similar effort at a green area led to a very different outcome—the Stockholm City Council ignored local resistance and previous decisions to invest in a landscape park and went ahead with plans to build 4000 flats.
What I aim to illustrate here is that even if we are talking about advocates, there are profound differences in how power is distributed across civic mobilizations. So, who gets the best piece of urban green has to do with abilities to create stories of protection, and secondly, the ability to mobilize it and make it popular. However, these possibilities are, naturally, linked to race, gender, class, and historical implications.
Bottom line, let’s follow power distribution to understand who gets the best piece of urban green and why.
What do you think needs to be “uprooted” to achieve equity of the benefits of nature in cities?
If you are an urban ecologist: Ask yourself how often you think about nature i.e., parks, lakes as black boxes, spreading benefits equally across the city. Feel encouraged to unpack power relations, and acknowledge structural and historical aspects such as race, gender, and class.
If you’re an advocate: Create a narrative, a story to protect that piece of nature you are aiming to keep. Add power to your story by ‘picking up’ artifacts (often produced by other actors) and align them with their program to give it ‘weight’. Artifacts can be Scientific reports, maps, numeric values, projections of scenarios, lists of species or ecosystem services, etc., Also, physical structures e.g., buildings.
If you are a local authority: Listen, stabilize good innovations to then connect between them. Why not create a laboratory to understand and transform environmental conflicts in your city? Also, support platforms that spread good ideas and practices. Value experimentation and encourage learning.
What are a couple of important ways you see to dismantle structural inequity?
Enhance tools and mechanisms of participation;
Do not be afraid of addressing conflict but understand what’s at stake in each case;
Do not be skeptical about experiments. Here is one of my favorite aspects of the so-called Transformative Change theory: transformation means, in essence, developing a shared vision of the future, a common idea of well-being and inclusion (a space where the rules of the dominant system do not predominate)
Do you have an inspiring or important example in your city or region you think people should know about?
Yes, I do. The social movement in defense of urban wetlands in the city of Bogota. It is an example of how place-based engagements can create significant agency leading to new forms of knowledge production and even new policy frameworks. Here are some highlights:
Since the early 1990s up-to-date, the struggle has never ceased. As Certeau pointed out in 1984: “Whatever it wins [the powerless], it does not keep. It must constantly manipulate events in order to turn them into opportunities.”.
Twenty years back, advocates opened up a new layer the city had overlooked: the ecological value of urban wetlands.
Advocates involved in these place-based struggles overcame local barriers and developed community actions based on embedded bonds of solidarity – 15 different networks engaged with urban wetlands.
Collaboration between advocates and academics led to the possibility of re-framing the city policy. Technical knowledge was produced thanks to the interest in this social mobilization, this evidence ultimately supports the work of advocates and helps create a larger impact. (Read more: https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/full/10.1177/2399654420929355)
Praneeta Mudaliar is an Assistant Professor of Environmental Natural Resources Policy and Stewardship at the University of Toronto Mississauga in Canada. Praneeta’s interdisciplinary social scientific research and teaching spans across the commons and collective action, climate justice and climate policy, and decolonizing conservation for advancing social justice and environmental sustainability.
Fostering meaningful diversity and inclusion within environmental departments will inevitably be accompanied by significant growing pains, as the chorus for addressing structural inequities becomes louder.
Institutions of higher education (IHEs) have been complicit in perpetuating and maintaining structural inequity, racism, and white dominance since their inception. In Ebony and Ivy: Race, Slavery, and the Troubled History of American Universities, Craig Steven Wilder writes, “The first five colleges in the British American colonies—Harvard…William and Mary…Yale…Codrington…and New Jersey—were instruments of Christian expansion, weapons for the conquest of Indigenous peoples, and major beneficiaries of the African slave trade and slavery (p.17). While the United States’ long-overdue reckoning with racism has been fraught, environmental departments in IHEs have been silent. Acknowledging the racist origins of the environmental movement and the racist founding of their institutions can be a first step toward uprooting structural inequity in the provision of nature and its benefits to people.
The silencing, minimizing, and erasing of Black, Indigenous, and People of Color (BIPOC) students and faculty is distressing at best and infuriating at worst. During my own education, I, a Brown person from India, could not shake off the feeling of being an outsider. In graduate school, we studied the preservation and conservation debate between John Muir and Gifford Pinchot through Ken Burns’ documentary, The National Parks: America’s Best Idea. The documentary was gripping and yet unsatisfactory in its uncritical depiction of John Muir as the “father of preservation” at the expense of the genocide of Indigenous peoples. We watched the 1970 Dixie cup commercial where an “Indigenous” person sheds a tear as trash, callously thrown out of a car window, lands at his moccasins. The narrator says, “People start pollution. People can stop pollution.” We did not explore the hypocrisy of corporations to shift responsibility onto people for keeping the environment clean, nor did we discuss the whitewashing of an Italian actor to portray an Indigenous person. Even my dissertation on race and caste erased me. Instead of discussing how a Brown person conducts fieldwork in an all-white context, my dissertation committee questioned me on the validity and reliability of qualitative methods in my dissertation defense. I was left questioning my place in the environmental field because I did not see my experiences represented in what I was studying. The environmental field as well as these departments universalized whiteness.
Correcting this legacy of environmentalism in environmental departments to benefit the environmental movement will take all faculty to engage in intentional planning and effort. Awareness of the prejudiced history of environmentalism can help students intervene for altering the racist trajectory of this history. Yet, moving beyond content is essential. While writing anti-racism plans to support BIPOC students and faculty is fashionable, the actual work that faculty must do in educating themselves on the historical reality of systemic racism and developing self-awareness about different experiences falls to the wayside. Faculty can learn to articulate what dominant culture is and how language, tropes, and norms of the environmental discipline drive BIPOC students away to departments where they might feel more heard, seen, and welcomed. Faculty can reevaluate the ways in which they deemphasize social and racial identities in teaching about the environment—as well as in everyday interactions. Faculty can reflect on how they adopt colorblind ideologies, foster meritocracy, and “help” or “save” minoritized folx that pushes students away.
Fostering meaningful diversity and inclusion within environmental departments will inevitably be accompanied by significant growing pains, as the chorus for addressing structural inequities becomes louder. Instead of ignoring the racist origins of environmentalism and the racist founding of IHEs, engaging in uncomfortable conversations, and working through the discomfort will retain more BIPOCs in the environmental field and better equip them to meaningfully empower and touch the lives of people and nature.
Steward Pickett is a Distinguished Senior Scientist at the Cary Institute of Ecosystem Studies in Millbrook, New York. His research focuses on the ecological structure of urban areas and the temporal dynamics of vegetation.
How can ecologists, as part of the social-economic “industry” of conservation, resilience, and greening stop getting in the way of nature for all?
Structural inequality is globally ubiquitous, reflecting consumer capitalism, profligate resource extraction, settler colonialism, and violent enclosure of indigenous lands.
Structural inequality is globally ubiquitous, reflecting consumer capitalism, profligate resource extraction, settler colonialism, and violent enclosure of indigenous lands. Ecologists can unintentionally reinforce a “conservation-industrial complex” that constrains nature for all by supporting structural inequity. Ecologists’ lapses include supporting conservation based on displacement of indigenous peoples or those experiencing poverty; embracing a view of resilience that references past social or environmental states in which social oppression is embedded; and assuming that greening is a neutral solution suitable for all social and ecological situations. Ecologists might begin to correct their lapses by examining problematic concepts that reinforce structural inequity in conservation, resilience, and greening. Here are some examples.
Non-white. Used to label all racialized groups incurring lower status in some societies, this term has three faults. First, it obscures the variety within socially assigned categories and their equally diverse ecological situations. Such homogenization can environmentally or economically disadvantage certain people in conservation decision-making. Second, it “accidentally” honors white folks by naturalizing their assigned hegemonic position. Third, it is wrong to define people by what they are not, implying that they lack something. “Disabled,” suffers from this same problem.
All Green is Good. Green ecological infrastructure in cities can reduce the burden on engineered infrastructure and can increase ecosystem services. However, assuming that green infrastructure is good for all people at all times may be a mistake. GI may have costs and hazards that are differentially apportioned among residents. For example, some communities fear negative social implications of green infrastructure or worry that they must spend time and money maintaining it. Dialog with communities that might be impacted — in any way — by green infrastructure should start early in projects and be ongoing to address fears and burdens of GI.
Green gentrification is just the market in action. Greening can lead to increased rents and housing prices, conversion of apartments to short-term rentals, or more aggressive policing of the unhoused or long-time residents of color. Fear of gentrification is real in neighborhoods hosting disempowered or under-resourced people. The market is often seen by ecologists and residents alike as an inevitable consequence of greening. That assumption should be rejected. When ecologists’ work supports greening, they should also use their social position to speak for policies that limit the damage an unfettered housing market can cause. Ecologists who accept this challenge must work with other experts and activists.
Avoid socially loaded terms. Vernacular terms transported into technical contexts may still carry social baggage. When such terms act as “industry standards,” their implications for systemic inequities are rarely evaluated: What does “invasive” species connote about human immigration? Does “exotic” suggest dismissive othering of people’s social or ethnic identities? Does the negative implication of “non-native species” parallel judgements from nationalist movements? Does “resilience” draw comfort from reactionary movements, or seek to maintain past social rankings? Does “sustainability” suggest keeping inequitable social structures? Even the seemingly innocent study of vegetation dynamics has terms with social baggage. “Succession” justifies societal stability. Likewise, “colonizing species” may ignore global resource extraction, displacement, and genocide. “Pioneer species” explores the same colonialist frontiers. This is no mere call for superficial political correctness because these terms tacitly reference social assumptions supporting systemic inequity.
Don’t normalize criteria of inequity. Social categories are socially constructed for political or economic purposes. But many categories supporting inequity have been “naturalized,” that is, assumed to be givens that just describe the way things are. Terms like race, poverty, privilege, education, and wealth are often treated in research as inherent characteristics of groups. Consequently, what these terms assume about merit or disadvantage has been hidden. Such terms should be seen as tools of structural inequity. Race is particularly problematic. Introduced by Linnaeus in 1753 as a geographic and physical descriptor of human variety, it became a Euro-centric hierarchy of social worth in the 10th edition of Systema Naturae (1758-59). Since then, many people assumed that race was a biological criterion, leading to decades of misguided and ultimately rejected racist research and eugenics, aiming to support the alleged human racial hierarchy.
Ecologists must understand that race is actually a socially constructed tool, in spite of the fact that some heritable physical features may be used as racialized markers. Any stability of race is social, not biological. Similarly, individuals or populations are not inherently poor, privileged, educated, wealthy, or vulnerable to hazards. Social and spatial circumstances affect what status people experience. This suggests alternative ways of speaking: “people who are experiencing poverty,” “people benefitting from privilege,” or “people identified as members of a racialized group.”
Don’t just work in your own “backyard.” Social-ecological researchers often work in locations that are familiar to them in terms of racial categories, economic status, or social class. This of course can bias data that are available to support conservation, resilience, and greening efforts, especially when those results are to be applied to areas with different social characteristics. Similarly, research questions may be biased as a result of the social spectrum represented by a research team. Posing conservation and greening research questions that go beyond those asked by a team that reflects only white or middle- or upper-class concerns, may be crucial to address structural inequities. Working in unfamiliar places and asking novel questions are best accomplished when research teams include people who are schooled in or have lived in a variety of situations, and who are sensitive to the ethics of such work.
Ecology is not morality. Ecological knowledge is a way of understanding how various material worlds work. Those worlds of course include humans, other organisms, institutions (in the broadest sense), biogeochemical processes, and interactions among all these. Humanistic concerns, religions, ethical thinking, and moral tenets can influence the interactions involving humans in all their richness, and certainly affect how the material understanding of ecology is shaped and applied. However, the morals and ethics surrounding ecology and its use are social phenomena, not the result of scientific knowledge alone. Ecology is sometimes cited to mean that human action should favor equilibrium or balance, that ecosystems demonstrate almost teleological progress toward socially desired conditions, or that systems are closed and self-adjusting toward some end. None of these things does ecological science require, although it can empirically illustrate the material implications of those assumptions. As powerful and consequential as social values about closure, endpoint, or balance are, those guides are just that – human and social values. Ecology can be put in service of a community’s or a polity’s accepted values, but ecological data themselves do not supply those values. Ecologists concerned with ethics and values, and ecology as a socially embedded process of generating knowledge about material worlds, must be in dialogue with other communities and thinkers in a wide variety of other human pursuits, ranging from art, to politics, to law, and religion at the least.
Pincetl has written extensively about land use in California, environmental justice, habitat conservation efforts, urban ecology, water and energy policy.
The provision of nature is something that humans have been active agents in delivering for millennia. The degree of structural inequality today is an artifact of the triumph of capitalism, that rode into the far reaches of the globe on the back of Imperialism and fossil energy.
How to uproot structural inequality in the provision of nature and its benefits to people is a substantive question in the first quarter of the 21st century where we are experiencing an acceleration of the enclosure of nature, of country sides where people have exercised a living for hundreds, if not thousands of years, cultivating, harvesting, and nurturing trees, herbs, crops, coppices, prairies, and meadows. The increasing concentration of land ownership, whether in private hands such as agribusiness companies, mining companies, timber companies, or in public hands such as Chinese municipalities, is forcing more people into cities and transforming nature. They are rationalizing complex landscapes productive of food, fiber, and diverse life, into extractive landscapes, depleting them rapidly.
Humans have been organically mixed into nature and what we perceive to be natural processes since they have arisen on the planet, planting, harvesting, burning, cultivating, and building. But until the rise of Western Imperialism and the harvesting of the Earth for the growth of capitalism, natural system transformation was not ubiquitous, and extractivism, at the scale made possible with fossil energy, was more modest, and in many places, remediable. Thus, the provision of nature is something that humans have been active agents in delivering for millennia. The degree of structural inequality today is an artifact of the triumph of capitalism, that rode into the far reaches of the globe on the back of Imperialism and fossil energy. Unraveling that coupled situation is the task before us today, and structural inequality will not be uprooted until we do.
The current growth in incursions for soy and cattle in the Amazon encouraged and fostered by the Brazilian government and at the service of agribusiness, is a particularly obvious example. The continued conversion of rainforests in Sumatra and Kalimantan for palm oil (250,000 hectares a year), or the Cambodian push for more sugarcane fields, is pauperizing the local inhabitants, transforming them into labor for the commodity, and no longer able to cultivate food for themselves or the region, and maintaining biodiversity. Rather, in the search for cheap commodities, the countryside and nature, continue to be the sacrifice zones for capital.
Once we were concerned with Enclosure, this was in the context of industrializing Europe, and particularly the UK, recognizing that this process squeezed people off the land and concentrated wealth, as well as access to resources – those shallow coal veins – leaving behind toxic slag and poisoned streams to feed the growing industrial machine. We saw how this process forced people into cities to become wage laborers. But we tend to be blind to this process today, and the consequences for nature and its benefits for people, not only in terms of soil fertility and health, diverse foods, and wildlife but also for human health and well-being.
These commodity frontiers as they have been described, are still extant, inexorably continuing to transform country sides to supply ever larger urban agglomerations devoted to consumption activities. High-energy modernist urbanism is dependent on extraction from afar, perpetuating inequality between cities and rural areas, and destroying natural processes. While much has been written about the need for ‘nature’ in cities, to make them more habitable, there is a greater need to understand urbanization as a coupled process with continued enclosures. Only by curbing inputs into cities will structural inequalities begin to be addressed, and natural systems able to endure.
Rebecca Leigh Rutt is a dedicated local volunteer, grassroots activist, and an Assistant Professor of European Environmental Policy, at the University of Copenhagen, Denmark.
Nature for All: How can we uproot structural inequity in the provision of nature and its benefits to people?
The lens of environmental justice brings social disparities into focus but, historically, has imparted a partial view emphasizing human inequality. We do not believe we will ever ease the great disparities across the human species if we do not also deconstruct the artificial separation of humans from the rest of nature.
As we reread the prompt for this blog post, we stumbled over the last words ‘benefits to people’. Why this? The provision of nature for human benefit is deeply subject to structural inequalities, affecting physical and psychological access and decision-making spaces. These are classic dilemmas of environmental justice, and extremely urgent to redress ― if we care about social justice. But we would also like to argue that at the heart of environmental injustices exists a profound injustice also to the wider ecosystems that surround us and the trees, grasses, birds, and insects to name a few, with whom we cohabitate and on whom we deeply depend.
The lens of environmental justice brings social disparities into focus but, historically, has imparted a partial view emphasizing human inequality. We do not believe we will ever ease the great disparities across the human species if we do not also deconstruct the artificial separation of humans from the rest of nature.
Human history is rich with kinship relations with other species[1]. Today’s dominant yet false separation of humans from, and value positioning over, the rest of nature, originates in historical circumstances and is an outcome, especially of just a few hundred years of ‘scientific revolution’ and human ‘Enlightenment’. The developments of this time entailed a narrative of domination and mastery of humans over all else. Not least, René Descartes’ ‘dualist ontology’ created the ontological building blocks by which we today can speak casually of ‘natural resources’ and ‘ecosystem services’, “as if to emphasize [Nature’s] subordination and servitude”[2].
This way of thinking enabled a rising capitalist economic order, which benefited from the mechanization, and so ‘death’ of the rest of nature, to legitimize its plunder. All of this unfolded to the general deterioration of quality of life for the majority of humans and other species. Just read Carolyn Merchant’s seminal book The Death of Nature, Women, Ecology and the Scientific Revolution from 1980 for a profound and thought-provoking account of these historical, epistemological shifts and the tolls they have taken on humans and the rest of nature. These shifts are crucial to grasp if we are to equip ourselves to act in the face of the current socio-ecological crises.
Historically, our numerous and diverse human cultures of reciprocity and interdependencies with other species and natural ecosystems have largely been pushed to the background. They have been replaced by an idea of human exceptionalism, constructed primarily in the image of the white, wealthy, male born of a capitalist and industrialized West. This divide and conquer strategy, these false dichotomies that separate and order our world, are repeated also within human societies, based upon other problematic divisions of gender, racializations, and more that enable exploitation. Not all species count, not all humans count. Such false binaries and dichotomies are the means by which social and environmental injustices have been produced and continue to be upheld.
So, how can we humans place all species in the realm of deserving benefits and broader well-being? How can we remember that ‘nature’ is not there waiting to be provided, but a web of life within which we are deeply embedded? How can we deepen awareness of our own dependency on everything else, and cultivate a sense of moral duty to reciprocate the gifts we receive from the rest of nature[3]? What work must we do in our scholarship, communities, and societies?
What we must do, we believe, is recognize the existing and imagine a host of new alternatives. Feminist degrowth scholar Stefania Barca tells us that emancipatory ecological revolution demands telling the ‘other stories’, those “excavated from the oblivion of the master’s narrative”.[4] We must acknowledge the relationships between and contributions of different actors across human and non-human worlds ― including trees, birds, grasses, reptiles, shrubs, and a site’s climatic and soil conditions ― and envision ways to equitably co-exist. We must look to contemporary efforts to displace the prominence of capitalist economies, such as ‘community’ and ‘solidarity’ economies based upon provisioning, sufficiency, care, and commoning[5]. We must look to the decolonization work of bodies, minds, and landscapes by many Black and brown feminist scholars and indigenous and local communities. And we can look to the many community gardens, commoning initiatives, and social movements for racial, gender, food, water, and housing justice.
All of this is not to say that we should disregard human equity in acts of landscape and city (and rural) planning, but it is a call to an alternative way of thinking about relationships and our ways of being in the world. By doing so, we exercise our imaginations and participate in building more equitable and compassionate modes of living and working together ― not just with other humans but with the other species and ecosystems upon which we depend. We must do this in ways that are joyful, humble, and caring, mindful of and traversing the limits to the conceptual apparatus and ways of living we have inherited and on which our present world was built.
[1] See for instance seminal work in ecofeminism such as Carolyn Merchant’s 1980 book, The Death of Nature, Women, Ecology and the Scientific Revolution, Donna Haraway’s work including the 2016 book Staying With the Trouble: Making Kin in the Chthulucene, or other recent work including Arturo Escobar’s 2017 book, Designs for the Pluriverse: Radical Interdependence, Autonomy, and the Making of Worlds, and Jason Hickel’s 2020 book, Less is More – How Degrowth Will Save the World.
[2] Hickel, J. 2020. Less is More – How Degrowth Will Save the World. Harmondsworth: Penguin.
[3] Please read Robin Wall Kimmerer’s 2013 book, Braiding Sweetgrass.
[4] Barca, S. 2020. Forces of Reproduction: Notes for a Counter-Hegemonic Anthropocene. Cambridge Press.
[5] See work by e.g. Gibson-Graham such as the 2006 book A Postcapitalist Politics, and with Dombroski, the 2020 Handbook of Diverse Economies; Bollier and Helfrich such as their 2019 book Free Fair and Alive: The Insurgent Power of the Commons; Kallis, Paulson, D’Alisa, and Demaria’s 2020 book The Case for Degrowth, and many more. J
Henriette Steiner is an Associate Professor at the Section for Landscape Architecture and Planning at the University of Copenhagen. Through her research and teaching, Henriette strives to inspire more self-reflective, diverse, equitable, and compassionate spatial practices for designing cities and landscapes. Her most recent books are Tower to Tower: Gigantism in Architectural and Digital Culture (MIT Press 2020) and Touch in the Time of Corona: Reflections of Love, Care and Vulnerability in the Pandemic (De Gruyter, 2021). Both books are co-written with Kristin Veel.
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.
How can we uproot structural inequity in the provision of nature and its benefits to people?
I would suggest that nature provision is embedded into social infrastructure planning policies and procedures, especially since nature does provide many social services.
There are three important underlying points within this question that are important to highlight and unpack. I will work backward…
Benefits
It is critical to acknowledge that not all experiences of nature are equal. For example, research[1] shows that the mental health benefits gained from experiencing nature depend greatly on the quality of the experience. This is influenced by factors such as the level of interaction (how many senses are engaged) and the level of exposure (how much time is spent).
What this means is that we need to go beyond KPIs which focus on the quantitative aspects of nature provision (e.g., area of green space, number of trees, length of shoreline). In order to plan and assess for equal benefits, we need to investigate how nature is experienced and what benefits result from this experience.
There is also interesting research that demonstrates that “people of lower socio-economic status reap greater benefit from urban green space than more privileged groups”[2]. In other words, sometimes the people who have the least access to nature spaces (see structural inequity section below) are exactly the people who would benefit the most from these spaces. A disappointing reality and one which must change.
Provision
The word “provision” struck me because I typically think of nature as an available resource to be protected and made accessible, rather than a good or service to be provided. However, if the starting point is a fully developed/urbanised city based on 20th-century models, then provision is probably an accurate word to use.
This then begs the question: who is providing? Should nature provision be a government service/responsibility? Can it be delegated to the private sector (e.g., developers)?
The closest model we have is the provision of social infrastructure and community services. Developers of large-scale projects (full neighbourhoods and master plans) are typically required to provide social infrastructure facilities (e.g., schools, hospitals, mosques… etc.) to gain planning approval. One could think of a situation where developers (public or private) are required to provide a minimum level of ‘environmental infrastructure’ or simply nature.
Structural inequity
The question assumes that structural inequity in nature provision exists. What does the data say? There are some relevant studies from the US on the inequality of nature based on race and income[3]. There is also an interesting case made around intergenerational inequalities[4] particularly given the climate crisis.
I feel that this is still a relatively new research area, and that more investigation is required to fully understand the inequities in nature provision and access across all community groups including across race, age, and gender, and the causes (structural or otherwise). In cities specifically, access to nature will be linked not only to the provision but also to mobility options and choices (what good is a park to a child if they need to drive to it?).
Now that we’ve unpacked the three points, back to the overall question: How can we uproot structural inequity in the provision of nature and its benefits to people?
Currently, environmental planning requirements are focused on mitigating negative environmental impacts. This is a reactive mindset which is based on protection and compensation rather than provision.
I would suggest that nature provision is embedded into social infrastructure planning policies and procedures, especially since nature does provide many social services. Within this governance structure, adequate attention should be given to the level of interaction facilitated by the nature spaces. This is a function of both the physical characteristics of the spaces (e.g., is the space in a safe and accessible location?) and the programmed events and activities (e.g., are educational walks available in all spoken languages?).
Once there is a structured governance framework for nature provision, uprooting the structural inequity will require regular assessment, open dialogue, and transparent decision-making.
Ebony Walden is an urban planner, consultant and facilitator with over a decade of experience working to transform communities. Ebony is the Founder and Principal Consultant at Ebony Walden Consulting (EWC), an urban strategy firm based in Richmond, Virginia. At EWC, she works with organizations to design and facilitate meetings, training and community engagement processes that explore race, equity and the creation of more just and inclusive communities. Ebony is also an adjunct professor at Virginia Commonwealth University where she teaches Diversity, Equity and Inclusion in the City.
Once we see differently, we can act differently and be disruptors. Otherwise, we will try to solve the problem with the same heart, mindset, and biases that created the problem. To be disruptors we have to uproot these things in ourselves, first and on an ongoing basis.
As a DEI consultant and urban planner, my work is at the intersection of systemic racism and place. I help leaders and organizations create more just and inclusive communities by disrupting the ways in which racism and inequality show up in themselves, their organizations, and the places they shape and inhabit in the built and natural environments. In my consultancy, I admonish clients to work on three levels in order to uproot the ways in which poor people and people of color are disproportionally impacted by climate change, pollution, health, wealth, housing, and transportation inequities in our cities. We must first address the biases within ourselves, disrupt damaging practices within institutions, and collaborate differently.
Start with yourself
I would dare to say that the inequalities we see in society are a manifestation of centuries of believing in a false hierarchy of human value, that certain people are superior and others inferior ― and thus access to resources, treatment across society, and life outcomes have become reflective of that lie. In order to disrupt this lie, we have to replace it with the truth. The place we have maximum control to do that is within ourselves. I like to encourage clients to begin to see and analyze the ways in which race, racism, and systemic inequality have impacted their lives, the places they have lived, and their perspectives (what biases and stereotypes do they hold?) as well as get a deeper understanding of the history and root causes that have gotten us here. In your city, what specific policies and practices have caused some of the inequalities you see? Can you make the connections?
Once we see differently, we can act differently and be disruptors. Otherwise, we will try to solve the problem with the same heart, mindset, and biases that created the problem. To be disruptors we have to uproot these things in ourselves, first and on an ongoing basis.
Disrupt Institutional Practices
As placemakers, we are a part of and frequent institutions within our communities. How are these organizations continuing the status quo of inequality? Are the boards and leadership representative of the community? Are the organizational cultures inclusive? Do they have policies and practices that are causing inequities in pay? hiring? advancement? Are their programs and services leading toward equitable outcomes in cities? Are they incorporating the most vulnerable and those with lived experience in their decision-making?
In order to uproot systemic inequity, we need to assess and disrupt the behaviors, practices, and processes that lead to inequitable outcomes within our institutions (using both qualitative and qualitative data) to best understand where we are and what changes to our behavior, culture, or processes will lead to more equitable outcomes.
Collaborate Differently Across Sectors
There are no single-issue communities, what happens in housing impacts education, transportation, the environment, etc., and vice versa. Therefore, we must partner more and partner differently. Horizontally, we must work across sectors ― asking ourselves who is already working on these issues, who is missing, and are there other vantage points that would be important to incorporate? Vertically, not just working with those in traditional power and leadership, but with leaders who are at the grassroots level and everywhere in between. Centering the voices of people that have been historically on the margins and compensating them for their expertise is key. Nothing about us without us is an important principle as well as lifting up, advancing, and funding people of color-led organizations.
If we want to uproot structural inequality, we must all become disruptors ― starting with ourselves, while also working institutionally and partnering vertically and horizontally for change.
Normally, in these book reviews, I do my best to present a fair, unbiased account of what a book does well, as well as what it doesn’t do so well. However, in this case, I want only to tell you how INCREDIBLE this book is. A collection of stories, poems, drawings, and photographs contributed by numerous Chicago artists, scientists, and residents, it whisks the reader through the streets, parks, and history of the Chicago region, giving a perspective on the city’s relationship with nature that is at once complete, nuanced, detailed, entertaining, and surprisingly intimate.
Urban development has had profound impacts on nature in Chicago, but the interesting story is of the opposite interaction: how nature has influenced the people.
The first contribution, “Keeping Chickens,” by Terra Brockman, provides a glimpse into a schoolyard chicken-keeping program. Many people may not consider chickens to be wildlife, or a schoolyard to be wilderness, but the book isn’t really about either of those things. “City Creatures” is really about relationships. In an urban setting like Chicago, the most influential participants in any relationship are almost undoubtedly people, and the real surprise and delight of “City Creatures” is just how human it is.
There are a few contributions that focus mainly on plants and animals, such as Stan Gehrt’s portrait of Chicago’s coyotes, which he has dedicated his life to studying. But most of the stories in “City Creatures” focus on how humans and nature have interacted, and are still interacting, to make Chicago what it is today. Someone with a more detailed knowledge of, and experience with, Chicago could speak better to this, but the book gives a fascinating historical perspective on how the landscape of the Chicago region has been altered by human activities. The Chicago region was, and still is, one of the most biodiverse areas in North America, owing to its proximity to both Lake Michigan and to tallgrass prairie habitat, as well as its role as a migration stopover point for innumerable migratory birds. Urban development has had profound impacts on all of these, but the really interesting story is of the opposite interaction: how nature has influenced the people of the Chicago area.
Chicago’s history as an area rich in biodiversity has inspired a sentiment of stewardship into the area’s culture. “City Creatures” provides numerous examples of this ethic in practice throughout Chicago’s urban wilderness. From the restoration of Bubbly Creek (“Canoeing through History: Wild Encounters on Bubbly Creek,” by Michael Bryson) to the creation of a natural classroom outside the American Indian Center (“Kiskinwahamâtowin [Learning Together]: Outdoor Classrooms and Prairie Restoration at the American Indian Center of Chicago,” by Eli Suzokovich) to people volunteering their early mornings to find unfortunate migratory birds that have fallen to the streets after striking one of Chicago’s many skyscrapers (“Migration: A Bird’s and Birder’s Eye View” by Joel Greenberg), inspiring stories of people caring for nature abound. A particularly hopeful note comes from the story of the Prairie White-fringed Orchid, a severely endangered plant found in one of Chicago’s parks by a young Latino college graduate. The population sometimes was as low as four individuals, and in some years no orchids were found. However, through the dedicated efforts of scientists and volunteers, the orchid has made a comeback and the population now numbers in the hundreds or thousands.
As mentioned before, though, not all the stories are about animals that might normally be considered “wild.” One story that hit me especially hard was “Falling Apart,” by Tom Montgomery Fate. It is a heartbreaking sketch of a family in a time of crisis: their beloved cat, Rosie, is dying. At the same time, a family friend passes away, family member is hospitalized, and a nephew is born. It is the family’s love for Rosie, and their grief at her passing, that keeps them together through this emotional tug-of-war. It is an intimate, heartrending glimpse into a raw emotional state, so beautifully written I can’t possibly do it justice here. I mention this story not to bum you out, but instead to illustrate the wondrous range and scope of “City Creatures,” and to demonstrate its aforementioned ‘human’-ness.
“City Creatures” is expertly and elegantly written, edited, and arranged. The skill and knowledge of the contributing authors and artists are marble of the highest quality, but editors Gavin van Horn and Dave Aftandilian are the Michelangelos who saw and brought forth a David. I had the pleasure of hearing Gavin speak at the 2015 Urban Wildlife Conference in, probably not coincidentally, Chicago. From that talk, I knew immediately that this was a special project, and regret that it took me this long to get a chance to read “City Creatures.” One aspect of Gavin and Dave’s work I highly value is the noticeable and enriching diversity of perspectives they have included. The voices of women and minorities are indispensable here, as they are elsewhere. I truly hope that the richness and depth they provide here can be emulated in other arenas.
Cannon Dill and Brett Flanigan, Fox, part of the Art in Public Places project, aerosol and latex paint on concrete (2013); photograph by Joseph Kayne.
The other lesson to be taken from “City Creatures” is about Chicago itself. At nearly ten million inhabitants, it is one of the largest urban agglomerations in the country and, indeed, in the world. Nevertheless, here we have proof that wilderness and nature not only survive, but thrive in the metropolis. Perhaps we don’t necessarily need to sacrifice our connection with nature in order to live in a thriving city—Chicago illustrates how the two can coexist. Surely, incorporating some of these lessons into our other growing cities will be valuable, not only for the various associated health, psychological and ecosystem benefits, but also so that, someday, even the most urban of dwellers may have a story to tell about the city creatures of their neighborhood. Stories like these help bring us together and foster a sense of community, which can, in turn, have effects beyond experiencing nature, like getting groups together to tackle social justice issues. Connecting with nature improves lives, and makes cities better places to make lives.
Brooks Blair Golden, Owl, part of the Art in Public Places project, acrylic and spray paint on concrete (2012); photograph by Lisa Roberts.
“City Creatures” is a must-read. I don’t attach any qualifiers, like ‘for anyone interested in urban wildlife,’ because I don’t believe they’re necessary. “City Creatures” is not only one of the best books about urban wildlife I’ve ever read, it’s one of the best books I’ve ever read. I’m sure it will remain on my bookshelf for years and years to come, and obtain ever more creases and signs of love as I read and reread its pages.
If a post-COVID world can move towards more people-centered social infrastructure investment, with ambitious goals for nature in cities and Biophilic design, then our financial investments in nature will be rewarded with less crowded and more resilient cities, which will hopefully also lead to a more equitable and healthy country.
As a city and regional planner by training, I have been alarmed at the tendency to blame urban density (defined as people per square mile) as a primary culprit for New York City’s relatively severe initial COVID-19 outbreak. An epidemiologist from Stanford, a professor of infectious diseases at the University of California, and a professor of computational medicine from UCLA all identified density as the enemy in a pandemic in the US by making disputable comparisons between COVID-19 statistics in New York and Los Angeles. However, statistical analysis does not show a consistent connection between big-city density and COVID-19 impacts. One only needs to look at cities like Hong Kong, Seoul, and Singapore to see that New York’s predicament is the result of many more significant factors than urban density. Those other factors, such as inequality and lack of public health infrastructure, have been well documented elsewhere.
Density is not the problem, as L.V. Anderson points out when discussing the resilience of cities in a post-COVID-19 world. Crowding is the problem, and “reallocating outdoor space is the city planner’s secret weapon.” Bruce Schaller, a New York City transportation consultant, distills this same argument very eloquently in his essay entitled Density Isn’t Easy. But It’s a Necessity: “The question is not whether we need cities and density. The question is whether we have the vision, commitment, and fortitude to make our cities equitable, affordable, and sustainable as well as dense, creative, and diverse.”
Urban density, of course, has merit. It’s the key to being able to offer access to shared amenities, including parks, trails, and other recreational open spaces. Cities are by far the most efficient and effective forms of human settlements, including energy efficiency, economic activity per capita, and as centers of creativity and innovation.
In facing a pandemic like COVID-19, the lesson here should not be becoming anti-density, but instead re-learning the lessons of the public park movement of the late 19th century. The parks of this era were specifically designed to avoid crowding and were intended to foster “a temperate, good-natured, and healthy state of mind.” Parks are a fundamental part of the city’s social infrastructure, which also includes community centers, libraries, and hospitals. As Samuel Kling, Global Cities and ACLS/Mellon Public Fellow at The Chicago Council on Global Affairs, correctly states: “Cities are vulnerable amid [a] pandemic, but they are not the problem.”
So, while there are many dimensions to making cities better in a post-COVID-19 world, here are four salient action items we can take to promote nature in cities, reduce crowding, and improve urban density’s natural advantages to foster economic resilience and efficiency.
Transfer Land Use from Cars to People
Set Goals for Nature
Take a Biophilic Approach
Invest in Nature
1. Transfer Land Use from Cars to People
This is an easy one in concept and is already happening in many cities around the country by converting car lanes to pedestrian and bicycle lanes and creating “parklets” out of under-utilized parking spaces and other impervious surfaces. Allocating less space to cars and more space to functional open space will ease crowding and make cities more vibrant economically.
Not incidentally, by using natural elements such as tree boxes and pervious paving, reducing the amount of impervious concrete and asphalt roadway for these new people-centric uses will also help reduce urban flooding and stormwater pollution and lightening the cooling load for adjacent buildings in this era of climate change), which are some of the key objectives of Philadelphia’s Green City, Clean Waters Plan.
In 2001, The Conservation Fund and the Milwaukee Metropolitan Sewerage District (MMSD) launched a pioneering flood management program, Greenseams. Greenseams purchases land and conservation easements from willing landowners in the Milwaukee, Menomonee, Oak Creek and Root River watersheds, where major suburban growth is expected to occur. Photos taken in September 2019 by Ivan LaBianca.
2. Set Goals for Nature
It is incredibly important to undertake strategic analysis for identifying what is important to protect that keeps natural systems and human communities thriving. As density is a measure of people per square mile, it is appropriate and essential to set targets for what level of functional open space a particular city should have on a per capita basis and ensure that this open space is equitably distributed across demographic and economic categories. Metropolitan areas, such as Portland, Oregon, have developed regional conservation plans that help them protect strategically important areas and help them spend available money wisely. These types of approaches can be applied in dense urban settlements to help protect and restore natural systems and provide open space opportunities for more urban dwellers. Natural areas and features are essential to green civic infrastructure.
3. Take a Biophilic Approach
The Biophilic Cities movement highlights the importance of daily contact with nature as an element of urban life and a public health necessity, in addition to the ethical responsibility that cities have to conserve global biodiversity and to foster shared habitat for non-human life and people. Although a global movement, local action following Biophilic principles is happening in the United States, with Washington, D.C.’s 11thStreet Bridge Park and Lindsay Street Park in Atlanta as signature examples of expanding access to nature in cities while intentionally mitigating the potential for displacing lower-income residents that often accompanies environmental investments in cities. Green should be for all, not just the wealthy if we want healthy and economically viable cities.
Caption: Lindsey Street Park took six vacant and blighted lots in a poor and high crime area of Atlanta with fewer acres of green space than anywhere else in the city, renovated the site, planted local pollinator species, recreated the historical streambed and incorporated a job training program for residents. Photo: Whitney Flanagan
4. Invest in Nature
Most advocacy for nature in cities includes an argument for more money, and this article is no exception. The good news is that, in the U.S., we now have full and permanent funding for the U.S. Land and Water Conservation Fund. With the annual appropriation around US$900 million, this will provide an opportunity for urban areas (and rural areas) to have a more appropriate level of investment that gets closer to meeting the needs for parks and open space for current and future generations.
In conclusion, if a post-COVID world can move towards more people-centered social infrastructure investment, with ambitious goals for nature in cities and Biophilic design, then our financial investments in nature will be rewarded with less crowded and more resilient cities, which will hopefully also lead to a more equitable and healthy country.
A review of Min Joung-Ki, an exhibition of large-scale urban nature paintings at Kukje Gallery in Seoul, South Korea.
Founded in 1982, Kukje Gallery is one of Korea’s most prolific exhibitors of international contemporary artists. Indeed, the institution is more of a small arts complex than a gallery, consisting of three modern buildings positioned gingerly within the fabric of an old urban neighborhood on the edge of Seoul’s ancient seat of power, Gyeongbok Palace.
Min’s paintings intensify thousands of years of human history, and relationships with nature in Korea’s capital city. For example, the varied story of Seoul’s famous Cheonggye stream, is offered here … seen out the windows from inside a simple barber shop.
As a city, Seoul has been the seat of government in Korea since 1392. It is interesting then that, in this particular exhibition, painter Min Joung-Ki literally conjures scenes from then to now. Obsessed with exploring the thin lines between urban development and nature, as well between modern and historical culture, Min, who was born in 1949, is somewhat of an oddity in the Korean arts scene. Unhappy with the direction of the domestic art world during the years of dictatorship in Korea, he refused to take part in state-funded exhibitions. In place, he co-founded a small collective of artists named the “Reality and Utterance Group” with an aim to move away from art that was “alienating” people from reality and each other, and instead to give art a role of re-connecting these spheres of human life. The works on view here—mostly recent, large scale oil paintings, focusing on urban nature—speak softly to this point.
Min Joung-Ki, “View of Sajikdan at a Distance,” 2019, Oil on canvas | photo by P.M. Lydon for The Nature of Cities, cc-by-sa
Works such as “View of Sajikdan at a Distance” present us with a typical Seoul thoroughfare, though the tree-lined street appears at first drab in color, smoggy, and somehow eerily dark. Min’s use of vivid color hides from us at first. On closer examination, we notice an undercurrent of clear, broad strokes of vivid, dayglow oranges and iridescent greens. This color treatment reappears often, and within it likely hides something of Min’s views about the nature/culture divide.
The physical situations that Min chooses to portray serve to intensify thousands of years of human history, and relationships with nature in Korea’s capital city. Many of the paintings here—modern buildings mingling with mountain Buddhist temples, both placed along winding stairways up and into mountain peaks topped with wiggling Korean Red Pine trees—show Seoul at is finest.
Though these depictions come across as unreal, they do in fact exist in the current day city.
Min Joung-Ki, “Baeksecheongpung 1,” 2019, Oil on canvas | photo by P.M. Lydon for The Nature of Cities, cc-by-sa
Familiar though the settings may be, stylistically these works place us in between worlds. Though most of these works feel light and bright, there is also an overwhelming dimness, a brown haze that infuses the scene. Min accomplishes this with exquisite subtlety, in a way that the effect is almost there, yet almost not. The longer you spend with these works however—especially his most recent works—the more a distinct tension, and even sadness, comes out in the color palette he chooses.
If one has just stepped into the gallery from Seoul’s seemingly omnipresent smog, the overall feeling of these works will not surprise. In the past year, the city has seen only 25 days where the air quality could be considered “good.” In air quality surveys, Seoul continually ranks among the worst in the world.
If we look back a decade in Min’s paintings however, we find that his paintings weren’t always bathed in the dim brown.
Min Joung-Ki, “Guiyuyean Pond at Yongchungukok Gapyeong,” 2005, Oil on canvas | photo by P.M. Lydon for The Nature of Cities, cc-by-sa
There is much wet green in Min’s portrayal of Guiyuyean Pond, not only wet in what it portrays, but in Min’s technique, a thick application of paint leaves the canvas literally dripping with glistening green. It gives the viewer relief. One of the few scenes here painted outside of Seoul, it seems one of the images that viewers stop and stay with the longest. Staring into the lush depths of this pond, reflecting a cool blue sky.
It’s something of a healing experience.
Water is a reoccurring theme in this exhibition, and indeed one of Seoul’s most well-known urban waterway projects is featured here. Many urbanists know well the story of Cheonggyecheon. During Korea’s rapid urbanization in the 1970s and 80s, this storied stream that runs straight through the core of the old city center was buried beneath a highway, only to be bought back to the light of day a few decades later. The varied story of Cheonggye stream, is offered here in the spirit of Korean poet Park Taewon, seen out the windows from inside a simple barber shop.
Min Joung-Ki, “Park Taewon’s Scenes from Cheonggye Stream,” 2019, Oil on canvas | photo by P.M. Lydon for The Nature of Cities, cc-by-sa
The series of three paintings, arranged side-by-side, explore the changing view of Cheonggyecheon over what appears to be a century, as the stream develops from a place of commerce and trade, to a highway construction zone, and finally as it is today, a social gathering space for citizens and tourists.
It is not until we reach the final room of this exhibition, that we encounter what is perhaps the defining work, a soft-yet-monumental piece that ties Min’s sentiments together. The divide between the “otherworldly” life of nature, and the concrete nature-devoid lives we tend to inhabit in most cities could not be more clear than it is in “Roving Mongyudowon”.
Min Joung-Ki, “Roving Mongyudowon,” 2016, Oil on canvas | photo by P.M. Lydon for The Nature of Cities, cc-by-sa
Here, tree-like mountains—or are they mountain-like trees?—act as shapes, morphing into the atmosphere, slightly unruly orchard blossoms fronting a brightly-painted traditional house, iridescent water flowing magically down through the entire scene.
And then it all stops.
Abruptly.
A concrete bridge for cars, walls of brick and mortar below, a scene solidified, a completely different world than the one above. What Min portrays above seems like the heavens, shapes of the universe; what he paints below, the comforts of our daily reality, come across here as a structure-obsessed life.
The colored water stops its magic at the vehicle bridge.
The broad strokes of bright greens and oranges that dance wildly in the skies and mountains, is covered here, with solid layers, roof tiles, streets, walls; traces of the elusive radiance peek through only in a few areas of unkempt urban weeds.
Through all of this, however, one is still never quite certain where Min’s heart lies, never certain if the paving over of these colorful gestures leaves us at a gain or a loss. His work on the whole plays with dualities, being at once graceful and powerful, loud and peaceful. Both urban and natural scenes elicit beauty, as much as they also lend us emotional quandaries.
In treading lines so lightly as Min does though, he leaves much room to question our own feelings about these scenes, about the interplay between nature, culture, and our urban structures, and too, about the history folded up so deeply within these elements.
In a city so rapidly developing as Seoul—and where development often comes at the wholesale destruction of thousands of years of culture and billions of years of nature—Min’s works might at first come across quaint.
Yet perhaps that is part of the power and magic unfolding here; paintings that allow us to access and contemplate the undercurrents within deceivingly simple scenes. If we spend enough time with Min’s work, these qualities offer us welcome room to contemplate not only what our cities were and are, but in turn, what they might become.
In our transition from rural to urban life (arguably the largest ever migration of humans on Earth), we lose contact with Nature—that we already knew. It is not easy to find ways to raise awareness of the beauty, as well as the critical role, that living beings, all 30 million species of them, play in giving us our health, food, air and water in our cities. One interesting approach I’d like to propose here is to appropriately manage the natural attraction we have for birds and other animals (from butterflies to whales to bats), notably those migrating “en masse” across continents and seas looking for food or protection in wetlands or protected areas. Not surprisingly (as birds are evenly spread across all biomes in the world, and as around 1,800 species of migrating birds represent about 19% of known bird species), so-called “bird flyways” cross all continents and ecosystems.
Flyways of the world. Credit: Wetlands International, 2009
Birds are colorful, visible and ubiquitous. Three million people take international trips each year to witness the spectacular movements of migratory birds, traveling thousands of miles along their flyways, but it is estimated that domestic numbers can easily attain 10 times more. According to US Fish and Wildlife Service, bird watching is reported as being the fastest growing outdoor activity in America with 51.3 million people contributing more than $36 billion to the US economy in a year. In the UK, expenditure is estimated at $500 million each year and the Royal Society for the Protection of Birds (RSPB) in the UK has membership of over 1 million people. It is thus not a surprise that the Mexican birdwatcher and architect Hector Ceballos-Lascurain coined the term “ecotourism” in 1985 working in an American Flamingo breeding place in northern Yucatan.
“Birding plays a significant and growing part in the tourism industry, and creates direct and indirect economic benefits for many countries and communities, also amongst developing countries. Wildlife watching appeals to a wide range of people, and opportunities to participate in wildlife watching are and should increasingly be a factor in tourists’ holiday choices today” said Elizabeth Mrema, Acting Executive Secretary of the Convention on the Conservation of Migratory Species of Wild Animals (CMS).
Like tourism in general, that attraction to migrating birds can be compared to fire in terms of its relation to the protection of Nature: it can cook your food but can also burn your house down. The right kind of “bird flyway” tourism can help finance parks for these migratory animals, can raise political attention and public awareness to these often endangered species, and can provide much-needed and relatively low-impact jobs and business opportunities for local communities around parks, making them allies for biodiversity (and for the implementation of multilateral agreements like the Convention on Biological Diversity, for which we work). Without the right institutional governance setup, however, too many people can literally “love the parks—and the birds—to death”, or what is as bad, unvisited and badly managed parks of critical importance to the birds may be left to waste outside of the public view and we lose the opportunity to put birds and parks towards decent livelihood options and source of pride for locals. Those areas (most often wetlands and watersheds) also provide surrounding communities with freshwater (wetlands are very cost-effective filters—treating water chemically and through water plants costs around 10 times more) and leisure options (strongly linked to urban health).
Moreover, it turns out that in terms of governance, success or failure of these initiatives depend largely on the close cooperation between national, subnational and local governments mediating and facilitating cooperation with business, civil society and other major groups. The sustainable use of such “bird flyways” as tourism attractions depends largely on the capacity of local and subnational governments to conserve their biodiversity and ecosystem functions, restore degraded areas and leverage the business opportunities from tourism for residents and park agencies alike, always involving civil society in governance and stewardship.
Some examples of migratory animals as tourist attractions
Ann W. Richards Congress Avenue Bridge, Austin, Texas, U.S., is home to the world’s largest urban bat colony. The Mexican free-tailed bats reside beneath the road deck in gaps between the concrete component structures. They spend their summers in Austin and migrate to Mexico in winters. According to Bat Conservation International (BCI), 750,000 ~ 1.5 million bats come and nest in the bridge each summer. The nightly emergence of the bats from underneath the bridge at dusk, and their flight across Lady Bird Lake to the east to feed themselves, attracts as many as 100,000 tourists annually, with economic impacts on the city reaching US$10 million each year. A project called “Bats and Bridges” has been put in place by the Texas Department of Transportation, in cooperation with BCI, to study the best way to make bridges habitable for bats. The Austin Ice Bats minor-league hockey team was named in honor of the bats.
Sungei Buloh Wetland Reserve in Singapore was designated as a nature park by the government in 1989 and officially opened to public in 1993, and has received constant support to help preserve its beautiful space and its vast variety of nature and wildlife. The reserve was recognized as a site of international importance for migratory birds with Wetlands International presenting the reserve a certificate to mark its formal entry into the East Asian Australasian Shorebird Site Network, which include Australia’s Kakadu National Park, China’s Mai Po and Japan’s Yatsu Tidal Flats. From late 1990s to early 2000s, it received 80,000 – 90,000 visitors annually on average, of which 4,000 were tourists. Now as one of leading wetlands in the flyway, it has currently over 130,000 visitors and the number has been increasing every year as the site becomes better known and its reputation for conservation and awareness-raising is increasingly appreciated.
Taking action at UN level
Building on these and other examples, key partners with experience in the field of conservation and tourism have joined forces to design a Flyways and Sustainable Tourism project. The United Nations World Tourism Organization (UNWTO), the Secretariat of the Convention on Migratory Species (UNEP/CMS, which in 2006 produced a seminal publication on the topic), Wetlands International and Birdlife International (as implementing partners) are collaborating with the Secretariat of the Convention on Biological Diversity (SCBD), UNESCO’s Man and the Biosphere (UNESCO/MAB) and World Heritage Centre (UNESCO/WHC) Programmes, the Ramsar Convention Secretariat, and the International Union for the Conservation of Nature (IUCN) to protect migratory birds and their habitats and support the creation of sustainable livelihoods for local communities through the development of innovative sustainable tourism products. In the first phase, the Flyways and Sustainable Tourism project focuses on the East Atlantic, West Asian East African, Central Asian and East Asian Australasian Flyways.
Since 2006, negotiations to implement several multilateral environmental agreements (the Convention on Biological Diversity but also the Ramsar Convention on Wetlands, the Convention on Migratory Species, the World Heritage Convention and the selection of Important Bird Areas), have advanced on the critical role of local and subnational authorities, supported by national/federal governments, in ensuring that wetlands are well used BOTH as freshwater security “insurance” and as tourism attractions—with economic benefits reverting both to steward communities and to the park agencies responsible for monitoring and minimizing impacts of visitation. While federal governments are expected to provide guidelines, incentives and policies that create the enabling environment for those solutions, as well as leverage the use of national parks, subnational governments can apply appropriate land-use planning tools, leverage their parks and provide appropriate infrastructure. Local authorities, in their turn, can enforce rules, apply incentives and help incubate key businesses, involve and educate citizens, manage and restore ecosystems.
The critical role of local and subnational authorities
The sustainable management of tourism equipment and facilities for visitors, including the freshwater security aspect of wetland protection and restoration, depends largely on the capacity of local and State/regional/provincial (i.e. subnational) governments. Protecting water sources and the ecosystem service of filtration is critical to the quality of life of local residents, but often even more so for tourism: freshwater is one of tourism’s key resources (international tourists easily consume 10 times more water than local residents according to a study by Conservation International and UNEP) and a crucial resource in the years to come (between 1980 and 2000 available per capita freshwater supply decreased by almost half).
An interesting example comes from South Korea (the CBD COP 12 host in 2014), where Seocheon County in Chung-cheong-nam Province is being considered as one of the 8 sites of the UNWTO project. The Secretariat of East Asian-Australasian Flyway Partnership is also housed in Incheon. Suncheon-si is a small city located on the southern coast of South Korea, once left behind in the country’s industrialization race. A debate on Suncheon Bay’s restoration started in the late 1990s, as the administration decided to follow a different growth path. While surrounding areas devoted wetlands to industrial purposes (mostly petro-chemical plants and steel mills), Suncheon-si launched a project to restore the tidal flats into the largest sanctuary for hooded cranes.
As a result of concerted efforts by the city government and its citizens, Suncheon Bay was designated as one of the first coastal Wetland Protection Areas in 2003, and South Korea’s Ministry of Environment applied its experience with river restoration in Jeonju, Suwon and Cheonggye streams. Suncheon Bay was designated as the first Korean coastal wetland registered on the Ramsar list in 2006, and is now one of the top ecotourism destinations in the country. Additional investment in complementary infrastructure facilitated the arrival of more than 2.95 million visitors in 2010, a dramatic increase from the 0.1 million tourists in 2002. By the end of 2009, about 6,400 jobs had been created in a city of just over 200,000 people, and more than US$87 million was generated only in 2010.
One interesting fact is that the number of wintering birds in the bay also has increased, in a clear conservation/development win-win model. Nineteen species with 5,210 individuals of migratory birds were found in 1999, and with enhanced governance these totals reached 125 species and 58,000 individuals in 2011. The number of Hooded Cranes, the flagship species, was only 60 in 1996 but now is 660 in 2013.
Suncheon’s key success factor lies mainly on the local government’s strong leadership supported by the national government’s policies. Initially, plans to restore the Suncheon Bay ecosystem met strong resistance from business and land owners whose private interests were restricted when commercial areas were relocated out of the bay area, and rice fields were turned into a reserve for migratory birds. Strong leadership by mayors was the critical factor in turning initial resistance into support and eventually into political success.
The collaborative relationship between civil society and the local government was formalized in 2007 when a Memorandum of Understanding was signed between the Korean Federation for Environmental Movement (Korean NGO) and the Suncheon city government promising continued cooperation for ‘the efficient conservation and sustainable use of Suncheon Bay’.
At the local level, the Committee on the Ecology of Suncheon Bay, consisting of 30 local residents, experts, and NGO members, has been organized to collect opinions, provide policy advice, and establish a cooperative system among various stakeholders.
The importance of national, subnational and local government’s collaborative and complementary roles can also be seen in New York City’s very recent plan of restoring Jamaica Bay. In 2010, U.S. President Obama launched the America’s Great Outdoors Initiative as an agenda for conservation and recreation in the 21st century, proposing that the federal government partner with States and local communities to rework inefficient policies and establish conservation solutions. As part of this effort, the U.S. Department of the Interior, the National Park Service, and the City of New York met with other public agencies, non-profit organizations, and private groups to seek new opportunities for collaboration. Last May 2013, NYC Parks, in partnership with the National Park Service, launched the Jamaica Bay/Rockaway Parks Restoration Corps, with funds from a National Emergency Grant through the U.S. and NYS Departments of Labor. Approximately 200 workers were hired to assist in the clean-up, restoration, and reconstruction of Jamaica Bay and Rockaway Parks – including areas that sustained serious damage from Hurricane Sandy.
Nitrogen discharges were significantly reduced, waterfronts restored, existing natural areas were recovered based on science, and the actions and financial investments of federal, state and local agencies were coordinated with environmental stakeholder groups. Sustainable urban infrastructure (more permeable, with better drainage and was developed as part of NY’s Green Infrastructure Plan. Seaweed was converted into biofuels, oyster beds were recovered and endemic plants reintroduced. Improved satellite environmental monitoring allowed for the production of the Jamaica Bay Watershed Ecological Atlas. Enhanced attractiveness of the area led to visitation almost doubling between 1994 and 2008 (4 to 9 million visitors/year).
Conclusion
This brings us back to the UNWTO project. One key issue on which the Secretariat of the CBD would like to cooperate with all partners, most specially networks of local and subnational authorities, is to focus on capacity-building processes for these levels of government to promote sustainable tourism development as an effective and sustainable mechanism for job creation and regional economic development, always linked to successful conservation and management of wetlands and protected areas in the Migratory Birds Flyways as critical biodiversity and tourism hotspots. Please contact us at [email protected] for more information and exchanges.
Oliver Hillel
Montreal
with Jiyong Huh, SCBD intern and Seoul University Business School graduate
Los Angeles harbors many urban savvy coyotes who find hiding spaces in parks and other vegetated places.
My husband went on his bicycle to get our Christmas standing rib roast (an extravagance of every few years) at the local artisanal butcher. The butcher is in the legendary Farmer’s Market in Los Angeles, corner of 3rdand Fairfax. It remains relatively authentic despite the immense Disneyesque mall just adjacent to it: “The Grove”, a fantastically successful enterprise by Rick Caruso. People come from far and wide to enjoy its artificial family-oriented atmosphere, replete with canned music, fountains, fabulous bouquets in the parking garage (as well as a nicely appointed lounge), polite uniformed service people all over.
The place is very well policed.
Coyotes in Los Angeles. Photo: Stuart Palley (National Park Service
Farmer’s Market is a bit less glitzy, it has lots of small food venues from the ersatz French restaurant to the Mexican, Polynesian, American restaurants, ice cream makers and vendors, spice mart and vegetable purveyors. There are two superb butchers and fowl vendors too. So, back to the standing rib roast.
He puts it in his functional bicycle basket—the packaging is slightly leaky, some drips of bloody water ooze out. Negotiating the way back, avoiding the narrow spot on 3rd that parallels Pan Pacific Park, he takes the windy path that dips through Pan Pacific at the far southern end, a place where the homeless have found relatively safe shelter.
As he pedals up the last little incline, out of the bushes appear coyotes…Los Angeles harbors many urban savvy coyotes who find hiding spaces in parks and other vegetated places. Smelling the meat, the small pack of four start to trail him, sniffing and emitting soft yelps of probability for food. He gets to the first street he needs to cross to use the much safer alleyway behind the convenience store and local hotel. He stops to check for cars.
So do the coyotes. They know about traffic and getting hit by cars. He zips across, quickly followed by the animals on the hunt. Getting closer one dares a quick try at a heel nip. My husband speeds up, there is no one around in the alley. He pedals strongly. Coyotes still a bit unsure, hover trotting beside him, vocalizing softly (they are conscious of being in a city).
The next street comes, much busier. The coyotes are unsure. Should they continue the pursuit? They are visible, very visible, and there is still a lot of day light. Gradually they drop back, disappointed, and fade into the neighborhood bushes.
The roast makes its way home safely. No one is hurt.
“The more we know of other forms of life, the more we enjoy and respect ourselves…Humanity is exalted not because we are so far above other living creatures, but because knowing them well elevates the very concept of life.”
— E.O. Wilson
A recent, satirical New Yorker piece by Andy Borowitz quoted a fictitious resident who blamed scientists “for failing to warn us of the true cost of climate change. They always said that polar bears would starve to death, but they never told us our lawns would look like crap.” Although this does not represent a real person’s exact feelings, the underlying sentiment sadly has more than a hint of truth. To many people, the impact of a changing environment seems distant and completely separate from our existence until we are directly confronted with the negative results.
Poorly conceived design visibly divided us in urban areas from our wilds and contributed to our recent ability to see nature as something isolated from us. Yet reinvigorating our bond with nature is a challenge architecture and urban design are well placed to address. Architects and designers have control over our built environment; by changing the way we design cities and buildings to connectto rather than disconnect from nature, we can change our proximity to nature and shift our physical relationship to the environment.
Photo: Schristia. Creative Commons.
The separation that we have crafted over the centuries through our isolating designs hasn’t come without costs. Obesity, ADHD, autism, a decline in creativity—these are all connected to a lack of environmental connection. Unfortunately, this estrangement from nature has not only directly impacted our health, it has impacted our ability to respond to crucial modern challenges, such as climate change, because these dire environmental topics feel removed from us. The environment appears distant because we designed it as such. Sim Van der Ryn and Stuart Cowan describe this impact in their seminal book, Ecological Design:
“What do we learn from this kind of ‘nowhere’ environment? When living and working in nowhere places becomes normal, it is no wonder that we literally lose some of our sensitivity toward nature. Through the daily experience of the designed environment, we learn detachment… As nature has receded from our daily lives, it has receded from our ethics.”
Yet despite putting up physical barriers between nature and us, we still cannot shake our deep tie to and need for other species. Humans have an ingrained desire to connect. E.O. Wilson describes this impulse in his ‘Biophilia Hypothesis’ in which he explains,
“…When human beings remove themselves from the natural environment, the biophilic learning rules are not replaced by modern versions equally well adapted to artifacts. Instead, they persist from generation to generation. For the indefinite future… urban dwellers will go on dreaming of snakes for reasons they cannot explain.”
We crave connection to the natural world, even if we, individually, have always been seemingly divided from it. By calling architects and urban designers to ‘Make Nature Visible,’ as Van der Ryn and Cowan request in Ecological Design, we can begin to design places grounded in their own unique environment. In this way, designers can revive an awareness of the natural systems that affect us and recover place-based knowledge.
The advantages of interacting with and seeing nature are numerous. Beyond technical benefits, feeling the presence of the living world around us elevates the spirit. Supporting this movement, many architects and urban designers are inventively finding ways to reconnect us with the touch and feel of our wider biological community.
Photo credit: Thorbjõrn Hansen
Schools
Children seem particularly moved by biophilia and quickly gain many advantages from access to the outdoors. Schools that get children outside into natural places find that their students perform better academically (this has proven especially true for low-income students) and are more engaged and motivated to learn. These benefits come in addition to decreasing the need for disciplinary action, reducing stress, and increasing student attention spans. But the gains are not just performance-based—it turns out that the outdoors even improves vision and increases Vitamin D levels, all advantages that make students healthier. There are some great schools that strive to put children outside and reflect this philosophy in their design.
Photo credit: Thorbjõrn Hansen
Daycare Center in Holbæk, Denmark
Sitting at the highest point in the neighborhood, the daycare center on the outskirts of Holbæk, Denmark provides a base for an outdoor-oriented school. Teaching children outside has long been a traditional education approach in Denmark, with ‘forest schools’ dating back to the 1950s. This daycare, designed by Henning Larsen, includes large south-facing windows, a green roof, and gardens to allow children to play outside throughout the entire year.
Fuji Kindergarten in Japan
Physically encircling a tree, the innovative Fuji Kindergarten, designed by Yui and Takaharu Tezuka, highlights nature as a teacher every day. The children can play on an outdoor structure that surrounds the tree, climb the tree itself, or just admire the tree from every room in the school. The school furthers its connection to nature with lots of glass and open air, which means the outdoors flow seamlessly into the indoors.
Photo by Katsuhisa Kida/FOTOTECA.
Bronx Zoo School Proposal in the Bronx, New York
In the New York City borough of the Bronx, few people have close interaction with their natural environment. This proposal, which I designed for a public school in the Bronx zoo, was aimed at rectifying this problem. Our connection to the ecological systems becomes apparent day-to-day through this school’s open architecture and outdoor classrooms and is bolstered by the whooping crane breeding program, which is integrated into the school and managed by the students.
Image courtesy of Whitney Hopkins.
Hospitals
Connecting patients to nature has been innately valued for centuries—the first health centers were at remote monasteries intended to foster the tie between healing and the environment. Now, a growing body of modern scientific evidence supports this notion; patient outcomes appear to be closely related to interacting with nature. Connection to the natural environment has been shown to improve overall healthcare quality in multiple ways by reducing staff stress and fatigue, increasing the effectiveness in delivering care, improving patient safety, and reducing patient stress. All this leads to improve health outcomes and patients who are happier and heal faster. Hospitals foster this by having views, natural light, and access to gardens or the outdoors. The few following hospitals do this exceedingly well.
Community Hospital of the Monterey Peninsula in Monterey, California
Designed in the early 1960s on the California coast, the Community Hospital of the Monterey Peninsula was ahead of its time in pulling the outdoors inside a healing environment. The patient rooms and public spaces have large panoramic views of the surrounding forest, gardens, and courtyards and a flow between all the indoor and outdoor spaces. It has been recently expanded and remodeled by HOK to be state of the art while maintaining the original natural tranquility.
Photo: Frank Keillor. Creative Commons.
Children’s Psychiatry Center (KPC) in Genk, Netherlands
In an artistically crafted, patient-centric building, the Children’s Psychiatry Center in the Dutch city of Genk innovatively marries a designed outdoor environment with the hospital. Children’s well being was at the core of OSAR’s design, so every space in the center captures views of internal courtyards, gardens, or the forest. In so doing, the hospital reduces the stress of the patients, their families, and the staff and creates a safe and warm atmosphere within the center.
Children Psychiatric Center, Genk, Belgium. Photo courtesy of OSAR. www.osar.be
Workplace
Because the evidence of diverse benefits is so strong, contact with nature in the workplace has become a central element in the design of healthy office spaces. Various studies have repeatedly shown that access to outdoor gardens or parks, indoor plants, and windows with views of natural places reduce worker stress levels. Beyond manipulating stress levels, it appears that employees are also happier and more productive with a connection to nature. And firms greatly benefit because sick leave and worker turnover is reduced. With all these advantages, it is no wonder that creating contact between nature and workers is happening in offices, manufacturing plants, and every type of work environment in between.
Photo by Greg Williams. Creative Commons.
Ford Rouge Factory in Dearborn, Michigan
A historic manufacturing facility that had been deemed a heavily polluted brownfield site, Ford transformed the facility into a vibrant, sustainable new factory. Nature takes center stage at the facilities, which boast the largest green roof in North America, various treatment ponds and gardens, natural vegetation, and ample day lighting. As a result, the productivity of the workers increased and sick days decreased. One complaint: the amplified bird poop from the population that has taken up residence on the factory premise.
selgascano offices in Madrid, Spain
Within the urban area of Madrid, the architectural firm of selgascano made waves with their design for their own office. Sunken into the ground, curved glass opens the office up to spectacular and unusual views of the surrounding woods. The space is filled with natural light that bounce of the bright interior colors. Reportedly, employees love working in the space.
selgascano office. Photo: Iwan Baan.
Cities
In urban areas, the expanse of human construction can particularly estrange people from the environment, so it becomes crucial to consciously give residents access to natural places. A recent Danish study by Stigsdotter and colleagues found that people who lived more than 1 kilometer away from green space were generally less healthy. They also showed worse vitality, were at higher risk for depression, and reported higher levels of stress and pain. These advantages must partly contribute to the increased values of real estate adjacent to urban green space. Some cities are working hard to bring nature into the urban core by creating or revitalizing parks and seeing green space as an essential element in their infrastructure.
Cheonggyecheon stream in Seoul, with a highway running over it.
Cheonggyecheon in Seoul, South Korea
A stream runs through the center of Seoul, but for decades, most people would never have known. After years of polluting the Cheonggyecheon river, the city covered it in 1968 with an elevated, 8-lane hightway, hiding the river from view. But in 2003, the mayor began an initiative to improve traffic and restore the river. The Cheonggyecheon park opened in 2005, bringing people into close contact with the water and newly established parks through a central urban corridor. This project revitalized the local busineesess, improved transportation, and made the citizens happy by providing them with a delightful green space and reconnecting them to their historic river.
Cheonggyecheon stream in Seoul. Photo: David Maddox
In partnership with nature
With nature providing such joy and many health benefits, it is time that architects and planners leverage designs that highlight the environment in our built spaces. We can hope that beyond making a healthier and happier world, we can also prompt a more ethical relationship to nature.
As Sim Van der Ryn and Stuart Cowan conclude:
“Design transforms awareness. Designs that grow out of and celebrate place ground us in place. Designs that work in partnership with nature articulate an implicit hope that we might do the same.”
The belief that the city is an entity apart from nature and even antithetical to it has dominated the way in which the city is perceived and continues to affect how it is built.
The city must be recognized as part of nature and designed accordingly
— Anne Whiston Spirn, The Granite Garden (1984)
Coming on the heels David Maddox’s references to Central Park’s Pale Male red-tailed hawk and David Goode’s recent piece featuring London’s peregrines, it may appear that contributors to The Nature of Cities are fixated on urban raptors. Continuing that thread, it was just yesterday as I sat on the front stoop of the four-plex I’ve shared with friends for more than thirty years in Portland, Oregon (USA), I heard vaguely familiar cries overhead. At first the high-pitched screeching evoked the sound of hungry young red-tailed hawks, begging to be fed. Once I picked them out of the clouds and could see their sleek, swept-back, pointed wings it was clear the plaintive calls were coming from six peregrine falcons who were arrayed, Blue Angel-like across the neighborhood sky. The peregrine flyby was undoubtedly this year’s four fledglings accompanied by both parents from the nearby Fremont Interstate 405 Bridge. The Fremont, a three-span, half-through-tied arch that soars almost four-hundred feet above the Willamette River, the most productive peregrine nesting site in Oregon, has its western-most footings planted firmly in nearby in Portland’s densest neighborhood.
Adult peregrine falcon on Portland’s Fremont Bridge. Photo by Bob Sallinger.The Fremont Bridge hosts Oregon’s most productive peregrine falcon nest Photo Mike Houck.
Just a few weeks ago I had a similar aural and visual treat while walking through 5000-acre Forest Park, a ten minute stroll from my apartment. As a friend and I sauntered down Leif Erickson Road I heard, faintly overhead the unmistakable, nasal whinny of a bald eagle. It was soon clear that not one, but six bald eagles were kettling directly overhead, less than a mile from my apartment.
Vaux’s swifts swirling around Chapman Elementary School chimney in NW Portland Photo by Mike Houck.
Both the peregrine and eagles sightings came a few blocks from where up to three-thousand nature enthusiasts have migrated during the fall for the past two decades to watch up to 40,000 Vaux’s swifts dive into the chimney at Chapman Elementary School. Families gather with picnic dinners and are treated to a fantastic raptorial display as peregrines slice through the Vaux’s whirling votex or a Cooper’s hawk alights on the chimney’s lip from where they snatch a swift as it enters the opening. Half the onlookers cheer the birds of prey, while the rest boo and root for the swifts’ successful dive into the tall chimney. All of this near the heart of downtown Portland.
Lessons from Colorado
Shortly after the peregrine flyby I grabbed my copy the New York Times and turned on the television to catch the latest about the Colorado fires. More than the magnitude of the blaze and the fact that in excess of 30,000 people had been uprooted from their homes, I was intrigued that one lucky soul, whose house had been untouched by the conflagration, re-located to the steep, rural forested slopes outside Colorado Springs because of a desire to be “close to nature”, to live where they could “watch chipmunks” at their feeder!”
More than 3,000 people gather some evenings mid-September to watch Vaux’s swifts gather at Chapman Elementary School in NW Portland. Photo by Mike Houck.
From where I sat, in the densest urban neighborhood in a city of almost 500,000 and metropolitan region of two million–a region that, despite its size, still abounds with wildlife–I was saddened by the tragedy unfolding in Colorado and by the perceived need to locate outside the city in order to commune with nature. Of course their plight has been repeated throughout the country as people seeking their acre or two of paradise build in floodplains, on coastal barrier islands, in wetlands, on steep slopes and other inappropriate landscapes. Ironically, this unsustainable land use pattern fragments wildlife habitat, diminishing the very resource they located their homes to enjoy. Unfortunately, these poor choices are often abetted by local elected officials and planning commissions.
Nature Nearby…In the City
Why the perceived need to build outside the city to “have access to nature?” For too long there has been an anti-urban bias in the United States that has resulted in a desire by some to seek their “piece of nature” outside the city. Even in relatively progressive Portland, I was told by local planners almost forty years ago that there was “no place for nature” in the city. Our urban growth boundary and statewide land use planning program, they asserted, was established to protect nature “out there” beyond the urban fringe. Everything inside the urban growth boundary was “up for grabs”, intended for intense urbanization. If it was nature I wanted there was plenty to be had in the Cascade Mountains, Columbia Gorge or the Oregon coast.
This “real nature is out there” philosophy has even been echoed by some conservation organizations and wildlife agencies whose missions are focused exclusively on protecting pristine rural landscapes. Dedicating limited resources on “trashed” urban habitats, they argued, was, at best, a fool’s errand and at worst a profligate waste of limited resources.
In Livable Cities is Preservation of the Wild
Cities have for too long been demonized. While it’s indisputable that many cities were once oppressive places to live–particularly for the urban poor–and were most certainly not wildlife havens, today there is a growing renaissance in urban planning and design, with access to nature as a central tenet. People are flocking back to the urban core and new alliances of urban pioneers are working to integrate the built and natural landscapes in and around metropolitan regions across the world.
When we founded the Urban Greenspaces Institute in 1999 we adopted as our motto, “In livable cities is preservation of the wild” as a corollary to H D Thoreau’s aphorism, “In wildness is the preservation of the world.”
Protecting the rural wilderness requires an equally aggressive commitment to make our cities more livable and loveable. That requires the protection and restoration of a vibrant urban green infrastructure that includes healthy watersheds, diverse fish and wildlife populations and ecosystems, parks, and recreational trails where the vast majority of our population lives–in cities. It also requires, as David posited in the inaugural The Nature of Cities blog, that cities be viewed and planned as unique ecosystems for both their inherent ecosystem service values and for their contribution to our quality of life.
Many conservation organizations have begun to retool themselves in recognition of the role nature in the urban and urbanizing landscape plays in a broader conservation national agenda and have begun to focus on the protection and restoration of nature in cities as well. In fact, numerous local conservation organizations in the Portland-Vancouver region now focus exclusively on urban nature conservation. The same phenomenon is occurring across the country and internationally.
Yesterday as I reflected on the Colorado wildfires I picked up a copy of our daily paper, The Oregonian. K D Lang was asked why she had recently moved to a condominium in Northwest Portland’s Pearl District. Her response? “I just think the proximity to nature is wonderful.”
When David asked if I’d participate in The Nature of Cities project I jumped at the opportunity to contribute to a dialogue whose primary focus would be nature in the city. Until very recently most efforts regarding “sustainability” in Portland have focused almost exclusively on LEED ratings, energy conservation, transit, and recycling with too little attention paid to protecting and managing nature in the city. Happily, owing to a more than thirty year sustained effort on the part of a few individuals, a growing cadre of NGOs, and a few progressive agencies, we’ve experience a dramatic shift in thinking regarding nature’s role in combining our region’s commitment to maintaining compact urban form while simultaneously striving for an ecologically vibrant city and region. For example, in its new We BuildGreen Cities initiative the Portland Sustainability Institute recently added natural habitat to its sustainability objectives.
In future contributions to The Nature of Cities I plan to trace the evolution of how our region has moved from a “nature is out there” philosophy to a regional strategy through The Intertwine Alliance to ensure access to nature is equitably distributed throughout the 3,000 square mile Portland-Vancouver metropolitan region. I’ll also explore efforts by the national coalition, the Metropolitan Greenspaces Alliance to mount an effort at the national level to attract more investment from federal natural resource agencies to metropolitan regions across the United States.
In the early 1970s neither what is now Oaks Bottom Wildlife Refuge and Ross Island were viewed as legitimate elements of Portland’s park system. Today, Ross Island is being restored and Oaks Bottom is Portland’s first official urban wildlife refuge. More than 100 species of birds have been recorded at Oaks Bottom, less than a half-mile from downtown Portland. Photo by Mike Houck.
Nature Needs Half is a concept under consideration in the Capital Regional District (CRD)[End note 1]. Simply put, Nature Needs Half means saving fifty percent of an area’s lands and waters for nature. This concept recognizes the impact of humans upon the land, while also acknowledging that we need to share this planet with all other species.
Nature Needs Half is now being implemented across all jurisdictional scales, and in surprising and sometimes novel ways, in cities and countries around the world. The core concept of protecting half of an area for nature is being “fitted to place” by governments seeking to find workable solutions to preserving the natural world and providing for human needs.
Hikers pause near a rock cairn in the Sea to Sea Regional Park Reserve. Photo: Mary Sanseverino
CRD Regional Parks, through its 2012-2021 Strategic Plan, has advanced the idea of Nature Needs Half as a foundational principal for regional sustainability. CRD Regional Planning is currently developing a Regional Sustainability Strategy (RSS), and the concept of Nature Needs Half is included as a key goal under the draft Natural Environment Strategic Policy Direction. As the RSS process unfolds throughout 2014-2015, there will be ample opportunities for regional dialogue around the values, benefits, and challenges of adopting Nature Needs Half as a core principle of regional sustainability.
What is Nature Needs Half?
Nature Needs Half is a simple concept to understand—put most succinctly, it means saving half of the world’s lands and waters for the protection of nature. Nature Needs Half was developed by the WILD Foundation of Boulder, Colorado [2]. The WILD Foundation is a progressive leader in global wilderness conservation, perhaps best known for successfully organizing the long-running World Wilderness Congress, the world’s most preeminent public conservation project and environmental forum.
The WILD Foundation also recently launched the WILD Cities Project, which it describes as “a new concept of urbanism where wild nature is highly valued and its conservation is a conscious part of human life in cities worldwide” [3]. Goals of the WILD Cities Project include identifying successful urban initiatives aligned with the principles of Nature Needs Half, formulating criteria for defining a WILD city, and developing strategies to communicate to the public the need for nature in our cities.
A notable early proponent of a Nature Needs Half approach is the famed Harvard biologist E. O. Wilson, who in his book The Future of Life (2002) proclaimed “half the world for humanity, half for the rest of life, to make a planet both self-sustaining and pleasant” [4]. This statement emanates from the many years of research by conservation biologists who have been examining the question of how much land is needed to ensure the maintenance of biodiversity.
Mountain lion in regal repose in the CRD. Photo: Eric Kilby
Although the prevailing belief has long centered on a 12% conservation target, many recent studies have shown that this target is too low to maintain diversity. Many scientists now believe that the minimum amount of protected area necessary for a given area of land is generally between 25% and 75%. Given this variability, most have settled on 50% as a workable percentage that can provide a viable balance between ecosystem services and economic development. This new understanding is pushing governments around the world to adopt new policies that will protect at least half of their land base for nature.
One of the key concepts underlying a Nature Needs Half approach is that of connectivity. Landscape connectivity is necessary to maintain the full range of life-supporting, ecological and evolutionary processes, the long term survival of species, and an area’s resilience in the face of environmental change [5]. Many conservation planning efforts have been initiated to determine how much and which lands should be targeted for conservation. A general consensus is that it depends on the characteristics of the area under consideration—its physical characteristics, its suite of species to be conserved, its past-land use decisions, and other factors. The overall goal, however, is to create enough connectivity that species can move in response to stressors including climate change, invasive species, and habitat fragmentation, degradation, and loss.
Conceptual Green Infrastructure Network [6]Typically, parks and protected areas form the core of a connectivity matrix. These core “wild” areas are then connected by other types of landscapes and environmental features, such as working lands (forestry and agriculture), rural and suburban open space, and even urban forests and other types of urban “green” infrastructure. These connectivity matrixes help ensure the maintenance of biological diversity and provide enough flexibility within a landscape that they can typically be assembled from what already exists in an area.
This approach to Nature Needs Half will work well in the Capital Regional District (CRD). The CRD contains a rich assemblage of ecosystems and species within its 245,000 hectares on Southern Vancouver Island. Fortunately, a significant portion of the CRD is still in a semi-wilderness condition (much of which is formally protected as parks), while considerable forestry, agricultural, rural and suburban open space networks exist, all of which can serve as the core of a connectivity matrix.
Proposed CRD Regional Parks and Trails System, showing connectivity corridors [7]These core undeveloped areas can be interlaced with other more graduated forms of human-impacted landscapes, such that urban forests, riparian areas, remnant natural areas, and even green buildings and other types of urban ecological design features are brought into the matrix. The potential exists for a truly integrated connectivity matrix which incorporates wilderness, rural, suburban, and urban gradients. In this vision, the ability of the CRD to preserve half of the region for nature seems within the region’s collective grasp.
Why is the CRD considering Nature Needs Half?
The CRD is ideally positioned to consider a Nature Needs Half approach as a foundational principal for regional sustainability. The region is blessed with abundant natural landscapes and a complex geography and climate that support a diverse range of ecosystems, a number of which are globally rare or endangered. Fortunately, the region has already set aside significant areas for nature protection and it still contains an abundance of forestry lands, agricultural lands, and other types of open space that could contribute to a Nature Needs Half vision. The region is equally fortunate to have an effective governance structure, progressive municipalities and electoral areas, and a public that widely supports the goal of regional sustainability and effective stewardship of natural resources.
Cabin Pond at East Sooke Regional Park. Photo: Mary Sanseverino
In spite of such strong support, the CRD is still faced with intense development pressures and associated negative impacts on the health of the region’s biodiversity and overall resiliency to environmental change. This fact underscores the critical importance of on-going, appropriate stewardship of the region’s lands and waters, and the need to develop a far-sighted approach to balancing the needs of “nature” (which also encompasses human needs) with that of economic growth and development.
There are a number of ways the CRD has already started to address this problem. CRD Regional Parks recently completed its Regional Parks Strategic Plan 2012-2021 [8]. A core concept of the strategic plan is Nature Needs Half. Regional Parks, through its strategic plan, recommended that Nature Needs Half be brought forward for discussion in preparing the Regional Sustainability Strategy (RSS).
CRD Regional Planning is leading the development of the RSS during 2014-2015 [9]. A key component of the RSS process is extensive public consultation designed to ensure a wide range of perspectives are considered during the strategy’s preparation and approval stages. The RSS will provide the framework for long-term regional sustainability by seeking to preserve and revitalize natural systems, foster social resilience and community well-being, and generate ongoing prosperity and affordability. Regional Planning supports Nature Needs Half as an important cross-cutting theme that can inform each of its key strategic areas.
Stewart Mountain ramble, Thetis Lake Regional Park. Photo: Mary Sanseverino
There is clearly more work that needs to be done to understand what Nature Needs Half might mean if applied within the CRD. Although a significant focus of Nature Needs Half is on large landscape conservation, the CRD can also “fit it to place” by including urban, suburban, and rural elements that will directly benefit regional residents right where they live, thereby maximizing the value of such an approach. To this end, it is important to understand and define what “nature” and “half” might mean in a regional context.
What might constitute “Nature” within the CRD?
Lichen and moss in the Coastal Douglas fir zone. Photo: Bev Hall
Within the CRD, it is entirely sensible to consider the full range of the region’s natural systems, functions, and elements in a Nature Needs Half approach. For instance, we would want to include those wilderness areas that still exist for their value as wildlife corridors, carbon sinks, and biodiversity strongholds (among other values), but we would also want to think about other types of landscapes that have similar or different values. In this sense, we need to think about landscapes modified by human use that still retain their relevance and value as “nature.” These landscapes will necessarily include working forests, agricultural lands, public and private open space, non-wilderness parks and protected areas, greenways, riparian zones, watersheds, wetlands, lakes, rivers, ponds, and the nearby marine environment, among others.
Green Infrastructure design across an urban-rural-wildlands continuum [10]We should not leave out consideration of nature in our urban landscapes either. Remnant pieces of nature exist in our backyards, our streetscapes, our urban forests and streams, our urban paths and trails, and in our margins and neglected areas. As well, many newer developments are built with nature in mind and incorporate green building features such as living roofs, bio-swales, rain gardens, and natural filtration ponds into their designs. All of these elements can contribute to Nature Needs Half. They are at the core of a connectivity matrix that expands outwards in all directions, linking the city with the wilderness in a continuous whole. The benefits of such an approach are multi-fold, contributing greatly to regional sustainability.
If such a Nature Needs Half approach is to be successful, it is necessary to examine the other part of the equation—that of “half.” What does it mean to protect “half” of the region for nature.
LEFT: Looking out across the Sooke Hills to the west. Photo: Heath Moffatt Photography. RIGHT: Young black bear eating new spring growth in the CRD. Photo: iStock.
What might constitute “Half” within the CRD?
When thinking of what protecting “half” of the CRD for nature means, it is necessary to look at it from the perspective of governance, equity, and scale. From a governance perspective we recognize that our system is complex, with multiple layers of government involvement in the structuring and management of our daily affairs. One definition of governance that applies to the management of nature is from the IUCN Natural Resource Governance Working Group [11]:
Understood in this way, governance, including how it shapes and is shaped by the political economy of local, provincial, and national decision-making, is a critical determinant of the effectiveness and equity outcomes of biodiversity conservation, and of the contribution that abundant nature makesto people’s well-being, empowerment and sustainable development.
When we think of protecting half of the region for nature from a governance perspective, we must acknowledge there are many stakeholders, including the federal and provincial governments, the regional district, municipalities and electoral areas, First Nations, and civil society. Each of these stakeholders is bound to the other by complex sets of rules and traditions that determine how power is exercised and how decision-makers are held accountable for their decisions.
Within this governance framework, we have a collective responsibility to steward our natural resources wisely. Many opportunities exist for collaborating on a comprehensive nature protection strategy involving all levels of government and in partnership with civil society.
In this sense, the question of equity arises. It would be impossible to mandate to the federal or provincial governments, the regional district, First Nations, municipalities, electoral areas, businesses, or private citizens that they must protect half of their land for nature. How would this be done, and who would be responsible for it? What would be the impact on different stakeholders? How feasible would it be given current development patterns? How would private property rights be addressed?
Grey beach peavine along the rugged Juan de Fuca Strait. Photo: Kyle Strauss
One obvious tactic is to embed Nature Needs Half within the RSS, which is a regionally representative approach to achieving equitable sustainability outcomes. The RSS, which will be eventually adopted by each municipality and electoral area in the region and approved by the Province, will feature a set of strategic priorities that should lead the region to greater sustainability. In this sense, all share in the costs and benefits of achieving regional sustainability, and each stakeholder commits to making it work for the benefit of all.
Nature Needs Half within this scenario is achievable through the individual and combined efforts of RSS signatories. If this is true, then the scale at which it is achieved must be addressed. Scale in this context refers to what and where the “half” will come from. There are many possibilities. If a goal is to create a seamless nature connectivity matrix stretching from our core urban areas to the most remote and wild corners of the region, then we must consider all of our natural areas and features as potential contributors to the “half.”
How each level of government and civil society will contribute to the actualization of Nature Needs Half needs to be discussed during the development of the RSS, as well as afterwards if it is adopted as a core principle of regional sustainability. A fundamental tenet, however, is that each level of government, First Nations, businesses, civil society organizations, and private individuals each have a role to play in supporting the designation of lands or features for nature protection and a shared responsibility for achieving Nature Needs Half.
Flying a kite along Sandcut Beach near Jordan River. Photo: Hello Hillary
Contributing to regional sustainability
One of the most important reasons to adopt a Nature Needs Half approach within the CRD is for its contribution to environmental sustainability. In particular, protecting nature means protecting the full suite of “nature’s services” or “ecosystem services.” These ecosystem services underpin our human economies and livelihoods.
Despite their critical importance, the capacity of ecosystems to provide essential services is being degraded at an alarming rate. In 2005, the Millennium Ecosystem Assessment (MA), a four-year study of the state of the world’s ecosystems involving more than 1,300 experts from 95 countries, reported that over 60 percent of the earth’s ecosystem services were already degraded. This negative trend, they concluded, was set to continue at an accelerating pace over the next half century [12].
Beautiful jellyfish in the cold Pacific Ocean waters. Photo: Deborah Kerr Designs
Climate change is exacerbating the degradation of ecosystems and the loss of ecosystem services [13]. Decisions concerning land acquisition and conservation strategies need to consider the potential impacts of climate change, and incorporate linkages and corridors to other natural areas for species migration. This approach suits a Nature Needs Half approach, which necessarily includes protection of priority areas and elements in an overall connectivity matrix [14].
The quote below highlights the value of protecting nature as a climate change strategy [15]:
Another important aspect of nature’s services is its “natural capital” benefit—or human valuing of nature’s economic contributions. Traditionally, natural capital services weren’t accounted for in the market economy, and so were often under-valued or treated as non-existent. However, this approach to natural capital is changing, as it is becoming clear that the services nature provides are extremely valuable in monetary terms” [16].
According to the David Suzuki Foundation, the establishment of greenbelts of protected forests, agricultural lands, wetlands, and other green spaces around cities like Toronto and Ottawa has helped to protect essential ecosystem services like water filtration and wildlife habitat [17]. The benefits provided by southern Ontario’s Greenbelt alone have been conservatively estimated at $2.6 billion annually.
The David Suzuki Foundation recently completed a landmark natural capital valuation study for the purpose of determining the non-market benefits provided by the natural capital within B.C.’s Lower Mainland (e.g. greater Vancouver metropolitan area) and its watersheds [18]. The report found that the top three benefit values provided by the study area’s ecosystem services were:
Climate regulation resulting from carbon storage by forests, wetlands, grasslands, shrub-lands and agricultural soils;
Water supply due to water filtration services by forests; and
Flood protection and water regulation provided by forest land cover.
The total value for all natural capital benefits provided by the study area was estimated to be $5.4 billion per year, or about $3,880 per hectare. This translated to an estimated value of $2,462 per person, or $6,402 per household each year [19].
Chicago’s GO TO 2040 Regional Plan proposes a green infrastructure network that follows waterway corridors, expands existing preserves, and creates new preserves in the region [20].It seems clear that the economic benefits of protecting nature outweigh the values derived from conversion into other uses. It pays to invest in “green infrastructure” instead of “gray infrastructure”—or put another way, it is more cost effective to invest in forests and other natural landscapes than human-engineered solutions to maintain natural capital benefits [21]. Adopting a Nature Needs Half approach provides considerable economic benefits by protecting and restoring the CRD’s natural capital wealth.
Migrating salmon in a clear, cold stream in the CRD. Photo: CRD Regional Parks
Supportive measures for a Nature Needs Half approach
A key consideration for governments and citizens is to understand what measures already exist to facilitate the protection and expansion of a green infrastructure network [22]. Fortunately, much work has been completed in this regard. For instance, the Green Bylaws Toolkit for Conserving Sensitive Ecosystems and Green Infrastructure advances policy goals, objectives, and criteria for protecting green infrastructure that resonates with a Nature Needs Half approach [23].
The Toolkit advances three broad goals:
Pine grosbeak in an Arbutus tree. Photo: Mary Sanseverino
Protect and maintain the integrity of sensitive ecosystems;
Restore ecosystems when opportunities allow; and
Ensure that green infrastructure plays a role in promoting fiscally responsible local government services and programs.
To achieve these goals, the Toolkit recommends pursuing seven objectives:
Contain urban development within a compact area;
Maintain environmentally sensitive lands outside urban containment boundaries as large lot parcels (20+ hectares), parks, or protected areas that are connected by greenways;
Prevent degradation and fragmentation of sensitive ecosystems and encourage connections among ecosystems;
Prevent development of subdivisions and individual lots on or near sensitive ecosystems;
Maintain the integrity of the ecological systems of which sensitive ecosystems are a part;
Restore degraded ecosystems;
Ensure adequate assessment of the impacts of development and carry out mitigation measures.
The Toolkit then lists two criteria that affect the ability of local governments to implement these objectives:
—Simplicity of administrative systems; and
—Good definition of the costs and benefits of ecosystem protection.
The Toolkit identifies a number of measures available to local governments for protection of green infrastructure [24]. Generally, these measures fall into five categories: land use instruments, fiscal incentives, liability limitations, market incentives, and increased education/capacity building [25]. Together these measures provide a suite of strategies that can be utilized on behalf of nature conservation.
Hikers enjoying a rest and the view in the Sooke Hills. Photo: Mary Sanseverino
Of course, there are many more exciting and innovative urban nature conservation strategies being implemented across North America and around the world. Many of these have been written about in other Nature of Cities blogs, such as the Biophilic CitiesInitiative, the Metropolitan Greenspaces Alliance, and the Green Seattle Partnership. All of these approaches are contributing to a growing network of global cities that are “fitting to place” accessible, healthy, and abundant nature in the midst of densely populated urban spaces.
Summary
Most of the world’s leading scientists and governments recognize that the escalating global ecological crisis demonstrates the insufficiency of our current conservation efforts and that we need to do more to stop this alarming trend. Fortunately, we possess good knowledge about the environment, especially about how much land and water we must protect to maintain the full range of biodiversity and protect human health. Research over the last 20 years or so indicates that we must set aside at least half of a given region for protection and we must work hard to interconnect core areas with other such areas to provide resiliency in the face of unprecedented environmental change [26].
Red-legged tree frog, native to Vancouver Island. Photo: Phil Petersen
Currently, approximately 19% of the CRD is protected as parks or restricted watershed, for a total of 47,826 hectares. While this percentage exceeds the current global protected areas standard (e.g. 12%), it falls far short of the 50% that conservation scientists believe is necessary to cope with emerging environmental and human health challenges. Fortunately, the CRD has adequate lands to protect half of our region for nature. Within the CRD can be found urban green features, local to federal park and trail systems, open space, resource lands, and wilderness. The CRD can create a sustainable future based on a Nature Needs Half approach given enough public and political will.
Mountain biker enjoying Hartland Mountain Bike Park. Photo: Jamie CameronCougar print in the mud. Photo: Nick Thompson
Although the CRD is committed to achieving regional sustainability, more work needs to be done to understand how to define and operationalize a Nature Needs Half approach for the region. Next steps in this regard could include:
—Ensuring that Nature Needs Half remains in the Regional Sustainability Strategy and is included in public dialogues about the region’s future;
—Holding focus sessions or other community engagement events where the topic of Nature Needs Half can be explored in more detail and the results analyzed and disseminated back out to politicians and the public;
—Interviewing others involved with a Nature Needs Half (or similar approach) to determine strategies, opportunities, challenges, and lessons learned, with applicability to the CRD.
—Developing a set of Nature Needs Half strategic priorities, with associated goals, targets, indicators, and milestones.
—Preparing a Nature Needs Half action plan and green infrastructure strategy.
The case is clear that infusing and protecting nature in and around our cities provides innumerable benefits for human health and well-being, as well as providing a lifeline for species and ecosystems that depend on our positive actions in this regard. We owe it to ourselves and to the incredible diversity of life on earth to act now to protect at least half the worlds’ lands and waters for nature. The CRD, in its own small way, can partially answer this larger call to action by adopting a Nature Needs Half approach for regional sustainability.
[1] Capital Regional District (CRD) is the regional government for 13 municipalities and three electoral areas on Southern Vancouver Island, British Columbia, Canada. See the CRD website at: https://www.crd.bc.ca/about/what-is-crd.
[2] See The WILD Foundation at http://www.wild.org/.
[3] WILD Foundation, WILD Cities Project at: http://www.wild.org/main/world-wilderness-congress/wild10/.
[4] Wilson, E. O. (2003). The future of life. New York: Vintage Books.
[5] The Wild Foundation (2009). Nature Needs Half information sheet. Accessed on 3/14/13 at http://natureneedshalf.org/why-nature-needs-half/.
[6] Conceptual Green Infrastructure Network from the document: “Refinement of the Chicago Wilderness Green Infrastructure Vision, Final Report June 2012”, accessed at: http://www.cmap.illinois.gov/documents/10180/11696/GIV20_FinalReport_2012-06.pdf/dd437709-214c-45d6-a036-5d77244dcedb. The report defines the connectivity network as: “The building blocks of the network are “core areas” that contain well-functioning natural ecosystems that provide high quality habitat for native plants and animals. By contrast, “hubs” are aggregations of core areas as well as nearby lands that contribute significantly to ecosystem services like clean water, flood control, carbon sequestration, and recreation opportunities. Finally, “corridors” are relatively linear features linking cores and hubs together, providing essential connectivity for animal, plant, and human movement.”
[7] From CRD Regional Parks Strategic Plan 2012-2021 at: Regional Parks Strategic Plan at https://www.crd.bc.ca/docs/default-source/parks-pdf/regional-parks-strategic-plan-2012-21.pdf?sfvrsn=0.
[8] Regional Parks Strategic Plan 2012-2021, p. 16-17. See: http://www.crd.bc.ca/parks/planning/strategicplan.htm.
[9] See CRD Regional Growth Strategy at: CRD Regional Planning – Regional Sustainability Strategy at: https://www.crd.bc.ca/plan/planning-other-initiatives/regional-growth-strategy.
[10] Excerpted from “Refinement of the Chicago Wilderness Green Infrastructure Vision, Final Report June 2012”, (p. 7-8) at: http://www.cmap.illinois.gov/documents/10180/11696/GIV20_FinalReport_2012-06.pdf/dd437709-214c-45d6-a036-5d77244dcedb. Green infrastructure is defined in the report as: “The regional green infrastructure network provides multiple benefits. At its broadest, landscape‐ scale green infrastructure provides important ecosystem services like clean air and water, critical plant and animal species habitat, and wildlife migration corridors along with compatible working landscapes. At the regional scale, green space can help protect water quality and help ensure the availability of drinking water. Green infrastructure can also provide key recreational areas that link people to natural lands and facilitate the use of transportation modes other than automobiles to reach key community assets. At the site scale, green infrastructure enhances neighborhoods and downtowns through environmentally‐sensitive site design techniques, urban forestry, and storm-water management systems that reduce the environmental impact of urban settlements. All of these scales of activity can be linked together and can ensure sustainability in urban, suburban, and rural areas of a region.”
[11] IUCN (2013). Draft Concept (v. 10) for discussion: Building an IUCN Natural Resources Governance Framework.
[12] Millennium Ecosystem Assessment (2005). Ecosystems and Human Well-being: Current state and trends, Volume 1. R. Hassan, R. Scholes, and N. Ash (eds.), Washington DC: Island Press.
[13] Wilson, S. J. and Richard J. Hebda (2008). Mitigating and adapting to climate change through the conservation of nature. The Land Trust Alliance of British Columbia.
[14] Ibid. p. v.
[15] Ibid. p. viii.
[16] David Suzuki Foundation, Sara Wilson (2010). Natural capital in BC’s Lower Mainland: Valuing the benefits from nature. Prepared for the Pacific Parklands Foundation. Accessed at: http://www.davidsuzuki.org/publications/reports/2010/natural-capital-in-bcs-lower-mainland/.
[17] Ibid.
[18] Ibid.
[19] Ibid. p. 8-10. Data based on 2006 census data of 2.2 million people within the study area with an average of 2.6 people per household.
[20] See the Go To 2040 Plan at: http://www.cmap.illinois.gov/about/2040/livable-communities/open-space.
[21] World Resources Institute (2011). Forests and water: Green infrastructure can be less expensive than gray infrastructure. Accessed at: http://www.wri.org/stories/2011/02/protecting-forests-protect-water-us-south.
[22] “Measures” here refers to the range of incentives, markets, and practices that exist to protect green infrastructure.
[23] Green Bylaws Toolkit for Conserving Sensitive Ecosystems and Green Infrastructure. Available at: www.greenbylaws.ca.
[24] Ibid. pgs. 37-137.
[25] L. Yonavjak, C. Handon, J. Talberth, and T. Gartner (2011). Keeping forest as forest: Incentives for the U.S. South. Prepared for the World Resources Institute. Accessed at: www.wri.org/publications.
[26] Nature Needs Half at http://natureneedshalf.org/home/.
A bit of background: 
As mentioned before, though, not all the stories are about animals that might normally be considered “wild.” One story that hit me especially hard was “Falling Apart,” by Tom Montgomery Fate. It is a heartbreaking sketch of a family in a time of crisis: their beloved cat, Rosie, is dying. At the same time, a family friend passes away, family member is hospitalized, and a nephew is born. It is the family’s love for Rosie, and their grief at her passing, that keeps them together through this emotional tug-of-war. It is an intimate, heartrending glimpse into a raw emotional state, so beautifully written I can’t possibly do it justice here. I mention this story not to bum you out, but instead to illustrate the wondrous range and scope of “City Creatures,” and to demonstrate its aforementioned ‘human’-ness.
Nature Needs Half is now being implemented across all jurisdictional scales, and in surprising and sometimes novel ways, in cities and countries around the world. The core concept of protecting half of an area for nature is being “fitted to place” by governments seeking to find workable solutions to preserving the natural world and providing for human needs.
Nature Needs Half is a simple concept to understand—put most succinctly, it means saving half of the world’s lands and waters for the protection of nature. Nature Needs Half was developed by the 
Understood in this way, governance, including how it shapes and is shaped by the political economy of local, provincial, and national decision-making, is a critical determinant of the effectiveness and equity outcomes of biodiversity conservation, and of the contribution that abundant nature makes to people’s well-being, empowerment and sustainable development.
Another important aspect of nature’s services is its “natural capital” benefit—or human valuing of nature’s economic contributions. Traditionally, natural capital services weren’t accounted for in the market economy, and so were often under-valued or treated as non-existent. However, this approach to natural capital is changing, as it is becoming clear that the services nature provides are extremely valuable in monetary terms” [16].
According to the 
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