Two side-by-side pictures of a grassy field, one in infrared to show heat signatures

The Tale of Lawns: The Story of Class, Deserts, and Potential

Many voices. Greener cities. Better cities.
The word potential in the title of this essay points to the hope of moving away from the cultural and aesthetic foundation of the lawn industry. While the contemporary lawn still carries the story of social and economic inequalities that propagated the commonly accepted aesthetic of high-intensity management of grasslands, more and more attention is drawn to how little sense this aesthetic makes nowadays.

What connects all upper-middle-class houses, public institutions’ buildings, stadiums, and golf fields? A hint: it is aesthetic, it is high-maintenance, and it is a prime example of a single species use. The answer is ― the lawn. The history of lawns goes back to the late Middle Ages, and is, from the very beginning, charged with a lot of symbolism. As a symbol of the upper socioeconomic class, the lawn has, throughout the centuries, stood for wealth, order, and elegance. This is due to the unproductive use of soil; only rich people could afford a piece of land with nothing but grass on it. With time, lawns have been introduced to upper-middle-class residential architecture and public institutions, as they decorate the front yards of courts, museums, and administrative buildings. They also greet guests to private houses, representing the owner as a neat and organised person with means ― if the lawn is well maintained. If the lawn is unkempt, it also says something about the owner.

Taking over many of the urban green spaces, lawns are also connected with concerning statistics about water and energy usage and an enormous public budget that goes into maintaining them. Not to mention biodiversity; from an urban ecology perspective, lawns are definitely not the most optimal urban low-height green infrastructure (LHGI). In the meantime, cities are on the frontline of the climate battle and have a significant potential for the future of conserving global biodiversity (Grimm et al., 2008, p. 759). The main purpose of this essay is to highlight the fact that with lawns dominating the urban landscape of LHGI, this potential will not be fully realised.

To fully understand the problematics of lawns, it is necessary to explain their history, socioeconomic context, and environmental consequences. What is the context of the contemporary popularity of lawns and their potential to become something more than green-coloured deserts?

The role of lawns in urban ecology

Ecosystem services (ES) may be the dominant framework for understanding urban nature nowadays, but our ancestors passed on to us certain habits of using nature with a strictly aesthetic goal in mind. Even though urban nature can (and should as argued by designers and architects such as Lance Hosey) be aesthetic, in the context of diminishing biodiversity and climate crisis, urbanites should think of more than just the looks. In his book The Shape of Green; Aesthetics, Ecology and Design, Hosey advocates for the kind of design that will bridge beauty with the green approach. He creates a “decalogue”, a beauty manifesto, as he calls it, with ten principles that help achieve this goal. To name a couple, he advises seeing good design and green design as uniform and consistent. The same goes for aesthetics and sustainable development. Also, the function and the looks should coexist, without one limiting the other (Hosey, Rasmus-Zgorzelska & Janicka, 2021, p. 171). While making up for a big part of the urban tissue, lawns do not adhere to these rules. Their purpose, maintenance costs, and ecosystem limitations they create make them not much more than merely an aesthetic quality of the place. In the meantime, cities, being the centres of creativity, science, cultures, and arts should take responsibility for going beyond aesthetics and redefining our relationship with urban nature.

As argued by Seto et al. (2013, p.1), “it is no longer possible to construct sound ecological science without explicit attention to urbanisation as a key driver of global ecological change”. At the same time, cities experience the urban heat island effect, water retention problems, and increased air pollution, which means they also depend more and more strongly on green and blue infrastructure to be more resilient. They need trees to bring shade and they need ponds, lakes, and soils to become sponge cities. In this sense, nature needs cities, and cities need nature. To understand this correlation, we have to look at cities as a form of an ecosystem, which has been done since the 1920s with the sociological research of the Chicago School. Needless to say, the contemporary perspective on urban ecology is very different from the one from 100 years ago. According to Grimm et al., “urban ecology integrates natural and social sciences to study these radically altered local environments and their regional and global effects. Cities themselves present both the problems and solutions to sustainability challenges of an increasingly urbanised world” (2008, p. 756). Part of the city’s influence on nature is having a homogenising effect on the regional biodiversity, as humans enforce a very heterogeneous patchwork of habitats and species in and around cities, the more important it becomes to use this influence in a smart way. This means filling our cities (both in a public and private setting) with spaces that will support something that Steffen et al. call planetary stewardship. By that, they mean that the “business-as-usual” approach cannot continue, which becomes clear looking at the financial instability, social and economic inequalities, and, most importantly, environmental degradation. Planetary stewardship relies on a polycentric and multi-level engagement in the critical issues that have become apparent on Earth. In other words, it means taking responsibility for more than just human lives and representing other species in the battle for a healthier and liveable planet (Steffen et al., 2011, pp. 756-757). How does that connect with lawns?

Lawns are cultivated on the level of individuals, counties, towns, cities, and states. They are one of the most popular forms of green infrastructure people worldwide (especially in the Global North that has the means for a more responsible and engaged greening) choose for their front and back yards. This means there is an enormous amount of green space all around the world that is only serving the aesthetic function, while it could easily be transformed into something that adheres to Hosey’s principles. However, before we can dive into the concerning statistics that prove lawn management problems need our attention, we need to understand where the symbolic value of lawns come from.

The historical perspective

Why do we think lawns are beautiful? This idea was enforced by the English and French aristocrats who nurtured lawns in front of their castles since the late Middle Ages. Before lawnmowers and water sprinklers, it was also a very time-consuming type of land use, much more costly than it is nowadays. Apart from the upkeep costs, there was also the matter of productivity of land; only the richest people in the world could afford to have (often very big) pieces of land that produce nothing of value (Harari, 2017, p. 67). In this sense, it was somewhat of a “green extravaganza” to own a lawn. And so, a patch of grass became an attractive and powerful symbol of authority and by the late modern period, it entered the realm of public property. At the same time, lawns started playing an important role in the world of sports. Since the nineteenth century, lawns have been a central element of football, tennis, golf, and other high-end sports. Harari claims we can easily assume that if one plays sports on lawns, they are a person of high economic means (2017, p. 68). In the end, when we imagine children of non-privileged families training to become the new generation of football players: they are definitely not playing on grass, but on the concrete of the street or a dirt field.

A black and white picture of a two people standing in business wear
Figure 1: Bowling lawn at the Caledonian Bowling Club in Dunedin, New Zealand. Picture taken in 1938 (Smith & Fellowes, 2013).

Thus, the lawn entered the minds of common people as a symbol of money, power, and prestige, and with that view, it prevailed until the present times. With the big wave of automatisation that marked the Industrial Revolution, came the automatic sprinkler and the lawnmower that quickly caused millions of families to fulfil the desire of having a “perfect” lawn in front of their house. The suburbia became filled with lawns and neighbours competing against each other to achieve the neatest grass in their gardens (especially the front yards obviously). Like many other aspects of the “modern dream”, a suburban house with a lawn gained the biggest popularity in the United States.

As highlighted by Harari (2017, p. 69) “grass is nowadays the most widespread crop in the US after maize and wheat, and the lawn industry (plants, manure, mowers, sprinklers, gardeners) accounts for billions of dollars every year”. In Europe, grasslands cover over a third of all agricultural areas (Velthof et al., 2014, p. 7). At least the majority of North American and European lawns are situated in areas where it was traditionally feasible to grow a lawn due to a mild climate (Smith & Fellowes, 2013, p. 158). In the meantime, the ideals of money, power, and prestige are widespread around the globe. And so, the symbolism of lawns becomes appealing also to countries such as Dubai and Qatar, located in very unsuitable climates for this kind of greenery. As a result, we see lawns being planted in the middle of the Arabian desert, which requires enormous amounts of water every day (Harari, 2017, p. 73).

A picture of a bay with a grassy crescent
Figure 2: Lawn in front of the Museum of Islamic Art in Qatar, (Museum of Islamic Art Park in Doha, Qatar. Radisson Blu Blog, n.d.).

Contemporary lawns, in addition to being widespread, are also composed to adhere to the prevailing modern aesthetics of straight lines, symmetry, and unification that we inherited from the XXth century. Hence the ideal of a modern lawn consists of perfectly green layers of single-species grass, not taller than ten centimetres. However, before modern times, it was not the only aesthetic cultivated by lawn owners. In this sense, we can learn from the historical perspective on lawns. According to Smith & Fellowes (2013, pp. 157-158), the prevailing aesthetic was for a long time an imperfect lawn. They write that the mediaeval lawns were portrayed by artists as flowery, with, among other species, lilies, irises, poppies, primroses, and wild strawberries.

“For these species to survive, it would indicate mediaeval meads were likely to have been mown much less frequently than the usual twice-monthly mowing received by their modern lawn counterparts since both the intensity and frequency of mowing have a strong effect on the continuents of any sward” (Smith and Fellowes, 2013, p. 159). Such diversity of species, achieved through widened aesthetic boundaries for lawns (and little possibility for intense management) meant a better environment for pollination and hence for biodiversity. It also seems closer to the ideals represented by Hosey’s ten principles than the aesthetic of modern lawns. Therefore, we can understand the problematic symbolism of lawns through their historical context, but this context can also teach us about how to improve the lawn aesthetics and composition that we blindly inherited after the modern-era single-species lawns. The contemporary quantitative reality of lawn-keeping proves that this field needs many changes.

Modern lawns in numbers

The grandiosity of the lawn industry makes it a significant case study for urban ecology. Lawns-related data can be found for many different countries where the numbers are becoming problematic. Only some of them will be described in this essay due to the limits of this study, but the ones described already prove the existence of a larger problem. For example, according to Francoeur et al. (2021, p. 1), lawns take up from 8 to 16 million hectares of space in the USA. Being cultivated in both private and public properties, lawns, together with materials used to keep them up, have a significant effect on the city’s environment and ecosystem. Not to mention the budget put into mowing and watering them. In Poland, calculations have been made that point at annual public spending of 2 billion zlotys (roughly 425 million euros) on public lawns (Kosić czy nie kosić? Miasto Jest Nasze, 2019). Studies made in Newcastle, Australia, have shown that 11.6% of the total nonmethane hydrocarbons emission in the city come from the use of lawnmowers.

In the USA, gas-fuelled mowers have been proven to emit 26 million tonnes of polluting substances into the air each year, which makes up for almost 11% of the total pollution emitted in the country, excluding the transport industry emissions (Skłodowski, 2019). When it comes to watering, a lawn that adheres to the modern aesthetic requires 10 litres of drinkable water per square metre of grass. We should also not forget about the noise pollution caused by lawnmowers. They produce noise of the intensity of around 80dB, while the European Union norms consider all noise beyond 55dB detrimental (Skłodowski, 2019). All these statistics show that we pay a high price for the aesthetic of a modern lawn, while the aesthetic has not always been so strict. Similarly, to Hosey’s argument, the aesthetics of lawns can and should be related to their value for the natural environment and a lower energy cost. All it would take is redefining the aesthetic so lawns could be mowed less often, require less strict, care, and consist of more than one species. The benefits of such changes will be further explained.

Lawns vs ecosystem services

As shown in the previous paragraph, we pay a high price for the modern lawn aesthetic. However, having the goal of planetary stewardship in mind, we also have to consider how this aesthetic affects other species. The relationship between lawns and biodiversity is discussed by many authors, who investigate the effect of different types of low-height urban green infrastructures (LHGI) on ecosystem services (ES). Francoeur et al., (2021, p. 1) compare four different LHGI; “unmanaged sowed indigenous herbaceous vegetation (flower meadow), medium-sized hedgerow, highly maintained lawn and naturally regenerated shrub vegetation (natural)” to understand how their height, volume, plant richness, plant diversity, and maintenance affect two ecosystem services that they deem crucial in mitigation of climate crisis, namely habitat for biodiversity and urban heat mitigation. In their study, they prove how the plant volume of a lawn (around 6.83m3), compared to the volume of a flower meadow (around 39.16m3) negatively impacts the arthropod biomass, which increases by 0.109 mg per m3 of vegetation” (2021, p. 6).

The endangered population of arthropods is very important for pollination and hence for a more diverse habitat for other species, such as insects and birds. Biodiversity co-created by arthropods also affects the overall ecosystem functioning, persistence, and resilience (Francoeur et al., 2021, p. 2). As for heat mitigation, the authors observe that a higher plant structure lowers plot surface temperature. The temperature decreases by 1°C with every 1.53m3  increase of density of vegetation. In other words, the density, and the height of the GI matter, and as much as we need LHGI in our cities, especially in spaces unsuitable for tree plantation, they could be much more valuable for heat mitigation and biodiversity than lawns we know nowadays, which are often nothing more than green deserts.

Two side-by-side pictures of a grassy field, one in infrared to show heat signatures
Figure 3: Temperature differences depending on the type of surface (Ortega, 2021).

What could be done to improve ES provided by lawns? Francoeur et al. argue that this goal can be easily achieved through complexifying their oversimplified composition. This means lawns could be “enhanced through simple vegetation interventions” (2021, p. 2); improved by allowing for taller and more diverse vegetation, rather than single-species and 10 cm-tall norms. Maintenance, such as mowing, is proven to have a negative influence on plants, invertebrates, and soil microbes. It also directly affects plant diversity; low-intensity management of grasslands can increase plant diversity from 15% to 62% (Chollet et al., 2018, p. 122). This is because less mowing means higher plant volume and hence more space for vegetation. This problem is widely covered by the topical literature, as mowing has an individual dimension to it; for private lawn owners, it would just require mowing less to achieve better ES outcomes (Watson et al., 2019, p. 437). All in all, low-intensity lawn management is shown as a simple way to decrease maintenance costs (which, as shown above, are quite significant), promote urban biodiversity, decrease the urban heat island effect, limit weed and pest invasions (that are often highly allergenic), and finally reduce carbon emissions (Watson et al., 2019, p. 444).

A picture of a folding chair sitting in a field of flowers
Figure 4: From lawn to meadow in private gardens (Smith & Fellowes, 2013).

Additionally, all of this can be done without allocating entirely new spaces to urban greenery, but actually focusing on what we can change in the existing ones. The constraints of the new era of improved lawns are of political, cultural, and aesthetic nature (Francoeur et al., 2021, p. 7). However, as highlighted by Hosey, it is time to blend our cultural and aesthetic values with the environmental ones, which will hopefully be followed by policies that support such an approach. Only under such conditions can we ever achieve Steffen’s planetary stewardship goal.

Conclusion

The word potential in the title of this essay points to the hope of moving away from the cultural and aesthetic foundation of the lawn industry. While the contemporary lawn still carries the story of social and economic inequalities that propagated the commonly accepted aesthetic of high-intensity management of grasslands, more and more attention is drawn to how little sense this aesthetic actually makes nowadays. Under the contemporary circumstances of the desperate need for ES in cities in the dawn of climate catastrophes, we cannot afford anymore, both economically and environmentally, to hold on to this detrimental ideal of a perfectly mowed, one-coloured (and hence single-species) grass in our front yards, backyards and in our public spaces. The potential for a new era in the lawn industry, as well as in other LHGI, lies in the simplicity of the solutions proposed by scholars. Every individual lawn owner can incorporate and benefit economically.

The same goes for public institutions and municipalities that spend enormous amounts on lawn management, as shown above. Complexifying lawns is not a difficult  task from a technical perspective, and it involves spaces that are already there, which highlights the aforementioned potential of cities in homogenising and enhancing regional biodiversity. All we need is a wider understanding of the context of the prevailing aesthetic, its historical roots, and its economic and environmental consequences.

Fortunately, the interest in ES is growing and with it, the number of people who put thought into the green spaces that surround them. Outside of the academic environment, people are popularising knowledge presented in this essay on social media and in online articles for passionate amateur gardeners. The aesthetic of a meadow is becoming increasingly popular among city dwellers and urban planners (Skłodowski, 2019). Even Netflix has recently added to its selection a documentary entitled British Garden: Life and Death on your Lawn which exposes the richness of life and the value of biodiversity in suburban gardens. Hopefully, it will draw the attention of a wider audience to the problem of lawns, but it is difficult to speak optimistically about this issue.

On one hand, the debate is engaging more and more people in rethinking the way they go about their gardens and urban dwellers and planners start seeing the advantages of urban meadows and incorporating them into their approach. On the other hand, many people with a very different approach come to the conclusion that the best solution is to install artificial grass in their yards. This is either because they only care about the economic consequences of lawn-keeping and want to save money on mowing and watering, or because they fall for greenwashing strategies of the artificial lawn producers who attract customers by highlighting how bad the real lawns are for the environment. As such, they bring in the arguments of the carbon footprint from mowing and water usage that goes into lawn management. They only fail to mention that their product, even if cheaper and requiring no care, is merely plastic and completely useless for biodiversity, heat mitigation, and other ecosystem services (Sztuczny trawnik – czy warto kupić? Zielony Ogródek, 2019).

We can only anticipate that it is the first, not the second approach that will dominate the enormous industry of lawns, and ultimately change their story from the story of inequalities and green deserts to the story of realised potential.

Alicja Wójcik
Brussels

On The Nature of Cities

References

Chollet, S., Brabant, C., Tessier, S., & Jung, V. (2018). From urban lawns to urban meadows: Reduction of mowing frequency increases plant taxonomic, functional and phylogenetic diversity. Landscape and Urban Planning, 180, 121–124. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.landurbplan.2018.08.009

Figure 2: Museum of Islamic Art Park in Doha, Qatar. Radisson Blu Blog. (n.d.). Retrieved June 9, 2022, from https://blog.radissonblu.com/best-family-friendly-parks-doha/museum-of-islamic-art-park-in-doha-qatar/

Figure 3: Ortega, L. (2021, June 15). Zastanów się zanim Ostrzyżesz Trawnik! . Twitter. Retrieved June 9, 2022, from https://twitter.com/ortegadry/status/1404792037975760900?s=20&t=cpPV37Rfd-YnLzXPCvPu0Q&fbclid=IwAR322c-R5UuSW_c4jN75i0Az45zDEhFdz0bFHV6JMynew9TNxWOBJRUJSKc

Francoeur, X. W., Dagenais, D., Paquette, A., Dupras, J., & Messier, C. (2021). Complexifying the urban lawn improves heat mitigation and arthropod biodiversity. Urban Forestry & Urban Greening, 60, 127007. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.ufug.2021.127007

Grimm, N. B., Faeth, S. H., Golubiewski, N. E., Redman, C. L., Wu, J., Bai, X., & Briggs, J. M. (2008). Global change and the ecology of Cities. Science, 319(5864), 756–760. https://doi.org/10.1126/science.1150195

Hosey, L., Rasmus-Zgorzelska, A., & Janicka, D. (2021). Kształt Zieleni: O estetyce, ekologii I Projektowaniu. Wysoki Zamek.

Kosić czy nie kosić? Miasto Jest Nasze. (2019). Retrieved June 8, 2022, from https://miastojestnasze.org/kosic-czy-nie-kosic/

Seto, K. C., Parnell, S., & Elmqvist, T. (2013). A global outlook on urbanization. Urbanization, Biodiversity and Ecosystem Services: Challenges and Opportunities, 1–12. https://doi.org/10.1007/978-94-007-7088-1_1

Skłodowski, M. (2019). Te Szkodniki Wyglądają Niewinnie. O szkodliwości koszenia | Fundacja Łąka. Retrieved June 8, 2022, from https://laka.org.pl/laka-kwietna/o-szkodliwosci-koszenia/

Smith, L. S., & Fellowes, M. D. (2013). Towards a lawn without grass: The journey of the imperfect lawn and its analogues. Studies in the History of Gardens & Designed Landscapes, 33(3), 157–169. https://doi.org/10.1080/14601176.2013.799314

Steffen, W., Persson, Å., Deutsch, L., Zalasiewicz, J., Williams, M., Richardson, K., Crumley, C., Crutzen, P., Folke, C., Gordon, L., Molina, M., Ramanathan, V., Rockström, J., Scheffer, M., Schellnhuber, H. J., & Svedin, U. (2011). The anthropocene: From global change to planetary stewardship. AMBIO, 40(7), 739–761. https://doi.org/10.1007/s13280-011-0185-x

Sztuczny trawnik – czy warto kupić? Zielony Ogródek. (2019). Retrieved June 8, 2022, from https://zielonyogrodek.pl/ogrod/trawniki/5173-sztuczny-trawnik-czy-warto-kupic

Velthof, G.L., J.P. Lesschen, R.L.M. Schils, A. Smit, B.S. Elbersen, G.W. Hazeu, C.A. Mucher, and O. Oenema (2014). Grassland areas, production and use. Methodological studies in the field of Agro-Environmental Indicators. Eurostat

Watson, C. J., Carignan‐Guillemette, L., Turcotte, C., Maire, V., & Proulx, R. (2019). Ecological and economic benefits of low‐Intensity Urban Lawn Management. Journal of Applied Ecology, 57(2), 436–446. https://doi.org/10.1111/1365-2664.13542

The Tree for All Journey: Rethinking Urban Growth At the Landscape Scale

Many voices. Greener cities. Better cities.
Facing the ecological dilemma created by urban growth and climate events means moving from pilot projects to landscape-scale conservation.
It’s a beautiful spring day as I sit on the bank of Fanno Creek watching a family of wood ducks motor across the glassy surface of a three-acre beaver pond. A Blue Heron stands in the backwater finding nourishment from the juvenile fish hiding among the willows while a pond turtle suns itself on a log felled by one of Mother Nature’s keystone engineers. Songbirds bring their voices as they find their breakfast within the abundant native vegetation surrounding this oasis in the middle of a thriving urban community. Behind me are hundreds of residential homes, and across the pond I see the reflection of a bustling industrial complex with warehouses and businesses. It’s not long before I hear a family of human inhabitants strolling along a footpath with children in tow. Just like the birds, I hear happy voices as they talk about the array of interesting wildlife they see along this human highway.

Great Blue Heron at Fern Hill Wetlands (2015). Photo: Michael Nipper
To catch a glimpse of the wildlife that is returning to Greenway Park at Fanno Creek, take a peek at our “critter cam” video.
This is a very special place for me. A dozen years ago, this same location was a deep ditch with little vegetation, no shade, and only a trickle of water. Back then, there were certainly no ducks to be seen or song birds to be heard. There were also no children playing in the shade or cyclists enjoying their fresh-air commute. It was a dry, barren place that was hot in the summer and a floodway in the winter. However, this story is not about one singular project. Fanno Creek is only one example of more than 400 projects completed in the Tualatin Watershed of northwestern Oregon by Tree for All.

Riparian enhancement at Englewood Park at Fanno Creek, 2008-2012

Tree for All is one of the USA’s largest and most successful landscape conservation programs. In the past 12 years, Tree for All has successfully restored over 120 river miles (10 plus river miles annually) across more than 25,000 acres in the rural and urban communities of Washington County, Oregon.

If you’re interested in learning more, check out this video about Tree for All partners and the tree planting challenge that started it all.
Creating a conservation program capable of acting on a watershed scale has been an interesting journey, and it becomes particularly inspiring when you consider the stressors of interesting weather events and rapid urbanization as well as the scale of action needed to create a resilient and healthy watershed. Looking back on this journey, we have identified 11 keys to landscape conservation that have guided Tree for All’s success, with the hope that they may help guide similar efforts. This essay will address three of the key elements for creating a landscape conservation program that is capable of acting on a scale that ensures watershed health now and for future generations: common community vision, partnerships, speaking a common language.

Common community vision: what’s good for Mother Nature is good for humans too

If others want to replicate the program, they need to understand that you have to get community buy-in to be successful. Tree For All is a collaborative effort that takes many jurisdictions. Folks from the public sectors, schools and others, they all have to buy into it.
— Andy Duyck, Washington County Commission Chair

Our natural resources provide many benefits to humans, such as clean drinking water, healthy air, and nourishing foods. In addition, we require efficient transportation networks and cultural diversity to create resilient, thriving human communities. As we play witness to hundreds of restoration projects, it becomes clear that local wildlife has many similar needs. A grey squirrel needs a network of natural vegetation to provide food and transportation, allowing it to cross the watershed without ever touching the ground. Lacking such highways, that squirrel experiences the same dilemma as humans when we see a “road closed” sign with no detour.

These wildlife highways cross urban, rural, and forested landscapes where humans also reap great benefits from natural resources. Floodplains are an example of an ecosystem that provides a water highway for migratory birds, fish and other wildlife. The restoration of these “water highways” also benefit human communities by providing flood mitigation, carbon sequestration, water filtration, and recreational areas for activities such as fishing or boating.

In agricultural areas, clean air and water, healthy soil and pollinators propagate our human foods. Native plant buffers on agricultural land are an example of a way that communities can help wildlife and humans thrive. When we plant strips of native plants along water margins, they provide shade, slow runoff, and absorb nutrients from agricultural land. Just as humans need clean water, so do the fish and wildlife that greatly benefit from the water cleansing benefits of native plant buffers. Indeed, the benefits of native vegetation buffers—cleaner air and water, shade from the urban heat island effect—also extend to the children who walk along Fanno Creek observing egrets and Pacific tree frogs.

Time and time again we have found that if we help to restore native vegetation, Mother Nature is capable of doing the rest. When Mother Nature is given the opportunity to succeed, wildlife and human communities thrive together.

All smiles at a Watershed Health Walk at Fernhill Wetlands (2017). Photo: Sheepscot Creative

Partnerships: Working together, we each gain strength while enhancing community benefits

Tree for All is possible because of the partnerships that were established over the last ten years. That’s how you get a million plants into the ground. It took people reaching out and asking others to help—and by doing that, we now have this whole social system that revolves around getting this kind of work done.
— Carla Staedter, Environmental Coordinator, City of Tigard

A beaver pond creates an interesting partnership between the wildlife and native vegetation of Fanno Creek. Waterfowl find a welcoming home to raise their families when water is available and native vegetation helps create the habitat needed for turtles, songbirds and fish. Each of these creatures rely on each other to provide food, habitat and water, which puts in motion the makings of a healthy and vibrant watershed. However, this setting meets an interesting challenge when we consider the role humans can play in this story. This role can either be a controlling dictatorship, or, preferably, that of another watershed partner that finds nourishment in their association with local wildlife.

Like many words in the English language, the term “partnership” has many definitions. Tree For All has created its own definition that can best be told by a story about a stranded traveler with a flat tire on a hot dusty road in central Oregon.

A stranded traveler stands beside his car with tire iron in hand, a sweaty brow, and the dejected look of person missing a jack to change his flat tire. It’s not long, however, before a fellow traveler sees this situation and stops to help. With pen and paper in hand, he jumps out of his car to lend this troubled traveler a helping hand. He asks about the make, model, and gross weight of his car and quickly jots the information down. Turning to the troubled traveler, he quickly assures him that he will order a jack in the next town and have it sent back to him. Smiling, this Good Samaritan jumps back in his car and speeds away. He is happy knowing he helped a struggling traveler.

It’s not long before another helper stops to lend aid to the flat-stricken traveler by handing him a bottle of cold water. He smiles as he drives away, watching in his rearview mirror as the struggling traveler thirstily downs the bottle of water. He feels good that he was able to help.

The next traveler is a different character. He is the owner of the local drive-in a few miles back, and every weekend he makes a strawberry milkshake and takes a leisurely drive in the country with the top down on his convertible. Seeing the same situation as the previous travelers, he also stops to lend aid. He hands the weary traveler his milkshake and tells him to drink and sit in the shade while he gathers the jack from his convertible and changes the tire.

When I think about creating great partnerships, they begin with a kind gesture and an offer to meet and exceed expectations. In this story, both travelers reaped value from this interaction. After the incident, the flat-stricken traveler made it a point to bring his family to the drive-in and tell his friends about the thoughtful drive-in owner. Both parties saw great value in this relationship knowing each benefited from this opportunity. It can be easy to stumble at times when we forget to meet partners where they stand.

Through such partnerships, the people of Tualatin Watershed are transforming the landscape, averaging more than 10 river miles of restoration annually (195 km in the past 12 years) across more than 25,000 acres. Here are some examples of Tree for All partnerships and how they are working together to further their individual goals while enhancing the benefits that natural resources provide to the community:

MetroMetro is a regional government and planning agency in the Portland metropolitan area. Metro’s mission to connect high quality stream corridor and wetland habitats across the Tualatin River Watershed has resulted in the protection of almost 5,000 acres of natural areas. Its collaboration with Clean Water Services and other partners on more than a dozen natural areas including Wapato View, Maroon Ponds, and Gales Creek Forest Grove Natural Areas has been instrumental in achieving Tree for All goals. These projects leverage multiple funding sources and create a bigger impact than each organization could complete on its own. By allowing access and combined planning efforts, Metro helps Tree for All achieve a core goal of improving water quality, while enabling Metro to complete enhancement across entire properties where other priorities would have meant leaving them incomplete.

Friends of Trees: Friends of Trees is a nonprofit dedicated to empowering communities to improve the natural world by planting trees. By gathering an army of volunteers every weekend during planting season, Friends of Trees plays a pivotal role in the success of Tree for All. In 2015 alone, Friends of Trees mustered more than 17,000 volunteer hours with a value of $375,000. A decade of partnership translates into millions of dollars leveraged, and thousands of urban Washington County residents connected to water resources.

Tualatin Hills Parks and Recreation District: Tualatin Hills Park and Recreation District (THPRD) is a pivotal partner with more than 1,300 acres of natural areas in Beaverton and adjacent areas. One example is a 35-acre complex on Bronson Creek, owned by THPRD since the early 1990s. The complex improves habitat diversity and water quality in the area while complementing and connecting with nearby restoration projects. By forging this partnership and harnessing multiple interests, the benefits are tangible and growing, all at lower cost than if we each did it alone. Through this partnership, THPRD is making a big contribution to sustaining and enhancing the Tualatin Watershed where residents may live and work in harmony with the environment.

Tualatin Soil and Water Conservation District: Twelve years ago, we saw the first farmer sign up for a new riparian restoration program developed jointly by the local farming community, foresters, environmental groups, and Clean Water Services. By year three, this program caught its stride, leveraging millions of additional Federal

To learn more about our partnership with farmers in the Tualatin River Watershed, check out this video about our agriculture partners.
Money from the U.S. Congress’ “Farm Bill” dollars allows the Tualatin Soil and Water Conservation District to offer a voluntary and truly integrated agricultural incentive program. Today, this transformative partnership simultaneously delivers irrigation efficiency, wetlands enhancement, integrated pest management, cooling shade, wildlife habitat and farm conservation plans that address nutrient/pest management and soil erosion. This partnership has restored more than 35 agricultural river miles to date, involving more than 10,000 acres on 80+ farms, while bringing many additional benefits to the farmers and Mother Nature.

Speaking a common language: using a voice that engages and inspires

What’s happening in Washington County is not an accident. We’ve got an incredible effort of all different organizations working together towards one thing, and that is to work with Mother Nature. But we’re all doing that with the understanding that those benefits to each and everyone of us are far, far greater—and it’s not just to us. It’s to the future generations.
– Carolyn McCormick, President and CEO, Washington County Visitors Association

The slap of a beaver’s tail on the surface of the pond sends ducks scurrying, the turtle diving and the songbirds chirping. A red tailed hawk decides to stop and say hello. Isn’t it fascinating how that one voice/tail engaged and inspired such a diverse audience?

How many times do we humans shoot ourselves in the foot when we forget to communicate with a voice that engages and inspires? When I think about my conversations with school children, farmers, and government representatives, it can be challenge to communicate the importance of watershed health using a single message that resonates with all of these groups. It requires accounting for their concerns, speaking to the common values we all share, and conveying the benefits we all experience when we invest in our natural resources. The truth is, we all need clean air, water and healthy soil to be resilient and happy. There are many ways of telling the story about the interconnection between humans and our environment. Tree for All has found great success in telling that story through the many different voices of our partners while speaking a common language through engaging stories and inspiring conversations. This voice becomes very important as partners from diverse backgrounds come to the table to share resources and their experiences across broad landscapes.

Click these links to hear stories from Tree for All’s community, ecology, and economic partners.
Kayakers enjoying a paddle on the Tualatin River (2017). Photo: Sheepscot Creative

As we witness the many stressors associated with interesting weather events and the human desire to grow and prosper, Tree for All partners have clearly demonstrated that it is possible work locally and create the actions needed for watershed resiliency. The next essay in this series will elaborate on how Tree for All catalyzes this community impact through business innovation and co-investment, targeting efforts that provide the best return on investment, and planning for the interests of future generations.

Bruce Roll
Portland

On The Nature of Cities

 

Left: A tan rock apartment building. Right: A brick house with a hedge.

The Two Planets of Urban Heat

Many voices. Greener cities. Better cities.
The rich, air-conditioned planet deserves to be mocked by climate activities. Rather than gluing themselves to random famous paintings, it might be more appropriate to start shaming stores running air conditioning on high, while leaving their doors open to the street. Or protesting the artificial snow at Dubai’s indoor ski slopes. These actions would target for ridicule those whose actions are directly connected to climate inequality.

India is roasting, with some cities like Delhi pushing to almost 50 degrees C (122 degrees F). In India’s recent election, at least 33 poll workers died while doing mostly compulsory work to administer the election in sweltering polling places. All told, there have probably been thousands or tens of thousands of people who have died in the heat wave, as measured by epidemiologists who look at the number of excess deaths above the usual background mortality rate. What breaks my heart most about these deaths is the separate, unequal planets of humanity with regard to urban heat. No one needs to die during a heat wave. There is a clear cause of mortality: a lack of ways to cool the air, at least in emergency cooling centers, and a lack of adequate medical care for those who cannot get there and are vulnerable, often the elderly or those with pre-existing conditions. Or those, like the Indian poll workers, who must work through the brutal heat. Cities in the developing world, which will face the highest absolute temperatures, will have the least economic capacity to cope.

In contrast, citizens of the richest countries live on another planet. There are still climate-change-induced heat waves in those cities of course, and indeed the largest increases in summer temperatures from climate change are often forecast for high-latitude cities in developed countries. However, higher availability of air conditioning and better medical systems help residents of the rich, cool planet. Heat action planning on this planet is still essential, but focuses on protecting outdoor workers or planning for overloaded electrical grids from high demand during heat waves, as residents crank the air conditioning. On this rich, cool planet, the death rate during an equivalently severe heat wave might be one-tenth or less of what it is in India.

I think a lot about urban trees, as one way to cool outdoor air temperatures. A row of street trees, as they shade impervious surfaces and transpire water, might reduce nearby air temperatures by 2 degrees C or more. And yet, those living on this poorer, hotter planet generally have less tree cover than those living in developed countries. Cities in developing countries tend to be denser, and so have less space for trees, and their governments have fewer financial resources to spend on tree planting and maintenance. But these are precisely the cities that need tree cover more since they are more vulnerable to climate change. In comparison, tree cover on the rich, cool planet—while still important for community health—is relatively less essential for survival, simply because of the greater penetration of air conditioning. And yet, this is the planet with cities with greater tree cover!

Left: A tan rock apartment building. Right: A brick house with a hedge.
Left: Quisling Clinic (Quisling Terrace Apartments), Gorham Street and Wisconsin Avenue, Mansion Hill, Madison, WI. Credit: Warren LeMay,
Right: Executive homes, Station Road, Tring. Credit: David Sands

This inequality, this story of two different worlds, also can be found within cities. My own research has focused on the United States, looking at a large sample of almost 6000 communities across the country. In 93% of American cities, poor neighborhoods have less tree cover than rich neighborhoods, on average 15% less tree cover. This inequality extends to neighborhoods that are predominantly the home of people of color (POC). In a recent paper,  my colleagues and I found that every year, there are 190 more deaths annually and 30,000 more people made ill annually in POC neighborhoods than would be if they simply had the tree cover of equivalently dense non-Hispanic white neighborhoods. Similarly, POC neighborhoods consume 1.4 Terawatt-hours more electricity simply because of this tree gap.

If we turn our attention to the future, to adapting to climate change, we find that the neighborhoods that don’t have enough tree cover now, which are often poorer and predominately POC with a high population density, are those with the highest return on investment of tree planting. In these denser neighborhoods, the costs of tree planting are generally outweighed by the health benefits during heat waves, let alone the other benefits that trees provide. This is less of the case for suburbs, often richer and predominately non-Hispanic white, where the lower population density means each tree benefits fewer people during heat waves. In other words, the neighborhoods most in need of trees, where nature-based solutions to heat are most viable, are the ones with the least political power in the United States. Sadly, municipal tree planting and maintenance efforts (and certainly those on private lands) sometimes follow patterns of money and power, to neighborhoods that need the trees less.

Heat will likely be the deadliest manifestation of climate change in the coming decades. Heat already kills more than 356,000 people per year, more than any other weather-related factor. By 2100, 48-76% of humanity will be exposed to extreme heat every summer. But the people most in power globally economically and politically, who could most help push through substantive climate mitigation (avoiding the worst extremes of climate change) and climate adaptation (preparing for the coming warmer world), live in a bubble. Residents of the rich, cool world (and I am also speaking about myself here) live in a bubble of cool, artificial areas. Many of us work on a laptop from home or in a white-color office that is similarly air-conditioned. The lived experience of an Indian poll worker, or, for that matter, that of a US construction worker, is often missing from the consciousness of those of us who live on the rich, cool planet.

We must start bridging these two worlds. We need universal access to cool air for all, at least during emergencies when it is a matter of life and death. This implies an increase in air conditioning capacity, which will need to be energy efficient to avoid a huge increase in electricity consumption and the greenhouse gas emissions that would go along with it. This is the core of the Global Cooling Pledge, which promises to reduce cooling-related emissions by 68%, significantly increase access to sustainable cooling, and increase the average efficiency of new air conditioners by 50%. We also of course need to increase tree canopy cover, increasing it in the neighborhoods that need it most, whether in developing or developed countries.

We also need to somehow improve communication between the two planets. There is a place for good reporting or filmmaking here, art that captures the crushing experience of heat on the poor, hot planet. The rich, cool planet (of which again, I admit I am a resident) deserves to be mocked by climate activities. Rather than gluing themselves to random famous paintings, it might be more appropriate to start shaming stores running air conditioning on high, while leaving their doors open to the street, their cool air wastefully flowing out. Or protesting the artificial snow at Dubai’s indoor ski slopes. These actions would at least target for ridicule those whose actions are directly connected to climate inequality, in our separate and unequal two planets of urban heat.

 

Rob McDonald
Basel

On The Nature of Cities

The UN in the Urban Anthropocene

Many voices. Greener cities. Better cities.

Today, we live in the ‘Urban Anthropocene’. This expression combines the global trend towards urbanization and the neologism ‘Anthropocene’, the term an ecologist would be forced to use these days to describe Homo sapiens as the key structuring species that could determine, alone, the fate of Earth’s life forms. For better or worse, it’s become clear that the way this strange species grows, and accelerates the cycles of nature to serve its own needs, will define whether the planet will evolve towards greater diversity and relative stability (a recurrent association in past human history), or loss of ecological balance and (quite well defined scientifically) significant loss of biodiversity, as has happened a few times over the last 4 billion years. Likewise, an ecologist would agree that this species is highly gregarious and, since 2007, its majority concentrates in sprawling and increasingly vertical self-constructed settlements that consume natural goods and services such as food, water, temperature regulation and many others brought from increasingly distant places through the use of energy from fossil fuels, but also foster innovation and creativity, and can lead to economies of scale at an unprecedented level. The future of the Earth is defined by the future of urban settlements. Thus, what is the best way to try to govern the Urban Anthropocene? Is the present structure of the United Nations (UN) up to the task of helping its peoples in the governance challenges we have in the years ahead?

Certainly we need a global legitimate organization like the UN to support the coordination of global efforts. But this is not enough. Global efforts will have impacts on the ground only if we have good local governance in a significant large number of localities. Thus, understanding the mechanisms governing urbanization, arguably as the largest human movement in history, is key to protecting the global environment, and for global politics and governance systems. Just as the UN needs to change to accommodate the new global “aid architecture” resulting from the enduring economic crisis and the increasing influence of  “BRICS+” countries (Brazil, Russia, India, China, and South Africa, expanded to include other emerging economies such as, but not limited to, Mexico, Turkey and Indonesia), it should also change and adapt to a world where “networked” local and subnational levels of action and governance are increasingly becoming determinants for success in sustainable development. Decision makers in cities are the nerve cells (in an organism), or the genetic replication/transcription systems (in cells) of human impact on land and nature in all scales.

The urban anthropocene. Photo: Osman Balaban
The urban anthropocene. Photo: Osman Balaban

Particularly after reading all the articles on this blog, we would also need to recognize that the governance of many of the relevant processes defining which way we go as a species reside in the interstices between many levels of governance, with emphasis on the urban level where most of us live. It won’t be hard to find recent official UN language with what are today accepted “soundbites”: national governments cannot walk the talk of sustainability alone; the creative energy of cities, and the process of urbanization itself, are determining forces in our future. The recent movement for an entire Sustainable Development Goal (SDG) on urban settlements is just its latest symptom, as are statements like “the campaign for Life on Earth will be won, or lost, in cities”. Several of the Convention on Biological Diversity (CBD) Addis Ababa Principles and Guidelines for Sustainable Use of Biodiversity (notably 1, which speaks of the need for congruence between national and subnational levels of government; 2, addressing the empowerment and accountability of local players; and 7, speaking about the need for coherence in governance levels and the scales of use and impact) indicate that the decentralization of governance should be compatible with mandates and capacity to address issues.

Is the UN doing enough to accommodate this clear trend? How creatively, urgently or constructively are players discussing such an essential issue? What are the main challenges for increased cooperation in the UN with subnational and local authorities? Well, in principle the answer is that there is increasing participation and awareness, and that decentralization of decisions and responsibilities are happening by global trend, independent of politics. Still we dare say that the evolution towards a more realistic distribution of decisions and responsibilities is happening much quicker at national than at regional and/or global (i.e. UN) levels. And concretely, the current official UN representation of subnational and local governments is clear: other than those parallel events (such as the CBD’s City and Subnational Governments Summits, informal discussions platforms, partnerships with associations or Plans of Actions like the CBD’s – exceptions as we know), there’s not much progress. Some provocative local councillors we know would point to the need for something akin to “taxation with representation” in the UN.

In recent work, we have also become aware of the following points (not yet scientifically proven for all levels, but compiling evidence for this could be a decent enough challenge):

a) Local and subnational governments are not civil society groups (or major groups in the UN jargon), nor should their associations be called NGOs, as sub-national and local authorities represent governments: political and administrative organizations legitimated by their own people through their national political system. Clearly they have special mandates complementary to those of national and federal governments. Indeed they are best placed to control crucial issues such as watershed management and land-use zoning, business, infrastructure and housing development, regulation and enforcement, and coordination of efforts in participation, communication, education, and awareness raising of citizens. States/Provinces are natural landscape managers (watersheds, forests, mosaics of different land uses like Biosphere Reserves or Regional Natural Parks usually are managed and financed by subnational and local governments), and have a mandate for coordinating actions by municipalities. As such, local and subnational governments should be given an appropriate position in UN-level negotiations, at least at the status of “special partner”. If SIDS, LDCs and ILCs have already been granted special status in some multilateral agreements, why not parts of governments themselves, through the use of creative arrangements that preserve UN member States’ sovereign mandates and UN protocol?

b) National budgets are formed, and executed, to a significant degree, by local and subnational authorities. Indeed, a graph of public procurement in anything (the largest budget allocations, such as housing/infrastructure development, salaries and/or education/health, but also much smaller ones like biodiversity or protected areas) across governance levels would look something like a cone with its point at the top (i.e. large amounts of taxes are collected by or at the jurisdiction of subnational/local levels, such as VATs and some income, and then transferred to federal accounts). While the role of national governments is clear in setting UN and global parameters and policies and negotiating in the international arena on environment and development issues like biodiversity, large part of all global expenditures are actually made at the local level (and expenditures could be correlated with activity levels). Many sub-national governments have access (through an endorsement at national level) to grants and loans from international organizations. The same will probably be found to apply to law enforcement, CEPA and capacity building, among other topics.

Those challenges are not easy. First, the sheer scale of coordination and capacity building tasks is daunting. There are around 1 million mayors and something like 50,000 governors, not to speak of various other public executive categories (relatively autonomous regions, counties, local-level associations, dependencies and territories, overseas islands, etc.), but only around 200 UN member States. Then, of course, even if such capacity could be fully supported, local/urban governance is a necessary, BUT NOT SUFFICIENT condition for moving localities to more sustainable development, as national governments would still hold important responsibilities in the constitution of many countries — and their own capacity to coordinate with thousands of local authorities is not assured…

Second, we are clearly as far from good governance at local level as we are at national scale, particularly in developing countries. We need to recognize that the UN has well-known challenges in governance and efficiency itself. Most of the agencies are underfunded (UN Habitat in particular) for their mandates. In fact, global governance through the UN is always limited by design: no national government wants the UN to step beyond their sovereignty, nor could they accept equal voting right for subnational authorities responding to strict mandates at national level (negotiations in IUCN on subnational vote a couple of years ago are a good example). Furthermore, Brazil, for instance, has around 5,500 municipalities, yet arguably much less than a fifth are institutionally strong and viable to be financially independent with the present institutional arrangements. Even successful efforts like the CBD Global Partnership on Subnational and Local Action for Biodiversity, or ICLEI and UCLG involve only a minority of local authorities, may be even a few hundreds or thousands, well under 1% of the whole. On the other hand, the UN, just like all governments, is like that old VW beetle some of us still have at least in memory: it’s not perfect, may even have serious problems, but in general we know how to fix it and anyway it’s all we’ve got to travel a long trip. So improve it we should, and must.

Photo: Jose Puppim de Oliveira
Photo: Jose Puppim de Oliveira

What can be done? 

The power of coordinated efforts, even if at limited level, is overwhelming. Naturally, cities and States converge in the UN through two “kinds” of networks: coherent “coalitions of the willing”, engaged “locomotive” minorities proposing ways ahead and pilot projects (networks, ICLEI, etc.) and wider, more representative (and thus less focused) networks such as UCLG, who are more consultative and generally react when one or two issues impact MOST of the members enough to generate consensus for action. By involving them more broadly and institutionally in the UN according to their mandate, we can advance on what we call a more decentralized (i.e. “polycentric”) approach. We can design parallel interfaces of negotiation. Different territories have different institutions in place that could be made more effective for the changes we want, but for that we need to “couple” our UN-level efforts with those of non-UN institutions that are already on the ground to support them in their efforts in the best way we can. We could also focus on improving the spending effectiveness of international aid further through increased substantive, if not financial, contributions of subnational and local governments including coordination with, and recognition of, the impressive amounts of decentralized cooperation already underway. Given that the UN’s reform will be slow and funding will never be enough to address all challenges, what innovative ideas can we propose for the likes of ICLEI (i.e. coalitions of leading and innovative local authorities on sustainable development issues) to break through the “International donors-national governments” limits more efficiently for the benefit of all?

We could go even further. In the late 1910s, organized labor and the “spectre that haunted Europe” (representing a growing power of employed consumers increasingly aware of their role as citizens) contributed to an innovative arrangements in the International Labor Organization (ILO), today a “tripartite” organization in which labor and business are equally represented with national authorities. The World Tourism Organization (UNWTO) has tourism businesses and their associations as associate members. How could we strengthen the relevant UN agencies (more strategy, planning and policy-focused like UN-HABITAT but also implementation-centered like UNDP) institutionally, in their current cooperation levels with subnational players? How could we adapt and build on the still limited examples of subnational involvement in the CBD and Ramsar towards all of the world’s hundreds of multilateral environmental agreements?

Our perception is that if the member countries of the UN do not seize the opportunity and energy of involving subnational and local governments in global UN governance, parallel (and often not well coordinated) processes risk taking the limelight, a kind of “shadow UN” of subnational and local authorities. And we could do much better to avoid this, with benefits to all. We look forward to 2014, with the CBD COP 12 in the Republic of Korea and its Summit of cities and subnational governments, with the World Urban Forum in Medellin, Colombia, and the HABITAT III process, and we look forward to a much stronger subnational component for the formulation and implementation of the UN’s Sustainable Development Goals, all to improve the governance of our Urban Anthropocene.

 Oliver Hillel & Jose Puppim
Montreal

Jose Puppim

About the Writer:
Jose A. Puppim de Oliveira

Jose A. Puppim de Oliveira is a faculty member at FGV (Fundação Getulio Vargas), Brazil. He is also Visiting Chair Professor at the Institute for Global Public Policy (IGPP), Fudan University, China. His experience comprises research, consultancy, and policy work in more than 20 countries in all continents.

The UN’s Biodiversity Targets Cannot Be Achieved Without Cities. Here’s Why…

Many voices. Greener cities. Better cities.

In 2010, the 193 national governments that were then party to the Convention on Biological Diversity (CBD) adopted a decision to endorse the “Strategic Plan for Biodiversity 2011-2020”—to guide their actions towards stemming the biodiversity crisis over the following 10 years. Within the Strategic Plan are contained 20 specific “Aichi Biodiversity Targets”, dealing with each area that requires attention in order to achieve the original objectives of the Convention: the conservation of biological diversity; the sustainable use of the components of biological diversity; and the fair and equitable sharing of the benefits arising out of the utilization of genetic resources. The Strategic Plan has become well known now and forms the basis of much of the reporting and planning conducted by the Parties.

The same meeting that produced the Strategic Plan also produced a decision endorsing a “Plan of Action on Subnational Governments, Cities and Other Local Authorities for Biodiversity (2011-2020)”. This Plan of Action outlines ways in which national governments can support their local and subnational counterparts’ contributions to achieving the goals and targets of the Strategic Plan.

Despite mirroring the Strategic Plan, however, ongoing efforts are required to build awareness of the Plan of Action’s importance in achieving it. At the same time, every single one of the Aichi Biodiversity Targets relies at least partly on cities for its achievement. The fact is that cities contain the majority of the world’s population; are responsible for a disproportionate majority of its production and consumption; are growing at an unprecedented rate in terms of population and area. So the targets the Parties are pursuing at the national level rely on the contribution and cooperation of the world’s cities and citizens.

Here follows a target-by-target account of why cities are so relevant to the targets, and why Parties cannot afford to leave them out of their pursuit of their achievement.

Strategic goal A: Address the underlying causes of biodiversity loss by mainstreaming biodiversity across government and society

AICHI-ALLTarget 1: “By 2020, at the latest, people are aware of the values of biodiversity and the steps they can take to conserve and use it sustainably.” 

Awareness-raising is perhaps the most basic requirement underpinning all of the Aichi Biodiversity Targets, and cities are where most of the audience resides. That goes especially for the more empowered audience, including government of all levels and corporations. Cities are where the vast majority of knowledge institutions and other mechanisms for communicating the biodiversity message are found. Nowhere else can the message more easily be delivered en masse, and nowhere else is its en masse delivery more important.

02Target 2: “By 2020, at the latest, biodiversity values have been integrated into national and local development and poverty reduction strategies and planning processes and are being incorporated into national accounting, as appropriate, and reporting systems.

This Target alludes to the role of local government, perhaps in recognition of the fact that development and poverty eradication strategies are largely implemented by local authorities. It also alludes to the valuation of biodiversity. Valuation is pertinent to cities because more accurate, and therefore more useful, valuation data can be produced at the local level; and because cities, which to some appear so separate to nature, in fact contain more people dependent on it than the rest of the planet’s population combined.

03Target 3: “By 2020, at the latest, incentives, including subsidies, harmful to biodiversity are eliminated, phased out or reformed in order to minimize or avoid negative impacts, and positive incentives for the conservation and sustainable use of biodiversity are developed and applied, consistent and in harmony with the Convention and other relevant international obligations, taking into account national socio‑economic conditions.”

City governments, to varying degrees depending on their context, have powers to introduce incentives or remove disincentives to benefit biodiversity. For example, in South Africa, eThekwini Municipality’s Environmental Management Department has worked with the municipal Treasury Department to develop a rating policy to remove disincentives to retain vacant, conservation-worthy land. Consider the potential of multiplying local efforts by the number of local governments (eight metropolitan, 44 district and 226 local municipalities in the case of South Africa) in any given country.

04Target 4: By 2020, at the latest, Governments, business and stakeholders at all levels have taken steps to achieve or have implemented plans for sustainable production and consumption and have kept the impacts of use of natural resources well within safe ecological limits. 

Cities, due to their relatively high concentrations of wealth and despite their efficiencies and potential for greater efficiency, are responsible for about three quarters of the world’s consumption of resources (Global Initiative for Resource Efficient Cities). Only 600 cities are responsible for more than half of the global GDP (Urban world: Mapping the economic power of cities). Cities therefore offer profound potential for positive impact if their citizens make the right choices.

Strategic goal B: Reduce the direct pressures on biodiversity and promote sustainable use 

05Target 5: By 2020, the rate of loss of all natural habitats, including forests, is at least halved and where feasible brought close to zero, and degradation and fragmentation is significantly reduced.

This is one of several targets that are relevant to cities because of statistics such as those introduced under Target 4. While supply “happens” mostly in the hinterland, it is of course driven by demand. Demand for most of the world’s resources comes ultimately from cities. Furthermore, cities are also the conduits through which resources, such as tropical timber, pass before being distributed and therefore have opportunities for control of, for example, illegal harvesting of timber.

06Target 6: By 2020 all fish and invertebrate stocks and aquatic plants are managed and harvested sustainably, legally and applying ecosystem based approaches, so that overfishing is avoided, recovery plans and measures are in place for all depleted species, fisheries have no significant adverse impacts on threatened species and vulnerable ecosystems and the impacts of fisheries on stocks, species and ecosystems are within safe ecological limits.

Cities may not be where commercial fishing happens (although in many cases coastal waters are under their jurisdiction), but they are where most if its products are consumed or the point from where they are distributed. Harking again back to Target 1, awareness-raising to guide choice of the products of less ecologically problematic fisheries also finds its most effective delivery in cities.

07Target 7: By 2020 areas under agriculture, aquaculture and forestry are managed sustainably, ensuring conservation of biodiversity.

Cities are the main centers of demand for the products of agriculture, aquaculture and forestry, and the places where the public can most efficiently be rallied to support more sustainable practices through their purchases. Meanwhile urban and peri-urban agriculture, although insignificant in terms of agricultural production in most cities, has a profound effect on society in some. In Havana, for example (FAO), 89 000 backyards and 5 100 plots of less than 800m2 are used by families in the city to grow fruit, vegetables and condiments and to raise small animals, for household consumption, thereby supporting citizens while sparing the hinterland from a degree of agricultural expansion and saving on emissions from transport.

08Target 8: By 2020, pollution, including from excess nutrients, has been brought to levels that are not detrimental to ecosystem function and biodiversity.

Large-scale mining aside, pollution control is an area where cities can clearly claim a critical role due to the proportion of industry located within their borders. Furthermore, city administrations often have the power to curb pollution through fines and taxes to limit or prohibit it.

09Target 9: By 2020, invasive alien species and pathways are identified and prioritized, priority species are controlled or eradicated, and measures are in place to manage pathways to prevent their introduction and establishment.

Through ports and airports cities are, naturally, entry points for exotic species. While exotic species are needed for various reasons, their uncontrolled introduction poses a risk to native biodiversity because their effect on a new environment cannot be known until it is at a relatively advanced stage. By that time control may be futile or very difficult. In stark contrast to the vibrant ethnic diversity that is created through the arrival of people from diverse groups, individual exotic species have repeatedly proven to reduce the overall diversity of species and ecosystems. City governments have a role to play, for example in choosing native plant species over exotics in urban landscaping, and guiding the choice of species by the public for purchase.

10Target 10:  By 2015, the multiple anthropogenic pressures on coral reefs, and other vulnerable ecosystems impacted by climate change or ocean acidification are minimized, so as to maintain their integrity and functioning.

Besides their disproportionate levels of consumption and production, cities are home to a large proportion of the industries that produce greenhouse gasses, which affect ecosystems globally. Cars alone are responsible for 30% of emissions in the USA (www.ucsusa.org), mostly in cities, and like all emissions these are not isolated in their impact but contribute to the global effects of climate change.

Strategic goal C: Improve the status of biodiversity by safeguarding ecosystems, species and genetic diversity

11Target 11: By 2020, at least 17 per cent of terrestrial and inland water areas, and 10 per cent of coastal and marine areas, especially areas of particular importance for biodiversity and ecosystem services, are conserved through effectively and equitably managed, ecologically representative and well-connected systems of protected areas and other effective area-based conservation measures, and integrated into the wider landscapes and seascapes.

Ecological connectivity is important at various scales. A city represents a barrier to the dispersal of native fauna and flora, but green areas within the city can help. Within or surrounding cities, green areas are often protected under municipal or other levels of government, and are the protected areas with the greatest potential for access by, benefits for, and awareness of, the world’s citizens. If all cities and other local governments were to target the same percentage of protected areas as the Strategic Plan, Parties work on Target 11 would be done for them.

12Target 12By 2020 the extinction of known threatened species has been prevented and their conservation status, particularly of those most in decline, has been improved and sustained.

It is a fairly well-publicized fact that concentrations of people – as expressed most typically by cities – correspond with concentrations of species and of “biodiversity hotspots, where these high concentrations of species are under especially high risk due to biodiversity loss so far. Preventing or limiting the extinction crisis that has been underway for the past several decades is therefore unlikely to be possible without the help of cities

13Target 13: By 2020, the genetic diversity of cultivated plants and farmed and domesticated animals and of wild relatives, including other socio-economically as well as culturally valuable species, is maintained, and strategies have been developed and implemented for minimizing genetic erosion and safeguarding their genetic diversity. 

Apart from being the greatest source of demand for agricultural products, cities often house repositories for genetic diversity at agricultural research institutions. It is also at universities and other such institutions, the vast majority of which are located in cities, that agricultural biodiversity is studied.

Strategic goal D: Enhance the benefits to all from biodiversity and ecosystem services

14Target 14: By 2020, ecosystems that provide essential services, including services related to water, and contribute to health, livelihoods and well-being, are restored and safeguarded, taking into account the needs of women, indigenous and local communities, and the poor and vulnerable.

Cities are reliant on the services and goods supplied by ecosystems outside their boundaries, such as water purification by vegetated catchment areas and the production and health of the soil that supply their crops. There are also services that are provided by ecosystems and biodiversity within cities. Street trees and parks, for example, provide a cooling of the city heat island effect, as well as an opportunity for recreation and relaxation. These services are provided on a very intensive basis due to the phenomenally dense concentrations of people found in cities. By following the embryonic but growing trend toward considering biodiversity and ecosystems as green infrastructure, cities can contribute enormously to supporting ecosystem services.

15Target 15: By 2020, ecosystem resilience and the contribution of biodiversity to carbon stocks has been enhanced, through conservation and restoration, including restoration of at least 15 per cent of degraded ecosystems, thereby contributing to climate change mitigation and adaptation and to combating desertification.

Cities typically have a greater than average amount of resources available for ecosystem restoration, which can be more efficiently and effectively achieved in the space-intensive city environment. It is also often in cities that the effects of climate change is most severe, especially at the coast. This is partly because of the dense concentrations of people they house, but also because ecosystem services are generally eroded in and around them, making them more vulnerable.

16Target 16: By 2015, the Nagoya Protocol on Access to Genetic Resources and the Fair and Equitable Sharing of Benefits Arising  from their Utilization is in force and operational, consistent with national legislation.

Although city governments are not party to the Nagoya Protocol, its principals apply to cities and citizens. This may, therefore, be a relevant place to point out that cities are home to most of the political votes in the world. An informed society means informed political choices in democratic countries – not only at the local but also the national level.

Strategic goal E: Enhance implementation through participatory planning, knowledge management and capacity building 

17Target 17: By 2015 each Party has developed, adopted as a policy instrument, and has commenced implementing an effective, participatory and updated national biodiversity strategy and action plan.

National biodiversity strategies and action plans are, almost by definition, broad brush strokes that require replication and application at the appropriate scale on the ground. That is where local biodiversity strategies and action plans come in, translating the expansive strategies at national level into locally-relevant actions. Increasingly, national governments are acting on this realization and promoting the formulation of local biodiversity strategies and action plans by cities and other subnational governments, and consulting local government in the formulation of national strategies and action plans.

18Target 18: By 2020, the traditional knowledge, innovations and practices of indigenous and local communities relevant for the conservation and sustainable use of biodiversity, and their customary use of biological resources, are respected, subject to national legislation and relevant international obligations, and fully integrated and reflected in the implementation of the Convention with the full and effective participation of indigenous and local communities, at all relevant levels.

A little-known fact is that the majority of indigenous and local communities reside, not in the natural environments with which they are typically associated but, in cities. Thus, Target 18 needs to consider reaching not only rural indigenous and local communities, but also city-dwellers, especially considering that it is in cities that these communities are most separated from the environments that have formed such an integral part of their cultures.

19Target 19: By 2020, knowledge, the science base and technologies relating to biodiversity, its values, functioning, status and trends, and the consequences of its loss, are improved, widely shared and transferred, and applied.

The majority of universities and other research institutions are located, or at least headquartered, in cities. While field work must be conducted in the field, and collaboration is often conducted through remote communication like email, learning institutions themselves are a feature of cities, and cities a feature of these institutions. In the case of some, like museums and botanical gardens, this location is not only a result of convenience, but necessity because they rely on public patronage through visits and exposure.

20Target 20: By 2020, at the latest, the mobilization of financial resources for effectively implementing the Strategic Plan for Biodiversity 2011-2020 from all sources, and in accordance with the consolidated and agreed process in the Strategy for Resource Mobilization, should increase substantially from the current levels. This target will be subject to changes contingent to resource needs assessments to be developed and reported by Parties.

As with protected areas, cities are (sometimes relatively well-funded) microcosms of their countries. Resource mobilization for biodiversity work is often solely dependent on the city itself, and their collective contribution to conservation nationally and worldwide is significant. In other cases cities may rely on support from national government or other avenues. In either case, whatever biodiversity work they conduct with that support, is a contribution to their country’s achievement of the Strategic Plan.

***

While there is some way to go in matching the importance attached to the Strategic Plan with that of the Plan of Action, the Parties to the CBD are increasingly demonstrating their recognition of the contribution to be made by cities. Three consecutive decisions at the meetings of the Conference of the Parties to the CBD have centered on this subject, with a fourth for consideration this year. An increasing number of examples of collaboration between Parties and cities or subnational governments is an additional positive sign. In response to COP decisions, Parties have reported on their collaboration; an increasing number of national biodiversity strategies and actions plans feature explicit recognition or inclusion of cities and other subnational governments or support for the production of local versions; and some have stepped forward to fund initiatives on subnational implementation.

What remains now is to continue pronouncing the importance of cities in the achievement of the Strategic Plan at every opportunity, especially when “preaching to the un-converted”, and particularly when preaching to national governments. The TNOC community is considered one important source of these sermons!

Andre Mader
Montreal

On The Nature of Cities

The Untamed City and its Indivisible Connection with Nature

Many voices. Greener cities. Better cities.
Perhaps it is time to think of informality from the wealth, innovativeness, opportunities point of view given its long-time establishment and the difficulty in deconstructing the informal.

The impacts associated with city functions, economic, environmental, mobility, extend well beyond their administrative boundaries. But the contemporary and dominant frameworks and systems for managing cities have always determined what activity is allowable, where, and how the infrastructure and any developments pertaining to the function would be developed. Thus, functionality of cities has been defined by secondary activities—industry, transportation and services—which were ideally delimited within the city boundaries, as was done in the Roman cities of the medieval period. Even when walls around such cities were largely defensive, the delimited town activities often defined those who lived outside the walls as living in rural areas. But from a functional perspective, the reality is that cities have complex and indivisible links with primary activities and that secondary activities have always transcended their boundaries. The notion of city-delimited functionality has been challenged from the experiences of contemporary urbanization. This article focuses on the fluidity of the nature of city development, and more importantly city functions. The article illustrates how the untamed city has evolved.  And perhaps this untamedness connects it more closely to nature than perhaps the ideal city.

First, there is an issue with some city areas being labeled “informal”. Following the Sustainable Development Goal 11, specifically on cities, transformation of cities for sustainability will likely mean deconstructing large areas like Kampala, categorized as informal. We argue here that the “informal” is actually the city. From housing, diverse infrastructure, innovative livelihood activities, patterns of growth and sprawl, economy, labor market, industrious innovativeness and social differentiation, these informal settlements are not only the largest settlements in many African cities, they also offer careers and lifetime experiences for many people in Africa[3–5]. Measures of the proportion of people living in these settlements and their access to infrastructure services, such as water, sanitation and waste management, do not provide an accurate picture of the cities in sub Saharan Africa, but have directed spatial planning to assume an envisaged city with symbolic architecture, infrastructure systems and an economy based on formally recognized employment.

A key element of the city configuration is the widely practiced urban agriculture that connects the “untamed” city to nature perhaps more than the planned city. Through urban agriculture and now urban forestry, the informal has demonstrated sustaining of livelihoods, provided diverse opportunities and challenges that create compelling reasons to rethink the city in sub Saharan Africa[6].

The city region

Picking up on the notion of spatially extended functionality of cities, evidence shows that cities are now extended regions. Cities depict a mix of built up with nature and tinkered nature. For example, tree canopies hanging over housing structures with repeated partners over space and examples of housing structures carved in tandem with waterways and or natural rock. Urban expansion in the Kampala region is characterized by the opening up of land for development sprawling out from the city center to create a pattern described as a “runaway” city. Most parts of the newly developed areas in the Kampala region are informal and this pattern of growth historically characterizes the city. This makes deconstructing the informal growth that has developed for over seven decades not only difficult but impractical. By nature of this growth pattern, formal employment can only absorb a small proportion of the increasing labor force. The result is that many people turn to urban and peri-urban agriculture and forestry that utilizes spaces which are not under housing or infrastructure. In the core city zone, space confined technologies of urban agricultural production are used while in peri-urban zone, extensive agricultural and livestock production is practiced. In both cases, the link with nature in the city-region is characterized by patches of green spaces, wetlands and forest patches in which nature flourishes, creating a region of built up-nature interlinkages.

Harnessing the opportunities of nature

The urban economy of Kampala is complex, given that the city is also the industrial hub of the country. Complex because it is characterized by a range of economic activities at multiple scales. From large-scale industries, medium scale industries to micro-scale artisanal activities that make use of material inputs from the importation sector as well as leveraging local materials and more recently solid wastes. This manufacturing-oriented economy is related to various forms of trading, most of which again are informal and continuously faces the wrath of municipal regulation of confiscation, eviction and strained relations[13].

It is the lower end of economic activity in both manufacturing and trade that offers employment to the majority of low-skilled urban laborers majority of whom live in the informal settlements. Urban agriculture also offers lower end jobs in form of  (i) making manure—both in compost and liquid forms, (ii) mixed cropping to intensify use of available land, (iii) vegetable sack gardening (figure 4), (iv) digging aquaculture trenches, (v) growing commercial flowers in tins, (vi) using banana and sweet potato peels as animal feed, (vii) making herbal insecticides, pesticides and medicines for poultry and animals, (viii) building storied poultry and animal houses to maximise available space and (ix) making charcoal briquettes from banana peelings.

Marketable individual skills are described as low among the many people, but it is also important to note that the formal labor market is expanding at a much slower rate compared to the many people entering the urban labor market on the whole. In the mix of the urban economy of Kampala, urban agriculture absorbs a proportion of the low-skilled labor as well as the highly trained youth transitioning into the labor market. From energy briquettes, compost, inorganic resalable, recycling to commercial urban agriculture at multiple scales, these economic undertakings are taking root and expanding as fast as opportunities open up. People in informal settlements recognize they can easily make entry into the economy and labor market through these initiatives[14–16].

Literature for example shows that based on individual enterprises, farmers in Kampala on average annually earned about 101,000 Ushs ($US59.4) from bananas, 133,400 Ushs ($78.5) from beans, 7,160 Ushs ($4.2) from cassava, 122, 900 Ushs ($72.3) from maize and 69,100 Ushs ($40.6) from yams among other crops. Average annual earnings of 757,100 Ushs ($445.4) from chicken (Figure 3), 292,500 Ushs ($172.1) from goats, 521,618 Ushs ($306.8) from pigs, 3,333,764 Ushs ($1,961.0) from eggs and 1,461,000 Ushs ($859.4) from turkeys among other products recorded in the poultry and animal enterprises. These estimates are benchmarked in 2009 and with inflation the values have gone up.

Micro-business of livestock in Kampala. Photo: Shuaib Lwasa

Peri-urban is more than a mix of distinct urban or rural

Different interpretations notwithstanding, the peri-urban areas of Kampala have undergone tremendous spatial, social and environmental change due to the expansion of the urban area in the runaway pattern described earlier. In Kampala, these are areas characterized by spontaneous developments, with a mix of distinct ‘rural-based’ livelihoods, active land markets that are converting large areas to urban uses but in a fragmented nature. Through land speculation, land markets have significantly contributed to this change in Kampala and the key aspect of this is how diverse infrastructure systems have emerged to connect the peri-urban areas to the city. An interesting aspect about peri-urban development is the increasing settlement by middle-income families who access the city through private transportation modes. Developments have been established along transport arteries at the periphery, but real estate establishments have also come up in areas that were previously agricultural.

Amid the housing and infrastructure developments are urban agriculture and peri-urban forestry. These processes, in the context of this article, are an illustration of informal growth as the city and the peri-urban area no longer offer just mix of distinct rural and urban livelihoods. Associated with the peri-urban processes are the issues of the social networks that link people across scales from the urban core to rural hinterlands[20]. These networks amplify the economies, the flow of materials and capital, fueling an economy that earlier was described as complex by nature, scale, actors and businesses. These social networks have become significant for the urban people in the quest to improve their livelihoods, another example of the presence and assertion of the informal as a city utilizing materials from nature.

Opportunities of fragmented urban ecosystem

In Kampala the fragmentation of urban nature is a significant feature of urban development. The reason for this continued fragmentation is that most urban areas are founded on earlier urban development principles and structures, among which is the separation of ‘incompatible’ land uses [17]. But this process is broken by spontaneous developments that disregard separated ‘urban uses’ like industry, residential and commercial zones to create a weave of uses, scales of development and diverse infrastructure. In regard to infrastructure, the fragmentation becomes important because it is slowly leading to the emergence of decentralized systems that leverage the ecosystem services such as sewerage treatment plants and lagoons. Thus, the potential for sustaining a level of ecosystem services could lie in the informal, which is actually tapping the ecosystem services. For example, septic tanks, sewerage treatment mini-plants, diverse water sources and biodiversity within built up areas tap into the ecosystem services of the urban ecology. Contemporary planning of cities is slowly embracing the ‘planning with nature’ principle [21] which is motivated by recent discourse on global environmental change. The spatial allocation of land use activities, investment in infrastructure, and preservation of open space across a range of scales from micro to city-regional scale in Kampala affects urban activities and urban space that directly relates to the energy supply and demand including opportunities for renewable energy. This has led to a ‘weave’ of built up imprints on the natural landscape where new developments would be developed with renewal of natural landscapes for already urbanized regions. Kampala city region is potentially a field under which this concept of fragmented but enhanced ecosystems can be tested by building on the ‘informal’ pattern of development.  This seamless relationship between ecosystems and informality is not only scalable in terms of expanding production, enterprises and actors, but has demonstrated the potential for multi-objective urban interventions to ease urban stress, risk, reduce economically disadvantaged urban dwellers and enhance ecosystem services across city to city-regional scales. Multiple scale activities from neighborhood level interventions are changing productivity in urban spaces but also urban development trajectories and production systems that span to city-regional scale[22]. This does not imply that the fragmentation is good in itself nor does it convey that there are no problems with the informal city. The argument here is that it is perhaps time to think of informality from the wealth, innovativeness, opportunities point of view given its long-time establishment and the difficulty in deconstructing the informal.

Vegetable sack gardening in an informal urban area. Photo: Shuaib Lwasa

Can the untamed city be tamed?

Informal settlements have problems and they continue to pose risks and challenges to their residents. Whereas the argument in the paper is to rethink and use lenses that recognize the value and opportunities of informality, there are still problems that have to be navigated and perhaps not dealt with entirely if the opportunities in the ‘informal’ settlements are to be harnessed. Informal settlements have issues in respect to health outcomes as a result of incoherent and inconsistent urban and peri-urban agriculture and forestry practices. The difficulty of moving micro-businesses to the meso- or macro-scale in informal settlements is yet to be resolved to harness this potential and enable the integration of the population into the urban labor market and economy. This is because it directly relates to marketable skills but with flexible skills development, it can change. The vision of modernist urban Africa with its attendant developments around housing, infrastructure, public transport systems lingers as a desire for many urban dwellers across social and income classes in Kampala. Thus these lenses position informal settlements as a hindrance to this envisioned transition. The downside of this vision is that it potentially attracts private investments in housing, infrastructure, commercial entities that disadvantages the majority in informal settlements and accentuates risk and poverty. So the argument of this paper is that whereas the limitations to harness the potential exist, scaling up, businesses development, branding, networking diverse infrastructures are some of the activities needed to transform the city by building on instead of deconstructing.

Conclusion

Kampala’s experiences provide evidence about the speed at which medium sized cities are growing and expanding faster and the patterns of spatial growth with a mix of modernist and traditionalist elements. Development is occurring well ahead of formal planning resulting in settlements that have inadequate services and infrastructure, which leads to the creation of diverse alternative infrastructures. The nature of Kampala’s expansion raises challenges of integrating low-skilled human resources into the urban labor market and the socio–economic and environmental possibilities of the modernist urban development.

But potential lies underneath if the informal is looked at as the city. Unplanned informal settlements are not just poor settlements with infrastructure, social services deficits and haphazard development. They are cities themselves, housing and employing the majority of the urban population in Kampala, providing livelihoods and careers, offering alternative infrastructures and entry points into the urban economy through urban and peri-urban agriculture. The convergence of formal and informal development produces a mosaic, both spatial and socio-economic with scalable activities. This mosaic demonstrates a potential around production, coordinated use of local resources (water, waste, land), enterprise management and value chains which have enabled innovative solutions that may have a seamless relation with integrated spatial plans.

Shuaib Lwasa
Kampala

On The Nature of Cities


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The Urban-Nature Continuum: Different ‘Natures’, Different Goals

Many voices. Greener cities. Better cities.

The question of what exactly we are working towards when we talk about nature in the city has been bothering me for some time now. I work as a research fellow in conservation science at RMIT University, Melbourne, and much of my time is spent working on challenges to do with minimizing negative impacts on biodiversity in urban landscapes. As I have interacted with researchers and practitioners from around the world, I have become increasingly aware that the types of urban ‘nature’ that we are passionate about promoting can vary significantly. Although we use the same terms (such as ‘biodiversity’ or ‘conservation’), the range of meanings we interpret can be very different. So what are these different kinds of urban nature, and can they exist together?

Four approaches to promoting urban nature

I present here four brief sketches of urban nature, as a way of highlighting contrasting approaches to how nature is understood and promoted in different settings. These approaches are (i) conserving habitat, (ii) restoring composition, (iii) promoting function, and (iv) designing for people. While these approaches are not mutually exclusive, the examples below serve to illustrate the breadth of ideas and actions that fall presently within the mission of enhancing urban nature.

Conserving Habitat

On the western outskirts of Melbourne lies a four hectare patch of grassland. Evans Street reserve was originally quarantined from residential development as a railway reserve, and has since received conservation protection because of its significance as an example of the endangered basalt plains grassland ecosystem (less than 1% remains as a result of agricultural use and residential development). Some plaques have been set up at the edge of the reserve to communicate to the public that it is home to threatened flora and fauna and should be valued and protected.

Evans Street Grassland, Sunbury, Melbourne. Photo: G. Garrard
Evans Street Grassland, Sunbury, Melbourne. Photo: G. Garrard

The importance placed on these areas reflects a habitat conservation approach to urban nature. Generally, this approach considers rare and threatened habitat as most important, and human activity as a process that threatens the persistence of ‘unspoilt’ nature. Conservation planning principles, which have been developed to efficiently design reserve networks, are taken and applied in an urban context (these principles include comprehensiveness, adequacy and representativeness; Pressey et al 1993). This approach is most prominent in new world cities where intense human impacts upon ecosystems are relatively recent, such as in Australia and South Africa (see Cowling & Pressey, 2003; Gordon et al., 2009).

Restoring composition

It is common in Australia for local councils to invest significant resources in restoring the ‘health’ of remnant vegetation that has undergone some kind of alteration in floristics. Teams of bush regenerators remove ‘weeds’ or undesirable species in order to let the original native species return from the seed-bank. Where this does not happen, local species grown from ‘local provenance’ material are planted. Often the sites targeted first are the most degraded (e.g. overgrown with vines) and conspicuous to the passing public. These activities reflect a paradigm that considers urban nature to be at its best when it resembles the ‘original’ (pre-European) habitat most closely. These restoration activities are also common in many other parts of the world where some form of remnant vegetation exists, such as urban greenways in the USA. While activities may occur in priority endangered ecosystems (those prioritised in the habitat conservation approach above), they can be are undertaken in any patch of vegetation irrespective of threat status, due to their local rather than regional significance.

Bush regeneration activities in Sydney. Photo credit: Wikimedia Commons: http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Bush_regeneration_Bray_Avenue_Earlwood.jpg
Bush regeneration activities in Sydney. Photo credit: Wikimedia Commons: http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Bush_regeneration_Bray_Avenue_Earlwood.jpg

Promoting function

During a recent visit to the UK, some colleagues and I visited the Sheffield Botanical Gardens. Our guide, Dr. Ken Thompson, showed us a series of small ‘prairies’ of mixed herbaceous species. Designed by Professor James Hitchmough (known for creating the man-made wildflower meadows at the 2012 London Olympic Games), these were praised for their alternative visual appeal (e.g. the diverse combination of flowers), while also promoting ‘wild’ and ‘unkempt’ characteristics that attracted pollinators and enabled natural ecological functions. Dr. Thompson informed us that while some local residents were unhappy that certain species were not local to England the project demonstrated that ecological function does not rely on our arbitrary categories of ‘native’ and ‘exotic’. The type of urban nature that is being encouraged is therefore one that can support natural processes, regardless of what actually exists there.

This focus on ecosystem function contrasts with the paradigm of restoring composition discussed above as less importance is placed on species identity. Processes such as pollination, nutrient cycling and carbon sequestration are of supreme importance, with the assemblage of species existing as a means to these ends. The functional approach is perhaps strongest in areas where original habitats are no longer present, or have been substantially altered by human activity and no appropriate analogue of floristic composition can be found. For example, I observed this recently during a field trip to Schöneberger Südgelände, an abandoned railway yard in Berlin, where our guide Professor Ingo Kowarik highlighted the importance of the successional processes occurring in a stand of exotic maple trees.

Wildflower meadows in Sheffield Botanical Gardens. Photo: C. Ives
Wildflower meadows in Sheffield Botanical Gardens. Photo: C. Ives

Designing for people

In August this year I visited Singapore and observed examples of green infrastructure. While significant areas of the city have been ‘greened’ since the introduction of the Singapore Green Plan in 1992, the most visually striking example is grove of ‘supertrees’ in the Gardens by the Bay. These man-made constructions up to 50 meters tall are covered by vegetation and resemble the shape of large trees. They demonstrate how integrating green features into the city can enhance wonder and awe and be therapeutic for urban dwellers.

Cities from all around the world contain examples of urban nature that have been designed primarily for human appreciation, such as designed garden beds, green walls and landscaped walking paths. This approach sees urban ecology (both the composition of species and their function) as a means of enhancing the lives of city dwellers, and there is a great deal of literature documenting the health and wellbeing benefits of interaction with green spaces and ‘nature’. Typically the importance the designing-for-people approach to urban nature is greatest in densely populated cities.

‘Supertrees’, Singapore. Photo credit: Wikimedia Commons: http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Supertree_Grove,_Gardens_by_the_Bay,_Singapore_-_20120712-02.jpg
‘Supertrees’, Singapore. Photo credit: Wikimedia Commons: http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Supertree_Grove,_Gardens_by_the_Bay,_Singapore_-_20120712-02.jpg

A guide for decision-making

Given this diversity of understandings of urban nature and how it is to be promoted, two questions immediately come to mind. First, is it possible for all these expressions of nature in the city to fit together in some coherent way? And second, given the enormous differences in context, how can planners, managers and designers decide what appropriate goals are for promoting urban nature?

A useful way to navigate this difficult territory is to consider the placement of a site of interest along an urban nature continuum using a series of biophysical axes, and apply a number of decision-making filters (see the graphic below). Doing so can help unify the wide-ranging approaches to urban ecology under a single coherent framework. While urban nature outcomes are invariably influenced by multiple stakeholders, the merit of this approach is in its ability to assist those with a desire to promote urban nature to discern what is appropriate in a given context and to set goals accordingly.

Biophysical Axes

Three axes can help to characterise a city. The first axis is the urban-rural gradient. As dozens of studies have shown, biodiversity patterns differ according to the intensity of urbanisation surrounding it (see McDonnell et al., 1997). Just as different assemblages of species are found at different points along the gradient, so must the biodiversity goals differ between an urban core and a sparsely inhabited peri-urban landscape. For example, some species that can reasonably be promoted on the fringe of the city may not survive in the inner CBD regardless of effort.

The second axis is the temporal gradient. Older cities (such as many in Europe) have a longer history of human disturbance, and have influenced the ecology accordingly. Evidence has shown that the age of a city affects local species richness and extinction rates (Hahs et al., 2009). Therefore, maintaining a certain habitat composition may be a more appropriate goal in younger cities than older ones.

The third axis is the biophysical context of the city. Obviously, a city positioned in a tropical biome (e.g. Singapore) should have very different goals to one position in an arid zone (e.g. Phoenix), purely as a result of biophysical opportunities and constraints.

Filters

Understanding the biophysical character of a city might assist in knowing what is achievable, but it does not determine the appropriate objective. To get to this point, it’s necessary to apply a number of additional decision filters.

First, the scale of the action must be evaluated. The sorts of targets being set will differ greatly depending on whether the biodiversity of a city as a whole is of interest, or that of a neighbourhood park. For example, conservation planning principles that evaluate the importance of the landscape for endangered species are unlikely to be of much use when determining species selection for a new municipal garden.

Second, the social context of the site must be considered. This includes the city itself (such as the level of development, cultural context) and the position of the site within the city (such as socio-economic status). For example, cultural expectations of neat and tidy parks may mean that areas of urban ‘wilderness’ may be unachievable in heavily trafficked parts of a city.

Third, the social-ecological balance must be established. Although there are many benefits to people of enhancing urban nature, biodiversity conservation does not always align directly with human wellbeing. For this reason, the priorities need to be set clearly. For example, if human wellbeing is of primary importance, promoting green infrastructure such as green walls may be justified, even if there is little evidence of their contribution to overall ecosystem function or habitat to native species. Similarly, excluding public access to a nature reserve on ecological grounds may be inappropriate in an economically depressed part of a city with little access to green space.

The stages of determining biodiversity goals across the urban nature continuum. First, the position of the city is determined by assessing the three axes: urban-rural gradient, temporal gradient, and biophysical context. Then the three filters of scale, social context and social-ecological balance are applied. Credit: C. Ives
The stages of determining biodiversity goals across the urban nature continuum. First, the position of the city is determined by assessing the three axes: urban-rural gradient, temporal gradient, and biophysical context. Then the three filters of scale, social context and social-ecological balance are applied. Credit: C. Ives

Conclusion

Setting clear goals for urban nature is a difficult process, and the application of hard and fast rules are likely to over-simplify the challenge. It is necessary therefore that researchers and practitioners understand the context of their work along the urban nature continuum so as to set objectives that are both appropriate and justifiable. By using the guidelines presented above (characterising the biophysical context of the city and applying the decision filters) it is possible for diverse activities such as conservation planning, habitat restoration and urban greening to be understood as different aspects of the same mission. In this way, none of the examples presented in this article are necessarily more or less ‘correct’ than another. This shared understanding will be critical for communicating the achievements, challenges and future directions of promoting cities as ecological spaces.

Chris Ives
Melbourne Australia

On The Nature of Cities

 

References

Cowling, R., & Pressey, R. (2003). Introduction to systematic conservation planning in the Cape Floristic Region. Biological Conservation, 112(1-2), 1–13.

Gordon, A., Simondson, D., White, M., Moilanen, A., & Bekessy, S. A. (2009). Integrating conservation planning and landuse planning in urban landscapes. Landscape and Urban Planning, 91(4): 183–194.

Hahs, A. K., McDonnell, M. J., McCarthy, M. A, Vesk, P. A, Corlett, R. T., Norton, B. A, Clemants, S. E., Duncan, R. P., Thompson, K., Schwartz, M. W. and Williams, N. S. G. (2009). A global synthesis of plant extinction rates in urban areas. Ecology Letters, 12(11), 1165–73. 

McDonnell, M. J., Pickett, S. T. A., Groffman, P., Bohlen, P., Parmelee, R. W., Carreiro, M. M., & Medley, K. (1997). Ecosystem processes along an urban-to-rural gradient, Urban Ecosystems. 1: 21–36.

Pressey, R.L., Humphries, C.J., Margules, C.R., Vane-Wright, R.I., Williams, P.H., 1993. Beyond opportunism: key principles for systematic reserve selection. Trends in Ecology and Evolution. 8: 124-128.

 

The Value of Green Urban Assets and the True Costs of Development

Many voices. Greener cities. Better cities.
How do we “value” open space in policy and urban development in relation to other land uses? Seattle is trying to take a lead in natural capital accounting, and create change in how North American cities regard nature, an un-accounted for asset.
The building boom that’s driving up real estate prices and jamming Seattle with housing and high-rises is also squeezing out and devaluing the city’s green and open spaces. That “progress” presents paradoxes: “Hard assets” provide value temporarily, as they are amortized over their “useful lives”; green, or “soft,” assets are never amortized, and provide value forever. And “progress” has now created a city with one of America’s ten worst heat islands, America’s 6th worst traffic congestion, and some of America’s worst air pollution.

But while Seattle is noisily progressing—driving, building, and working—the city’s under appreciated green assets are quietly making oxygen, absorbing pollutants, sponging up storm water and controlling erosion.  They’re also enhancing property values, supporting urban fisheries, agriculture and recreation, and providing animal habitats and pollinator corridors.  And they’re helping improve mental health and longevity.  About 30 years ago, economists realized those benefits and savings – “ecosystem services” are worth big money – more than $33 trillion a year (Robert Costanza et al. estimate of the planet’s biosphere value).  That’s nearly $54 trillion in 2020 dollars.

The Seattle Green Spaces Coalition (SGSC) reckons that, within Seattle’s 142.5 square mile area alone, our “natural capital” provides more than $3 billion a year in benefits and savings. While city government doesn’t treat that as an asset, some of its departments and the surrounding county have.  In 2000, King County used ecosystem service values (ESV – the worth to cities and towns of fisheries, habitats, agriculture, recreation space, etc.) to design its WRIA9 Duwamish River salmon protection plan.  In 2001, Seattle Public Utilities used ESV in restoring Thornton Creek.  In 2008, the Urban Forestry Commission set a goal of covering 35% of Seattle with trees by 2035 (since revised downward to 30% by 2037), and drafted guidelines for an updated tree protection ordinance.  Despite widespread public support, the City Council still has not passed one,

In 2010, visionary Seattle Parks & Recreation Dept. (SPR) director Tim Gallagher hired the Trust For Public Lands to assess the natural capital value of Seattle’s parks.  It found their land and water resources provided nearly $500 million a year worth of benefits and savings, dwarfing the $30,000 a year Parks was making in fees and rentals.  When Gallagher presented the surprising report to Seattle’s City Council, members marveled, had no idea how to integrate those dollars into city accounting, and cut SPR’s budget.

Seattle Parks occupy barely 11% of Seattle’s land and water area.  Multiplying their $500 million value by 9 for the rest of Seattle’s area, including carbon-absorbent water, and knowing that nearly 70% of Seattle’s trees and other flora grow on private and other properties, SGSC reckoned, conservatively, that our natural capital is worth about $3 billion a year to the city.

Why, one may ask, don’t cities value the benefits and services Nature provides, and treat them as assets to account for, report on, and use in cost-benefit analyses, policy making, and project implementation?  The answer is that they still can’t conceive of how to account for green infrastructure.  The following sums up their attitudes:

  • Seattle’s Development and Inspections Department informed attendees at the U. of Washington’s May 27, 2010 Urban Forestry Conference that “Exceptional trees must be retained unless doing so would prohibit meeting the zone potential of the site.”
  • The Master Builders Association opposes building setbacks that make room for trees and landscapes, unless they contribute to views and property value Developers see bio-swales (street-side rainwater catchment corrals) as “green spaces,”
  • after the Seattle City Council’s unanimous 2015 vote to study natural capital, former Deputy Mayor Steve Lee fretted, “There could be policy implications here.”

In 2014, a group of West Seattle neighbors founded SGSC, to keep public lands in public hands for public benefit. The City of Seattle owns hundreds of acres of non-park land—from hillsides to street ends and parking strips, to Seattle City Light (SCL) substations.  When departments have no further use for property they own, they declare it “excess,” and/or “surplus,” offer it to other departments, and if there are no takers, the City Council approves it for sale at fair market value.

Seattle recognizes only one way to value land: real estate appraisal. Residential and commercial developments grow its tax base. Attitudes of Seattle and every other North American city date from the Agricultural Revolution 12,000 years ago, when hunter-gatherer humans began settling down, and claiming spaces to grow food and herd livestock. Before that, humans had lived in the environment. Afterward, they lived on it—except when natural disasters reminded them otherwise. Today, all Seattle land is owned.  Wherever development occurs, Nature is elbowed aside, into parks, building landscapes, and places where nothing can be built.

SGSC asserts that where the city owns green space, it should keep it, not sell it. It’s cheaper than having to buy it back at higher future prices to replace it. So SGSC has supported community group and organizations throughout the urban area in purchasing and transforming surplus properties into parks, land banks, and education centers for schools.  Nearly 40 acres of urban land have now been retained for public benefit.

At SGSC’s urging, ecosystem economist David Batker, testified September 28, 2015, to the Seattle City Council in support of valuing ecosystem services. Batker worked on WRIA9, Thornton Creek, and state, national and international projects.

The economist cited the Cedar River Watershed, which Seattle’s 1891 City Council bought. Its 91,000 forested acres have supplied trillions of gallons of fresh water to millions of Seattle area residents for more than 120 years. It’s a priceless asset that’s given us vast public health, recreational, environmental and livability benefits. But if it were declared surplus, it would be sold at “fair market value” as raw land. “There’s something wrong with the accounting here,” said Batker.

Fossil-fuel industries can report the value of gas, oil and coal assets sitting in the ground, but public utilities cannot account for water in the ground—it counts for zero. While the watershed is a more resilient, less risky asset than water filtration facilities, lenders and bonding agencies look more favorably on financing a potential grey asset than on letting Seattle’s water utility to take on debt for financing the real green asset.

The nine City Council members were convinced, and in November 2015, unanimously approved a Statement of Legislative Intent (SLI) to study how natural capital value could be assessed and used for the city’s benefit.  No SLI is binding, but a project scope was outlined, and a consultant designated.  City Council and department staffs wrote response papers, and the Mayor weighed in.

Some environmentalists resisted valuing the environment, fearing it would (1) commodify Nature, (2) undercut the compelling intrinsic value argument for it, and (3) make property rights an issue.  Actually, the natural world has been commodified for 12,000 years (why not use this fact to protect nature?), the intrinsic value argument hasn’t stopped species extinctions or forest depletion, and property rights help people pretend that a fence around a parcel means it’s no longer part of Earth’s biosphere.  Environmentalists also preferred land-swapping buildable urban property for unbuildable rural land – an exchange that perpetuates depletion of urban natural capital.

Housing advocates said green space and housing couldn’t coexist, though they do across Seattle. Private interests worried if natural capital were valued beyond the costs of landscape plants, or the price boost that views give real estate, it would hamper development, increase project costs, and cause enforcement headaches. And in 2015, standard accounting structures—GAAP (Generally Accepted Accounting Principles) and GASB (Government Accounting Standards Board)—had no rules for valuing and accounting for natural capital.  Today, both GAAP and GASB are developing those rules.

In SGSC’s view, every built structure subtracts from green space value. The city should account for that in the true cost of new infrastructure. Cities and developers use the rationale that, “This land was already developed, so we’re just continuing that use.” But green space predated all development, and any building represents a subtraction of it. In effect, they all make withdrawals from our “natural capital bank.” Those withdrawals should be repaid with interest—in the forms of green roofs and/or walls, intensely cultivated green areas, or purchases of new urban green space.

From 2016 on, SGSC strongly advocated for the City Council to fund a natural capital consultant who would explore with city departments how they could use natural capital as an asset in their analyses and operations. The Council preferred selling surplus land for housing development, not using it as green space. They also were not open to stating in any legislation and ordinance, that Seattle values its ecosystem. We proposed: “Whereas, Seattle’s open and green spaces are a tangible asset essential to public health, urban resilience, equity and sustainability, Therefore the City of Seattle will integrate development within this context, to meet the needs of communities, neighborhoods, and the entire city.”  The Council rejected this, too.

By 2019, dozens of public organization, private enterprise and tribal allies had come forward to join SGSC in urging the Council to fund a natural capital consultant. And in its FY2020 budget, the City Council approved $35,000 for a consultant.

SGSC intends for natural capital accounting to create policy implications. It may add a layer of complexity to land appraisal, but it would stop city agencies and developers from treating every parcel as separate and ecologically insignificant, and instead require them to treat natural capital in the aggregate, as integral to the significant sum of individual parts. Policy-wise, this could also improve Seattle’s patterns of urban design and development. It would create a “soft asset” value system to offset the “hard asset” one, and enforce a more balanced approach to Seattle’s growth.

We are clear that creating innovation in Seattle’s entrenched government will pose significant challenges. But SGSC is optimistic that these challenges can be met with bold action, and provide great rewards for current and future generations.

Seattle has often been bold. It led North America with its green waste and recycling programs in 1988. Its 2005 Mayor’s Climate Protection Initiative has now been co-signed by 1066 mayors representing more than 65% of the U.S. population. By taking the lead now, Seattle can show cities and towns across North America how to improve livability, sustainability, resilience and equity, if they treat our priceless, yet un-accounted for capital as an asset.

Martin Westerman
Seattle

On The Nature of Cities

Banner image: Trees in Seattle

The Value of Urban Trails

Many voices. Greener cities. Better cities.

Mindy Fulllilove, Columbia University psychiatrist and author, likens pedestrian pathways and urban trails to arteries in the circulatory system of a city: essential conditions for creating a healthy city. There is much to be said for neighborhoods that are physically connected, and where it is possible to move across a city easily (and joyfully). A coherent sense of one’s entire city is one benefit, as well as an ability to experience the different ecological zones and habitats there. A well-developed urban trail system delivers substantial health benefits, helps to entice and tempt residents outside, and is recognized as a key positive attribute of quality of life. And it can provide important ecological connections and movement corridors for the many other species with which we share urban spaces.

Many of the cities in our Biophilic Cities Network offer some inspirational examples of the importance and power of investing in networks of urban pathways and trails. For instance, Singapore continues to expand its Park Connectors system, tying together major parks and nature areas, and making it remarkably easy for residents and visitors to experience nature and to spend time walking outside. Some stretches of this network offer especially dramatic perspectives on both nature and the buildings and other built elements that sit within this “city in a garden.” My favorite stretch is the Southern Ridges, where much of the trail is elevated, taking one directly through the tree canopy. The trail in several points floats above and across major roads below, and bypasses ground level car traffic through bridges including the visually striking (and quite biophilic) Henderson Waves. This bridge serves as new vertical public space, as visitors and residents stop to rest or picnic at the top. One walking on this stretch of the Park Connectors is likely to experience a lot of nature, from birds and abundant butterflies to more unexpected nature, such as the Monitor Lizard that I encountered one day on this trail.

Biophilic cities allow us explore, to discover, to experience moments of exhilaration and awe.

In New York City, Mindy Fullilove has been instrumental in creating the so-called Giraffe Path—a 6-mile long pathway connecting seven different parks in northern Manhattan. Hike the Heights is a yearly event that Fullilove and others have helped create, which “invites New Yorkers to explore and celebrate the area’s natural treasures by combining physical activity, art and fun!” One aspect of this event is the “Parade of Giraffes,” where kids create giraffes of all shapes and sizes, which are then displayed in the parks along the walking route.

What are some of the desirable qualities of an urban trail system? It ought to provide opportunities for short meanders, as well as longer treks and, ideally, ought to connect important sites and destinations. Urban trails offer the chance for brief respites, to see and experience nature close to where we live and work, and to provide unique and different ways to see and experience the city. And a trail system ought to accommodate a variety of different ways of moving through these spaces (e.g., hiking, biking, cross-country skiing—popular in northern latitude cities). As an example of the diversity possible in urban trail systems, consider Anchorage, where there are more than 120 miles of paved, multi-use trails, but also 130 miles of “plowed winter walkways,” extensive ski trails and even 36 miles of dog mushing trails!

Once an urban trail network exists, there is still work to be done in stimulating its use, and in getting people outside and walking through the city. Events and celebrations are important, as the Hike the Heights event suggests. Urban trail maps are also helpful (and there is a Hike the Heights Map). Increasingly, iPhone apps can direct, guide and inform urbanites about green spaces, parks and sites to visit (e.g.,TrailLink, developed by the Rails to Trails Conservancy), but they can also be tools for generating spontaneous group walks and hikes, bringing urban residents together for the purpose of walking and hiking (there are a number of apps, such as Gociety and Snowflake, aimed at helping to coordinate social activities and events, such as skiing and hiking).

Urban trails ideally provide access to spaces and places in and around cities that may be largely invisible or difficult to see or access otherwise. The more than five miles of trails allowing access to Mt. Sutro, a prominent green landmark in San Francisco, is an example. The Mt. Sutro Stewards, a volunteer organization, has taken on building and maintaining these trails, and gradually restoring native California plants, in partnership with UC San Francisco. Craig Dawson, co-founder of Mt. Sutro Stewards, has noted the “mystery and attraction” of the mountain, which he grew up exploring. There are typically many such hidden ecological and historical gems that are opened up through such trail building as this. This trail will eventually connect to the longer Bay Area Ridge Trail, a 350-mile trail that circles the San Francisco Bay. One neighborhood space of exploration and mystery can then lead to larger (and longer) urban nature trekking.

Signage and wayfinding are other important elements, and maintenance and safety are critical as well. Anchorage has one of the most extensive systems of urban trails anywhere, and an army of citizen-volunteers—through a program called Trail Watch—patrol and monitor the trails, equipped with their cell phones and identifiable by their visible arm bands. Biophilic Cities Network partner city Vitoria-Gasteiz, capital of the Basque Country in Spain, has an extensive network of trails, with the ability to reach fairly distant municipally-owned forests, and has installed unique trail signs that graphically depict the distance to each destination, allowing hikers to decide where they want to walk and explore given the time and effort they have to expend.

Getting urbanites out and hiking the city and its environs remains a challenge, and some cities are using some clever strategies. Wellington, New Zealand, another of our partner cities in the Biophilic Cities Project, has been running a campaign to encourage residents to hike its extensive network of trails. Throughout its summer 2016, residents are being encouraged to hike to the top of one of twelve peaks in the city and to post a creative photo with the hashtag #PeakBragging. As the City’s parks page suggests, it’s a friendly chance to give your friends some “gloativation to get outside and be active.” The photos posted are exuberant and funny, and do provide a glimpse of the magical views awaiting residents. The city awards prizes for the best photos and makes it easy to participate by providing a series of interactive maps of the spaces and trails around these peaks. One of these interactive maps, for Mount Kaukau park, is provided below.

mount kaukau
Biophilic Cities Project partner city, Wellington, NZ, uses #PeakBragging.

Thinking about the many potential ways that humans move across a city further helps us to think about the needs of the many other species we share city spaces with, and how they must move around as well—we need to be equally concerned with their movement and safety. A notion of the city as habitat understands that there are many biological routes and pathways and trails followed by non-humans (from fish and bird migration routes to micro-movements of insects, amphibians and small mammals crossing streets and city spaces). Singapore has been a leader in this regard. They have an initiative called “Nature Ways,” aimed at creating biological connections and corridors between biodiversity-rich sites in the city. Singapore NParks is responsible for planting new trees and vegetation to ensure these connections, and there are now some 60 kilometers of Nature Ways there.

Henderson Wave Bridge Singapore
Henderson Wave Bridge, Singapore.

Other cities, from Brisbane to Edmonton, have invested in wildlife bridges and passageways to ensure biological connectivity for humans’ co-inhabitants in the city. Edmonton has adopted an engineering manual that enshrines wildlife passages (of various sizes and types) as a regular design consideration in future infrastructure projects. The city has built 27 wildlife passages to date.

Trails have the ability to physically connect different and important elements of nature in a city, to provide biological connections and linkages and to create important spaces for bringing people together. One of the most ambitious urban trail projects is the Trilha TransCarioca, a trails network under development in Rio de Janeiro. As the maps below indicate, it would traverse that city, allowing a resident to travel from shore to mountaintop, linking major parks and ecosystems, including the city’s iconic Tijuca National Park. I spoke recently with Pedro Menezes, who came up with the idea for the trail some twenty years ago and is finally seeing it come to fruition. The vision is audacious indeed—eventually, it would extend 250 kilometers in length’ already, some 120 kilometers have been built and are open to the public. Providing movement corridors for species, such as toucans, is one of Trilha TransCarioca’s primary goals. “We also want the trail to put the Rio population closer to its nature,” Menezes tells me, “so they can cherish more, appreciate more the value of it, both in terms of recreation, but also in terms of ecosystem services…” So far, volunteers have largely driven the effort, with more than 2,000 volunteers actively involved. “The enthusiasm is great,” Menezes says, telling me about a recent volunteer training event where they expected 250 to sign up, but instead had more than 1,000 people. Such an urban trail is clearly a matter of pride for many, and will certainly become a highly valued aspect of the Rio urban experience.

park map
A map of the planned Trilha TransCarioca in Rio de Janeiro.

 

park from above
The intended route for the Trilha TransCarioca in Rio de Janeiro.

Like the Rio trail, many of our best urban trail networks occur along water, offering impressive vistas of nature and responding to our innate tendency to find places of “prospect and refuge.” Coastal cities from Oslo to San Francisco to Sydney offer examples of how walking, jogging and hiking can place one in close proximity to the marine world. The Boston HarborWalk and the new San Francisco Blue Greenway are positive examples of this trend.

Few coastal trails are as impressive in length and diversity of experience as the Waterfront Trail, which now extends some 1,600 kilometers along the edges of Lake Ontario and Lake Erie and beyond (and is managed by the nonprofit Waterfront Regeneration Trust). Running through downtown Toronto, the trail connects some 80 communities and many parks, including the Rouge National Urban Park, Canada’s first urban national park. The trail has the special value of connecting urbanites to the larger Great Lakes landscape, serving as an important boon for tourism and economic development (a yearly multi-day bike ride, called the Great Waterfront Trail Adventure, has become a signature event).

Years ago, we lived for a time in Sydney, Australia, and were especially impressed by the availability of walking and hiking along the steep edges of that coastline, connecting beaches and providing dramatic views of the ocean and shoreline. Relatively simple wooden structures hugged the coastal cliffs, with ocean pools and other stopping spots along the way. From our home in Coogee Beach, we often traveled along the Coastal Walk south, sometimes north. It was a remarkable aspect of daily life, at once recreational and therapeutic, a multi-sensory adventure that brought us in daily contact with the immensity and wildness of the South Pacific Ocean.

These kinds of urban trails and pathways, which bring us in close proximity to water, represent an important element of blue urbanism. But many cities are going even further, now commonly thinking about the potential of blue trails that exist on or in the water—along riverways and waterways that could be traversed by canoe, kayak or water taxi. In our partner city of Milwaukee, there is an Urban Water Trail and there is an elaborate network of water trails in New York City, connecting all five boroughs there. Wellington has even established a snorkel trail, a part of the Taputeranga Marine Reserve. Increasingly, our notion of an urban trail must include and extend into the marine and aquatic realms (not just beside them).

Sydney the Bond 145
In Sydney.

How cities might equip citizens to make the most of these water trails is an interesting question, and I am intrigued by recent experiments with some form of canoe-share or kayak-share, similar to (or in combination with) bike-share systems now common in cities around the world. Purchasing a canoe or a kayak is a significant monetary obstacle, and creatively making such bluescape vehicles easily usable, for short periods of time, would be helpful indeed.

To return to Fullilove’s metaphor, biophilic cities require a healthy circulatory system of trails and pathways to provide social and biological connections. But they also allow us explore, to discover, to experience (close to where we live and work) moments of exhilaration and awe, and to provide vantage points and perspectives that allow us to see the whole of a place, and to understand where we sit within this urban ecological tableau.

Tim Beatley
Charlottesville

On The Nature of Cities

The View from Our Windows: Our Social Ecologies of Sheltering in Place

Many voices. Greener cities. Better cities.
The compound disasters of the coronavirus, racial injustice, and climate change are shifting our relationships to the city and its public spaces. Who will be the transformative agents that can help address these issues?
How do you conduct social science research about people’s relationship to place and the environment during shelter-in-place? Many are turning to big data—scraping social media, tracking cell phone use and movements, and these aggregated, digital data streams are providing key insights about mobility, vulnerability, and spatial patterns of the virus and its impacts across the landscape. These data provide evidence that green spaces—including large natural areas—are key destinations with frequent and increased visitation rates.

But there remains a crucial need to understand how these changing relationships to nature, society, and the public realm are affecting us individually and as a society. As such, we need qualitative approaches to document our lived experiences, with all their emotion, affect, embodiment—and dis-embodiment. We need to walk, talk, observe, write, and draw as living, sensing beings in order to understand how the pandemic takes place. We need to remember the head-spinning disorientation of the past three months, to reflect on how it unfolded over time and continues to unfold. Since 13 March 2020, we have been keeping a small group journal with our set of experiences of our communities—both our local communities of place and the virtual communities of which we are part.

We have observed these experiences to change over time, from the initial days in early March to now; as we struggle to make sense of things, it is abundantly clear that the pandemic experience is not singular. We are four white women who all share an enormous amount of privilege to be home, salaried, and working remotely. For essential workers, the experience is entirely different as they leave home to interact with transit, workplaces, and all the risk and potential exposure that comes along with those interactions. For low income families living in shared housing or for the unhoused, home is not necessarily a safe space either. For people of color, there is a heightened risk of exposure, sickness, and death from COVID-19 that is now clear from the nation’s own accounting of this crisis.

Despite our shared experience of racial and economic privilege, each of us is sheltering in a different NYC neighborhood across Brooklyn and Queens, and we also all have different family configurations, risk factors, community networks, and local open spaces and built environments available to us that inevitably shape our experience of place and the pandemic. Out of our collective journaling—separate but together—have emerged some shared patterns and individual insights. We are mindful and reflexive that we are just four people out of the billions experiencing this global crisis- and therein lies the rub, the desire to zoom back out to aggregated pictures. But we need both focal lengths- the macro and the micro, the bird’s eye and the worm’s eye view. So in sharing these reflections we do not mean to universalize, but rather to offer—to ask—does this resonate with your experience of nature and community in the time of COVID-19? Why or why not? We invite others to document their lived experiences of COVID-19—as we need this collective reflection now more than ever.

We offer our reflections below in four thematic parts alternating among each of us. We are cognizant that the crisis continues to unfold and are humble that our particular stories are not really the ones that need to be told the most right now. But if we inspire someone else to write, to reflect, to talk, to share, then we have achieved our aims.

I. Sirens, Birdsong, and Social Media: Soundscapes and Digital Connections

Shelter-in-place, stay home, wear a mask, do not gather, maintain social distance: all of the basic steps that are involved in flattening the curve and slowing the spread of the virus also have the impact of isolating and atomizing us into our household units—whether we live entirely alone, with partners or roommates, or our families. We find ourselves spending more time in our homes and personal spaces than perhaps any other time in history. But of course we are not alone, we are separate together, hyper-connected via the digital realm and the mediasphere. In fact, it is hard to disconnect. In an interview with author and artist Jenny Odell on an Ezra Klein podcast, she discussed how the only distinction now between her work life, social life, personal time, or family time is now in her mind—it is all happening compressed into a single space—and this resonated with our experiences. This lack of physical space and separation of activities is mentally fatiguing. So our minds rattle between stressors and the mundane—the dire news of the day, the work tasks to complete, the groceries to purchase, the friend who was ill, and those who passed. We remain ever-mindful that this sort of fatigue is a luxury, compared to the physical, mental, and emotional exhaustion faced by frontline and essential workers.

While digital connections feel like the most omnipresent and obvious connection to the “outside world” — other flows permeate our homespaces as well, including some that operate on deeply emotional registers. In particular – sound is able to travel at a distance and can reach our ears and minds even without our directed attention. At the peak of the pandemic in NYC with so much less car and air traffic, the city soundscape was altered. Less of the hum/drum of everyday street noise, but the wail of sirens was unignorable. Daylong conference calls and zoom meetings would pause when the uncomfortable reality of a siren came through someone’s speaker. Polite muting did not remove the painful reminder— thousands are ill, thousands are dying. Yes, this pandemic is happening all around us while we sit, sheltered in our homes, grateful for and worried about those unable to do so.

At the same time, many began to notice the subtle melodies of birdsong—a reminder that nature, life, and diversity are here and present all around us. When the shelter-in-place order started in March, our movement was slowed and outdoor spaces were essentially removed for many of us. At the same time, the world was waking up to spring while we were inside. The space in which we notice things has gotten smaller. Here are some journal snippets around this intimate nearby nature:

Michelle:

20 March 2020. Some of my own reflections on my relationship with the environment right now. I haven’t left my apartment in 2 days. I went to the park on 18 March after work and it was too crowded to feel safe. There was a weird frantic energy in the air. Normally I am a “Leave No Trace” person, but I couldn’t stay 6 feet away from anyone without diverging onto the grass.

I am opening my window every day until it gets too chilly. I can hear my neighbors’ laughter and conversation, but I can also hear the birds. The limited nature soundscape I have is so critical. I am not sleeping well and I can hear when the robin starts singing at 3 or 4 am—well before light. It is only daylight when the house sparrows and starlings start chiming in. That robin is a symbol of spring and hope for me.

8 April 2020. I opened my bathroom window last week and found twigs dropped by a pigeon building its nest. I looked out the window at my other sills and found even more twigs on another sill. Normally, I don’t pay attention to these birds—I am more excited about warblers in the park. But now I have an apartment list instead of a yard list/park list and am birding by sound mostly.

I see on social media that my friends who never birded are becoming birders and my birder friends are becoming backyard birders. I talked with my friends about what if I am still inside when the blackpoll warblers migrate through—at least I can hear them when they will be in the park (usually migrate through later than other birds heading to the Arctic in mid to late May).

24 May 2020. Walking around my neighborhood park, I hear my first blackpoll warbler’s high pitched trill. We are still inside—we have been inside the length of spring migration. Last week my friend texted he heard one in Inwood Park in upper Manhattan, so I knew to be on the lookout for them.

II. Rainbows and Cowbells: Signs of Solidarity and Gratitude

What are the messages that we share with our neighbors and the public during the pandemic? Signs in apartment windows or yard signs on residential lawns are vehicles for messages that we wish to transmit—they cross the threshold from our private sphere to the public realm. Collective messages of solidarity and gratitude literally rung out from the rooftops through the evening cheers that developed over the course of the shelter-in-place. These visual and auditory signs and signals are part of how we navigated this crisis, articulating our shared values and sending the message that we are not in this alone.

Lindsay:

On 17 March, I journaled about window rainbows for the first time. My nieces, sheltering with my parents in suburban Annapolis, Maryland, made a large front-yard rainbow saying “Tutto Va Bene” in reference to the Italian practice of children drawing these messages of hope and putting them in their windows during lockdown. On March 19, someone in my local Facebook mom’s group made mention of a google map of rainbows, so kids could do virtual “scavenger hunts”.  Since the group was based one neighborhood over, when I first checked it there were not any rainbows in my neighborhood. We made a point of taking a long family walk with my daughter in a stroller to find and photograph as many rainbows as we could and started a digital photo album just for our “Rainbow Shimmer”. Two months later, that map has spread across the country and world. But we don’t need a map—there are rainbows in almost every window in my neighborhood—as well as chalk drawings and even a street tree festooned with rainbows, but I still find myself taking pictures. The emotion I feel each time is mostly tenderness—I feel cheered by the messages of hope and thanks for essential workers, but I picture the millions of children, sheltering at home with their bewildered parents, and my heart aches and aches.

Rainbows in apartment windows. Photo: Lindsay Campbell
Rainbow chalk drawing on the sidewalk. Photo: Lindsay Campbell
Rainbow-adorned street tree. Photo: Lindsay Campbell

Every night at 7pm, we open up our window and ring a cowbell. My toddler ends this ritual with the phrase I taught her: “Thank you workers, thank you helpers” as we join millions of people around the world in thanking frontline and essential workers. Our neighborhood is relatively quiet, all and all, once in a while we hear a few other bells, pots, pans, and claps, but I have seen videos from other neighborhoods around the city and the world that ring out with song. Who are we thanking? The healthcare workers, of course, but all city agencies keeping us safe: fire department, trash collection, as well as essential workers delivering food, mail, and other goods.

This local street art in my neighborhood captures the broad range of people we need to thank. I make a point not just of ringing my cowbell, but of personally thanking these workers when I see them. I contributed to a fund that was set up to help our postman purchase his own PPE—a necessary, but insufficient step toward protecting an essential worker. Frontline workers themselves have noted and protested that applause is not enough, they need protection.

Street art thanking essential workers. Photo: Lindsay Campbell

Erika:

On 19 April I walked over the big retail chain hardware store near my neighborhood. I was desperate to see if I could find something colorful to grow in planters on my roof. There was a sign thanking emergency responders and a place to sign your name with appreciation. The NYPD, EMS, and the Dept of Sanitation were all listed…and then I saw the logo for the NYC Parks Enforcement Police  (known as PEP officers). This was the first time I personally ever noticed NYC Parks acknowledged on a first responder sign. I smiled. Although the gates are locked, each and every day since this all began, there has been a park worker that shows up in the park across from my apartment. This person sweeps, cleans, and keeps order until we can enter again. I am very grateful for her work.

On 21 May: I was on a conference call today and a colleague who runs a citywide stewardship program shared that she was disheartened. “We were denied our spring this year,” she said. Her frustration was because she knows that when people volunteer in the parks they do more than care for the vegetation, they tend to care for and learn more about each other. I was feeling down about that too. We talked about when and how the city might collectively mourn: When would be the right time? What would this look like for parks volunteers? Digging, planting and pulling vines and being in the company of others amidst a nature where life and death cannot be denied.

Lindsay:

On 21 May, the Empire State Building and other NYC landmarks were lit up green to honor and thank park workers, under the campaign #GoingGreenForParkies. Monuments in San Francisco were also lit green that day for the same reason, and I saw some social media traffic about wearing green as far away as Honolulu. This reflects a public recognition of the important work that park workers are doing and have been doing each and every day.

III. Care Work: Mutual Aid and Stewardship

Prior to COVID-19, much of our shared research has focused on civic stewardship—acts of care-taking and claims-making on the local environment. With this work, we aim to better visualize and amplify the work of local groups in advocating for, maintaining, and educating the public about the environment. We have also examined the ways in which environmental stewards reorganize and respond to disturbance—be it hurricane, flood, tornado, September 11th, invasive pest, or economic downturn. While the pandemic is unprecedented in its spatial extent and cascading public health, economic, and social impacts, it is another form of disturbance to which these local groups and networks adapt and respond.

Most visibly, we have seen the rise of mutual aid groups—many of them wholly new operations, some of them organized on the heels of prior organizing from Hurricane Sandy, which also build on the organizing of Occupy Wall Street. Even before stay-at-home orders were passed, when it became clear that many New Yorkers would be struggling—physically, emotionally, and financially—as a result of COVID-19, community members came together to prepare. Many have memories of responding to past disasters, from 9/11 to Hurricane Sandy, by activating social networks and coming together to exchange resources and hold space. Without the ability to be together physically, organizing quickly began online and via flyers posted on neighborhood streets. Over time, many became networked and began exchanging ideas on how to do the work of helping neighbors.

Whether initiated by local elected leaders, community based organizations, or residents within a building, most early efforts focused on checking in with older adults and other vulnerable populations. Establishing these social connections, sometimes through something as simple as a phone call making sure a neighbor has enough food for the week, can create a lifeline in a crisis. As the death toll ticked up and unemployment rates increased, it became clear that amidst uncertain fiscal budgets and philanthropic support, local organizing would need to fill longer-term needs. Mutual aid groups across the city are now struggling to figure out how to become more sustainable. In Crown Heights, requests for grocery runs are coming in so quickly that there is a backlog of at least a month. The level of need is high, but is it realistic for a group of neighbors, each with their own personal quarantine challenges, to fill the gaps left by the many closing food pantries and dwindling social services?

Michelle:

Because of health concerns, I have only volunteered virtually. I joined my neighborhood’s mutual aid group in late March and have watched it evolve over time, becoming more organized, networked, and complex, as it responded to more community needs and more volunteers. Seeing the volunteer numbers climb has been inspiring. I have called elderly neighbors to check in on them and, for the month of April, served on the dispatch team. Every week when I signed in to my shift, community needs had expanded, available resources had changed, and the mutual aid group was hard at work with evolving dispatcher guidelines for how to assist neighbors in need. Mutual aid groups were coordinating across neighborhoods, yet I observed that not all neighborhoods in NYC had a specific group. What is the social infrastructure a community needs to be able to establish, maintain, and expand such efforts? My neighborhood already had a strong civic-minded tech community; many of them have volunteered to create systems that have enabled communication and organization for mutual aid.

Laura:

So far all of my volunteering has been virtual. As a healthy, able-bodied young person, I struggle with finding the balance between staying home to protect myself and others and assuming some risk in order to support those who cannot safely go to the store. In the early days of quarantine, I eagerly signed up for any and all opportunities that came through my inbox. I shared my name and phone number with neighbors on a list of potential errand-runners circulating in my building. I also unknowingly signed up to make phone calls to seniors in Chicago, and organizers assured me that my actual location was not important—what does distance even mean anymore? Later, I was matched with three seniors here in Brooklyn, whom I called and connected to various services and resources I hoped would be helpful. The phone conversations I had were brief but pleasant, and everyone seemed to welcome the chance to connect. I have also joined my local mutual aid group’s intake team, responding to requests for groceries and matching them with volunteers who can go to the store and make contact-free deliveries. I recently returned a call to a neighbor who had reached out back in April, but she was still in need of basic food items. Seeing the update that her groceries were delivered felt like a tiny victory. It is moving to see people come together in times of need. Other volunteers in the mutual aid group have expressed a deep appreciation to the online community of responders. The woman who led my intake volunteer training said that since becoming out of work due to COVID-19, this has become her job. But what happens when she goes back to work and neighbors are still going without food? So much more is needed in order to support ongoing community building.

While civic stewardship groups have their usual territories and ecologies that they care for, in the face of crisis and our changing reality—we’ve observed their ability to be nimble and adaptive to meet pressing needs of their community. Updating fieldwork protocols, adjusting workforces, cancelling or changing public events, providing educational content online, and a dire need for resources are just a few of the currently emerging changes. Gowanus Canal Conservancy canceled its public events, but set up socially-distant stewardship supply pick-up with public health guidance on how to safely engage. Other local neighborhood organizations focus on serving their communities in a range of ways that include environmental stewardship and social service provision—we see these groups playing key roles as neighborhood “hubs” in providing access to information, resources, services and programming. United Community Centers in East New York is host to the East New York Farms! Youth agriculture program. While their in-person programming was canceled this spring, they focused on being a conduit to their network—providing information on emergency food relief, connecting to city services, and ensuring that their residents were counted in the 2020 census. Astoria Park Alliance, with a focus on stewarding a particular park, has focused on safe use and access of the park, through signage and online advocacy around road closures.

It is not surprising to find that several well-organized groups are in areas that were hard-hit by Hurricane Sandy, such as Red Hook, Brooklyn and Far Rockaway, Queens. Red Hook Initiative is engaged in local, resident-led response, focusing on the neighborhood’s most vulnerable residents, particularly those in public housing, as well as the youth population of the community. Their services and programs range widely from providing food relief to partnering with the city DOT in hosting an open street on W9th Street. Rockaway Initiative for Sustainability and Equity is adapting its programming to include participating in collective mask-sewing efforts, funding PPE for hospital workers, offering information about gardening and foraging for the public, and collaborating with a regional farm to provide free organic produce for Rockaway families in need.

These groups do not work alone—they organize coalitions, campaigns, and networks. For example, a group of conservancies that work closely with the NYC Parks Department organized a report on the impacts of COVID-19 on their operations and services. This report led directly to the establishment of a Green Relief and Recovery Fund with support from multiple philanthropic organizations as well as the general public. The crowdfunding organization, ioby, quickly established matching funds and resources to tailor their platform for mutual aid and community COVID-19 response. Civic organizations like ioby function as “brokers” that help support local leaders and foster emergent groups. At a neighborhood scale, the Guardians of Flushing Bay is a stewardship group that works near the epicenter of the outbreak—in Flushing and Corona, Queens. They organized a crowdfunding campaign to raise funds for groups providing direct relief in their watershed, showing evidence that these groups are not solely concerned with environmental quality, but are involved in supporting community well-being and quality of life in nimble and collaborative ways.

IV. Flowers and sidewalks, backyards and parks: Accessing hyper-local nature

As the days passed and the weather warmed, signs of spring became omnipresent. With the luxury of free time, neighborhood walks became a daily or weekly ritual for us. And with this shrunken geographic sphere came a heightened attention—to where the buds had opened, to which front yard had lilacs you could reach from the sidewalk, to which side of the street was warm and sunny for an afternoon walk. The public realm of the street trees and sidewalks is our most immediate access to hyper-local nature. So we notice it all: the lovingly tended flower beds and the unsightly spots where discarded masks and trash accumulate with the decreased street cleaning. Flowers were coming up out of street tree beds—a sign of planning ahead; gloves are left on the street, but the tree beds themselves look cared for. These walks along well-known territory changed over time as leaf out began, as daffodils gave way to tulips and pansies in the street tree beds; at the same time, the people on the street changed, with more people out and about now once there was talk of reopening and nice weather.

Flyer encouraging mask-wearing. Photos: Lindsay Campbell

Nobody and everyone “owns” the sidewalks. They became the space where people congregate, alone with a lawn chair, spaced apart with paper-bagged beverages, in family units. Strangely, in this dire time, the public realm comes to life. But they are also spaces of friction, these sites of encounter. Who shoots an ugly glare or a sharp word to an unmasked jogger, Who steps aside for whom into the roadbed? Public shaming and enforcing of norms starts to happen with handmade flyers that appear on fence posts. These signs are messages that set up expectations about how and for whom access to the public realm occurs. In our past research, we look to the messages that the public adds to our shared spaces—like parks and sidewalks—in order to “read the landscape” for these emergent and informal norms. In the time of COVID-19 we are reading the landscape for how we navigate a changing experience with public space in the time of masking, social distancing, and closures of most of our commercial establishments

Flyer encouraging mask-wearing. Photos: Lindsay Campbell

Laura:

Beyond the sidewalk are the privately owned public spaces—the front yards, stoops, backyards, and patios. In NYC, only a select few have access to these sorts of oases. Backyards have become a symbol of privilege in the pandemic. The ability for some city dwellers to safely get some fresh air by stepping onto their private balcony, or even to escape to a second or third home to comfortably quarantine is a stark reminder of the many disparities exacerbated by the virus. For those of us with access to shared private spaces, a new kind of negotiation of space is necessary. Sometimes, this means having to formalize previously unstated rules and norms. What in the “before times” might have turned into a moment of socialization between neighbors waiting to use the grill in a shared backyard is now distilled into a list of rules about the number of family units allowed in one place at a time.

And then there are the parks. And they remained open—with the exception of playgrounds that are full of surfaces that could not be cleaned regularly enough to be safe. Open and accessible to all— in theory, but the reality of that access looks very different depending upon a number of factors. Some of the issues around park access depend upon the geographic location, size, design, and programming of parks (see NYC Parks Framework for an Equitable Future; New Yorkers for Parks’ Open Space Index; TPL ParkScore). In the time of COVID-19, playground and recreation courts are considered to invite non-social distancing behaviors, while a larger park with a forest canopy or open meadow is deemed more suitable for solitary or small group activities including hiking or birding. Other factors related to access depend on how safe residents feel using a park given their race, ethnicity, gender, ability, or age (See Finney 2014; Sonti et al. 2020; TPL Parks and the Pandemic). On 2 May 2020, we read news and twitter accounts of disparities in policing between park goers who were white or people of color. On 7 May, Mayor deBlasio denounced the racial disparity in social distancing arrests, and on 8 May the City announced it would limit visitation and apply social distancing measures at Hudson River Park and Domino Park, two crowded parks in largely affluent, white neighborhoods (see images). The critical point here is to plan purposefully for equitable and inclusive access, especially as we move into the summer season with higher temperatures. Public green spaces may offer the only respite for those suffering from stifling summer heat conditions

Lindsay:

Living in my neighborhood for 14 years, I had never seen my local park more crowded. At the start of the lockdown, the police drove their cars through the park, blaring a loudspeaker message about social distancing. As time wore on, they came out of their cars, walking, mostly carrying masks to give away. It struck me that there was no reason that this particular role necessarily needed to be played solely by the police. I read that NYC Parks is staffing up with a large cadre of social distancing ambassadors. We could imagine an expanded green workforce that is responsible for the care and maintenance of both our parklands and the health and safety of the visiting public.

The 25 May racist incident in which Amy Cooper, a white woman with an off-leash dog, threatened to call the police on Christian Cooper, a black man who was birding in Central Park’s Ramble who asked her to leash her dog, revealed deeply ingrained, systemic racism that shapes who feels safe in parks. The hashtag #birdingwhileblack did not originate with this incident, but shined a light on the ways in which black and brown bodies are surveilled and controlled in the public sphere. Swift responses from Audubon NYCwhere Christian Cooper was a board member—as well as Amy Cooper’s employer, revealed that these incidents will not go unseen or silently sanctioned. We are concerned that in the time of COVID-19, as more and more people are seeking use and refuge of parks and natural areas, we will have these encounters of friction and conflict. How will we as a society ensure equitable, safe, and open access for all to these vital natural resources?

Erika:

On 19 May I spoke with the administrator of a large park here in NYC. She wanted to talk with Lindsay and I about issues of race and inclusion and some research we had done in her park a few years ago. She had taken a diversity course from the Central Park Conservancy and was now reading a few academic papers on the subject. She worried that natural resource managers needed conceptual tools and training to address the issues that were coming up. It troubled her to know that certain people of color are not comfortable in their park and because of that, would not benefit from all that nature has to offer us, especially at this time. She told us how her community was severely impacted by COVID-19. She mentioned that many residents were trying to process the death of Ahmaud Arbery. And then came the May 25 incident in Central Park between a bird watcher and a dog walker. She knew that how the park is managed can contribute to inclusion (and exclusion) across differences of age, race, culture and creed. And she knew that this was a key part of her job. When we hung up, I sat there wondering if most people would believe that park administrators are ‘out there’ thinking and worrying about diversity, equity, and inclusion issues in deep and thoughtful ways? So often we might think of managing parkland as caring for trees and mowing the grass, but it is so much more. Such power and potential for transformation lies within our own capacity as green workers and through our public lands.

* * *

As we are writing this essay, which now feels poignantly dated-in-real time, our streets, sidewalks, and parks in New York City and across the country are erupting in protest over the murder of George Floyd. Our city and country are in anguish over these twinned crises of the pandemic and systemic racism. We know that the public realm has always been a space of assembly and discourse, including violent clashes and disagreements. Even in relatively quiet corners of the city, away from the protest, we see signs of solidarity, anger, and love. We read the landscape for these signs—handmade flyers, chalk drawings, and graffiti asserting that black lives matter—that echo the “shouts in the street”. We read these signs as they are barometers of social meaning and are important to the equitable stewardship of public space.

Chalk drawing stating black lives matter in a public park. Photo: Lindsay Campbell
Rainbow and BLM fist in an apartment window. Photo: Lindsay Campbell

 V. La longue duree

What can daily journaling, observing micro-practices and hyper-local geographic terrains tell us about la longue duree (“the long term” arc of history) and the way in which our society might fundamentally shift in response to this pandemic, as well as the way in which that pandemic intersects with our pre-existing inequities and vulnerabilities?

The historian Frank Snowden informs us in his most recent book on epidemics and societies that in addition to the loss of life, pandemics tend to cause painful rifts in our relationships to each other, among family members, friends, and social groups (Snowden 2019; see link). Over the long arc of time, things do eventually change. Snowden reminds us that the Paris School of Medicine emerged from the French Revolution with a turn toward observation and away from depending heavily on Hippocratic theory in managing public health. The motto of the 19th Century Paris School was: Peu lire et beaucoup voir (read little, but see a lot). In that seeing, it is important to consider what and whose narratives are told in the construction of a historic account. A recent article in the Nation posed this very question with respect to journalistic, archival, and historic coverage of this pandemic and the 1918 pandemic in Africa. How can we understand, document and grieve the grave loss of life and hold ourselves, our leaders, and our institutions accountable to change, but also see the creative, vital, sometimes improvisational, emergent adaptations by all of us, as agents that are critical to that change? These are also stories that need to be told—of lives lived with the pandemic—or else they will be forgotten and will not be learned from. We see this as a call to action for more voices to document and teach us from their lived experiences of the pandemic.

As humans and observers of the world, we journal; as researchers we can think critically about our observations. This approach has clarified the key questions and throughlines that we plan to consider in our own environmental stewardship and governance research in the New York City region and as part of a community of practice that includes researchers, natural resource managers, stewards, artists, and educators across a wide range of cities and towns. These include:

  • How does the pandemic change our relationship with the city, nature, and public lands?
  • How might we transform the public realm to better adapt to our new reality, in ways that are equitable, safe, supportive, and welcoming for all?
  • How can our relationship with nature help us restore and strengthen our relations with each other at all scales: individual, group, and societal?

The compound disasters of the coronavirus, racial injustice, and climate change are shifting our relationships to the city and its public spaces. Who will be the transformative agents that can help address these issues? We have seen prior realignments of the way we conceptualize and orchestrate our cities and towns, with goals of achieving the sanitary city, the sustainable city, the resilient city. What does the post-pandemic city look like?

Lindsay K. Campbell, Erika Svendsen, Laura Landau, Michelle Johnson
New York

On The Nature of Cities

The findings and conclusions in this essay are those of the authors and should not be construed to represent any official USDA or U.S. Government determination or policy.

Erika Svendsen

About the Writer:
Erika Svendsen

Dr. Erika Svendsen is a social scientist with the U.S. Forest Service, Northern Research Station and is based in New York City. Erika studies environmental stewardship and issues related to hybrid governance, collective resilience and human well-being.

Laura Landau

About the Writer:
Laura Landau

Laura is currently pursuing a PhD in geography at Rutgers University. Her research focuses on the civic groups that care for the local environment, and on the potential for urban environmental stewardship to strengthen communities and make them more resilient to disaster and disturbance.

Michelle Johnson

About the Writer:
Michelle Johnson

Michelle Johnson is a research ecologist with the USDA Forest Service at the NYC Urban Field Station.

 

The Village within the City—Rurality in the Era of Globalization

Many voices. Greener cities. Better cities.

Popular descriptions of urbanization these days often describe humanity as having entered a “new urban era“, with more people living in cities today than they do in rural areas. Urban areas have a large footprint of impact on the rural countryside, and the line between the urban and the rural is particularly challenging to make in many parts of the world, where peri-urban areas, and even remote rural villages are dominated by the footprint of urban residents who extract resources from villages, pollute far away rivers and deforest remote landscapes, send remittances back to rural homes, and alter rural lifestyles towards more urban, consumptive behavior (Photograph 1).

Farmers in a rural Indian village spread a millet crop on the road, so that urban motorists can drive their vehicles onto the dried ears, crushing them to make it easy to remove the loosened grains. Thus, rural areas take advantage of their connection with cities to reduce the manual labor involved with manual threshing of crops. Photo: Harini Nagendra
Photograph 1: Farmers in a rural Indian village spread a millet crop on the road, so that urban motorists can drive their vehicles onto the dried ears, crushing them to make it easy to remove the loosened grains. Thus, rural areas take advantage of their connection with cities to reduce the manual labor involved with manual threshing of crops. Photo: Harini Nagendra

Policy makers and planners rely on hard distinctions between the urban and rural to devise strategies for urban planning, but such strategies are complicated by the fluidity between the rural and the urban.

Much attention has been given to differentiating the expanded footprint of the city on rural landscapes, through approaches such as the mapping of urban-rural gradients, that extend from the city center out past peri-urban and suburban landscapes to the rural environment. But equally common, though much less discussed, is the phenomenon of rurality within a city. The expansion of cities in many predominantly rural landscapes in Asia, Africa and Latin America has resulted in the city engulfing whole villages within its boundary, amoeba-like. These villages then exist within the city, often becoming converted to peri-urban slums with rural huts complete with livestock, co-existing next to affluent high rise apartments inhabited by software engineers. These areas tend to become the locus for rural migrants, leading to congestion in these areas coupled with high poverty and difficult living conditions. Such villages in the city are becoming increasingly common across Indian cities. Yetcity planners tend largely to ignore these areas, or at the most, term them urban slums. The dichotomous approach of the urban planner and the limitation of the discrete view of the urban vs the rural truly breaks down in such contexts.

In the Indian city of Bangalore, this is clearly apparent in areas within the city center, as well as at the periphery, where the influence of the rural is obvious. Many of the former villages located within Bangalore’s limits are easy to recognize based on obvious physical features such as the presence of rural style houses with thatched sloping roofs, the presence of Ashwath Kattes (Photograph 2), raised platforms around a sacred tree that create a central place for people to meet and talk, and the presence of livestock including cows and pigs in the heart of the city (Photograph 3).

Photograph 2: Ashwath kattes provide the central focus for a traditional village festival or jatre held annually in a village in Bangalore city limits. Attended by hundreds of participants from local villages, these festivals hold great cultural significance for these communities. Yet at the same time these traditional cultural practices are not immune to the forces of urbanization and globalization, with mass produced plastic toys being sold here alongside hand crafted wooden toys, and global icecream brands sold adjacent to local handmade snack foods. Photo: Harini Nagendra
Photograph 2: Ashwath kattes provide the central focus for a traditional village festival or jatre held annually in a village in Bangalore city limits. Attended by hundreds of participants from local villages, these festivals hold great cultural significance for these communities. Yet at the same time these traditional cultural practices are not immune to the forces of urbanization and globalization, with mass produced plastic toys being sold here alongside hand crafted wooden toys, and global icecream brands sold adjacent to local handmade snack foods. Photo: Harini Nagendra
Photograph 3: Livestock and people co-exist in one of Bangalore’s oldest neighborhoods, Basavanagudi, established as far back as 1897. Photo: Harini Nagendra
Photograph 3: Livestock and people co-exist in one of Bangalore’s oldest neighborhoods, Basavanagudi, established as far back as 1897. Photo: Harini Nagendra

Thus, cities do not only undergo a one-way path towards increased globalization and homogeneity of lifestyles and livelihoods. Cities in many parts of the world, as far flung as Beijing, Mexico City, Kampala and Bangalore, exhibit forms of rurality that are uniquely, intensely local. We need new ways to conceptualize, examine, illustrate and manage such scenarios. Urban studies need to move well beyond discrete conceptualizations of the rural vs the urban — even, I would argue, beyond approaches that attempt to characterize urban vs rural gradients in linear term — towards more continuous, multi-variable approaches that can truly capture and illustrate the multi-faceted nature of rurality within the city in a manner that captures some of its true complexity, and provide a way to still retain the unique charm of the local within the rapidly globalizing city.

Harini Nagendra
Bangalore

 

On The Nature of Cities

The Waste Economy as a Transformative Gendered Practice for Sustainable Resource Management in Urban Africa

Many voices. Greener cities. Better cities.

Frameworks for understanding the gendered nature of urban waste management have yet to emerge and analyses on the relationship between sustainable urban resource management and waste re-use and recycling at the neigbourhood-level are few. Those that do exist are more focused on city-level industry and infrastructure. This article illustrates how gender relations differentiate the ways in which women as compared to men manage urban waste, and how urban waste management impacts the underlying inequalities and relations between women and men. By presenting a gender perspective, the article gives a starting point for understanding how neigbourhood-level innovation around the re-use and recycling of wastes can be re-framed to promote equal participation in sustainable urban resource management and contribute to gender inclusive socio-economic transformation in cities of Africa.

Unlike other productive resources such as land, energy, and water that are subject to the prevailing forces of demand and supply in the city, waste materials in much of urban Africa are usually unclaimed, lying free on the streets, in restaurants, and in homes in anticipation of utility maximizers motivated by the costs and benefits of marketing discarded materials. However, much of the neigbourhood-scale innovations that seek to balance the need for household income enhancement and urban environmental protection through organic and inorganic waste re-use and recycling have not been sufficiently written about and shared internationally. Yet, innovations within the urban waste economy can be up-scaled to help developing cities in Africa increase resource productivity and adapt to a future of resource limitations and climate uncertainty.

In Kampala city, Uganda, where I have lived and pursued most of my research, dwellers in the low-lying and less economically advantaged neigbourhoods are increasingly motivated by an intersecting set of socio-economic and environmental factors to add value to discarded materials. The observable types of waste vendors include: i) regular waste vendors, ii) wholesale waste dealers, and iii) home to home waste dealers. Regular waste vendors own permanent spaces in markets, under a shed roof constructed by the authorities, for which they pay monthly rent, selling banana peelings, sacks, lint, and chicken litter as their commodities. These vendors collect waste materials from households and communities in the evening and bring them to the market early in the morning. Wholesale dealers, conversely, largely sell inorganic wastes which include plastic tins; bottles; and metal and glassware, which have a long shelf-life when compared to what regular waste vendors deal in.

RegularWasteDealers
Regular waste dealers. Image: Living Earth Uganda

Unlike the regular vendors, wholesale dealers can access or control or own land and housing spaces where they can collect and sort large volumes of waste. A case in point is a demonstration center in a suburb known as Kasubi-Kawaala, in the northwestern part of Kampala city, which occupies approximately 50 x 60 square feet for the collection of banana peelings, plastic bottles, tins, sawdust, cow dung and metal. Wholesale dealers also have access to external markets (outside the community). But the challenge is that prices for commodities are not usually set locally, but are set by marketplaces in China and Southern Sudan, for example. Wholesale dealers usually ‘step down’ from the external market price to allow for the collection, handling, storage and transportation of the materials to the nearest, most advantageous buyer outside the community.

Wholesale dealer
Wholesale dealer of Plastic Bottles in Kampala City. Image: Living Earth Uganda

Home to home waste vendors collect plastic and soda bottles, tins, newspapers, food stuffs, saw dust, cow dung and banana peelings from restaurants, marketplaces, retail shops and residential premises in all parts of the city. From the responses given, these vendors can carry 30 to 40 kg of waste depending on the type of item they have collected. From empirical observations, these vendors are usually male youth (aged between 18-30 years) and boys (aged between 10-16 years); they are frequently associated with illegal waste dumping. These vendors walk long distances between the upland and low-lying areas of Kampala city in search for the desired volumes of waste materials. They have no designated distribution points like wholesale dealers and regular waste vendors do. The most common waste innovation marketed by all these types of vendor are garbage briquettes. These are created when banana peels and other dried organic material are put into a large bin and burned at high heat and low oxygen, which creates a kind of charcoal material made of garbage. This is then crushed and mixed with clay and cassava flour (as a glue) and rolled into balls to create briquettes that can be used instead of charcoal.

briquettes
Garbage briquettes burning on a locally-made charcoal stove. Image: a family kitchen in Kampala

Gender relations as an urban phenomenon that socially defines individual roles, needs, and expectations within a network of human interactions shape socio-economic routines in the urban waste economy from a number of fronts. First, waste is a heterogeneous material and difficult to describe or classify. This is because the definition of waste can be very subjective: what represents waste to one person may represent a valuable resource to another. For example, oily milk packages may be used as fuel; leftover food may be fed to pigs and goats; discarded cardboard may serve as walls and roofs of houses. The classification of discarded materials may be influenced by the gender of the person making the judgment. What looks like ‘junk’ to women may be motorcycle parts to men; what looks like ‘dirt’ to men may be compost or fertilizer to women; there are myriad examples of different sexes “seeing” things differently (Muller, 1998). This means that waste needs to have a strict gender sensitive legal definition to comply with the law; such strict definitions have financial and legal implications for private businesses, local authorities, communities, and central governments.

Second, experiences from the communities have shown that as men and women participate (or not) in managing waste within the household, their relationship to discarded materials may depend on who they are, as much or more than on what they do. In particular, the frequently subordinate status of women may affect their general access to and control of resources, so that the “waste” materials or waste related activities may be the only ones which are available to them. This implies that new schemes for managing waste materials, which are blind to women compared to men’s activities, may destroy fragile livelihoods. Third, the household/social arrangement surrounding the use of waste reduction/recycling technologies must be innovated for proper waste management options. Reduction involves good practice, input material changes, and technological changes for environmental cost savings arising from producing less waste, which include savings in energy costs, waste storage space, transport costs, and lower emissions into the air, the water, and on land.

Waste reduction or recycling techniques, however, are often seen in highly limited terms as particular mechanical, chemical, or biological processes used in making one good for another. The extremely narrow view of technology that emerges from such a limited outlook does little justice to the “social content” of technology. The making of things involves not merely the relationship between, say, raw materials and final products, but also with the social organization that permits the use of specific techniques of production in homes, factories, or workshops. This means that the so-called “productive” activities that technology does, may be parasitic on other work being done, such as housework and food preparation, cleaning, and the care of children and adults as a source of labor for the operations. Technology in waste management is, in this regard, not only about equipment and its operational characteristics but also about social arrangements that permit the usage of equipment and the so-called productive processes carried out.

Technology for sanitation in public places—that is, waste collection and recycling machinery—has gender related questions that are critical for success in the targeted communities. For example, can women-owned enterprises as well as men-owned enterprises afford the investment? Are women-owned enterprises able to generate a higher work volume to pay for such investments, to the same extent as men-owned or mixed enterprises? Do women as well as men have equal access to the necessary training? Can women as well as men continue with related income earning activities, such as sorting the waste? How does new technology affect the health of women compared to men? Does it create equal risks or offer equal protection against health risks? Leaving such issues to the existing forces of competition and inequality in society may reinforce, or even increase, women’s social-economic disadvantage.

The re-use of ‘waste’ involves using a product or package more than once or re-using it in another application. Examples of re-use include re-using supermarket consumer bags, glass milk and water bottles, re-trading partly won tires or selling car scrap to merchants. Reusing extends the life of the material used and therefore reduces the waste quantity requiring treatment and disposal. However, waste re-use can be affected by consumer preferences that may be different in the case of women compared to men. Men and women value waste materials differently and see their usefulness for different purposes, such as domestic utility, saving on household expenditure, earning money or other purposes. Such issues are at stake in the field of gender and urban natural/social resources important in local livelihoods. Who uses which resources? Who controls decisions about how resources are used?  Who is helping to sustain local resources and who benefits from this? How is the situation changing? Answers to these questions must be sought through gender-focused research in waste management.

Lastly, public gatherings and committee meetings at the neighborhood and community levels and at city councils are often the means of consulting the community about development priorities, and are increasingly a key ingredient in setting urban development agendas. In an era of intensifying pressure on municipalities for cost recovery and fiscal discipline, such consultations are also likely to be seen as means of securing a public commitment to pay for private waste management services. Here, too, gender considerations are important, as women and men may differ in their priorities for new or improved services, preferences for the type of service, and willingness and ability to pay. Several elements are at play when a community is consulted about waste services. The first is that women and men are likely to have different interests regarding environmental improvement, based on the different uses they make of the immediate environment. The second is the nature of the consultation process itself. This concerns the composition of the committees that take decisions and the forms of representation between the lower level and higher level committees. The ways in which the negotiation with the city council is structured, and the time and setting of the meetings may define the environment as “men’s” space, an environment in which women are not comfortable or free to express their opinions. Community consultation also concerns the degree to which a process of empowerment takes place among community groups. Do men and women, and members of different social groups, have equal opportunity to understand issues involved, to express their opinions and influence the outcomes? Simple but crucial decisions in this respect might concern the choice of the meeting place and time, language used, and division of representative tasks, such as negotiating with the local authorities.

This gendered understanding of the urban waste economy is advantageous to interventions that seek to achieve a balance between urban economic development, long-term ecological sustainability and social justice through the following ways:

  1. Studies – disaggregating waste management modes and preferences by sex, and undertaking environmental health impact assessments by comparing vulnerability using gender-based variables such as what roles women play compared to men in collecting, sorting, disposing, storing, reuse and recycling of waste at multiple scales (household to community to city levels).
  2. Capacity development – training opportunities on sustainable urban waste management are offered to an equal number of female and male change agents/ambassadors to promote practices that not only safeguard communities against waste-related hazards but also offer economic opportunities through re-use and recycling. This can be vital to the empowerment of communities, especially when participants acknowledge and acquire the ability to transform the household/neigbourhood waste activities into credible and environmentally sound businesses, and are capable of negotiating for enabling standards, regulations, and partnerships with formal institutions, mainly the private sector and local government authorities.
  3. Incubation centers for cleaner technologies – gendered innovations as the process of integrating gender analysis around women’s and men’s roles, and research into technology development for commercial and non-commercial management of urban waste, can enhance the quality of outcomes. This research can be completed through interdisciplinary collaborations between gender experts, natural scientists, urban economists, and engineers working together to reform research agendas and institutions.

Buyana Kareem
Kampala

On The Nature of Cities

References

Muller, M. (1998) ‘The Collection of household Excreta in Urban Low-income Settlements’, WASTE/ENSIC, Gouda/Bangkok

The Wild Beast as the Other: Framing of Urban Wildlife in Popular Imagination

Many voices. Greener cities. Better cities.

India is on a rapid path to urbanisation. While currently only 30% of India’s population lives in cities, this is changing rapidly. Plans have been recently announced to build 100 new “smart cities” across India, with an ambitious plan that includes the proposed investment of 1.2 billion US dollars in 2015. Many of these predicted future ‘smart’ cities will come up on farmland and pasture, often commons land used or managed by the local village. Some predictions indicate that 600 million Indians may live in cities by 2031.

In the urban India that is increasingly becoming our future, the focus of administrators has largely remained on infrastructure provisioning: for roads, energy, piped water, and increasingly, for internet access. The focus on a sustainable vision of planning rarely includes a consideration of green spaces. Yet the importance given to trees and plants seems high in comparison to that given to urban wildlife, which hardly ever figures in the conversation about city planning in India. Wildlife conservation remains a discussion centered on the rural and the forest, spaces that are increasingly shrinking as the city enlarges its footprint on the rest of the country. In this era of rapid urbanization, can we hope to derive a different, urban ethic of nature conservation? One that goes beyond the popular urban fetishization of nature via protected area tourism and wildlife photography, to a more inclusive consideration of how to deal with the challenges of the coexistence of the human with the wild in a city?

Begur Hero Stone Inscription: The best hero stone available in whole of India, now preserved in Bangalore Museum
Begur Hero Stone Inscription, now preserved in Bangalore Museum

Urban wildlife plays a major role in the imagination of nature in cities. One of the most interesting narratives in the changing history of nature in the city of Bangalore can be constructed around wildlife. Epigraphic inscriptions found on hero-stones, pillars, rocks and temple foundations around Bangalore are filled with tales of hunts and wild beasts. At Kengeri, a satellite city of Bangalore at the south-west periphery, an inscription from 1060 AD commemorates the death of Rama-Deva, killed by an old boar while on a hunt. A series of inscriptions from Kanakapura taluk (south-west of Bangalore, near the Bannerghatta Tiger Reserve), describe the death variously of Rajendra-sola-valanadu from a tiger attack in 1118 AD, of Vellala Angandan from a tiger attack in 1120 AD, and of Sokka-Ilingatton and his dog in a boar hunt in 1310 AD. Hunting wild beasts was a kingly activity and a way to gain prestige: thus most of these inscriptions make it a point to mention that the victim was also a victor, piercing and killing the beast before dying. Yet the consequences of the hunt, and of death thereafter, were borne not just by the hunter but his entire family. Thus, the inscription from 118 AD states (after the death of her husband): “Thereupon his wife S’ikkavai, daughter of Vasavagamundar, entered the fire” (i.e. committed ritual sacrifice).

Tiger hunting in India 1880’s
Tiger hunting in India 1880’s

Deaths due to wild animal attack were not just a consequence of hunting, but occurred as a consequence of making a living in an environment populated with wildlife. An inscription of 1351 AD from Kanakapura taluk describes the death of Vira-Somaji who “having gone to tend the cattle, was attacked by a big tiger and went to swarga” (heaven), while another inscription from 1653 AD commemorates the death of Chudappa’s son Devappa, mauled by a tiger. Presumably there were a larger number of such deaths, though of people not deemed significant enough to construct hero stones in their commemoration…!

Indian rulers were of course known for their fascination with the wildlife hunt. Yet some of the most grotesque of hunts resulted from the intersection between the British imagination of the wild within the confines of the city. Urban “hunts” were a favourite pastime of the British officer in Bangalore, influenced by Indian royalty’s fascination with the wild beast as an object of hunting, used to demonstrate bravery and prowess. Yet the urban hunt in actuality demonstrated neither of these supposedly masculine virtues. Hunts in the city were conducted by British officers on horseback, armed with guns and spears in the urban backdrop of Bangalore’s race course. Tigers and other wild cats were brought in cages from the forests surrounding Bangalore, often supplied by the Mysore maharajah. An account by a British officer James Welsh, in 1811 narrates in gruesome detail the hunting of an unlucky tiger transported in a cart from the nearby town of Ramnagara. When his cage was opened on the Bangalore racecourse, the tiger immediately knocked over four native sepoys, and chased British and Indian officers around the racecourse. The tiger was eventually killed by a group of twenty peons who surrounded him with long swords and shields, despatching him with over a hundred wounds. (Meanwhile the British officer who had arranged for the hunt complained bitterly that the natives had cut a tiger which he had already speared and killed.) In the vicinity of Bangalore, the Bangalore Hunt was a family hobby. Between the 1920s and the 1940s, members of the Mysore Royal family, European and Anglo-Indian participants trampled over agricultural fields, accompanied by hounds and horses, reckless of the damage caused to local farmers.

Lord and Lady Cuzon, governor of India in 1903 with tiger
Lord and Lady Cuzon, governor of India in 1903 with tiger

For the natives, the dangers of wildlife were severe as the city grew, leading to an intensive period of targeted kills. During an 18 month period in 1835-1836, 2397 cattle and 14 humans were killed by wildlife, with an additional 9 people wounded in the division of Bangalore. 1 elephant, 22 tigers, 55 cheetahs, 21 leopards and 1 bear were destroyed during the same time. In 1836, rewards were instated for the destruction of wild predators, after which their number greatly decreased.

About 2 centuries later, the extermination of wildlife has been spectacularly successful. With the exception of Bannerghatta Tiger Reserve, adjacent to the southern border of the city, tigers are not to be found elsewhere (although I have seen a child of about 12 wonder if tigers lurk in an exotic Eucalyptus plantation adjacent to a road choked with traffic near my house!). Some types of wildlife are harder to confine to boundaries. Elephants, for instance. A few months ago, several schools near my home were closed for a couple of days while a herd of elephants moved through the surroundings, trampling over tennis courts and damaging lawns at one school. While we do not know what the elephants thought of such manicured green spaces, we do know that Bangalore’s newspapers were full of alarm at the “rampaging” elephant herds, with people converging in large groups and shining flashlights at the herd, further disorienting them and rendering it difficult for them to return to their familiar forest habitat.

TigerOnTheProwlMy friend Madhu Katti (also a TNOC writer) has written about other invasions of urban habitat by wildlife in recent times, including the return of the lesser flamingos to Mumbai’s busy port harbour, and the San Joaquin kit fox to central California. These success stories are perhaps easier to handle than the challenges of dealing with a herd of marauding elephants in a city. The herd that visited Bangalore also sadly killed four people in the rural areas surrounding the city during their brief excursion. Animal-human conflicts are on the rise across India, as the city continues its seemingly relentless advance into the countryside.

Yet animals can hardly be to blame for this situation. The roots of the conflict seem to lie deeper, in our very framing of the wild beast as the “other”, a being to be valorized in battle, conquered in a hunt, trapped in a cage, butchered for trophies, and exoticized in print. In our smart cities, can and do expect high speed digital highways where we can browse for photographs of tigers and elephants, and watch spectacular youtube videos of wildlife at a safe distance. Yet can we see the real thing? Unless we seek out a different imagination of coexistence with nature—on her terms, as much as on ours—we lack hope for the maintenance of urban nature in an increasingly urban planet.

Harini Nagendra
Bangalore

On The Nature of Cities

The Wild Edges of Our Garden

Many voices. Greener cities. Better cities.
The garden has deep roots in human beings’ evolving sociocultural imaginary. We have created and been around gardens for thousands of years—and the nature of and within these gardens shift and change depending on needs, ideas, and priorities. Gardens—like the works in this volume—form part of the stories we tell about ourselves.

One morning before school, my father hurriedly interrupted my sister and me at the breakfast table, with a look of mischief in his eye, and an instruction to follow him, quickly and quietly, into the garden.1 It was a relatively chilly morning, at least by the standards of generally sunny and temperate Johannesburg. Our morning routines were usually quite rushed, so my father’s slow and deliberate steps from the front door to the far side of the house, us following in eager anticipation and confusion, disrupted the rhythm of the weekday mundane. Our house was located in a relatively newish suburb, somewhat on the periphery of this ever-expanding city. We had wild veld2 growing on neighbouring undeveloped plots and on the roadsides. It was not uncommon to see snakes and meerkats on our walks around the adjacent koppies,3 and hadedas were frequent visitors on our suburban lawn. Lizards sunning themselves on rocks and the odd translucent gecko on our bedroom ceiling (not to mention other critters like rain spiders who would seek respite indoors after a thunder shower) were not unusual curiosities. But these were paltry sightings in comparison with what was waiting for us under the exposed, creosoted eaves of our clay-tiled roof.

Tip-toeing, we caught up to my father: one finger placed on his mouth, with his other hand pointed to the under-hang. The square root of his gesture invited our gaze to follow it upwards, but it took some time for our eyes to adjust to the jarring chiaroscuro: the dimness of the roof under-hang set against the brightness of the early morning highveld sky. Eventually, the silhouette of a medium-sized furry creature came into focus. Slowly, spots started to develop, and I began to make out dark eyes and a black nose encircled by a pinch of white snout. A bushy striped tail accentuated its curled body, which was nestled quite comfortably in the rather awkward right angle made by the wall stud and the wooden strut of the eave. Its eyes were steadily trained on us: a genet! It was both exquisite and ordinary, reminding us of the wild edges of our city. It was both the first and last genet to visit our house—at least to our knowledge—but the memory, almost three decades later, is still angular and distinct.

It seemed unusual then, to come upon a genet in our suburban garden—even though they are relatively common to the region. Our wonder that morning might sound especially strange to readers outside South Africa. It’s a well-worn trope that locals poke fun at foreigners who think that lions and giraffes freely roam the streets (they don’t). Growing up in Johannesburg meant that our exposure to wild animals had been reserved for trips to the zoo and game drives in the bush (the latter, far outside city limits). In fact, our city upbringing was a source of constant mirth in the family: at a tender age, my sister, upon witnessing our Italian grandmother gathering fresh tomatoes from her vegetable garden, commented on the strangeness of this enterprise. Her mother’s tomatoes came packaged in a box from the grocer (as though the provenance of both sets of tomatoes were materially different). The store produced the tomatoes, did it not, so why did Nonna need to toil in the garden to get hers?

Following that morning with the genet, anything now seemed possible. The city was alive with possibility. For weeks afterwards, I would pay careful attention to the margins of our garden and home. I’d find my eyes flitting to the nooks and crannies of the roof, and when playing outside, any movement seemed to promise a break from suburban monotony. During the school-run, my eyes would be trained on the roadside, scanning the edges of brush, as though willing another surprise into existence. I am not entirely sure what I was hoping to see: a mongoose scampering between traffic? A duiker slipping between the trees? Perhaps, if I was lucky, a porcupine hobbling over a rocky outcrop near the golf course? Unfortunately for me, these ideations remained mere flights of fancy.

Eventually, my attuned gaze began to soften, and I stopped searching the wild borders of our city. Yet, just when the excitement of that one school morning threatened to fade away, and slip off the corners of my memory, a tortoise surfaced in our back yard. This was even more impressive than the genet’s arrival. How did it get there!? After all, it takes a rather agile creature to negotiate a six-foot perimeter wall topped with barbed wire! It remains a cheerful mystery to this day.

I hope you can forgive this foray into personal anecdotes, but the theme of this year’s The Nature of Cities flash fiction competition—“the city in a wild garden”—summoned these childhood memories, where lines between city, garden, and wilderness were momentarily blurred. The memory of the genet and the tortoise work to remind me that cities should not, and are not, divorced from the surrounding natural world. Cities are part of ecosystems. A harmful history of anthropocentrism is largely to blame for thinking of cities and nature as antinomies. “The city in a wild garden” invites a radical reimagining of the city. Instead of maintaining so-called neat boundaries between city and nature, here the city— through this theme—situates urban space within nature, hybridising the urban and destabilizing the scope and dimensions of what we have come to think of as city space. It is trenchant, too, that the garden is imagined as a wild space—not a manicured or heavily cultivated zone of human interference. It thus normalizes the wild garden as a feature of city space—not something relegated to the country or undeveloped land on the outskirts of the city. The notion of a garden as wild actively subverts the etymology of the word “garden,” which originally signalled an “enclosure” or that which was “fenced-in.”

Entrants were asked to write short stories with a target length of 750-words or less, set in the present or future (either near or distant), and inspired by this phrase, “city in a wild garden.” In keeping with The Nature of Cities’ focus on greener cities for the benefit of both people and nature, the stories themselves needed to feature the following three components: cities, nature, and people. As part of the brief, writers were asked to imagine cities “in which nature and people co-exist, cities in which the relationships between the human-made and the natural are imagined differently.” The competition’s entry guidelines were otherwise quite expansive and invited stories from a range of genres from science fiction to magical realism, inviting narratives that contemplated food security, climate change, wild nature, love stories, and utopian visions of green cities. The call received over 1000 submissions, from an impressive array of countries (101 in total). Two rounds of adjudication then commenced. The first round (consisting of almost one hundred judges) whittled the number of stories down to 150 submissions. This longlist was then forwarded to an executive committee of thirteen jurists, who ultimately settled on six prize-winning stories and a total of forty-nine entries (from twenty countries) which are collected in this book.

The collection, City in a Wild Garden, boasts a diverse array of gardens and types of gardeners. We find:

kitchen gardens and vegetable gardens;
unkempt, wild, and overgrown gardens;
suburban gardens and neighbourhood gardens;
balcony gardens, vertical gardens, and rooftop gardens;
Botanical gardens, animalled city-gardens;
people turning into gardens;
watchful gardens;
urban guerilla gardens;
… and war-torn gardens.

There are gardeners, old and young;
radical gardeners;
and potential gardeners (equipped with seed banks);
climate-change–combating gardeners;
people who plant gardens to remember;
and gardeners who are both plant and planter.

Ari Honarvar, from San Diego, penned the winning entry, “The Pomegranate Tree,” which follows a nine-year-old child in Pakistan, who helps her father finish smoking the last drags of cigarette in a drone-attack–ravaged garden. The titular tree bears no fruit as a result of the toxic debris caused by exploding ordnances. When the little girl thoughtlessly crushes an ant with a rock, her father allegorizes the garden’s ant colony as a means of developing her empathy for other living things. This poignantly throws into stark relief the inhumanity of the war being waged around them.

In second place, we had two prize winners. The first story, Rahul Kanvinde’s (Mumbai), “Monkey Business” is set in Delhi and presents an amusing postcolonial adaptation of the “dog ate my homework” ruse but now with the added benefit of promoting environmental justice: a bureaucrat plants bananas strategically across offices in a government building so that a monkey takes off with an important government file, which (not so accidentally) helps to thwart a deforestation plan. The other second-place prize was won by Bostonian, Jonathan Bronico with a story entitled, “Plua Koroa.” Bronico’s narrative celebrates traditional ecological knowledge: a mother uses plants for medicinal purposes, presenting an effective critique of the narrative’s Panamanian decree that forbids the cutting and foraging of wild plants.

Tied for third-place prizes were Heidi Ball for “Pomegranate Heights” (a charming love story about food security and fecund balcony gardens), C.Y. Ballard’s “The City Incarnata” (which imagines a dryad, who, through urban-wide rhizomes, pollinates her city), and Fernanda Castro’s haunting “Passing Season” (where every year skyscraper walls disappear and migratory birds pass through, unfettered by glass and concrete; yet, with this “passing season”, a grandmother and child observe the event together for the very last time).

Gardens in the collection are polysemic and teeming with potential. The multiplicity and variety of gardens on display rub away at the obdurate edges of brutalist skyscrapers, and call for reflection amidst humans’ capacity for both destruction and renewal. Many hands shape these narrative gardens. These can be complicated and heterogenous spaces; this rings true for this collection, and for us, as readers, who see this in our lived experiences of reified, physical gardens. Gordon Campbell writes in Garden History: A Very Short Introduction4 that “gardens are living creations that never stand still” and likens them to the flux doctrine, articulated through Heraclitus’s River: “one cannot step into the same river twice; the same might be said of gardens” (4).

Gardens are thus extremely variegated in form and function. The humble vegetable garden satisfies alimentary requirements, whereas, the allotment garden provides an excuse to be outside, enjoy the fresh air, and get some exercise. Remembrance gardens are places for reflection and memorialisation. Urban guerilla gardening challenges the types of locations we think suitable for gardens, and softens rough edges of unused and neglected spaces with new life. The act of gardening is therapeutic, centering—a meditative task that trains eye and hand into careful and productive partnerships to seed the earth and nurture the sprouting growth of young seedlings and saplings. In tony suburbs, gardens can be a narcissistic industry, where the aesthetic economy of landscape architecture signals wealth and privilege. Yet, other gardens, like communal gardens, can refute pecuniary excess, and instead welcome city residents from all walks of life to gather together through the act of planting. Rooftop gardens (for instance, acros Fukuoka in Japan), hanging and vertical gardens (which call to mind the residential towers of Bosco Verticale in Milan), and greenways (probably most famously, the Highline in New York) have presented different architectural opportunities to green the city—rehabilitating industrial and commercial wastelands, by reintroducing organic life into the fissures of concrete, brick, and stone.

The garden has deep roots in human beings’ evolving sociocultural imaginary. We have created and been around gardens for thousands of years—and the nature of and within these gardens shift and change depending on needs, ideas, and priorities. Gardens—like the works in this volume—form part of the stories we tell about ourselves. They feature in poetry, paintings, and literature. The garden, as an idea, underlies the buttressing narratives of ancient human culture and society: whether existing in the terrain of belief (the Garden of Eden in the Abrahamic tradition), history and myth (the Hanging Gardens of Babylon), or even allegory—as in the case in Shakespeare’s Richard II.5

The gardeners, in Act 3, Scene IV of the Bard’s history play, compare kingdom to garden, remarking that

 … O, what pity is it
That he had not so trimm’d and dress’d his land
As we this garden! We at time of year
Do wound the bark, the skin of our fruit-trees,
Lest, being over-proud in sap and blood,
With too much riches it confound itself:
Had he done so to great and growing men,
They might have lived to bear and he to taste
Their fruits of duty: superfluous branches
We lop away, that bearing boughs may live:
Had he done so, himself had borne the crown,
Which waste of idle hours hath quite thrown down.5

They liken the king’s neglect of his realm to an untended, unpruned garden. This metaphor of the cultivated garden as representative of order, respectability, and fruitfulness ties in with the Renaissance notion of the garden as the apotheosis of human mastery over nature— imposing order over the non-human world. Gardening, from this vantage point, lent coherence to nature, mirroring the Great Chain of Being—the hierarchical construct that was believed to order all matter on Earth, placing humans atop all other earthly creatures. This would then later contrast with the appreciation of a wilder natural topography observable in the poetry and paintings of the Romantic period: works which eschewed industrial regularity and rather celebrated softer, wilder landscapes (see William Wordsworth’s “I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud” or John Constable’s The Hay Wain). The Romantics sited uncultivated vistas as the liberating sources of creativity, pleasure, and virtue. Gardens have been famously lauded and metaphorized by the likes of Chaucer (his partially translated, “The Romaunt of the Rose”), Barrett Browning (“Beloved, thou has brought me many flowers”), Tennyson (“Come into the Garden, Maud”), Dickinson (“New feet within my garden go”), Lowell (“Behind a Wall”), Frost (“Lodged”) and Auden (“Their Lonely Betters”). More recently, anthropocentric views of nature have been challenged, and different representational modes and epistemes have been promoted.

Moving away from representations and allegories, gardens as physical and geopolitical realities have changed significantly over time. The position of the garden, where and how it takes up space, and whose hands tend it are all deeply political and ideological concerns. Grand, manicured gardens of the landed gentry of Europe telegraphed status and humans’ ability to subdue and order nature into pleasing patterns. Gentlemen gardeners designed, whilst those on the lower rungs of the socioeconomic order tended. Colonial gardens became hallmarks of the landscapes of home—so-called imported “socio-natures”6—but brought with them invasive species that, in many cases, suffocated indigenous variants and erased Indigenous peoples’ methods of land husbandry. Flora and fauna (and even colonized people) were extracted from the colonies and displayed at Kew Gardens and the British Museum as well as at zoos and various international exhibitions (consider for a moment the fact that Ota Benga—a Mbuti, or Congo pygmy, was displayed at the 1904 Louisiana Purchase Exposition in St. Louis and at the Bronx Zoo). Colonial taxonomies extended dangerously beyond colonial landscapes and ultimately “instituted a hierarchy of human species through this episteme of difference, contributing to biologically determinist discourses of race, gender, and nature.”7 In My Garden (Book): Jamaica Kincaid writes about her own gardening and its attendant pleasures, whilst also exploring the nefarious impact of colonial gardens and plant collecting on world culture.8

Only relatively recently have ecologists and scholars started to embrace traditional ecological knowledge (tek) as an approach by which to reverse extractivist industries’ impact on the land. Indeed, Indigenous ecological engineering methods are being promoted over the entropic social metabolisms of industrial economies (with their reliance on non-renewable energies) in favour of fostering more sustainable ecosystems. Indigenous knowledge systems are increasingly being seen as the antidote to Western cultures’ view of society as separate and distinct from ecosystems; instead, “indigenous cultures routinely see themselves as embedded within ecosystems.”9  This ties into the explosion of the post-1980s movement of sustainable gardening: planting gardens that are soil sustaining, food producing, bio-diversifying, climate regulating, flood protecting, and erosion mitigating.

Significantly, the act of planting—which summons the activities and eco-political ethos of Wangari Maathai’s The Green Belt Movement in Kenya—is a transgenerational act. It is an act through which we think of and plan for tomorrow. A seed planted today does not proffer an immediate result. It is an investment in the soil that will yield flowering, fruiting, or shade months or many years hence. In an age of climate change and environmental degradation, gardening can be a radical political act. It is a challenge against what Rob Nixon10 has called the slow, incremental violence of environmental crisis. This type of violence, according to Nixon, has historically not received adequate media attention, or focused sufficient political will, as it lacks the spectacular sensationalism of more immediate national or international threats (i.e., war, terrorism, infectious diseases). What the world learned through Maathai’s ecological activism, is that gardening—or planting in a more general sense—is an affirming and enfranchising strategy of agents of environmentalism of the poor. It is a way in which to build food security and autonomy amidst the deleterious activities of hostile states and private companies that threaten livelihoods. Collective gardening is a form of social mobilization that infuses environmental emergencies with urgent visibility, working to redefine the types of violence societies should cooperatively be galvanising against: environmental collapse. Through a group’s activities as planters, the spectacle-driven attention span can be recast, to focus instead on what can be achieved through the communal “long durée of patient growth” to produce yields “for sustainable collective gain” (135).

In the city, gardens can be a staging ground for this fundamental reimagining of human-nature relationships. This can be a restorative process, as in Ros Collins’s “Raison d’être,” where a guerilla gardener finds solace and healing through gardening. Our eyes must become attuned to the extraordinary beauty and rejuvenating splendour of nature’s wildness. It is through the realm of art that we can safely play out the different possibilities of what sustainable urban futures can look like. This collection presents a geographically diverse contribution to this reimagining—some present warnings to us, whilst others offer up messages of hope. Let us look to the “wild edges of our garden” to see what we might find there (a genet or a tortoise, perhaps?). As the last line of Gitanjali Maria’s story, “Fireflies and Butterflies,” advises:

After all, you need a little wildness in the city to see nature’s beautiful things.

We hope you enjoy reading this book.

Kirby Manià
Vancouver, Canada

On The Nature of Cities

 

Endnotes

  1. The title of this introduction has been borrowed from a line in Roli Mahajan’s story, “Essence of an Existence,” which also appears in this book.
  2. Afrikaans for open grassland.
  3. Afrikaans for small hills.
  4. Campbell, Gordon. Garden History: A Very Short Introduction. Oxford University Press, 2019.
  5. Shakespeare, William. “The Life and Death of King Richard the Second.” William Shakespeare Complete Works, edited by Jonathan Bate and Eric Rasmussen, Macmillan, 2007, p.870.
  6. Swyngedouw, Erik. “Modernity and Hybridity: Nature, Regeneracionismo, and the Production of the Spanish Waterscape, 1890–1930.” Annals of the Association of American Geographers, vol. 89, no. 3, 1999, pp.443–465.
  7. DeLoughrey, Elizabeth, and George B. Handley. Postcolonial Ecologies: Literatures of the Environment. Oxford University Press, 2011, loc. 334.
  8. Martin, Jay, et al. “Traditional Ecological Knowledge (TEK): Ideas, inspiration, and designs for ecological engineering.” Ecological Engineering, 36, 2010, p. 839.
  9. Nixon, Rob. Slow Violence and the Environmentalism of the Poor. Harvard University Press, 2011.

 

 

The Winter City: Ecologies of Snow, Ice and Cold

Many voices. Greener cities. Better cities.

But it was all The Fear of Snow
—Leonard Cohen, The Best

The power of the winter landscape has not escaped planners, and there have been several attempts to make the city more liveable and enjoyable in the winter.
The city in winter invokes diverse imaginaries—from romantic, beautiful, and magical to cold, dark, dirty, and hazardous. A quick Google search reproduces the first three imaginaries: romantic, beautiful, and magical (Figure 1).

Yet winter is often depicted as evil and threatening, especially in fantasy and folk tales. One only needs to look at Game of Thrones and the menacing “winter is coming” motto of the house of Starks (Figure 2).

Figure 1: From top left Ålesund, Norway;Helsinki, Finland; Quebec City, Canada[i]
Inhabitants of cities that experience long, cold, dark winters, often dread the coming winter. Their everyday realities are closest to the last four imaginaries of winter in the city: cold, dark, dirty, and hazardous. In this article, I explore the winter ecologies of the city and the power those ecologies have in shaping the urban landscape.[iii]

The Urban winter landscape

Before I write any more, I should admit that I love winter. I love the first significant snow fall of the season and there is something exhilarating about stepping outside and breathing air so cold your eyelashes freeze. But I grew up in central Alberta where winter can sometimes start in late September and last until the end of May (with some breaks in between because of chinooks—warm winds that blow off the Rocky Mountains). As such, my perspective on winter is a bit more upbeat than that of many people. My childhood winters were also spent on a farm, and I did not fully experience an urban winter until I moved away to attend university in Ottawa. Since then, however, I have experienced winter in a variety of cities in North America and for the past seven years I have lived in Montréal, Québec. But, my understanding and experience of winter is limited to the northern hemisphere. While several cities at far southern latitudes also experience some snow and cold during winter, their winters are much milder because more of the surface area is water and there are fewer large land masses.[iv]This article focuses primarily on winters in cities at northern latitudes.

The romantic imaginary of the winter city is very visible in Montréal, with its many parks and winter activities. Montréal is an example of a good “Winter City”, which is a concept and movement that developed in the early 1980s to encourage northern cities to become more livable and enjoyable through the creation of socio-cultural activities (see box 1 for a short description of the Winter City concept and movement). Montréal has a long history of winter cultures: skating rinks can be found in almost every public park, snowtubing and sledding, urban ski and snowboard parks, as well as many other cultural activities throughout the winter (Figure 3).

But the urban landscape in winter is not always pretty and fun. The snow is not pristine white but rather brown, yellow, and grey. Sidewalks and roads are messy. The photos in Figure 4 show snowy streets in Montréal the day after a snowfall in early January (2019).

Figure 3: Examples of winter activities in Montréal. Top left photo is the refrigerated rink near Lac Castor in Mont Royal Park; top right ski/snowboard/tubing at Pente à Neige in Angrignon Park; bottom left Fête des Neiges, Parc Jean Drapeau; and Festival Montréal en Lumière.[v]
Figure 4: Montréal streets and sidewalks covered in snow. The sidewalk has been cleared in the righthand photo.[vi]
Along with being messy and dirty, streets in the winter are also difficult to navigate, especially if not cleared or have a layer of ice under any snow. Thaw and freezing throughout the winter can mean that sidewalks and streets can become skating rinks. Indeed, there are videos of people using ice skates on streets in Montréal and other northern cities. For many people, in particular elderly and disabled, the city becomes dangerous and impossible to travel around in the winter because of snow and ice. Making the city navigable and safe is a central aspect of socio-ecological management in northern cities (especially if cities want inhabitants to attend cultural events and engage in winter activities).

The City of Montréal, for example, has a website dedicated to snow removal with the slogan “Promoting mobility during the wintertime” (Figure 5). The website outlines snow removal policies, processes, and other information.

Figure 5: Ville de Montréal web site.[vii]
Like many northern latitude cities, making Montréal accessible and liveable is complex and political. In the winter, the entire city seems to revolve around processes and ecologies that aim to reduce and eliminate snow and ice…in certain places.

Snow, ice, salt, and sand: managing the city in winter

Snow and ice for play in parks (and private yards) is desirable; snow and ice on sidewalks and roads is not. Snow and ice in desirable spaces can be understood as good winter natures while the snow and ice that get in the way of everyday routines are bad natures. Such bad nature is at the centre of urban management alongside other bad natures such as sewerage and grey water.

Snow removal

The snow removal process has made Montréal famous. Several years ago, the Boston Globe wrote an article entitled “Montréal Is Really Good at Snow Removal, Eh?”[viii] In the article, Sargent quotes a Globe and Mail journalist who argued that Montréal is

“…one of the snowiest major cities in the world, and its approach to snow is akin to the U.S. attitude toward Saddam Hussein—it’s an archenemy that should, ideally, be removed from the scene as fast as possible.”

Montréalers do indeed view snow as an object to eradicate (in certain places). The City of Montréal has a fascinating and relatively efficient system to eliminate snow, although many in the city would argue it is not efficient enough, but people outside the city seem to think otherwise, as the case with the Boston Globe article and the numerous videos on YouTube.

But removing snow and eliminating ice require the production of particular landscapes and ecologies in the city.

Spatial fix: snow dumps and chutes

The City of Montréal’s snow removal website outlines four stages of the snow removal process: salting, plowing, loading, and disposal. In many boroughs of the city, sidewalks (and sometimes bike paths) are cleared of snow before the roads (Figure 6). For sidewalks, salting and plowing are usually done at the same time, with tractors plowing the snow and spreading salt afterwards. The snow from the sidewalks is pushed to the ends of streets and becomes part of the street clearing process (Figure 7).

Figure 6: Right, cleared sidewalk, snowy street. Left, cleared bike path and snowy street.[ix]
Figure 7: Snow at the end of a street awaiting removal.

Tractors (sometimes a parade of them) plow the snows from the streets, then the snow blown into waiting trucks (see Figure 8).Approximately 180 vehicles are used for roads and 190 for sidewalks in Montréal to clear the entire city.

According to the City of Montréal, more than 300,000 truckloads of snow are loaded every year (12 million cubic metres).

Once the streets, sidewalks and bike paths are cleared, the city’s inhabitants no longer have to think about the snow. Their everyday lives are more or less back to normal. But few think about where this 12 million cubic metres of snow is put?

Cleared snow either goes into sewer chutes or surface snow dump.

Figure 8: Typical snow removal process with tractors and trucks in Montréal.[xi]
Figure 9: Map of snow dumps and chutes on the Island of Montréal.[xii]
The largest snow dump site in Montréal is Saint-Michel, where approximately 3 million cubic metres of snow from six districts are deposited (Figure 10, left photo). At two other sites, Angrignon and d’Anjou, more than 1.8 million and 1.5 cubic metres respectively of snow is piled up.[xiii]

The creation of large snow dump sites can be understood as a spatial fix for a temporary accumulation problem. Rather than deal with the snow where it falls and accumulates, the unwanted ‘waste’ in urban life is removed to an out of sight location. The unwanted snow no longer concerns urban inhabitants once it is not visible and in their way. Such a spatial fix is similar to how we remove garbage and grey water from our houses.

Figure 10: Saint-Michel snow dump site in Montréal in winter (top) and summer (bottom).[xiv]
The accumulation of snow in snow dumps can vary from year to year, but such sites are concentrations of salt, gravel, sand, oil and other road pollutants collected with the snow. While such pollutants may remain stable in the winter, come spring the meltwater becomes mobile. According to the City of Montréal, “meltwater from disposal sites is recovered and treated according to environmental standards”. This means that the water is pumped into the sewer networks and into the sewage treatment plant for treatment. But not all the salt and other waste will move with the water.

The ecology of sites like Saint-Michel is not well recorded. Snow can sometimes last well into the summer (and tends to blend in with the brown-grey colour of the cliffs because of the sand, gravel and other pollutants). During the spring and summer, the Saint-Michel dump also retains water (Figure 10, right photo). But the salt and other pollutants certainly have impacts on the ecology of site, as it does throughout winter cities.

Salt

Salt is still used in Montréal. Some cities have experimented with alternatives. Calgary, for example, recently began using beet juice to de-ice. Most cities, however, still use salt. Salt is spread with gravel and other abrasives (such as sand) on streets and sidewalks. In Montréal, an average of 140,000 tonnes of salt and abrasives are used each winter. But salt is also used by businesses, institutions such as hospitals and schools, apartment complexes, and homeowners. The aim of salting is to make it safer to move about the city. The use of salt is a touchy issue in cities such as Montréal. Icy sidewalks can be deadly for many elderly, children, and disabled, and not salting means that the city in inaccessible for them five months of the year. Many argue that salt is not necessary; that sand and gravel can be used alone. Indeed, there are a plethora of alternative products out there. However, if one looks at the porches of most houses and apartment buildings around Montréal, the usual bag of salt is visible. This is because salt is generally more effective and much cheaper

Yet while salt makes the winter city more accessible, it has numerous ecological impacts. Salt seeps into soils, runs off into sewer systems and waterways. In the case of Montréal, salt runoff into the St. Lawrence river is significant.  The effect of road salt on aquatic and terrestrial ecosystems is well known. Some of the effects include groundwater salinization, changes in soil structure, accumulates in aquatic ecosystems which then alters the composition of fish or aquatic invertebrate communities.[xv] Road salt can also pose a danger to urban wildlife such as birds and squirrels who may ingest too much either directly or through plants.[xvi]

The use of salt also damages human property. An recent article in the National Post outlines the many ways that salt is corroding urban infrastructure, including roadways, bridges, and buildings, not to mention boots, clothing, and harming pets.[xvii] (Salt on sidewalks was a large motivation for the development of winter dog boots). As geographers Roger Keil and Julie-Anne Boudreauargue “…road salt [is] a formidable issue in the yearly rhythm of socio-ecological management in a winter city”.[xviii]

Figure 12: Winter snow fence with protective felt.

Salt is an integral part of the winter city. But it is also a part of the city’s spring, summer and autumn ecologies. The sorts of vegetation that is planted in parks, besides streets, and in front yards is dictated by what can survive the onslaught of winter salt. Some people try desperately to protect plants by covering them, installing winter fencing, or just not planting anything at all (Figure 11).  Indeed, the ecologies and landscapes of the winter city can be said to shape the city much more than those of other seasons.

The dreaded “winter is coming” might need to be rephrased as winter is always here, despite being out of sight visually and mostly mentally (many Montréalers seem to suffer amnesia in the summer—they forget about winter as soon as spring arrives.)

The power of the winter landscape has not escaped planners and, as the below box on “Winter City” design illustrates, there have been several attempts to make the city more liveable and enjoyable in the winter. Yet, rethinking the use of salt and where we move snow in northern cities to make the winter city more ecological has been difficult. Indeed, my own love of winter activities depends on being able to walk safety to the bus/metro in order to access the skating rinks, sledding hills and winter cultural activities. Salt is seen as a necessary evil to create the ideal winter city.

Figure 12: Comic using the Game of Thrones motto [xx]
However, with climate change, and the increasing number of warmer days and thus freezing rain means that salt will need to be used more. In the week that I have revised this article, Montréal experienced a huge winter snow storm with record low temperature followed by a day of freezing rain, rain and temperatures above 0 Celsius. The streets and sidewalks are puddles of melted grey snow (with road salt and gravel, of course), which turn to ice in the evening. As I walk to work with crampons on my insulated rain boots, I wonder what might happen if we just left the snow, did not salt the ice and made the streets and sidewalks into ski paths and skating canals (I have seen people skating on the road a few times!). Of course, this would leave young children, the elderly and disabled isolated in their houses. The winter city is a complicated idea and phenomena for planners and urban inhabitants alike. So I find it is very exciting and inspiring to see cities like Edmonton embracing the idea of the “Winter City” and thinking more critically about all facets of city living in the winter—social, ecological, and political.

Laura Shillington
Montréal

On The Nature of Cities

Notes:

[i]Sources: Ålesund https://www.pinterest.ca/pin/155585362111643598/?lp=true; Helsinki http://sun-surfer.com/winter-in-helsinki-finland-3189.html; Quebec City https://urbanguides.ca/eastern-canada/quebec/winter-bucket-list/

[ii]Source: https://imgnooz.com/wallpaper-383997

[iii]Note that I do not discuss economics of snow removal in this article given the limited space.

[iv]University of Santa Barbara Science Line: http://scienceline.ucsb.edu/getkey.php?key=6095

[v]Sources: Top left photo Smiley Man via MtlBlog (https://www.mtlblog.com/best-of-mtl/best-montreal-outdoor-skating-rinks); top right https://www.penteaneige.ca/home; bottom left https://www.tripsavvy.com/a-montreal-snow-festival-guide-2392574; bottom right https://montrealenlumiere.com/.

[vi]Source: Author

[vii]Source : http://ville.montreal.qc.ca/snowremoval/

[viii]Sargent, H. (2015, February 3). “Montreal Is Really Good at Snow Removal, Eh?” Boston Globe. https://www.boston.com/weather/untagged/2015/02/03/montreal-is-really-good-at-snow-removal-eh

[ix]Source: Author.

[x]Source: Author.

[xi]Sources: Frank Hashimoto (http://spacing.ca/montreal/2007/12/05/the-snowplow-ballet/)

[xii]Source: City of Montreal (http://ville.montreal.qc.ca/snowremoval/elimination-neige#carte-elimination)

[xiii]Source: Journal Metro (http://journalmetro.com/local/lasalle/actualites/689037/lasalle-a-le-plus-gros-depot-de-neiges-usees-a-montreal/)

[xiv]Winter Source: L’arrondissement de Villeray–Saint-Michel–Parc-Extension (ville.montreal.qc.ca/vsp ); summer source: Olivier Lapierre (On Twitter, Septembre 26, 2018: https://twitter.com/O_Lapierre/status/1045033259749572609)

[xv]Learn, J. (2017, 26 May) The Hidden Dangers of Road Salt. Smithsonian Science. https://www.smithsonianmag.com/science-nature/road-salt-can-disrupt-ecosystems-and-endanger-humans-180963393/and Tiwari, A., & Rachlin, J. (2018) A Review of Road Salt Ecological Impacts. Northeastern Naturalist 25(1). https://doi.org/10.1656/045.025.0110 .

[xvi]Findlay, S. E., & Kelly, V. R. (2011). Emerging indirect and long‐term road salt effects on ecosystems. Annals of the New York Academy of Sciences, 1223(1), 58-68.

[xvii]Hopper, T. (2018, 22 Jan) How Canada’s addiction to road salt is ruining everything. The National Post. https://nationalpost.com/news/canada/how-canadas-addiction-to-road-salt-is-ruining-everything

[xviii]Keil, R. & Boudreau, JA. (2006) Metropolitics and metabolics: Rolling out environmentalism in Toronto. In Heynen, N., Kaika, M. & Swyngedouw, E. (eds) In the Nature of Cities: Urban Political Ecology and the Politics of Urban Metabolism, (pp. 56-77). London: Routledge.

[xix]Source: Author.

[xx]Source: https://fantasticdl.wordpress.com/2014/11/24/12541/game-of-thrones-winter-is-coming/

A sparrowhawk sitting on pavement

Then Came the Crash

Many voices. Greener cities. Better cities.
A gray shadow, a streak of energized air in a faint vibrating gray which I barely noticed in the split second I perceived it, and then the impact, the splintering sound, the noise of thick feathers brutally brushed back and scrunched up, the awareness of a sudden resistance to the rotation of my bike’s front wheel.

I wasn’t in a good shape when I broke the sparrowhawk’s wings.

A gray sky over Berlin, a cold eastern wind. An early March day that never had properly lighted up and already started to sink back into dawn. No rain, no snow, but this dry and uncomfortable wind. I was cycling back towards my flat. The gusts came from the North-East and hit me from the right side. They had blown over the great gray Northern European plain, rushing along all the way under the same gray and somber sky, from Kiyv, from the Dnieper floodplain, where now was a war. A war, black smoke rising, shells falling and bursting, under this same bleak cloud cover which stretched far over flat plains.

The wind broke through my clothes on the bicycle and made me shiver. I was slowly pedalling back from the COVID test station, hoping that I finally tested negative and could resume life with others. It was the third time I’ve had a Coronavirus infection this winter. They had come one after the other, like grey clouds rolling in from a cold sky. I progressed slowly on the bike, trying to make the necessary effort as less fatiguing for my muscles as I could. I hoped to get a test clearance, as I had to teach my seminar later, but I still felt weak and sickly. I had to breathe hard when I tried to accelerate the bike to more than pedestrian speed.

Then came the crash. A gray shadow, a streak of energized air in a faint vibrating gray which I barely noticed in the split second I perceived it, and then the impact, the splintering sound, the noise of thick feathers brutally brushed back and scrunched up, the awareness of a sudden resistance to the rotation of my bike’s front wheel. I stopped violently, bending over forward, but managed to halt.

I looked around me. There were two bird’s bodies lying in the middle of the crossing between two side streets, two heaps of gray-brownish feathers, two beings totally strange to the tarmac they were suddenly thrown on, the gale ruffling their feathers in gusts. I did not understand immediately what had happened. I did not see clearly. I saw the feathers and knew “bird”, I saw them lying on the street and thought “hurt”, and I also thought “beauty” — a shining kind of beauty by the way these beings were misplaced on the coarse asphalt. Two feathery heaps burning holes into the shell of reality, making me glimpse what is behind it. Those presences were the truth. And they were in a terrible state.

A sparrowhawk sitting in the middle of an empty street
Photo: Andreas Weber

After my perception had adapted, I understood that the brown-grayish feathery thing close to me was a sparrow. It was dead. I saw the soft, gray and slightly pinkish lid over the eye which pointed to the sky, like a delicate veil which had shuttered the sight in the moment of impact, forever. I looked further down the street to the other bird. I only then realized what had happened. The second lump of feathers had somewhat reorganized and now sat flat on the street, looking at me.

It was a sparrowhawk. I understood it immediately now I saw her sitting. A female sparrowhawk. The plumage on her breast shone in a pattern of alternating black-and-white stripes. The upper side was tawny, dark brown on lighter brown and grey. She was in the middle of the road and looked at me. She held me in her gaze, in the radiant beam of two orange eyes which fixated me on the tarmac as though I was her prey — and not was she mine.

A sparrowhawk sitting on pavement
Photo: Andreas Weber

I pushed my bicycle to the post of a streetlamp at the curb. A car rolled into the intersection, and I wildly waved my arms in order to make them avoid the bird squatting in their way. The sparrowhawk still looked at me. So far, she had been motionless, hunkering low on the street. That she was alive was only manifest in her eyes, but there her aliveness was intense. The orange glow sent a beam of power into the world and made it glisten with every turn of her head. I was in its center, held in focus by an ancestral power. That was the most prominent experience: I was held in this power. And, then again, the bird sat flat on the street, clearly injured, probably in great pain, helpless.

My fingers shook when I fumbled the phone out of my pocket. I typed “Sparrowhawk injured emergency” in the search box and added “Nabu”, the acronym for “Naturschutzbund”, the name of a major nature protection NGO. I remembered that they run a wildlife sanctuary in the capital. I already had dropped a bird there: My son once brought a tiny warbler chick home from his way back from school. When I opened the door, he said: “Bad news. I have a little bird which fell out of the nest.” We gave the nestling the wrong food first, so the staff scolded us, but they managed to nurse the chick back to health.

“I have injured a sparrowhawk”, I told the lady who picked up the phone. Another lady, I thought, being up to doing tedious volunteer work with birds.

“Does she have a ring?” she asked.

“I can’t see. She is sitting on her belly.”

“Can you catch her?”

“Catch?”

“I can’t come to get her.”

I looked at the bird. Right now, she started to flutter. Her wings made a whirring and flapping noise and she slid some feet across the tarmac.

“I don’t know”, I said. “She is trying to escape.”

“If you manage, it would be great. If you don’t, then it is just as it is. There are many more migrant sparrowhawks from the northeast right now in Berlin”, the lady said.

Migrants from the northeast, I thought. Raptors arriving from Russia, from the Baltics, from Ukraine. In my imagination, I heard the splintering noise again when the birds had crashed into the whirring spokes of my front wheel. I felt nauseous. Bombs dropped in the northeast, splintering wood, shredding concrete, tearing up bodies. The sparrowhawk possibly had come from those regions. Then he crashed into my bike, in a scene of violence. Violence, suddenly exploding around her, around me. The dead sparrow on the street. The devastated hawk. My hands still slightly shook. I would not leave her here.

“Ok”, I said.

“Bring her to the university vet clinic if you manage to catch her. They treat injured wild birds.”

The sparrowhawk started to flutter again. Another car passed by, slowly curving around the bird who was now anxious to get away, but unable to fly. Two young men approached, as out of nowhere, and walked by, slowly, staring at the bird.

“Do you live nearby?” I asked the older one.

“Yeah. We’re just about to move house.”

“Could you help me catch the bird?”

“Oh sure. What bird is it?”

“A sparrowhawk.”

“A what?”

Obviously, he had never heard the name — the name of the second-frequent raptor on the Eurasian landmass, after the buzzard. But he was eager to help, as was his mate. They dashed off and came back moments later with a large moving box. In the meantime, I had searched for the location of a nearby sharing car on my phone. When the two young men were there again and I looked up, excited, and vibrating with the faint hope that this might not end with the death of this bird of prey, the sparrowhawk was gone.

“Where is she?” the older guy shouted.

“I think under that car”, I said, getting down on my knees, staring into the dark interstice between metal and road.

But there was no bird.

Sparrowhawks are in many respects lesser goshawks — a miniature version of their bigger cousins, just as buzzards are smaller-scale editions of golden eagles. Just like some model trains which both come in scale 0 and the smaller 00, the pairs look pretty similar, apart from their body size. Sparrowhawks and goshawks also have pretty close habits of hunting. Both are originally forest dwellers and are capable of maneuvering the dense stands of trees with incredibly speedy flight. Birds process on average three times more pictures per second than we do — for sparrowhawks a Netflix episode would be composed of a series of stills – and so are able to avoid crashing into obstacles.

At least the goshawk mostly manages — the smaller sparrowhawk is known for sometimes giving away security for a bigger impact of the attack. In Berlin, the Nabu folk know that they occasionally smash into glass fronts while they persecute small songbirds. They crash into cars — or bicycles. Human-made obstacles are far more destructive than naturally grown ones — like trees or foliage. Human-made objects are in the way of the sparrowhawks’ prime hunting asset: brutal speed and the willingness to risk it all.

The raptor usually waits hidden in a bush and then suddenly sweeps out of it, accelerates with frantic beats of his wedge-shaped wings up to 50 kilometers per hour, mostly only two or three feet overground, and then tries to capture the small songbird she had observed and singled out. All this happens so swiftly, in such a casually determined way, that most people rarely or never see a sparrowhawk. It is as though the bird’s body while hunting completely transformed into immaterial energy, a flash, an arrow made from light, and no longer a visible animal.

But, in spite of all this shapeshifting magic, on average, only every tenth attack is successful. That means that in times of dwindling bird numbers (because of crashing insect quantities), hunting becomes harder for the daring predator – and accordingly more dangerous.

“The bird is here”, one of the guys shouted. Somehow, she had made it across the street and into a corner at the bottom of a wall behind some bushes. She wanted to escape us, all her force pulled her to search for a protected hiding place and to sit there in the dark and to wait until the pain would go, until she could stretch her wings again, until she could stand on her sturdy, yellow feet with the sharp claws, until she could fly again and hunt, sweep down as a deadly gust from the top of a barren tree between two gray buildings and crash into a flock of sparrows, beating down her prey from the empty air and flying away with it.

I only hoped she would make it to the clinic. Unwillingly, she had maneuvered herself into the perfect spot the catch her. We just needed to push the box to the wall. Somehow, she slid in, beating her flight feathers hard against the container. I tilted the box over and closed the lid. Her claws made a scraping noise on the floor. I lifted the package up. The bird was lighter than I had expected.

The car was just around the corner. I put the box with the raptor in his cardboard shelter on the back seat, typed a message to the college that I’d be late to my seminar this afternoon, and started the engine.

Like many creatures of the silent wild who have become exiled from their lives in today’s agro-savannas devoid of wild corners and refuges for life, sparrowhawks are adapting to a life in cities. They hunt smaller birds and indeed predominantly feed on sparrows. In Berlin, those often roost in bushes in front of condominiums, fed by elderly women who rejoice in hearing the little singers’ chatter in front of their double glass windows. In the German capital, bird ecologists estimate that about fifty breeding pairs of sparrowhawks raise offspring every year.

In winter, their numbers are reinforced by wandering visitors from those parts of northern and eastern Europe where the cold season is still too inhospitable for them to survive. Then those reckless hunters from the dense spruce forests of the great northeastern plains have to maneuver between parking cars, whirring rental scooters, and bulky buses. And still, nearly nobody sees them. Only when the lesser bird folk starts their shrill alarm calls, we can glean that there might be a sparrowhawk planning an ambush.

The bird scratched the cardboard from time to time. I wondered which body parts had been damaged in the impact. At least one wing. Maybe both. Possibly also a leg. Or both. She did not stand; she lay stretched out on the floor. But maybe birds can’t stand with one wing hanging down. I sensed the muffled noises from the cardboard and hoped that she was not hurting too badly. I drove fast. I had the impression I was doing some sort of ambulance service. And then the students were also waiting for me. When the red light flashed in my face, I knew that I had gotten a speeding ticket. Plus, the extra fee the car-sharing company would demand.

I sped on, eager to give this being back its full life. My heart was low. The world seemed somber. There was this terrible war that had just started, and now I had destroyed a beautiful bird of prey. It felt gloomy and distorted. And somehow those two facts belonged together. I had not even been fast. I had had no chance to avoid the impact. Both birds only manifested in the moment when they shattered into my wheel. Before they had been invisible, they had been on the plane of a spiritual duel, somewhere in the land where only unseen forces act, where nothing had a fixed shape, where everything waits in order to burst into being.

The two birds had burst into disaster. And I was the one to be struck with it, to receive the message.

I thought of the dead sparrow. I had put it under the hedge behind the streetlight to which my bike was locked. I thought of the closed eye under its tender membrane. I realized that I had not paid much attention to this casualty. It did not feel fair. Sparrows are much more numerous than birds of prey (although their numbers are in decline, too), and somehow seem less remarkable as individuals. But I knew immediately that this was only what it seemed. A life is a life, and this one was over.

And then I thought of the day I had hit a sparrowhawk hunting sparrows before, and also caused a casualty. I had not thought of it before, so quickly had I had to act today. But now the memory struck me and gave me sudden gooseflesh. Today was not the first time I had run into a hunt in full flight. I knew all this already.

That other time was late January afternoon, on a bank of the Pò River in northern Italy. We slowly rolled through the thickening fog in our car. The stream lay gray and silent to the right, behind lone groups of bushes and trees. When a couple of shadows darted from the nothingness towards my windscreen, I had no chance to react, just as it had been today. A small bird hit the glass with a thump. For a fraction of a second, I saw the fleeting silhouette of some other little birds and the curved wedge of a sparrowhawk pursuing the chase.

I stopped. The sparrow lay in the brown leaves of the embankment, between the barren stalks and the withered dishes of last summer’s wild carrot blossoms. He looked at me, the black eye on his side wide open. He was breathing wildly and frantically, but not moving at all. He just looked at me, petrified, shaken by his breath. I took up the tiny animal with my hand. I felt his little heart racing. Still, he just stared at me. I feared he would die at any moment, would draw that soft veil over his eye and stop breathing. But he did not.

I put him into the low vegetation where a barren branch and some dense stalks formed a sort of natural platform, a kind of nest actually. I did not want him to lie on the ground. He still stared, silent, panting. I left him there, parked the car, and we walked some steps. The fog was closing fast, dusk fell, and the plain and the wide stream merged into one all-encompassing grey plain. Only the trees and plant stems provided some vertical movement, gave a low rhythm to the blurred landscape.

We turned back quickly. The air was moist and chilly. As I passed the little platform I had put the sparrow on, I could see that he was still there, eyes open. I went closer. And then, in this moment, he flew, rose up with the weightlessness of a creature of the sky, beating the wings a couple of times and then soaring, beating and soaring, fully back in the shape of his own aliveness, radiating life in every gesture of his undulating flight until he vanished in the fog towards the river Pò.

At the clinic, I did not need to wait. A young man, a vet student obviously, asked me to fill out a form. “Do not try to call and ask how the animal you delivered fares as we have far too much to do to be able to tell you”, it read in bold capital letters on the lower part. When I had marked my address and some more details, I pushed the cardboard box over the counter. Through an open door, I could see persons in green and blue surgical gear moving between stainless steel surfaces.

The sparrowhawk made a scratching noise when the student took the box. “You’re good,” he told me. “There is nothing more to do.” I walked out into the gray day and went slowly towards the parked car, under a low northeastern sky which was heavy on my body. It weighed me down like unbearably doleful news.

Andreas Weber
Berlin

On The Nature of Cities

There’s a Social Element to the Nature in Cities

Many voices. Greener cities. Better cities.

Thanks to a bunch of canny coyotes doing what coyotes do, we have recently been reminded of the increasing presence of nature in cities and the human interaction with nature, both in New York City and other cities. And these lessons are applicable not just to the many cities where humans and nature interact, but also to how people relate in a social way with nature.

New Yorkers are a funny group, at once impatient with any reminders that natural elements (such as the snow and cold of our recent winter) might impact their lives, but endlessly fascinated by nature in the form of wildlife and plants, appearing and surviving against all odds in one of the world’s mostly densely populated and built up cities.

For followers of nature in cities, few can forget the saga of Pale Male and Lola, two red tailed hawks whose nest on a tony Fifth Ave. co-op was evicted, later to be replaced following a high-level diplomatic negotiation (that I was part of along with officials from the Audubon Society). The story of Pale Male transcended the small world of birders and entered the popular culture mainstream through several  books for adults and children (Red Tails in LovePale Male:  Citizen Hawk of New York City, The Tale of Pale Male, etc.) and movies.

Pale Male & Lola
Pale Male and Lola. Photo: Ozier Muhammad/The New York Times

Over the last few months, coyotes have been appearing on an almost daily basis in New York City—one on top of a bar in Queens, another wandering through Manhattan’s Riverside Park, a third (or was it the second) trapped outside a restaurant in Lower Manhattan. Each of those sightings, and the attendant police chases replete with tranquilizer-dart armed sharpshooters of the NYPD’s elite Emergency Services Unit, becomes fodder for the nightly news and daily newspapers (with the word “wily” used almost every time). In fact, coyotes have been in parts of NYC for decades, and now are common in cities across the country.

CoyotesInNYC
Hal the coyote being tracked by NYPD and Park Rangers. Photo: NY Times/ Paul Kreft.

But the fact that those stories are still prominent on the news reflects New Yorkers’ fascination with nature. Kind of like the song “New York, New York”—if they can make it here, they’ll make it anywhere—city residents seem to identify with the survivor instincts of hawks, falcons, herons, and now coyotes. They also tend to love stories of “survivor” trees, such as the non-native Ailanthus altissimathe tree made famous in the novel A Tree Grows in Brooklynwhich grows from almost any surface. (I have even seen one growing out of a subterranean pit and up through a steel grate.) Threaten to cut down a tree, even if it is old and decrepit and likely to fall, and the neighbors will get up in arms (except for those who don’t like trees and the messy leaves they drop.) It may be no accident that nature has taken an ascendant role in New York City, where the City has pursued a deliberate policy of protecting and enhancing natural areas for more than 30 years, from starting a special unit concerned with natural areas in 1984 to the recent creation of the Natural Areas Conservancy.

And while it might seem to people who have never visited New York, or only visited Manhattan, that New York is the last place for nature and humans to interact, in fact more than 50 percent of the parklands in NYC (City, State and Federal) are “natural,” according to the Trust for Public Land’s “2015 City Park Facts,” which also reports that among the 100 largest cities in the US, more than half have park systems that are more than 50% natural. More than 1/3 of the parks under the NYC Department of Parks & Recreation (NYCDPR) are natural areas, and they have been under the care and study of the NYCDPR Natural Resources Group (NRG) since it was established in 1984—more than 30 years ago.

So what do people actually think about nature in the form of parks, and what are the social interactions that people have with parks and nature? What do they look for when they go to a park, and how far are they willing to travel to get there? Are they looking for experience with nature that are active, as in fishing or birding, or passive, as in simply experiencing nature and finding a place of refuge there?

Those were some of the questions asked by researchers from the US Forest Service (USFS), working with the Natural Areas Conservancy (NAC), a recently founded non-profit partner to NYCDPR and NRG, and with NYCDPR/NRG staff. The study, led by USFS researchers Erika S. Svendsen, Lindsay K. Campbell , Nancy F. Sonti and Michelle L. Johnson, working with Bram Gunther, Sarah Charlop Powers, Helen Forgione and Clare Pregitzer of the NAC/NRG, was done through interviews with park visitors to NYC parks along Jamaica Bay in southern Queens and Brooklyn in 2013. “Reading the Landscape: A Social Assessment of Parks and Their Natural Areas in Jamaica Bay Communities” was issued in March of this year, and it contains fascinating documentation of how New Yorkers interact with their parks along Jamaica Bay, many of them natural, with tidal wetlands, coastal meadows and forests, and even freshwater wetlands. This “social assessment” was done in coordination with a city-wide ecological assessment of the 10,000 acres of NYCDPR natural areas conducted by the NAC/NRG.

Survey team
Study survey team getting to work. Photo: USFS, Social Assessment project.

The primary questions guiding the study were these: “How do New Yorkers use, value and assign meaning to parks, and in particular, to less programmed or ‘wilder’ spaces in parks? How might we collect this data in a comprehensive yet efficient way so that it can be used by land managers and, ultimately, benefit the public?”

Interviewer team
Interviewer team reviewing responses. Photo: USFS, Social Assessment project.

The study looked at 17 parks encompassing 2,140 acres along the edge of Jamaica Bay, whose adjacent neighborhoods have over 900,000 residents—more than many of the largest American cities. Those neighborhoods are also quite diverse racially, economically, and ethnically, including African-Americans, whites, Latinos and Asians. Field observations were made to document usage patterns, and the research teams conducted 681 in-person interviews with park users.

Site interview
Site interview taking place at Jamaica Bay. Photo: USFS, Social Assessment project.

While there is much to be gleaned in the details of the assessment, here were the broad findings:

  • Parks provide for an important number and range of activities that are beneficial to human beings.
  • Parks serve as local resources, but are connected through their users to a wider network of outdoor sites.
  • Parks are a crucial form of ‘nearby nature’ that provides space for activities, recreation, socialization, and engagement with the environment and supports social ties and place attachment.
  • The majority of adult park users do not participate in formal environmental stewardship groups, but information about other forms of engagement and barriers to stewardship provides insight on potential for increasing stewardship.
  • Although relatively few park users commented independently on Hurricane Sandy, those that did discussed the way in which parks and neighborhood residents were affected by the event.

Of great interest to me was that city residents were willing to travel to get to these parks: though 37 percent of the people polled lived within ¼ mile of the park, 26 percent lived from ½ to I mile away, and 37 percent traveled more than I mile to get to the parks. In our work, the Trust for Public Land has found that most city residents are not willing to walk more than about ½ mile to get to a park. Mass transit options to get to most of the Jamaica Bay parks are extremely limited, which means that more than a third of visitors to these parks are traveling more than a mile to get there by driving, walking, or bicycling, primarily. So it’s possible that visitors are getting fit not just in the parks, but on their way to them.

Jamaica Bay
Jamaica Bay on descent to JFK. Credit: Erlend Bjørtvedt.

As may be expected, almost 70 percent of visitors were there for active pursuits, including sports, walking, dog-walking, bicycling, and running. But almost 10 percent were engaged in a passive activity, and more than 4 percent were pursuing nature recreation. In interviews, a “prevalent theme for 14.7% of respondents was the ability to connect with material qualities of nature and the outdoors,” and “of the numerous sub-themes identified, the most commonly referenced attributes of nature were “fish”, “shade”, “views”, “water”, and “trees.” Also mentioned were qualities of the air, including “fresh air”, “breeze”, and “cool.” Other wildlife mentioned includes crabs, birds, and eels. Similarly, “13.7% of respondents identified the ways in which the park serves as a site of refuge. Interviewees sought out green space in order to get away from the crowds, sounds, and traffic of New York City. In particular, they sought out the sense of isolation (e.g. “to get away from crowds”) and peace and quiet that they could find in parks.”

Pelham Bay waterfront
Waterfront along Pelham Bay Park. Photo: USFS, Social Assessment project

The importance of the USFS/NAC/NYCDPR social assessment cannot be overstated. While many scientists are studying the life of nature in the city, and the roles of natural systems in providing ecosystems services, little is known about the social values of parks and nature and the way that people interact with them. Furthermore, many of the users are from economically underserved areas, who count on these parks for social connections to people and to the natural world.

This assessment is eye-opening, and it will be interesting to see the results of a second, city-wide assessment carried out in 2014. But as people increasingly move to and live in cities, scientific and social viewpoints on human and nature interactions will be important areas to study so our cities can use the data to make policy. While the cute stories of wily coyotes and people interacting describe one point of contact, the survival (and happiness) of humans and the other life forms with whom we share our cities will depend on mutually reinforcing, symbiotic contact. The 1933 movie “King Kong” ends with movie maker Carl Denham who, when asked about how the airplanes killed the giant ape, says “It was beauty killed the beast” (that is, Fay Wray, not the planes). Our coda can be “…and beauty and the beast lived happily ever after.”

king-kong
King Kong and Fay Wray. Credit: RKO Radio Pictures

Adrian Benepe
New York City

On The Nature of Cities

They are Not “Informal Settlements”—They are Habitats Made by People

Many voices. Greener cities. Better cities.

According to the UN, at least one third of the global urban population suffers from inadequate living conditions. Lack of access to basic services (drinking water and/or sanitation, not to mention energy, waste recollection, and transportation), low structural quality of shelters, overcrowding, dangerous locations, and insecure tenure are the main characteristics normally included in the definitions of so-called informal settlements.

Words matter. These “informal settlements” are neither informal nor irregular— they are, above all, human settlements.

Recognized as a global phenomenon, no country can claim to be free of informal settlements, although the numbers of people suffering can vary largely depending on the region: these problems now affect up to 60 percent of the world’s population—or even more—in some Sub-Saharan African and Southeast Asian cities, and the number of people affected in these locations is expected to double over the next two decades. High percentages are also seen in several Arab countries, and at least 25 percent of urbanites in Latin America live in informal settlements. Precarious housing and living conditions and growing homelessness can also be found in Europe, North America, Australia, and New Zealand, affecting, on average, one in 10 people.

Squatter settlements, favelas, shacks, villas miseria, bidonvilles, slums, and many other names are typically used to refer to such impoverished neighborhoods. In general terms, all of these names highlight their negative characteristics and clearly imply pejorative connotations. By cruel extension, the words used to describe the physical conditions of the settlements also tend to apply to their inhabitants. Despite what normative frameworks might say about all persons being equal before the law and the state, inhabitants of informal settlements are generally treated as second-class citizens.

Rocinha ("little farm", due to its agricultural vocation until the mid 20th century), located in the rich southern zone of Rio de Janeiro, is considered one of the most populous favelas in Brazil. Most of its 70,000 inhabitants live in houses made from concrete and brick and have access to basic sanitation, plumbing, and electricity. The neighborhood has a vibrant local economy. Source: Alamy.com
Rocinha (“little farm”, due to its agricultural vocation until the mid 20th century), located in the rich southern zone of Rio de Janeiro, is considered one of the most populous favelas in Brazil. Most of its 70,000 inhabitants live in houses made from concrete and brick and have access to basic sanitation, plumbing, and electricity. The neighborhood has a vibrant local economy. Source: Alamy.com
Colorful houses at the base of the Rocinha Favela in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. Image shot 2010. Source: Alamy.com
Colorful houses at the base of the Rocinha Favela in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. Image shot 2010. Source: Alamy.com

In academic and government documents, “informal settlements” is the label typically applied to these areas. That those communities are not in compliance with building norms and property and urban planning regulations is often given as the main reason for qualifying them as “informal”. Also defined as “irregular”, they can easily be called “illegal”, and their inhabitants subsequently criminalized, displaced, and persecuted. From India to South Africa to Ecuador, legal and administrative changes have been made in recent years to give special/ad hoc inspection and demolition powers to local, provincial, and national governments to deal with these neighborhoods and, in theory, to prevent them from growing (in many cases, environmental laws and regulations or urban projects are used as excuses for destroying these settlements). As was recently recognized, the UN’s Millennium Development Goal 7-Target 11 commitment to reducing the population living in slums by 2020 was tragically translated in several countries as the pressure to destroy people´s self-built housing and even to incarcerate the leaders of social movements (for a critical analysis of the “cities without slums” initiative and why language matters, see Gilbert, 2007). In Zimbabwe alone, the UN reports that as many as 700,000 people were affected by terrifying slum “clearance” operations in 2005, which took the revealing name of “Remove the filth”!

At the same time, these areas are frequently presented as empty, colored grey or green on maps. As we all know, not having an official address (street name and house number) is a huge obstacle to being able to fulfill other needs and rights: applying for a job, sending one’s kids to school, being admitted into health systems. Invisibility and stigmatization of citizens living in particular neighborhoods go hand in hand and make poverty, exclusion, and discrimination self-perpetuating. Social exclusion often means spatial segregation, and vice versa.

Following a tradition most probably started before the mid-19th century in some English cities undergoing industrialization processes and migration from the countryside, our contemporary media still often depict the inhabitants of informal settlements as the troublemakers, the thieves, the lazy. It is hard to find positive stories about their daily struggles for better life conditions, rights, and dignity.

It is clear that we urgently need a better approach to naming and framing such areas broadly called “informal settlements”—one that is respectful and sensitive to the people who live there and that could better promote the transformations that our cities and our societies need.

 Questioning the formal/informal dichotomy

The “informal settlements” label does not reflect, nor does it take into account, the many variations that these popular settlements present in different parts of the world. Using “slums” or “informal settlements” to describe Kibera in Nairobi or Rocinha in Rio de Janeiro does not seem appropriate when, just by looking at some pictures, anyone can tell that they present many differences in terms of quality and durability of the housing materials and access to basic services and infrastructure, to mention some of the more visible contrasts. We can then look to statistics and realize that while the cariocas of Rio have private bathrooms in every housing unit, their fellows on the other side of the ocean only have 1,000 public toilets for 180,000 people. Not only that: as a consequence of massive investments during the recent years in neighborhood improvement programs, a Rio favela house with a view of one of the many wonderful bossa-nova bays might now reach US$ 250,000 in value—and rumors that Hollywood stars are buying them are widespread.

Likewise, the classification of all such areas as “informal settlements” does not indicate the relevance of the places in their cities that they occupy or the spatial segregation they usually suffer from; the lack of access to affordable and public transportation, places of employment, schools, hospitals, and other basic facilities; the lack or limited access to financial resources such as credits, subsidies, etc.; or the lack of technical assistance and/or adequate materials to consolidate housing and neighborhoods buildings and infrastructure, just to mention a few.

Originated as a settlement at the outskirts of Nairobi for Nubian soldiers returning from service with the British colonial army more than a century ago, Kibera ("forest") is known as the largest slum in Africa. Before Kenya´s independence, the law strictly segregated and discriminated non-Europeans groups from political, economic and social rights. Photo: Mathare Valley. Source: Alamy.com
Originated as a settlement at the outskirts of Nairobi for Nubian soldiers returning from service with the British colonial army more than a century ago, Kibera (“forest”) is known as the largest slum in Africa. Before Kenya´s independence, the law strictly segregated and discriminated non-Europeans groups from political, economic and social rights. Photo: Mathare Valley. Source: Alamy.com
Kibera, Nairobi, Kenya. Photo: Mathare Valley. Source: Alamy.com
Kibera, Nairobi, Kenya. Photo: Mathare Valley. Source: Alamy.com

The difficulties of defining a phenomenon so varied and dynamic as “informal settlements” are often invoked to justify the continuing use of the catchall term and the predominant focus on what they do not have (Connolly, 2007). But academics in several regions have been discussing the formal/informal false dichotomy as a kind of “discursive differentiation” that shapes and enacts knowledge and power relations on the territories. Many of them argue that binary classifications are clearly insufficient to reflect the complexity of settlement processes that we face in reality; such classifications simultaneously hide authorities’ responsibilities in producing informality (Roy, 2009; Yiftachel, 2009; Wigle, 2013).

By defining what is formal and regular, and changing those definitions over time, according to political interests, involved governments maintain these settlements in a “grey” zone of non-definition and permanent negotiation that makes their inhabitants more vulnerable to clientelistic practices (understood as exchanges of goods and services for political support), which are particularly intense during electoral periods. The above authors go so far as to denounce that “the use of such binary categories also entails an uncritical view of regular settlement areas” (Wigle). On a related note, the irregularities in accessing urban services and/or violations of land-use and other planning norms in rich neighborhoods are not punished and, in many cases, are even presented and considered as positive ´investments´ that benefit the community as a whole. Based on such considerations, formal/informal, regular/irregular are ever-changing and mutually-defined categories and not fixed, contrasting entities.

In more general terms, these classifications do not allow us to analyze the profound, structural causes that explain the creation of precarious and inadequate settlements: expulsion of rural, campesino, and indigenous people due to the lack of government support for small and medium-sized agriculture; lack of mechanisms to control land grabbing and speculation; evictions and displacements due to multifactorial crises, social conflicts over land, resources, and natural or manmade disasters; urban renewal and “development” projects; lack of facilities and services; lack of affordable land and housing policies; social vulnerability and low-paid, unprotected jobs; lack of opportunities for youth; discrimination and marginalization.

Without considering the causes, how would we be able to reverse those tendencies and find the needed solutions?

The city produced by the people: the urgent need to understand it and support it

Academics aren’t the only ones who have being questioning this negative and limited approach. For more than 50 years, civil society organizations, engaged professionals, and activists have being analyzing and supporting these processes from a different, but also critical, point of view.

This movement, described as Social Production of Habitat, intends to highlight the positive and transformative characteristics of so-called “informal settlements”, which involve people-driven and people-centered processes to produce and manage housing, services, and community infrastructure. In other words, processes of practical problem solving for achieving human dignity and a better quality of life.

“Social Production of Habitat” is a phrase intended to describe people producing their own habitat: dwellings, villages, neighborhoods, and even large parts of cities. They may be found in rural and urban settings, ranging from spontaneous individual/familial self-constructions, to collective productions that imply high levels of organization, broad participation, and agency for negotiation and advocacy with public and private institutions—although, in general, they are implemented with very little or no support and often despite a myriad of economic and institutional obstacles (Ortiz and Zárate, 2002).

In recent decades, Habitat International Coalition, or HIC (full disclosure: I am currently serving as President of HIC), and other international networks have been documenting some of these collective initiatives in various parts of the world. Different kinds of organized social groups (social movements, cooperatives, tenants’ federations, women’s organizations, etc.) are driving innovative experiences that cover a broad range of activities: from accessing land and building housing and basic infrastructure, to the responsible management of the commons (water, forests and green areas, public spaces and community infrastructure); from gender equality and human rights promotion and defense, to food production and preservation of cultural identity.

The underlying, essential factor is that these initiatives and projects consider the production of housing and human habitat as a social process, not just as a material product. The collective effort to build and produce a place to live is not a mere object for exchange. It is a combination of different types of knowledge, expertise, materials, and other in-kind contributions from different actors and institutions, and not something that one can just buy (or not!). It is a social relation and not a mere commodity.

Instead of “informal settlements”, we prefer to understand and describe them as practices and social struggles that not only build houses and neighborhoods strictly on a physical level; at the same time, and perhaps even more importantly, they also build active and responsible citizenships against marginalization and social and urban segregation, advancing direct democratic exercise and improving individual and community livelihoods, participants’ self-esteem, and social coexistence (Ortiz and Zárate, 2004). In fewer words: the city produced by the people.

When organized, recognized, and supported (with the appropriate legal, administrative, financial, and technical mechanisms), these processes have a relevant positive impact both at the micro- and macroeconomic levels. Given that official statistics usually do not measure these people´s and communities´ efforts, HIC members have promoted research and dissemination projects with different academic institutions. The findings show that in places such as Brazil or Mexico, the Social Production of Habitat represents a constant contribution of around 1 percent of GDP (even in times of serious economic crisis, when public and private actors reduce their investments considerably); at the same time, they explain the multiple ways in which such social initiatives activate and strengthen several circuits of the local economy, at small and medium scales (construction materials and labour, professional services, etc.) (Torres, 2006).

At the same time, and thanks to their innovative proposals and concrete results, individuals and organizations engaging in the Social Production of Habitat have influenced the reorientation of housing and urban development policies and contributed to generating changes in legal, financial, and administrative instruments relevant to social housing, self-managed processes, tenure security, attention to low-income sectors, and environmental improvement, among other issues.

Social Production of Habitat as a fulfillment of human rights

Social Production of Habitat movements and projects fill the gaps left from the state’s failure to respect, protect, and fulfill human rights, particularly the human right to adequate housing and other related rights: property, water and sanitation, participation, non-discrimination, and self-determination, just to mention a few. Moreover, the right to produce and manage our habitat is one of the strategic components of the right to the city.

That being said, it is fundamental to highlight that people’s agency to improve habitat does not absolve the state of its obligations to citizens and residents (Schechla, 2004). According to the international commitments that they have signed, governments—both at national and subnational levels, including regional, provincial, and local authorities—are obligated to refrain from forced evictions, confiscation and repression of human rights defenders, discrimination, corruption, withholding services, and other such violations.

State institutions and officials should abstain from actions that would obstruct the social production of housing process, in particular through housing destruction and displacements. As established in standard-setting instruments, when resettlement is the only available option (i.e. due to a disaster-prone location or similar issue), the participation of the affected community and families is mandatory in agreeing the details of the process and negotiating appropriate resettlements (including providing shelter in a nearby location so as not to affect people´s livelihoods and social networks), as well as just remuneration and compensation measures.

At the level of protection, state obligations in the social production of housing process involve the provision of safeguards and assurances of freedom from unnecessary and disproportionate use of force, public-service fee increases, monopolistic control of building materials, and other impediments to the people’s process. The state also bears the obligation to prosecute violators and ensure effective relief and remedy for victims. Measures that prevent, deny, or repress the inhabitants’ rights to association, participation, and free expression in the physical development process would also violate the obligation to respect the human right to adequate housing.

At the fulfillment level, the state possesses unique capacities to ensure, recognize, and support people´s efforts and community-led efforts. Enabling social production of habitat policies, programs, institutions, and budgets is fundamental, including those that can guarantee access to:

  • land in good locations
  • security of tenure, prioritizing women´s needs and rights
  • services and infrastructure
  • adequate financial resources and schemes (credits, subsidies, and savings; recognizing people’s in-kind contributions)
  • professional technical assistance
  • information, materials, and technology
  • cross-sectorial training
Tabla Der viv PSH etc Inglés
Comparing different forms of producing housing and neighborhoods in face of obstacles to the right to adequate housing. Red: weak/no compliance; Yellow: mid compliance; Green: high compilance

A new urban agenda 2016-2036: a paradigm shift?

The third UN Conference on Housing and Sustainable Urban Development (known as Habitat III) will take place in Ecuador in October 2016. For almost two years now, multiple actors and institutions, including national and local governments, social movements and civil society networks, youth and women’s organizations, academics, professionals, journalists, and the UN and other international agencies have being participating in debates, declarations, and other documents that will serve as inputs for what should be the Conference’s main outcome: a “New Urban Agenda”.

An initial set of written materials, the so-called Issue Papers, was produced during the first half of 2015 and dealt with 22 relevant themes. One of those themes was informal settlements, which tried to provide definitions of pertinent key words (without mentioning any critics or limitations), some updated global figures and facts, as well as relevant recommendations. Those “key drivers for action” included eight topics: Recognition of the informal settlement and slum challenge and the mainstreaming of human rights; Government leadership; Systemic and city-wide/‘at scale’ approaches; Integration of people and systems; Housing at the centre; Appropriate long term financial investment and inclusive financing options; Developing participatory, robust, standardized and computerized data collection processes; and Creating learning platforms. Although they might not be sufficient, each of these eight topics is fundamental, and the group of topics certainly reflects many of the concerns and proposals for which civil society and social organizations have been advocating.

However, it seems that those important analyses and recommendations did not make their way into the second round of official documents, the Policy Papers (February 2016). None of those 10 papers dealt exclusively with informal settlements, and their contents do not seem to take into consideration the concepts or key drivers discussed in the previous Issue Papers. It is true that a few weeks ago, an official thematic preparatory meeting on this particular topic was held in Pretoria, from which arose clear and strong recommendations on relevant elements such as land policy (balanced territorial development and urban planning), protection against evictions, participatory and in situ slum-upgrading programs, among others; but, again, no critical review on the concept or alternative definitions were considered in its declaration.

At the same time, the social production of habitat is mentioned several times in different documents, but only in a very limited and superficial manner, despite the prolific and solid contents and formal commitments that the predecessor Habitat Agenda (Istanbul, 1996) managed to include. Today, as yesterday, our networks will continue to push so that a more accurate definition, analysis, and policy recommendations are considered in the new agenda (see Mexico City Declaration on Financing Urban Development, March 2016). Bringing the communities´ voices to the debates and showing the achievements and challenges that they face should be one of our main tasks.

Changing the words means changing the concepts; changing the concepts means changing the way we understand (or not) complex phenomena and are able (or not) to transform them in a positive way.

Neither informal nor irregular, these are, above all, human settlements. Or even better: they are the city produced by the people: the people who claim their rights to live, build, and transform the city.

Lorena Zárate
Mexico City

On The Nature of Cities

* * * * *

References

Connolly, P. (2007) Urbanizaciones irregulares como forma dominante de ciudad [Irregular urbanization as predominant city form]. Unpublished paper presented at the Second National Land Use Congress, Chihuahua, Mexico, 17–19 October.

Gilbert, A. (2007) The Return of the Slum: Does Language Matter? International Journal of Urban and Regional Research 31.4: 697-713.

Ortiz, E. y L. Zárate (2002) Vivitos y coleando. 40 años trabajando por el hábitat popular en América Latina [Alive and kicking. 40 years working for people´s habitat in Latin America]. Universidad Autónoma Metropolitana y HIC-AL, Mexico City.

Ortiz, E. y L. Zárate (2004) De la marginación a la ciudadanía. 38 casos de producción y gestión social del hábitat [From Marginality to Citizenship. 38 cases of social production and management of habitat]. Forum Universal de las Culturas, HIC y HIC-AL, Barcelona.

Roy, A. (2009) Strangely familiar: planning and the worlds of insurgence and informality. Planning Theory 8.1: 7–11.

Schechla, Joseph (2004) Anatomies of a Social Movement. Social Production of Habitat in the Middle East/North Africa (Part I). Housing and Land Rights Network-Habitat International Coalition, Cairo.

Torres, Rino (2006) La producción social de la vivienda en México. Su importancia nacional y su impacto en la economía de los hogares pobres [The social production of housing in Mexico. National relevance and impacts in the economy of low income households]. HIC-AL, Mexico City.

Yiftachel, O. (2009) Theoretical notes on ‘gray cities’: the coming of urban apartheid? Planning Theory 8.1: 88–100.

Wigle, Jill (2013) The ‘Graying’ of ‘Green’ Zones: Spatial Governance and Irregular Settlement in Xochimilco, Mexico City. International Journal of Urban and Regional Research 38.2: 573-589.

A picture of trees, grass, a walking path with people on it

They Didn’t Pave “Paradise”, They Ploughed It

Many voices. Greener cities. Better cities.
The impact of urbanization needs to be kept in perspective compared with the much greater threat to biodiversity coming from our unsustainable global food system. If we were to dismantle major urban centers and spread their populations over the surrounding countryside, far more pastoral paradise would be consumed and carbon footprint per capita would rise dramatically.

The Year 2007 marked the arrival of the Urban Millennium when most of the world’s population became urban for the first time in human history (UNDESA, 2009). The proportion is now at least 55% and the global urban population is predicted to increase by 2.5 billion over the next 30 years (UNDESA, 2019). In North America, South America, and the Caribbean, 80 % of the population reside in urban settlements, while in Europe the proportion is 73% (EU Joint Research Center, 2019).

I recall how many environmentalists reacted with foreboding to this turning point (or tipping-point, as they saw it), as it served to highlight the relentless march of the concrete jungle into rural “paradise”, to paraphrase Joni Mitchel’s lament (Big Yellow Taxi, 1970). Certainly, in many developed nations, the belief that urban growth is the primary driver behind the loss of nature is commonly held by many journalists who echo or stoke the fears of the general public.

Such fears have been heightened by rural campaign bodies such as the Council for the Protection of Rural England, which has set out a particularly J.G. Ballard-inspired dystopian vision for England – “It’s 2035, and the countryside is all but over… there is no longer any distinction between town and country. Town does not end, countryside does not begin” (Kingsnorth, 2005). A similar ominous prediction for England’s green and pleasant land was expressed 30 years earlier by celebrated English poet, Phillip Larkin, in his poem Going, Going – “as the bleak high-risers come … more houses, more parking allowed … Despite all the land left free. For the first time I feel somehow that it isn’t going to last … And that will be England gone”. In academia, too, there seems to be a consensus that urban growth is a very major cause of biodiversity loss (McDonald, et al., 2018), if not the primary driver (McKinney, 2002; Catalano et al., 2021).

While urbanization certainly has had many very negative impacts on the natural world, is the hostility that environmentalists and the wider public hold for it justified, or is there a much more important factor driving biodiversity loss? As to the first part of the question, a skepticism about the scale of impact has been simmering for many years before being emphatically reemphasized relatively recently by the likes of David Owen and Edward Glaeser in their books Green Metropolis (2011) and Triumph of the City (2012) respectively. Both authors take the contrary viewpoint and contend that well-organized compact urban agglomerations benefitting from economies of scale have much lower environmental footprints than alternative lower-density arrangements of human populations of similar size. Flagship cities for these authors include New York, Hong Kong, and Singapore. Owen does concede, however, that “thinking of crowded cities as environmental role models requires a certain willing suspension of disbelief because most of us have been accustomed to viewing urban centers as ecological calamities”.

As to the second part of the question, while it is repeatedly asserted that Joni Mitchel was heaping the blame squarely on urban expansion for the loss of paradise, an oft-forgotten line of her song also implicates another culprit  – “hey farmer, farmer put away that DDT now. Give me spots on my apples, but leave me the birds and the bees”; lyrics inspired by Rachel Carson’s 1962 tour de force, Silent Spring. Indeed, I contend here that it is “our global food system [and not urbanization, which] is the primary driver of biodiversity loss” (Benton et al., 2021).

Debating in a numerical vacuum

Discussions as to whether we are approaching a point where town does not end and countryside does not begin often take place in a numerical vacuum. According to Our World in Data, only 1% of the earth’s land area is built up urban, including cities, towns, villages, roads, and other human infrastructure (Ritchie & Roser, 2019). The figure is 2% in the US (World Economic Forum, 2020), while in the UK, which is a particularly densely populated nation, the figure is 7-8% (Office for National Statistics, 2019). Urban areas also include parks, gardens, golf courses, and many other forms of greenspace, so the actual footprint of concrete and asphalt may be smaller depending on how these numbers were calculated; in the UK ‘natural land cover’ accounts for 31% of urban areas.

Compact-city living

According to McDonald, et al. (2018), urban growth resulted in the loss of 190,000 km2 of natural habitat between 1992-2000 (16% of all natural habitat lost over this period) and threatens an additional 290,000 km2 by 2030. These findings are concerning, but such studies sometimes fail to fully consider the ecological and other environmental benefits of urbanization or consider what the environmental implications would have been had the new urbanites remained in the countryside.

While carbon footprint per unit area is higher in urban than rural areas, this is because there are many more people per unit area. In developed nations, at least, the carbon footprint per capita is lower in urban centers than in rural areas or sprawling suburbs (Owen, 2011; Glaeser, 2012). Residents of urban centers are less inclined to drive because services are readily accessible by foot or public transport. Policies are also in place to constrain car use in cities, e.g., restricted and costly parking charges; limited space to ease congestion through road capacity expansion; and the introduction of congestion charges (e.g., London). Because heat consumption is correlated with floor area and the ratio of wall area to floor area, rural and suburban housing, which is typically larger and detached, also uses more energy than in urban centers where apartments and terraced housing are the norms.

If we were to dismantle major urban centers and spread their populations over the surrounding countryside, far more pastoral paradise would be consumed and carbon footprint per capita would rise dramatically. Moreover, exacerbating climate change would cause additional biodiversity loss (IPCC, 2022).

Are the indirect impacts of urbanization exaggerated?

McDonald, et al. (2018) argue that the external land area needed to provide food, water, and materials to cities should also be taken into account when assessing their environmental footprint. However, in isolation, such analysis is misleading. The populations of urban centers would still need to eat and consume water if they were to be teleported into rural areas, and in developed countries, at least, their footprints would be much higher. This is because there are enormous economies of scale to be derived from supplying food and water to large concentrations of people compared with similar populations widely dispersed across the landscape (Owen, 2011; Monbiot, 2022).

While the need to minimize food miles and the concept of locavorism is music to the ears of many environmentalists, various other factors need to be considered when assessing environmental footprint, including how the food is grown and how it reaches its destination. Because food items are transported in bulk to cities, often with a range of other products, food miles per unit can often be much smaller for produce transported long distances than for the same food item that has been purchased in a local farmer’s market.

Moreover, focusing on food production where growing conditions are most optimal, maximizes production and reduces carbon output per unit. Monbiot (2022) is particularly uncompromising on this point – “given the distribution of the world’s population and the regions suitable for farming, the abandonment of long-distance trade would be a recipe for mass starvation”.

Is vertical farming the solution?

To circumvent the limitations of locavorism, some champion indoor and vertical farming systems (VFS) in cities, i.e., growing crops in vertically stacked layers using soil-less techniques such as hydroponics. However, the economic viability of VFS is currently uncertain, as start-up infrastructure costs are high and the process is labor and energy intensive. VFS, therefore, faces stiff competition from traditional horizontal farms in the countryside that have lower infrastructure and land costs, as well as free sunshine (Owen, 2011; Delden et al., 2021; Moghimi, 2021; Monbiot, 2022). Nevertheless, there still appears to be momentum behind VFS that is attracting investment and so increased efficiencies are anticipated from improved automation. Whether these will be sufficient to establish a profitable sector able to make a reasonably significant contribution to food supplies remains far from clear.

Urbanization in low-income countries

Contrary to the trends in developing nations, urbanization in low-income countries may initially increase emissions per capita, as the newly arrived consume more electricity and transport than their rural counterparts (Li & Lin, 2015; Connolly et al., 2022). While attempts have been made to inhibit urbanization in low-income countries these have largely been ineffective, and arguably, undesirable (Tacoli, 2015; Macdonald, 2016). All developed nations originally transitioned from agrarian to urbanized societies and low-income countries are now going through the same process. Those living comfortable lives in high-income nations should remind themselves that most people migrating to cities in low-income countries are not leaving behind some rural utopia but rather are desperately poor and are seeking a better standard of living for themselves and their families (Pearce, 2010; Glaeser, 2012). Moreover, as low-income countries transition to middle and high-income countries, the per capita environmental footprints of urban residents are likely to fall below those of their rural compatriots.

Owen (2011) suggests that the antipathy so many environmentalists have towards urbanization has a somewhat Malthusian undercurrent. Some commentators seem to imagine that rural-urban migrants would vanish into the ether if only the process could be stopped. However, a growing world population and accompanying urban growth are inevitable. The world population is approaching 8 billion and is projected to peak at approximately 10.4 billion people during the 2080s (UNDESA, 2022).

Contrary to any Malthusian fears, urbanization is and will continue to be an important and environmentally beneficial process in the demographic transition, slowing overall population growth. This is because fertility rates are lower in cities than in rural areas. Women socialized in cities are likely to be better educated, more involved in economic activities outside the household, have improved access to family planning services, are less culturally constrained, and opt to marry at a later age, and for all these reasons and more, choose to have smaller families than those in neighboring rural areas (Lerch, 2019). Therefore, achieving gender equity (in part driven by urbanization) is critical for, inter alia, meeting sustainability goals.

Density done well

Given the inevitability of urban growth, we must act to minimize and offset associated biodiversity losses, seeking biodiversity net gain wherever possible, particularly if biodiversity hotspots are disproportionately threatened by the process (McDonald, et al., 2018). The integration of biodiverse green space into the urban realm also brings multiple ecosystem services (Grant, 2012), including positive (biophilic) effects on our psychological well-being, delivering a dose of Vitamin N’ or Nature’s Fix’, to borrow the biophilic terminology of Richard Louv (2017) and Florence Williams (2017) respectively. This entails squaring the circle when it comes to maximizing the environmental benefits of compact-city living, while at the same time providing adequate urban greenspace (Garland, 2016). In this respect, the application of Jane Jacobs’ (1961) “density done well” philosophy will be critical. Urban green spaces must be designed to be multifunctional, working hard to integrate biodiversity and other services where space is at a premium (Photos 1-3). Density done well, of course, also means getting more out of built infrastructure, i.e., improving sanitation, housing, public transport, etc., and avoiding sprawling slums and shanty towns in developing countries.

A picture of trees, grass, a walking path with people on it
Photo 1. “Gardens by the Bay … the face of Singapore’s futuristic melding of city and nature” (Wood et al., 2021); Singapore is one of the most densely populated cities in the world. Photo: Lincoln Garland
A picture of a bridge pier covered in plants with water in the background
Photo 2. Richly vegetated monorail pier and road curb, Sentosa Island, Singapore; despite being very densely populated, in 1967 Prime Minister Lee Kuan Yew had a vision to turn Singapore into a Garden city with abundant greenery. Photo: Lincoln Garland
A picture of an elevated walking path surrounded by plants with people on it
Photo 3. Density done well – New York’s High Line, an elevated linear greenway created on a former railroad spur. Photo: Steven Severinghaus

The real culprit behind biodiversity loss

Over the last 50 years, the conversion of natural ecosystems for crop production and pasture has been far and away the primary cause of biodiversity loss (Benton et al., 2021). Cropping and livestock production occupies approximately 50% of the planet’s habitable land. Once natural habitats have been removed to establish agricultural systems there are often limited opportunities for wildlife to coexist due to heavy reliance on agrochemicals, and because of monocultural and deep tilling practices. Our food system is also an important driver of climate change.

While we must develop the capacity to feed at least 10 billion people well before the end of the century, this can be achieved while also significantly increasing the coverage of protected areas for the benefit of wildlife and the provision of ecosystem services. Various credible approaches have been proposed, although the most effective mechanism for reducing pressure on ecosystems would be a transition towards plant-based diets, as substantially less land is required per calorie produced in contrast with diets including a significant meat and dairy component (Poore & Nemecek, 2018; Benton et al., 2021; Ritchie, 2021; Monbiot, 2022). The IPCC (2019) also asserts that a significant shift to plant-based diets would provide a major opportunity for mitigating and adapting to climate change. Additional benefits would include improved dietary health and a decrease in the likelihood of pandemics. However, despite clear evidence governments remain reluctant to advocate such a transition (Islam, 2021).

Shifting baseline syndrome

Putting aside global issues and returning to first-world problems and the fears of the UK’s general public, I often struggle to fathom why disproportionate blame is put on urbanization rather than farming in explaining the impoverishment of the nation’s biodiversity. Note that the UK is one of the most nature-depleted countries in the world due to agricultural land use patterns (Davis, 2020). Many people seem assured that all is well simply from the superficial greenness of the UK’s countryside, even though very little significant wildlife can be found across large parts (Packham & McCubbin, 2020; Monbiot, 2022). They see what is there (greenery) rather than what is missing. Each generation, therefore, redefines what it thinks of as natural and so there is an ongoing reduction of standards and acceptance of degraded natural ecosystems caused by unsustainable agricultural practices; the phenomenon known as shifting baseline syndrome. According to Tree (2018), the British have “pre-baseline amnesia, we forget that there was once more, much much more”.

The myth of the UK’s green and pleasant land has been perpetuated by the absolute conviction of large landowners and the National Farmers Union who have had more influence with the Government and have been more adept at spinning themselves as custodians of the countryside than conservation bodies (Macdonald, 2018; Packham & McCubbin, 2020).

As a consequence of intensive agricultural practices, some studies are now finding enhanced biodiversity in towns and cities contrasted with the neighboring countryside, ranging from increased bee species-richness in the UK (Baldock et al., 2015) to Leopards in Mumbai (Braczkowski et al., 2018).

Conclusions

Ongoing urban growth certainly poses many challenges to the environment and every effort should be made to minimize and offset losses, and wherever possible integrate biodiversity into the urban realm, not only to benefit nature itself, but also to provide ecosystem services, including biophilic benefits. However, the impact of urbanization needs to be kept in perspective compared with the much greater threat to biodiversity coming from our unsustainable global food system.

It should also be recognized that urban coverage is only 1% of the land area while accounting for 55% of the global population. Therefore, an urbanized world, particularly one that seeks opportunities for densification and minimizes sprawl, frees space for other uses including protected areas for wildlife. However, whether we allow more space for nature outside of our cities will mostly depend on whether we choose to adopt more sustainable approaches to food production.

Lincoln Garland
Bath

On The Nature of Cities

Acknowledgments

Thank you to Dr. Mike Wells and Gary Grant for their kind feedback on the article.

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Thinking about a Landscape Approach to Revitalize the American Landscape

Many voices. Greener cities. Better cities.

I normally write in The Nature of Cities about biocultural diversity, particularly related to the developing world, but in light of recent events, I would like to ask the reader’s indulgence in my writing about a slightly different topic, and maybe even getting on my soapbox a little.

In the U.S., landscapes where subsidies have promoted dependence on one industry are the same ones registering feelings of alienation and degradation. Why?
You see, in the run-up to the 2016 presidential election in the United States, we heard a lot about the decline of the American rural landscape and the challenges facing the people who live in it. And as we watched a once-unthinkable candidate go from joke to threat to candidate to president, we heard more and more about how this is the result of dissatisfaction—namely, a feeling that much of the country has been consistently ignored by establishment figures, the ones in urban areas who make the decisions. A look at a map of red and blue districts shows the degree to which rural America determined the election. Whatever you make of the result of the election, if these voters were trying to get more attention, they surely succeeded.

It is tempting to point out here, like so many have already, the glaring inconsistencies in claims that the new President understands and speaks for rural America when, to many, he looks more like an extremely privileged urban elite who has gotten rich playing with other people’s money. The irony is not lost on us that so much breath has been expelled—about a candidate who would stop the government from coddling self-identified underprivileged groups—by those exact groups, shouting about an establishment that they did not feel considered them to be its highest priority. These debates will go on, and on, and on. But for now, I would like to suggest that we can treat this feeling of dissatisfaction as real, whether we think it is justified or not. And if so, maybe we can take a moment to think about the American landscape as a place where people live and work and find their identity and produce things, and what can be done to make it a good place for all of this to happen.

One view of an American rural landscape. Photo: William Dunbar

I have already hinted at some of the problems felt in ex-urban, peri-urban, and rural areas in the United States. The perception is that decision-makers in the U.S., particularly those coastal urban elites, have been ignoring rural America for decades; this has resulted in a steady outflow of economic and social capital from the landscape, with jobs being outsourced to other countries, and factories and other places of business abandoned; big-box retailers owned by rich outsiders are empowered to move in and force small enterprises out of business, making the employment situation even worse; without jobs, people have little to give meaning and structure to their lives, and turn to medicating themselves with hours of mind-numbing TV or video games or, worse, drugs; communities cannot thrive with their members living like this, causing family and other social structures to fall apart; and so the landscape becomes a place of little hope, its people holding on as best they can, hoping things will somehow get better again, and looking for a different kind of decision-maker, someone who will make great things happen for them.

In the face of this perception, an overriding theme in 2016 was that this is not what America is supposed to be like. Americans, perhaps to a fault, think of their land as a “great” country, in many ways the most advanced nation in the world. This contrasts with the description I have just given of problems in the American landscape, which do not sound all that different from those facing the rest of the world, even in many developing countries. If the plight of the American landscape is really that bad, then, the time may have come to consider applying lessons more commonly found in the sustainable development field when we think about how to revitalize that landscape.

With all this talk of the American “landscape”, it is notable that a hot topic in fields including nature conservation and sustainable development over the past few years has been the idea of the “landscape approach”. This term is, at least in my experience, generally applied to work in developing countries, or else in places where some kind of historical or biocultural landscape has been found since time immemorial. Still, since it is used in many diverse parts of the world, it is important to keep in mind that it is not a single agreed-upon “the” landscape approach, but rather a general concept of making the basic unit for resource management, decision-making, conservation, and other goals a “landscape”, rather than, for example, an administrative unit such as a municipality or a county. One consequence of using the landscape as the basic unit is that it requires consideration of all factors affecting the landscape, both internal and external. The term “integrated landscape management” is often used in this regard—where “integrated” means accounting for and including as many different stakeholders, interests, ecosystem functions, levels of governance, and so on, as possible in management decision-making. In this sense, “integrated landscape management” is essentially synonymous with “landscape approach”, at least for the purposes of this essay.

A quick note may be helpful here about the term “landscape” itself. There is a bit of semantic slippage between the sense of “the landscape” and “a landscape”, the former being a broader and more abstract concept of the way the world looks from a certain perspective and all the elements that make up this view, while the latter tends to refer to a geographically distinct physical space. Since, as I suggest in this essay, landscape approaches have not typically been used in the U.S., the term tends to be used with the former meaning, as in “the political landscape”. Conversely, applying a landscape approach means working in individual physical landscapes, requiring exactly the kind of re-envisioning of the American landscape—to wit, as a landscape made up of landscapes—that I am arguing for here. In any case, suffice it to say that there may be some inadvertent or advertent mixing-up of the two senses of the word in this essay, but I hope it will help to show the richness of the concept rather than to confuse the reader.

Before tackling any landscape approach, there is the basic question of “what is a landscape?” A definitive answer is surprisingly difficult to find, as it depends greatly on the country and context. For the purposes of the project I work with—a research project based on the Satoyama Initiative, an effort to reconcile biodiversity conservation and human livelihood by promoting the “socio-ecological production landscape or seascape”—we use the somewhat inexact guideline that a landscape is defined by the community or communities that inhabit it, as the area they rely on for their livelihood and well-being. It could therefore be a watershed, an administrative boundary, an arbitrary area centered on an urban area, or almost any other division the communities consider meaningful. Getting community members to think in terms of landscape and to attempt to determine their own landscape is an important basic step. The distinction between “the landscape” and “a landscape” becomes important here, as “a landscape” is a distinct unit while, for example, “the American landscape” refers to essentially the whole country as a more abstract concept. Keeping this in mind, the remainder of this essay briefly asks readers to consider what a landscape approach can do for individual landscapes of the American landscape, providing a few examples from other parts of the world.

Consider the problems facing the American landscape as described earlier. At the heart of most of them—and directly related to our election results—is the feeling among many non-urban Americans that decision-makers create policies that ignore or even harm their well-being. While policymakers say that their intent is to help the economy and improve the livelihoods of all Americans, policies sometimes create perverse incentives that result in jobs fleeing the landscape. An example may be when policies favor cheap imports of foreign-produced goods that make American manufacturing uncompetitive, a problem the new President has said he will meet by opposing free trade.

The advantage of a landscape approach here is that perverse incentives are often caused by favoring one sector or industry at the expense of other priorities—for example, when subsidies lead to overproduction of one type of goods to the point that the supply chain becomes damaged, eventually degrading the ability to produce that good and subsequently causing the subsidized industry to crash. A landscape approach, by focusing on the landscape itself rather than any one industry, should not allow this kind of imbalance if it will harm the landscape. Any subsidies or similar incentives applied using an integrated landscape management perspective would have to be to the benefit of the landscape rather than any one element in it, and would ideally balance costs and benefits toward long-term sustainability.

A diverse landscape in Tuscany. Photo: William Dunbar

A promising example in this vein comes from Italy (not a developing country in this case, but one with a long history of people shaping their landscapes for sustainable existence in harmony with nature). In one part of Tuscany, an organization called the Ancient Grains Association is attempting to bring back heritage wheat species as part of a sustainable landscape management model for an area that has suffered from rural abandonment and environmental degradation, in part a result of the globalization of the wheat industry, which has encouraged modern and calorie-efficient, but less sustainable, strains of wheat and incentivized the cultivation of a small number of high-profit, high-efficiency crops. A traditional landscape in this area comprised a richer mosaic of grapes, olives, forest patches, animal husbandry, and others activities. One major factor that the Ancient Grains Association has identified as crucial to its success is local government action to support growing ancient strains of wheat. Cultivation of these strains has been proven to be possible without subsidies, but would be very difficult if less sustainable grains were subsidized. The local city council is already involved in asking local schools to buy the ancient grains, financing local events, and creating an agricultural reservation as a kind of common space to encourage this kind of project. These actions have led to the success of the project to date, and plans are ongoing to further upscale them in the future.

A wheat monoculture landscape in another part of southern Europe. Photo: William Dunbar

Feelings of alienation can result from this same trend toward globalization. When the people in the landscape feel that they are not in control of the policies and decisions that determine their well-being—that they are not active agents in a mutually-beneficial and harmonious relationship between people and nature in the landscape—they will naturally feel less responsibility to make sure that the landscape is managed in a sustainable manner that will be good for themselves, their communities and the natural environment for the long term. A landscape approach is intended to help with exactly this problem in that it is centered on the people in the landscape themselves, and by definition makes them the decision-makers and key stakeholders in management decisions, resulting in a sense of ownership and motivation to work for long-term sustainability.

Looking to the world of sustainable development, an example of a project strongly emphasizing stakeholder engagement and empowerment is the COMDEKS project, which is administered by UNDP and has been implemented in 20 developing countries around the world. This project works in targeted landscapes to create a “landscape strategy” for integrated landscape management and then promote work toward the strategy’s implementation. Key to the project’s success is that it has required communities in each landscape to examine their own priorities for improving their sustainability and resilience and to collectively agree on steps to take towards reaching those goals. An important principle here is that in many cases, the people in the communities themselves hold the knowledge of what is best for their own landscape, although they are sometimes denied the means to implement it or are otherwise incentivized not to. Since each landscape is unique, the knowledge of what results in sustainable landscape management is built up over people’s long-term interaction with the landscape. This is often called traditional, indigenous, or local knowledge, and in many cases this knowledge is updated, enhanced, or integrated with modern scientific knowledge, while new knowledge is always being developed.

Assessing a landscape in Namibia with the COMDEKS project. Photo: William Dunbar

The American landscape itself provides famous examples of hard lessons learned where there was a lack of an integrated landscape strategy. One of these is the so-called Dust Bowl era, when a number of factors—perverse incentives leading to overproduction of cotton in an almost complete monoculture in some areas, alienation of the local farmers from the very decision-making processes that led to this imbalance, lack of a long-term strategy for sustainability—resulted in a landscape that proved tragically lacking in resilience in the face of changing environmental and economic pressures. Unfortunately, although this experience seems to provide a clear lesson, one look at much of the landscape in, for example, the American Midwest, where I grew up, shows that large-scale, monocultural agriculture, particularly of corn, still dominates. Is it likely a coincidence that the very landscapes where subsidies have promoted similar dependence on a single industry are the same ones where we hear the most about alienation and degradation both of the environment and the communities that live there? Maybe an integrated landscape management strategy for long-term sustainability and resilience—integrating diverse productive activities, interests, levels of governance, and ecosystem services in harmony with nature—is what is needed for the revitalization of these communities and to make their people feel they are truly the decision-makers and stakeholders in their own well-being.

Like anywhere else in the world, conditions in landscapes around the United States vary widely, so, as I have mentioned, there is no one approach that would work everywhere in the country. Still, the factors that characterize landscape approaches in general apply here as well. For one, any approach should include landscape diversity as one of its key factors, as diversity is strongly correlated with sustainability and resilience in many projects—for example, the “Indicators of Resilience” used in the COMDEKS Project encompasses these facets.

Meaningfully including landscape diversity means not only ecological diversity (although it is, of course, important), but also socioeconomic diversity. Readers of The Nature of Cities will be very familiar with the danger of urban areas relying on one or a small number of industries, as in the famous case of Detroit. The same principles apply as in rural areas of Oklahoma in the Dust Bowl—Detroit’s automobile-based economy can be seen as a kind of industrial monoculture and an example of the lack of resilience that comes from reliance on this kind of monoculture. The American landscape overall might be a very different place if communities were incentivized to remake their landscapes as bioculturally diverse mosaics of different land-uses and production activities, taking advantage of the knowledge that has been gained in the past and feeling deeply engaged in the future direction of their own lands.

Ultimately, the point of this essay is that we need policies that will help, not hinder, this goal. We need a well-thought-out and comprehensive vision of the landscape at multiple scales—from the perspective of the individual land-holder all the way up to large-scale policies on infrastructure and economic incentives—that will result in sustainable, resilient, fulfilling, and healthy communities committed to improving their own well-being. The examples provided here are of a few efforts being made in this direction in other parts of the world, and are meant to point to lessons that the United States can learn from when addressing sustainable development. Those who want to improve the American landscape should not be averse to looking at how landscapes are approached elsewhere, even in the developing world, as a source of good ideas and knowledge. If I can climb back on my soapbox just a little at the end here, I propose that this may even be a way to help bring some sanity into our sometimes-crazy politics.

As one last note, I would like to invite readers to post any comments below, but particularly I am interested to hear about any examples of positive landscape approaches in the States, as I have not found many in my limited research. I hope this essay can be the beginning of a dialogue about this important topic.

William Dunbar
Tokyo

On The Nature of Cities