A balcony greenhouse is like having a little tiny piece of the planet, at home. The first time I successfully grew a tomato, I was happy! Too bad my landlord didn’t let me keep it.
Urban building codes and design standards play a crucial role in how a city adapts to contemporary challenges, like climate change and urbanization. I live in Montréal where, like many cities in the world, building codes largely came into force on account of two big urban phenomena: fire and disease. In Montreal’s case, fire was of particular concern. In fact, our building codes are largely responsible for the presence of the iconic outdoor staircases typical of Montreal architecture. They’re everywhere … “Winding ones, wooden ones, rusty and risky ones” … as famous author Mordecai Richler once wrote in The Apprenticeship of Duddy Kravitz.
Photo: Lrdgcampus
I’ve been thinking about building codes because I recently had a run-in with them. For quite a few years I’ve been wanting a balcony greenhouse to grow food, protect my houseplants, and gain some reprieve from Montréal’s six-month-long winters. So, one weekend I gathered a couple of people and finally built one. It was spectacular. All of my plants were immediately happier. With near full sun on most days from my south-facing balcony doors, I could see clearly just how a full four seasons of growing was possible in this 4 x 2 square meter wooden house of light and warmth. As the installation came to a close, and I could feel the new space wrapping in around me, I started to wonder to myself: at this late stage of advanced capitalism, and with dwindling time to adapt and mitigate the effects of our changing climate: why aren’t people building more of these?
Photo: Bogdan Bondarchuk
Looking out over both sides of my balcony there are rows and rows of other balconies which sit empty for the most part. But, at the same time, I live in a neighborhood where the waitlist for a community garden plot is close to five years long. In fact, just a few years ago to help with this the city finally completed the Woonerf project ― a 1.5-million-dollar investment to build an incredible green Woonerf complete with expanded community gardens. This helped, but it merely put a dent in the 3000+ waitlist with just 30 or so new spaces. And, at this scale and expense, it is unlikely that we will see more garden plot expansion anytime soon.
Well, the answer to my question was delivered to my inbox in the shape of one angry landlord who promptly told me to take it down citing: building code violations. I did check, and honestly, there is nothing in there that says I can’t, but it doesn’t say that I can either. So, herein lies the problem, and one that catapulted me into a world of thoughts leading me to conclude: cities need to allow this. Re-visiting and changing building codes to reflect the changing needs of cities ― just like the winding staircases in the age of fire and disease ― is critically important in this case, for two main reasons: One of them has to do with Capitalism and the other with basic human needs: food and wellbeing. Let’s start with the first one.
21st Century Capital is a Vegetarian
You may have noticed this in your city too, but capital investors love green projects. Anywhere there is a plant, garden, green-lane, or the promise of one from the city, these kinds of developers are somewhere lurking in wait for the opportunity of a lifetime: the promise of more profit. Not every developer in a city behaves like this — but far too many of them today do. My neighborhood recently experienced this. In Montréal, I live in a neighborhood called, Saint-Henri. Over the past 15+ years of living here, I’ve fallen in love with the funky edgy undercurrents of the neighborhood. The Saint-Henri – Little Burgundy – Point Saint Charles triangle in the Sud-ouest is historically one of the poorest sectors of the city and is also lovingly remembered as the home and birthplace of quite a few famous jazz musicians, including Oscar Peterson. Last nod: you can also catch a historical glimpse of this part of town’s industrial poverty past as portrayed by the well-known Canadian writer Gabrielle Roy in The Tin Flute.
Over the past 10 years, Saint-Henri underwent a long and slowly drawn-out cadastral surgery where any perceived to be old, run-down, slightly slanted, or otherwise, lot or building ripe for profitable growth was put under the magnifying glass, earmarked by realtors, and targeted by developers for implantation and sale. As beautiful an initiative as the city’s Woonerf project was, it was also unmistakably a driving force for a lot of the mayhem. The city’s investment to revitalize the area sent a signal. A concerted front moved into the neighborhood. We were rebranded as the new “up and coming” place to be in Montréal. Within a short 6 years, the old homes and duplexes that were waiting for gradual baton passing from older generations to slower growing new homeowners and younger families, who would regenerate the cycle and character of the neighborhood, were swooped up to market on the investors’ assembly line. It was impossible to compete with the middleman and the new price tags. A lot of us felt like Saint-Henri had been grabbed, turned upside down, and shaken for any possible pocket change we had. The community organized a housing committee to deal with the onrush of demand for affordable housing, from people who had been displaced.
When I was a student in university, and very much in the abstract, I learned the academic term used for this is called: gentrification. I understood it to mean the rich move in and the poor are pushed out. But, I had yet to live through one. Experiencing it has colored in the nuances. A lot happens before affluence moves in, and it isn’t really the people buying the turned properties you have to worry about — it’s the market signals and the oftentimes unchecked greed of the developers who bought them in the first place. It influences everything from the choice of materials, the speed of construction and design, and the economic class of citizens being catered to and prioritized for marketing and sale purposes. All of these decisions are predominantly dictated by the thought and desire: how much more profit can we make? When the ‘up and coming’ train starts moving, there isn’t much you can do to stop that market force. And annoyingly, there is no centrifugal point, tangible surface, or person to throw stones at. The business of this machine is concluded behind office doors and in paperwork long before you know it’s happening.
It’s impressive, actually. Capitalism is a beautifully clear and simple system that works to motivate and move people “effectively”. I only wish the motivator and end goal was different and that more meaningful driving forces could move as quickly and swiftly as the urge to make profit and power. Unfortunately for us, the leading global economic system is designed around infinite capital growth on a planet that is comprised of finite resources. There is nothing more unabashedly parasitic about the human condition than capitalism. We’re an organism that lives on and drains the resources of many other species to derive benefits and nutrients entirely at the expense of the planet. When I look at gentrification now, I see that giant complex problem in a micro dose, pulsating in my city as one node among many, many, many other incidents of the same thing all around the globe. So, how are balcony greenhouses a potential answer to the failures of giant green urban investment projects?
Firstly, they’re much smaller. They could give more decision-making ability, choice, and access to the citizens ― both renters and owners ― who would be using them according to their needs and context. Changing building codes to allow for this kind of action where citizens and landlords would be allowed, by law and design, to build a balcony greenhouse on existing building stock where feasible, helps make access to nature less scarce and could potentially more justly distribute it. It could provide access more rapidly across the island, by just giving people those tools so we could start to cut into these long waitlists. They could build and choose how they grow. Lastly, you could arguably get more done with the city’s budget if you’re not just concentrating the greening effort on massive, centralized projects. In being smaller, we could afford to incentivize more of them, and the direct benefit of the expenditure is potentially more impactful as a result. Especially for rental stock — it becomes a food asset that stays with the building regardless of the particular renter or owner. Which brings me to the second critical point in support of the balcony greenhouse: food and well-being. In the process of decentralizing greenspace and creating more just urban nature, as a co-benefit we create more space for urban farming and gardening. As the world continues to urbanize and food costs continue to rise as a result of global geopolitical instability, we desperately need to be building infrastructure like this in cities now, for the future.
Food insecurity & urban farming: A marriage proposal
In my city, there is a demand from citizens for more space to garden and farm that is going un-met. At the same time there is growing food insecurity. Food insecurity comes from two things predominantly: a) you can’t afford to buy food, and/or b) food isn’t located close enough to you to access it. After your rent, the second biggest bill is your grocery bill. Saint-Henri is an area of Montreal that has traditionally been food poor. We suffer from both phenomena. Great new places to do your groceries have popped up over the last few years, but people’s access to them remains inequitable. As the neighborhood continues to evolve, more of us are now more affluent, but those new shops are, for the most part, catering to those new affluent neighbors. We are closer to achieving the 15 min city ideal than we ever have been, but 15 minutes for whom? Food is more expensive than ever. St-Henri remains an area where hundreds of people choose between their rent and good quality healthy food each month because they don’t have enough money to do their groceries. And did you know that we are also a neighborhood that wastes food at alarming rates? I volunteer with a community fridge project called Feed the Hen, and I am constantly shocked by just how much free food there is to go around in one tiny neighborhood.
Photo: Feed the Hen, Frigo Communautaire
Picture this: Every Tuesday and Thursday, a local bakery (now a small regional chain) donates their end-of-day surplus which is usually between 30 and 50 loaves of bread per day. Each week, just for those two days, that’s roughly 60 – 100In one year that is approximately 2,880 and 4,800 loaves of bread we re-distribute! Another example: During the height of the COVID-19 pandemic, a dairy transporter (Quebec has a free milk program for public schools) contacted us to see if we wanted crates of milk products. He was set to deliver close to 600 milk cartons and yogurt cups to the local school, which he learned too late, was closed due to an outbreak. It took us the entire day to find homes for it all. So, this is not a food scarcity problem. What we have is a connection and communication issue. I haven’t been able to find any data on this, but I do wonder how many of the 3,000+ people on the wait list for the community gardens in my neighborhood, are also those homes suffering from food insecurity, and relying on our community fridge? I think many of us have the image of the tinkering middle-aged white gardener looking for ways to fill their time when we think of gardening. Maybe this is part of the problem too. So, to round off my second point: balcony greenhouses can contribute to food security and well-being by creating better access to quality food for those who need it. They may also create more secure long-term access to a place to grow for the grower. Community garden plots can be plagued by hierarchies and troubling power dynamics because there are too few spots, so they are carefully guarded by those who already have them. Currently, there are just over 12,000 community garden plots on the island of Montréal that service a population of approximately 1.78 million. Saint-Henri is not the only neighborhood with a waitlist. They all have them. From just those that I called and spoke to and from speaking with other experts and community activists working on food, I believe that there are between 10,000 and 15,000 people on waitlists in my city. That is a lot of potential urban farming stock in a long old, centralized pipeline waiting for the city to build more plots on land. It is of concern for another important reason too. Traditionally, we have always grown food in rural areas, and it is then transported to the city. But agriculture is an aging challenge in Quebec, and Canada as a whole.
Photo: M’Lisa Colbert
Young people in Canada on mass do not want to farm and live in rural towns. If you look at studies conducted in Quebec alone, there are roughly 5000+ farms across various crop and animal production industries that are operated by farmers 55 years and up, who would like to retire within the next 5 – 10 years and currently have no plan for their successors. That is a lot of local food we potentially stand to lose. In a colder climate like ours, urban greenhouses will need to be part of the solution. Moreover, bringing farming into the city allows the urban grower to practice growing. I spent my last year working on a rural farm project, and I have been incredibly humbled by just how much I didn’t know about food. As an urbanite, my foodscape was ruled predominantly by aesthetic experience, health preoccupations, and marketing: color, shape, vitamin levels, taste, and brand names guide me through my preferences and needs as an urban eater. But the real important things that get us to the aesthetics we are lucky enough to preference: Soil, water, manure, climate, temperature, and time were nowhere in my repertoire. The first time I successfully grew a tomato, I was only happy I’d grown something I could actually eat! I was pathetically triumphant. In a way, ‘I had made fire!’ like Tom Hanks in Cast Away. In a city, this knowledge set is critically important and often lost in comparison to those of us still living in rural areas. Lastly, a balcony greenhouse is like having a little tiny piece of the planet, at home. The warmth and green give your mind and body reprieve and connection to the important natural beauty that is at times hard to come by in our urban jungles of glass, concrete, and stone, to quote David Byrne.
Exhibit C: Sobering Reflections
The end of my journey is a mixed one. Unfortunately, my landlord didn’t consider any of these points to be valid ones. And I will not be allowed to keep my balcony greenhouse. He was worried about his building investment, and the potential damage or safety risk it may pose. Let me interject here with a minor point to let you know that tenants are allowed to have BBQs on their balconies. The irony here teaches a great lesson about possibly the greatest challenge we face in building more sustainable cities. If we are worried about safety, but we are okay with letting anybody and their mother hook up a 30L propane cylinder to an ignition system on a balcony, I think the real challenge here isn’t an engineering or safety one. The real issue is our urban imaginaries. What I proposed is not a common or normalized use for a balcony, just as how we see the gardener is clouding our understanding of for whom we would be building gardens, and thus distilling the real urgency. A lot of work needs to be done to change how we imagine cities can be used, and who is using them.
There are some understandably hard and sad moments to getting a no. One of which is that as a renter, you are stuck having to ask, which is the majority experience for most people living in cities. When you are not the property owner, oftentimes your needs, desires, and wants as a citizen in the city are left unattended to because you do not have the power or positionality to make them a reality. It is frustrating to have to sacrifice your own autonomy. That isn’t so great for well-being.
I did feel a silver lining to all of this though: I feel encouraged to continue to move and push for better more human cities, and I feel happy to have had the experience to build an idea that I was dreaming of, even if it meant I had to tear it all down at the end.
I had the privilege to live in my dream for a day. And it was a beautiful day.
We know what the challenges are and we can see the solutions. It is up to us to re-invent the rules. From Monopoly to Commonspoly, communities of redistribution, solidarity, and care are changing the game.
Playing games is a serious thing. Animals and humans learn how to relate with each other and with the world through games involving bodies and minds. Games provide a simplified way to understand complex issues, while at the same time broadening our perception of reality through multi-sensorial experiences. Playing games shapes our imagination and our ideas of what is possible. Games can help us to make sense of the world, to question it, and ― why not? ― to change it.
Conceived and popularized around the years of the Great Depression (1929-1939), Monopoly can be seen as the quintessential game of contemporary capitalist societies. Greed and cruelty are celebrated and rewarded, via the private accumulation of assets otherwise crucial for the collective wellbeing. Individuals playing the game are set to acquire as much residential space, basic infrastructure, and utilities as they can to the detriment of their opponents, charging them high rents and fees, and eventually pushing them into bankruptcy in order to win. Almost a century later, global reports of growing inequality reveal all the details about the richest 1% that make exponential profits (including during the COVID-19 pandemic) controlling almost every aspect of our lives and driving the planet into ecological collapse.
Awareness and demand are growing; it is high time to change the game. But how? Commonspoly (available for download under a Peer Production License) may hold some important answers in moving forward. Because rather than competing for critical resources and services, the goal is to collaborate to protect and enjoy them as common goods. Created in 2015, this board game was actually inspired by the original version of Monopoly, called by Elizabeth Magie, The Landlord’s Game (1904) and, in fact, intended to denounce the concentration of properties and abusive rents at the heart of socio-economic injustice. Instead of privatization, in Commonspoly players are encouraged to create and maintain public goods and common democratic management.
We all know that, in order to overcome the current multilayered crises and humanity’s existential challenges, we must put care for people and the planet at the core of narratives, practices, and policies. In the search for alternatives to exploitative patterns of production, distribution, and consumption, the commons and commoning practices are regaining momentum as a very-much-needed source of hope. A burgeoning, multidisciplinary academic field seems to be articulated with multi-sectorial and trans-scalar political experimentations in many places around the world.
Confronting invisibilization, fragmentation, and even criminalization, social movements, and civil society organizations, in alliance with progressive local and regional governments, are leading transformative actions. From housing cooperatives to the (re)municipalization of basic services, passing through collective land agreements, and shared management of natural and cultural goods, commoning practices are at the forefront of novel ways of democratic decision-making, while at the same time revaluing and giving a new meaning to traditional forms of organizing and sharing resources. At their core is a profound redistribution of material and symbolic power based on feminist, anti-racist, and anti-colonial principles and struggles.
Strongly connected with commoning, the right to the city and a renewed and strengthened municipalist agenda become now more crucial than ever. They represent at the same time a demand and a commitment to create more just, democratic, and sustainable places to live. The fulfillment of the social function of land and property; the defense of the commons (natural, urban, and cultural); the recognition and support of social and diverse economies; the radicalization of local democracy and the feminization of politics are some of the most prominent principles guiding a multitude of actions and advocacy efforts. Faced with the accelerated deterioration of the material conditions of life (human and more-than-human), growing social polarization, and (highly manipulated) loss of confidence in public institutions, the right to the city, the new municipalism, and the commons can crystallize the conditions of possibility for a new socio-spatial contract, radically renewed from the local sphere, based on proximity, and built on the rights and emancipatory dreams of its inhabitants.
What are the commons and why are they important?
Global public goods and the global commons are key components of the United Nations General Secretary vision and recommendations for the coming two critical decades. Under the framework of Our Common Agenda, national governments and the international community are called to protect and deliver on a wide range of natural and cultural domains, including the high seas, the atmosphere, and outer space, alongside health, economy, information, science, and peace. This so-called new global deal or new social contract is proposed to be anchored in human rights and focused on rebuilding trust, inclusion, and participation. It is presented as a “whole-of-society” effort, including individuals, civil society, state institutions, and the private sector. A renewed, “networked and effective” multilateralism recognizes an important role for cities.
However, from a right-to-the-city and municipalist approach, this agenda falls short. While it does acknowledge the need for recognizing the existence of common goods, it does not provide enough emphasis on the democratic arrangements under which those could be collectively managed in a coordinated way at local, national, and international levels. By such omission, this vision risks falling on an interpretation of the commons that will reproduce business as usual, without addressing power imbalances within and between these multi-stakeholder coalitions (i.e., international and national institutions vis à vis local governments; transnational corporations overriding public and social actors). Furthermore, the agenda’s understanding of the commons seems to be limited to global natural resources linked to ecosystem protection, without acknowledging the relevance and transformative character of multi-dimensional commoning practices in other fields and scales.
Key characteristics that define the commons. Global Platform for the Right to the City, 2022.
In the context of the multiple initiatives and debates that originated during the COVID-19 pandemic, local governments and civil society organizations identified commons, climate, care, and cooperation as outstanding priorities for a shared path ahead. As part of the preparatory process for the United Cities and Local Governments World Summit and Congress held in Daejeon, South Korea, in October 2022, these topics have been taken forward inside thematic Town Halls sessions and ad hoc policy papers collectively developed. The Global Platform for the Right to the City was in charge of facilitating the track on the commons[1], which came up with the following working definition: “The commons are material and immaterial goods, resources, services, and social practices considered fundamental for the reproduction of life, that therefore cannot be commodified but have to be taken care of and managed in a collective way, under democratic principles of direct participation, radical inclusion, and intersectional equity and justice, within a continuum of stewardship and commitment with past and future generations and all forms of life on Mother Earth” (GPR2C et al, Global Commons Policy Paper, UCLG Town Hall process, October 2022).
As a strategy, commoning provides a concrete tool for putting the social and environmental function over accumulation, privatization, and speculation, ensuring equal access and benefit to all, and prioritizing traditionally marginalized and discriminated against groups. At the same time, it represents a productive opportunity to experiment with new forms of public-community collaboration, given that the commons introduce not only a new approach to management and delivery of resources and services but also new models for collective governance that address power imbalances. Moreover, collective arrangements for the management of commons by public authorities and civil society are not only more equitable, since their underlying logic does not rely on profitability, but they also reinforce the ties and cooperation between public management and community spheres.
The paper incorporates references to concrete examples covering eight fundamental thematic areas: housing and land; food systems and agro-ecology; basic services (water and sanitation, energy, waste management, internet access); culture and education; knowledge, information, and digital rights; safe and accessible public spaces and livelihoods; natural resources and ecosystems. The selected cases show that ongoing efforts on the commons and commoning practices are present in cities and regions around the globe, including Brazil, Italy, Namibia, Peru, Puerto Rico, Spain, Sri Lanka, Thailand, and Zimbabwe.
Strategic areas for development of the commons. Global Platform for the Right to the City, 2022.
Moving forward: What do the commons need to flourish?
As pointed out above, the local realm is particularly fertile for the flourishing of commoning practices. In this sense, local and regional governments play a fundamental role in creating the enabling conditions in making the commons possible. In particular, they can focus on three main kinds of actions: respect and trust; protection; and realization. The first one revolves around recognizing the autonomy and specific characteristics of commoning efforts being implemented by grassroots and civil society organizations. The second one refers to providing adequate guarantees and preventing discrimination and conflicts against the commoners. The third one implies that governments provide effective and sustained support to commoning initiatives addressing structural inequalities and are committed to building feminist, anti-racist, anti-ableist, and inter-generational alternatives. Indeed, it is key to remember that promoting social engagement and collective management practices does not imply that state authorities can withdraw from their human rights commitments and obligations.
In moving forward, two sets of specific strategies are identified in order to make commoning of goods and services possible: (re)municipalization and public-community partnerships, strongly related to practices of public procurement that prioritize social and solidarity economy actors and more democratic processes. Following Kishimoto, Steinfort & Petitjean, (re)municipalization is the term used to refer to both the creation of new public services (municipalisation) and reversals from the private sector to public ownership and management (re-municipalization). A compilation published by Transnational Institute identifies 1,400 cases implemented during the past two decades in 2,400 cities from 58 countries, with clear positive impacts such as lower costs and fees, better quality, and workers’ protection. The authors emphasize that these efforts are “fueled by the aspiration of communities and local governments to reclaim democratic control over public services and local resources, in order to pursue social and environmental goals and to foster local democracy and participation”. According to their analysis, ecological sustainability, social empowerment, and increased community wealth can be all considered as direct results of initiatives dealing with topics as diverse as water, energy, housing, food, transport, waste, telecommunications, health, and social services, to name but a few.
Certainly related, but differentiated, public-community partnerships are being promoted by grassroots organizations and governments at the local level as an effective way to strengthen the social fabric and guarantee just and democratic urban rehabilitation. Bologna and Barcelona are classic examples of institutional frameworks for regulating “civil collaboration for the urban commons”. Whether in city centers or former industrial peripheries, long-term contracts give neighborhood-based associations the responsibility and resources for the collective management of green spaces, public buildings, cooperative housing, and cultural facilities. Cities like Montevideo are also experiencing new models of co-management of public-community goods and services, while at the same time implementing the social function of land (by way of preventing speculation) and advancing gender equity and racial justice. Based on these and other learnings, a multi-disciplinary group in Amsterdam has recently been promoting the creation of a Chamber of Commons to foster debate, exchange, and experimentations that can bring about social change.
Recommendations to local and regional governments for fostering the commons. Global Platform for the Right to the City, 2022.
All this and more was part of the presentations and conversations held at the UCLG Commons Town Hall, where international civil society organizations and local and regional governments had the chance to further discuss the policy recommendations outlined in the paper and related next steps. These include both immediate and medium/long-term actions. Starting by identifying what already exists, the proposals focus on mobilizing available resources and capabilities, as well as building relationships and alliances. Among them are participatory mapping exercises and peer-to-peer learning; local dialogues and collaboration between municipal/regional authorities and grassroots groups; enabling regulatory frameworks; supportive public policies, programmes, and budgets; active public campaigning and engagement at international debates.
Recommendations to local and regional governments for fostering the commons. Global Platform for the Right to the City, 2022.
Such recommendations and the months-long collaborative effort that resulted in the policy paper have the objective to contribute to the ongoing diverse and lively debate and practices revolving around the commons, pointing towards leeways in which these can be enhanced and deepened under a stronger and sustained partnership with local authorities. As an inspiring, fun game with serious implications, Commonspoly appears to be a great tool to help create awareness and engagement from different actors and sectors, including children and youth, grassroots organizations, journalists, academics, and public officials.
By leveraging the potential of a municipalist alliance around commoning practices, the (trans)local level positions itself as a key ground place for spearheading the much-needed alternatives to respond to the ecological, socio-economic, and governance crises that define our times. We know it and we see it: it is up to us to re-invent the rules. From Monopoly to Commonspoly, communities of redistribution, solidarity, and care are changing the game.
Lorena Zárate and Sophia Torres
Ottawa and Barcelona
Sophia Torres is a member of the Global Platform for the Right to the City and the Habitat International Coalition General Secretariat teams, working on issues related to global advocacy on the right to the city and the right to adequate housing.
[1] Facilitated by the Global Platform for the Right to the City, the Commons Town Hall working group was formed by a broad range of organizations and networks, including: the Cities Coalition for Digital Rights, Open Society Foundations, the African Center for the Constructive Resolution of Disputes (ACCORD), the United Nations Children’s Fund (UNICEF) and the Food and Agriculture Organization (FAO); as well as representatives from three (cross-cutting) Caucuses: youth (Children and Youth Major Group), feminism/women (the Huairou Commission) and accessibility (co-led by the General Assembly of Partners-Older Persons and Persons with Disabilities Partner Constituent Groups, World Blind Union, World Enabled). Participants at the multiple working sessions included: Bartlett Development Planning Unit (DPU), FIAN International (FIAN), Habitat International Coalition, International Institute for Environment and Development (IIED), Observatori DESC (Barcelona, Spain), Women in Informal Employment Globalizing and Organizing (WIEGO), Latin America Women and Habitat Network.
Walking is not just about moving from one place to another. It also engages our senses. Such an experience forges affective bonds between pedestrians and their city by immersing them in urban ambiances. Ambiances are shared by any city inhabitant: they are a common treasure upon which urbanity takes root.
Sometimes — for a day, a week, or a month — Paris turns into the very kingdom of walkers. That is, during transit strikes, when subway trains and buses stop running. Millions of walkers flood the streets, as the Métro and bus network release the load of crowded bodies it usually carries.
Walking becomes then an immersive and collective experience. On such occasions, you simultaneously “never walk alone” and “take a walk on the wild side”. What a bargain! Beyond all the mayhem these strikes create, it is paradoxically a rather joyful adventure. Total strangers that usually stay distant from one another — not to say never speak to one another — suddenly share the same ordeal, the same adventure. These moments are enchanted interludes aside daily routine. They give room to rediscover the city’s atmosphere and look into the eyes of all these people they walk alongside: time for unexpectedly nice encounters.
“You’ll never walk alone” – Paris rue de Rivoli. Credit: Wikimedia commons
What can we learn from this? When walking becomes the only solution to move across the city, urbanity comes back. What do we call urbanity here? Urbanity is not just a synonym for urban life, but also for kindness and civility. The fact is that the walkability of a city is primordial to foster urbanity. Indeed, it is in Europe at the end of the 18th that the notion of “urbanity” began to be used. It was associated with the custom of the promenade: people got out and walked synchronously along specifically designed boulevards, avenues, or linear parks often themselves as promenades at a specific moment — usually in the evening or on Sundays, in order to be seen and considered part of society.
A promenade at the beginning of the 20th century, brrrr! Credit: Wikimedia commons
Many well-known historical promenades remain like the Ramblas in Barcelona, the Tuileries in Paris, many Corsos in Italy, etc. The custom itself goes under many names such as paseo in Spanish-speaking countries. Today, the habit of promenade has become less formal, and less massive. But still, periodically the urge remains to immerse oneself in the city, engage in conversation with other people, breathe some fresh air, and eventually see and be seen.
The only difference being that today it is less about social control and compliance with social standards than about the pleasure of hanging out or just chilling out with friends or family, or alone.
A promenade today – Las Ramblas de Barcelona. Credit: Wikimedia commons
Alberto Giacometti’s bronze sculpture known as L’homme qui marche (The Walking Man) is a symbol of both fragility and strong determination.
“L’ homme qui marche”; (the walking man), A. Giacometti. Credit: Wikiart.com
It was described by the artist as the image of an ordinary man that embodies humankind. He comes from somewhere and is on his way to elsewhere, to discover the world. The fact is that, since the dawn of humanity, we are walkers.
Indeed, when we cannot walk life becomes unbearable. Just remember COVID-19 lockdown. This long period during which we were supposed to stay at home. Any occasion to go out and walk a bit was a feast: even running errands or taking the dog out. Chores that usually were so tedious suddenly became so attractive. Some people walked 1000 times over around their bed or their room on a daily basis, in order not to get nuts. Others walked frenetically up and down the staircase of their building. Underground car parks became places to stroll around. Do you recall? It should still be fresh in your mind.
And why is walking so important? Because walking is not just about moving from one place to another. It also engages our senses. We are transformed by what we perceive from our environment while strolling. It means that walking is an aesthetic experience that stimulates perception, insight, and representation of our close environment: both a source of knowledge on oneself, the areas crossed, and the people one passes by. Such an experience forges affective bonds between pedestrians and their city, by immersing them in urban ambiances. Ambiances are shared by any city inhabitant: they are a common treasure upon which urbanity takes root.
Ambiances. Credit: Wikimedia commons
Since walking fosters an intimate relationship between the walker and the city, it also prompts him to take ownership of the place. Unfortunately, taking ownership often goes hand in hand with increasing use conflicts and territorial disputes. The more we walk, the less we are prone to walk with just anyone. Yes, walking also entails countless potential conflicts for space (crowded streets where people collide, long queuing, benches, and café terraces spilling out in the streets and places with static clusters of people to bypass, etc.). Everyone observes and adjusts to how the others behave, in a kind of huge open-air theater where we rub shoulders.
How is it different from other mammals’ territorial marking? Variations in the form of greeting when coming across an acquaintance or a complete stranger, are a subtle way to recognize and approve —or not— his presence and the place he takes in the public space. The fact is that public space materializes a political arena, as it shows people making bonds and alliances or distancing themselves from other residents: streets, places, staircases, lanes, gardens, and parks are locations where discussions and arguments take place, where gangs of teens meet, where elders sit together and chat, where people demonstrate, where placards and graffiti pop up the walls, etc. Therefore, walking can be seen as quite paradoxical activity: generating urbanity but also segregation and fragmentation.
Residents complain about supposed nuisances (noise, odors, filth, aggressive behavior) due to who they pejoratively call “bums, hobos, or homeless people”. In areas undergoing gentrification wealthy newcomers complain about the use of public space by poor locals that lived already there (children playing outside, people staying in the streets and discussing loudly at any hour, poorly maintained buildings, etc.). The objective is obvious in all these cases and for all these groups: to control their neighborhood so as to banish anything that does not comply with their standards in the matter of quality of life. As beautifully put by Jan Gehl, the value of streets and more generally of public spaces is the result of a confrontation between different groups of users. In fact, it rather is a political issue, an answer to the following question: Who and what vision should take priority? If one user group wins — by designing a new urban arrangement — another group may lose. Thus, designing the city (pavement, traffic lights, benches, streetlights, vegetalization, etc.) is not just a technical issue but also a social and moral one.
This applies to new urban furniture, the main function of is to prevent people — “vagrants” and homeless, but not only — from hanging out in the streets. They also make walking way less fluid and urban spaces more hostile. Eventually, they endanger the quality of life they were initially supposed to preserve. Usually, they are installed on the demand of local residents. The bench is the most noteworthy example of such an evolution — or should I say such a regression. Traditional urban benches were first installed in 19th-century European cities as a free service dedicated to resting. But recently, neighbors started complaining about homeless, “vagrants”, and teen gangs that used them. As a result, new types of benches were designed to make long stretch sitting uncomfortable and lying down almost impossible: single seating separated by armrests placed on top of the benches, shortened benches, perch-type benches, etc.
Therefore, no one sits on these benches anymore. So-called “troublemakers” have been evicted, but also have been the elders, couples, or just strollers. Urban life has been destroyed and these benches look like useless stranded whales. They turned into mere obstacles to bypass.
Street furniture that prevents people from lying down. Credit: Wikimedia commonsStreet furniture that discourages sitting or lying down.. Credit: Wikimedia commonsA post in Paris. Credit: Wikimedia commons
The same goes with the many posts — distant offspring of medieval stone pillars and modern bollards — installed to separate the sidewalk from pavement.
They are intended to prevent cars to invade, park or get around on the sidewalk. There are over 355,000 such posts in Paris. And they are effective in this task, indeed. But their presence also reduces the space available on the sidewalk, making walking rather uncomfortable. Besides, these posts are the symptom of local authorities’ preference for physical constraint when addressing space use conflicts. Would it not be better to try to build trust between the different groups of street users, through participatory design or tactical urbanism for instance?
Such devices encourage urban fragmentation (neighborhood watch, de facto privatization of public space, etc.). Outdoor use conflicts generate micro-divides that eventually disrupt the urban fabric. Strolling becomes almost impossible when traditional labyrinthine networks made of small streets, lanes, and alleyways are inaccessible. Even promenades along nice avenues become an ordeal when one must zigzag between constraining urban arrangements. As already mentioned, all this makes the city more hostile. Access to public space for everyone is endangered. Groups of residents stake a claim to their homogeneous neighborhood, with the aim of creating a stable and protective environment by excluding those considered non-desirable people. There is a contradiction between urbanity and such a coercive approach, whereas both result from conflicting views about what the place of walking in the city should be.
Having come so far, it is time for a quick recap. In a nutshell, walking is all at once: the more direct way to foster urbanity and quality of life through an immersive experience; a way to take ownership of the place we live in by restoring sensitive links between the walker and the city; but then also the spark that ignites conflicts and territorial disputes that entails segregation and urban fragmentation. Can it also become an instrument for reconciling these two seemingly contradictory aspects? May it help bring together under one roof the divergent needs and practices of microlocal communities?
Attempting to reunite such antagonistic visions means no less than making city inhabitants answer the following question: what do we really have in common? Addressing such a challenge is a clear case for the involvement of everyone in the co-construction of urban policies. And indeed, how can we take possession of our immediate environment, if not by walking? How is it possible to discuss with our neighbor — be he inimical or not — without going to meet him, which is usually easier on foot? Which also means being able to wander through the city and transgress the many barriers and edges that fragment it. Whether physically or through vision, audition, olfaction, or any other sense, one should be able to reach out to private areas and traverse urban hurdles.
Such a city is usually called “porous”. What is porosity here? It entails a capillary network of paths and streets, which penetrates the smallest nooks and crannies of the urban fabric, as well as open courtyards and open ground floors, plazas, accessible kitchens and community gardens, accessible terraces, etc. Designing a porous city is anything but obvious. Difficulties can be technical since characteristics of the actual urban fabric can make capillarity puzzling. But the greatest difficulty lies in territorial conflicts, avoidance behavior, and path dependency from the city’s inhabitants that we’re precisely trying to circumvent.
One solution may lie in tactical urbanism. For the record, tactical urbanism — also known as Do-it-yourself Urbanism, Urban Acupuncture, or Urban Prototyping — is a citizen-led approach based on temporary, low-cost, and local actions, to improve neighborhoods’ urban arrangements. Since these experiments are supposed to be scalable, tactical urbanism also aims at catalyzing long-term change of the global social and urban fabric. Guerrilla gardening (cultivating land that the gardeners do not have the legal rights to use) or de-fencing (removing unnecessary fences to break down barriers between neighbors and encourage community building) are two examples of such citizen-led actions. Recently tactical urbanism is being more and more institutionalized by local authorities. Paris-Plages (“Paris Beaches “) is a scheme developed by Paris city hall that may be related to tactical urbanism.
Paris Plage. Credit: Wikimedia commons
Every July and August, roadways on the banks of the Seine and along Bassin de la Villette are closed off, and temporary artificial beaches are created, including sand, palm trees, and various activities, including sandy beaches and palm trees. Ciclovia (cycleway) also named Open streets is another tactical urbanism type initiative established by local authorities. This initiative consists in closing temporarily certain streets to car traffic to give room to cyclists and pedestrians. These Open streets are regularly converted into permanent paths when a consensus rise amongst the residents and users of the street. First developed in Bogota Colombia, it is now a widespread initiative: you can find ciclovias in cities of countries as diverse as Australia, Argentina, Belgium, Brazil, Canada, Chile, India, Indonesia, Israel, Malaysia, Mexico, New Zealand, Peru, the United States. A driving force of tactical urbanism when developed by local authorities is to urge individuals to assume responsibility for creating sustainable buildings, streets, and neighborhoods.
“Eppure si muove cammina”;: if it walks, it works
It is long overdue to explicitly make walkability the cornerstone of urban design. Walking is a habit shared worldwide by everyone since the dawn of humanity. But since it is so natural to walk, urban policies conventionally considered that walking should find its place in the city without any regulatory intervention. Alongside the invisible hand of the market, comes the invisible foot of urban policies. This must change: walkability is paramount to make cities friendly places where life is good, and urbanity central. And to do so, city residents are called upon to become city makers.
By the way, do you know how we say “it works” in French? The answer is “ça marche”. And do you know what it means literally? It means “it walks”. Yes, the only way to make things work, is to make people walk.
A closer look at different types of social infrastructure helps to better understand challenges that stewards face and points to ways that strategies for visibility might support community investment and care.
As part of The Nature of Cities Festival, on 29 March 2022, a team of practitioners and researchers at NeighborSpace, Borderless, and the USDA Forest Service – Northern Research Station organized a seed session, entitled “Caring in Public,” to explore the building blocks of social infrastructure with a group of 27 participants from around the world. Starting from a synthesis of the literature and a case study of community gardens, we framed questions, synthesized concepts, and led an interactive exercise of diagramming visible and invisible systems that produce known benefits and outcomes that could be applied to multiple community-managed spaces.
The framework was built around the example of community gardens and focuses on three connected themes:
Neighbors: This theme relates to organizational aspects of the community ― the core and consistent caretakers, and the community leaders who are behind the scenes organizing people, building relationships with the broader community, planning both the physical space and activities, and identifying resources to support the community.
Place-keeping: This is how the space is protected and held for the neighborhood, how the physical features of the space reflect the values and aesthetics of the community of caretakers and stewards. This also refers to the spatial typology, and their accessibility and communication systems.
Community connections: This theme refers to the network of relationships and supporters that neighbors from community-managed spaces seek to develop to engage their community assets and resources. The stronger the network and the capacity for collaboration with other community groups, organizations, and initiatives, the greater the sense of belonging and inclusion.
These themes led us to map the existing activities and the conditions supporting the activities and to define the values, principles, and outcomes that are supportive of community-managed spaces, particularly community gardens.
Framework for social infrastructure visibility in community-managed open space with key elements of community connections, neighbors, and place-keeping. Diagram: Borderless for Partnerships Lab + NeighborSpace
We wanted to explore social infrastructure sites and systems, including community gardens, public libraries, alternative archives, street trees, and community fridges in order to test, refine, and reflect on our framework. To do so, we posed the following framing questions in our TNOC Seed Session:
What are the physical sites and spaces in your city that support civic life and community care?
Who are the groups and what are the governance structures that support these sites?
What are the values and principles shaping these collective spaces?
How do they do stewardship through specific practices and activities?
Following an introduction to the framework and a community garden example, participants selected community sites of interest to them (e.g., libraries, parks, urban farms, publicly accessible private spaces) and went into break-out groups on zoom to brainstorm components and processes of these social infrastructure sites and systems at work. They went through three rounds of brainstorming on the activities, conditions, values, and outcomes of these sites – quickly covering their virtual whiteboards in sticky notes.
Screengrab from break-out group brainstorming session on testing the framework, brainstorming activities, conditions, values, and outcomes of libraries as social infrastructure. The Nature of Cities Festival – Caring in Public Seed Session. 29 March 2022.
The aim was for participants to develop collaborative group models of various greenspace types and community spaces. By the end of the 90-minute session, we realized we were only just beginning to unfold key components and relationships in these spaces. The author team continued to meet and reflect after the session, sharing vignettes about our work, and observing patterns and differences across different sites and systems. This essay shares, reflects, and builds on what we learned throughout that process.
Different models and arrangements in social infrastructure, from publicly supported to community-managed to mutual aid
“Public” places exist on a spectrum of access from public rights of way to public parks and libraries to privately owned public spaces. Access to and possible uses of these spaces are shaped by who owns and manages them, as well as their location and enclosure (or lack thereof). For example, adults are sometimes not allowed in public playgrounds without a child, and university campuses within cities are often monitored by security guards who restrict access. Even in publicly managed parks and libraries, surveillance measures can make certain people excluded or unsafe ― specifically Black, Indigenous, and people of color, as well as queer people, folks with mental illness, and anyone from a community facing a history of police violence. These barriers can mean that the most marginalized are in some cases prevented from accessing the resources they need.
These spaces operate via different institutional structures and contexts ― well beyond the simple binary of ‘top-down’ or ‘bottom-up’ organizing. They include government-supported spaces, to ones in collaboration with institutions and organizations, to those that are actively counter-institutional or that expand how we conceive of institutional contexts. Below, we present five vignettes written by individual authors who are embedded in the sites and systems of community gardens (our original case), public libraries, community archives, street trees, and community refrigerators. A closer look at these different types of social infrastructure helps to better understand particular challenges that stewards face and points to ways that strategies for visibility described above might be applied to support community investment and care.
Plotting Care in Chicago Community Gardens By Robin Cline and Ben Helphand
South Merrill Community Garden visualized using the framework – Neighbors, Place-keeping, and Community Connections. Borderless & Ellie Mejía for Partnerships Lab + NeighborSpace
We at NeighborSpace are witness to the shifting of community governance over time. As a long-term land trust, watching change is one of the unique vantage points of our organization. South Merrill Community Garden is a powerful example of the shifting yet constant social infrastructure of a community space and was a key garden to illustrate using the modeling system described here.
South Merrill Community Garden, located in the South Shore neighborhood of Chicago, is an art and wellness garden long focused on violence prevention, health programming, and community healing. The garden holds 40-plus years of community open-space use; as is the case with many community projects, the space holds the memories of different eras of effort. In 1984, children and adults of the Genesis Cooperative and the Merrill Square Co-op came together to revitalize a vacant space of a former apartment building. Families removed bricks by hand and dedicated this lot for residents of the block to grow food and get to know each other. In 1997, after several iterations of different community leadership, the garden became the 6th garden of the now 130 gardens that are protected by the land trust NeighborSpace. In 2006, the garden was transformed again, this time into a living memorial for 10-year-old student Troy Law, a gifted student who died as a result of domestic violence. Through the efforts of a Mrs. Emily Kenny, a Chicago Public School teacher from nearby O’Keefe Elementary School, the garden still stands, with Law’s memorial sculpture bringing community members together to both honor and heal the community. From 2006 to 2014, the garden functioned with the support of the women’s auxiliary board of a nearby Methodist Church, one member taking particular leadership and investment, as her apartment overlooks the garden. In 2015, the Genesis Cooperative, coming full circle, again stepped in to support leadership and support at this garden. Today, the garden functions as a memorial garden and a gathering garden; a space to honor community loss, heal, and celebrate intergenerational joy. The garden leadership at Merrill uses consistent and visible intergenerational and youth public programming to invite neighbors in and, because of this, neighbors look to this space as a place for resources, and recognize it as a community venue. At the founding moment of this garden’s history, the garden was mostly a food and flower garden, but as Natalie Perkins, one of the garden leaders, puts it “ We learned we are better at growing community than growing kale!” While educational vegetable beds are still active, the garden group has shifted its primary attention to public programming that includes youth programs, art and music classes, cooking demonstrations, and yoga and dance programming.
The garden is embedded in the neighborhood between two large apartment buildings, with one of the former garden leaders’ apartments looking directly over the garden. Another leader is an active member of a housing co-op across the street, which is home to a community room, allowing for indoor programming and meeting space during inclement weather. Leadership at this garden has touched many institutions; originally founded and supported by O’Keefe Elementary School, the garden was later adopted by the South Shore United Methodist Church Women’s Auxiliary Board, in partnership with the local block club and the Genesis Housing Cooperative. Neighbors and stakeholders include both a local chef and an architect who helped design and build an outdoor oven space, with the support of garden members. While the community organizations that have adopted this garden shift in a cycle of care, the garden is always handed off with some connection and history still intact, which creates constancy during changing times.
The leadership of the garden is rather informal; the leaders have known each other for quite some time, are familiar with and like each other, and acknowledge that decision-making is a slow and steady process. “It sometimes takes a long time for us to make decisions, but that’s okay,” says Dianne Hodges, co-garden leader and community activist. Some leaders have more time than others and are able to meet contractors, artists, or other program providers in the space. They have adopted the process of video recording these meetings instead of taking notes to make sure the conversations are captured in their entirety.
This garden has a welcoming entrance, with flower beds and seating in their public parkway, as well as art sculptures and hand-painted signs. The garden is locked during non-use periods, but it is still sometimes used in ways other than intended (sleeping, alcohol, some vandalism). The garden addresses this with direct communication, invitation, and consistent positive presence. Care and maintenance of the garden usually occur during public programming hours and is not necessarily a separate activity.
The garden is open to unique partnerships – because several of the garden leaders work with community organizations, they are always on the lookout for volunteer groups and programming partnerships. They partnered for several years working with a hospital comprehensive care program to bring patients to the garden for health and wellness programs. They also co-program with a nearby NeighborSpace garden down the block to cross-pollinate their programs and increase outreach to neighbors. The garden receives grants when available to bring in artists and special programs. Since this public-facing programming is a major priority of the garden, the garden looks for relevant community cohesion grants (for example, in Chicago, yearly grants such as the Safe and Peaceful Communities Fund) to help keep community gardens activated with free seasonal programming. Grants such as these, as well as shareable models and explicit illustration diagrams, support the emerging and urgent recognition that community gardens are important sites of social infrastructure.
Public Libraries Contain Multitudes By Natalie Campbell
Caption: Participants in the Public Interest Design Lab Fellowship view anti-freeway protest signs in The People’s Archive at the Martin Luther King Jr. Memorial Library, Washington DC, 2021. Photo: Imagine Photography
Early on in my work with my local public library system — the DC Public Library in Washington, D.C. — an artist observed: “there are so many opportunities to take something out from the library, but almost no chance for the community to put something in.” Over the years — in shifting roles as a contractor, Friends group volunteer, and now as an employee at a public library developing exhibitions — I have contemplated these words, and how to create opportunities for more diverse and visible forms of participation within our public institutions.
From volunteering to voting to public service employment, there are plenty of opportunities to participate in a library environment, but the idea that a public library could — like a community garden — be a community-run space is far from reality. Like public parks, public libraries sit at the restrictive end of the spectrum of access for stewards, and possibilities for participation are highly regulated, with a variation on the system and branch level. At the bottom, this is because public libraries are managed by a board of directors with a great degree of accountability to their public. User privacy and personal freedom are rigorously protected. Data and community input sessions are used in all aspects of facilities and service design. And, of course, public funding structures vary greatly and shape the realities of how we experience public space. As more of the commons have become enclosed, public libraries have increasingly absorbed other social services, often without increased funding or staff. Libraries are also cooling centers, Departments of Motor Vehicles, disaster relief stations, job training hubs, and emergency shelters. The position of the library as a one-stop social service center has made these spaces more precarious and constrained (Ettarh, 2018).
Applying our framework to my own experience helps to illuminate some of the factors impacting practices of stewardship and care within public libraries. First, regarding sites and place-keeping: In contrast to community gardens, the physical sites of public libraries generally don’t offer members of the public opportunities to participate directly in design or care. Open sight lines, wipe-clean surfaces, Hatch Act proscriptions against political speech, and visual guidelines aimed at accessibility, safety, and inclusion are all factors.
In terms of governance and funding structures, even within the typology of public libraries, there is a wide variance. Public libraries in the United States are often, but not always, funded by tax dollars, but in most cases draw also upon other funding sources — state and federal dollars, grants, donations, fees, and endowments. The proportion of these in any given system can vary widely. For example, while a library card holder in DC may book any meeting room for a free public event with a library card (in accordance with their guidelines), conference rooms at the Free Library of Philadelphia are only available for non-library events via event rentals. Different definitions of public space and levels of access are produced by these realities.
The most common way that stewardship is practiced in the DC Public Library system is through volunteers and Friends groups. At the DC Public Library, each library branch has its own, independent, volunteer organization, with different structures and bylaws, loosely organized through a central Federation. Similar to the politics of Parent Teacher Associations, Friends groups grapple with issues of inequity and uneven participation across the city — while some branches have no active Friends group at all, the most active Friends group in the system, the Friends of the Mt. Pleasant Library, raised more than $100,000 in a single year through a t-shirt campaign that tapped into the local punk subculture and went viral, shipping t-shirts to punk rock/library lovers nationwide.
As we proceed with examining barriers to access and the self-determined spaces that have sprung up to “fill the gaps”, it is important to note that, within these larger top-down entities, there is an entire ecosystem that contains a variety of smaller, collectively managed spaces and initiatives. Some examples that speak the spectrum of management include the New York Public Library’s storied Picture Collection, which staff and supporters have rallied to maintain as an open-access circulating collection; The Go-Go Archive and Punk Archive at the DC Public Library (collections with a high degree of donor involvement within the public library’s archival collection); the innovative artist residency, exhibition space, and makerspace, The Bubbler at Madison Public Library; San Francisco Public Library’s teen-designed and led space The Mix at SFPL, to name just a few. Such examples are more the exception than the rule, in institutions tasked with equitably providing a dizzying array of social services. Yet, both within these more collectively managed initiatives and beyond — despite the strains on the system and restrictions on use — I regularly observe a sense of public ownership that renders public libraries palpably, strikingly different from almost any other interior urban space. Given this, how can public libraries learn from stewardship support structures in play elsewhere in our society?
Some questions that arise in relation to our framework: How can libraries empower ‘neighbors’ to play increased roles in decision-making, in a way that is accessible and equitable? How can we increase opportunities for residents to directly shape library spaces through place-keeping in ways that are equitable and sustainable for staff under numerous pressures? How can we better nurture and mutually strengthen the community connections that are occurring in all levels of service on a daily basis?
An Alternative Archive is a Collection and a Collective By Nora Almeida
Image one: Interference Archive Propaganda Party with Brooklyn Eviction Defense, 2022 Image two: Interference Archive Wikipedia Editathon in collaboration with Wikimedia NYC, 2019, both by Nora Almeida
Alternative libraries and archives have emerged because of limitations and restrictions in municipally managed space. They are spaces that can support civic life and provide resources that you might not find in a public library or institutional archive or be set up in a rural area or underfunded neighborhood without adequate resources to meet community needs. Alternative libraries and archives vary widely in scope, focus, and type. They might be temporary, like the People’s Library which was created to support Occupy Wall Street activists. They might be itinerant pop-ups like Radical Reference, which emerged during the 2004 Republican National Convention to help protesters and later became an online volunteer reference service for information-seeking activists. They might provide access to non-traditional materials, like the Next Epoch Seed Library, which collects and “lends” the seeds of weeds that thrive in environmentally disturbed areas and publishes educational resources about urban ecology including open-access curricula.
Many self-determined, independent libraries and archives create social infrastructure to support specific publics, provide access to counter-histories that are typically under-represented in public libraries and municipal archives, and function as community centers and safe spaces. Interference Archive is one example. Founded in 2012 in Gowanus, Brooklyn, New York, the archive is a donation-supported, volunteer-run space that mounts public exhibitions, offers free workshops and cultural events, and provides access to materials created by social movement activists from all over the world (“About us”).
I started volunteering at the archive in 2015 after attending a film screening with a friend and viewing an exhibition about Tenant Organizing. During my first volunteer shift, I helped with an outdoor printmaking event organized in collaboration with Mobile Print Power, a multigenerational printmaking collective, and Combat Paper, an organization that works with veterans to transform military uniforms into paper as a method to process and share experiences of war. In the seven years I’ve spent as an archive volunteer, I’ve organized dozens of public programs and Wikipedia edit-athons, co-curated four exhibitions, worked with educators and organizations across the city to bring movement histories into classrooms and galleries, and collaborated with grassroots groups like the No North Brooklyn Pipeline Coalition and The Poor People’s Campaign to host propaganda parties where we produce materials ― buttons, posters, t-shirts, banners ― for use in current movement struggles.
In contrast to most archives, Interference Archive is open stacks and treats the cultural ephemera produced by activists as part of a common history we all share, which is reinforced by a “use as preservation” philosophy that privileges the sharing of ideas over the preservation (or fetishization) of artifacts. Exhibitions at the archive are intended to make social movement histories more accessible and to encourage visitors to open up boxes and start conversations about contemporary struggles for social justice. Many of the exhibitions and almost all of the public programs at the archive are collaborative and interactive; they often support ongoing struggles directly by providing a forum for organizers to share ideas or indirectly through alternative educational programming (Gordon, Hanna, Hoyer, Ordaz, 2016). The archive is a generative space that is actively invested in archiving the present and regularly hosts programs including training, workshops, and media-making events to create material for use by NYC activists in street demonstrations (Almeida and Hoyer, 2019).
What drew me to Interference Archive and has kept me engaged is the relationships I’ve made with other volunteers and activists across New York City. The non-hierarchical governance and transparent work structure makes it possible to co-organize meaningful public programs without the kind of bureaucracy that I face in my job as an academic librarian at a large public university. I’ve learned an enormous amount from the material in the archive which represents a wide array of ephemera produced by activists around the world. In the archive, you might find posters produced by Dutch Provo anarchists during the 1960s advocating for car-free cities, pamphlets and flyers made by counter-globalism activists during the 1999 Seattle WTO protests, educational pamphlets made by the Jane collective–an underground abortion network in Chicago founded in 1965, issues of the Black Panther newspaper from the early 1970s covering the Vietnam War, Black Liberation solidarity posters produced by the Fireworks Graphics Collective during the 1980s, flyers made by anti-nuclear activists in the 1990s at the Greenham Common Women’s Peace Camp in the UK, and silk-screened t-shirts produced at the archive last week in collaboration with current organizers from Brooklyn Eviction Defense.
The sense of community the archive fosters ― among volunteers, across movement groups, and with visitors who range from students and scholars to curious passersby and activists ― is the product of the behind-the-scenes labor we all conduct to make decisions collectively and intentionally (even if they take a long time) and a commitment to support each other and new volunteers through transparent accountability structures that we’ve carefully developed over the past decade. The values and principles of the space are directly informed by the collective, non-hierarchical organizational structure practiced by many movement groups represented in our collection. Not unlike most self-managed spaces, we face limitations: our labor is unevenly donated and sometimes invisible, communication across a large volunteer network can be unwieldy, funding is precarious, and sometimes knowledge is lost as people cycle in and out of the network. These obstacles only reinforce the need for continual examination of social infrastructure models. After more than a decade, the archive has become more reflective of its own practices and limitations and is currently focused on developing programs to engage new publics that we aren’t currently reaching and refining organizational structures with an eye towards sustainability. Its role as a place made for and by the community, and the uniqueness of the collection material at the archive, means that it must, like any movement space, keep moving.
A Street Tree is a Place By Georgia Silvera Seamans
A person adding soil and compost to a recently expanded tree bed during a work day with Mission Greenbelt in San Francisco. Image courtesy of Georgia Silvera Seamans
It is easy to see a community garden as a place. You can enter and move through a garden. One can speak about spending time in and visiting a community garden. At first, it might be challenging to perceive a street tree as a place. Yet, when you consider these trees are often planted in demarcated areas of the sidewalk, they are physical places. Like a forest, they are also social spaces. Alone or with others, enabled by institutions or bucking conventions, you can do things in, with, and for a street tree. During my time as a community forester with the Urban Resources Initiative, a nonprofit housed within the Yale School of the Environment in New Haven, CT, most of the community groups I worked with created green spaces by planting street trees. Every group was composed of hyper-local residents with varying degrees of bonding and bridging ties who through stewardship strengthened their reliance on each other.
Acting out of a desire to reclaim their neighborhoods as beautiful, safe, verdant, spaces, residents applied for funding to develop and implement street tree planting plans. They collaborated with each other and with their community forestry resource person, scheduled workdays, showed up, dug and backfilled holes, and settled in their new trees with mulch and water. There were many such days throughout the summer. Each planting day and subsequent maintenance sessions were opportunities to display care, to deepen trust, and to embed new trees in the neighborhood’s canopy.
After digging in the soil with residents in New Haven, I moved to Boston where I stayed in urban forestry but had a more hands-off position managing the city’s street tree planting program. At that time, Boston planted trees based on residents’ requests for a new or replacement tree. I held a shovel a few times, posing in photos for corporate-sponsored plantings. Thankfully, selecting trees at a nursery was also part of the new job. It was an awesome responsibility to choose the trees for a city’s next arboreal cohort!
My next attempt at street tree care was with a trio of Honeylocust trees in New York City, but this engagement was short-lived. I was doing this work alone and didn’t have a community to lean on. I didn’t totally abandon the street trees in my neighborhood, though. I volunteered for the city’s 2015 Street Tree Census, the third decennial survey organized by the New York City Department of Parks and Recreation. I recruited a co-lead and we committed to a zone bounded by Houston Street, Sixth Avenue, 14th Street, and the Bowery. Annie and I participated in “train the trainer” workshops and hosted survey events for other volunteers. The census work was like a roving display of care. When we were out surveying trees, residents asked what we were doing which led to some fruitful conversations about the city’s urban forest.
Fast forward a few years and I had a plot on a university urban farm and several of the gardeners and the farm manager started talking about taking care of the adjacent street tree beds. We wanted to spread our resources beyond the farm’s fence and spruce up the public realm. These public trees were planted and left to negotiate space with human infrastructure, design, and other forms of mediated plant dispersal. We pulled spontaneous herbs, we cleaned up dog waste and garbage, and we sowed bulbs and native perennials. The location was challenging to care for. Without any fencing around the beds, the maintenance staff of the adjacent buildings piled heavy garbage bags on the new plants on trash collection days. People did not pick up pet waste. Litter blew into the beds. Squirrels ate the bulbs. We resolved to keep trying but then COVID-19 emerged, and our attention was diverted elsewhere. Two and a half years later, the garden community is slowly finding our footing. I enrolled in the Stewardship Team course offered by New York City Parks which reminded me of some of the resources available to care for public landscapes. I requested hundreds of daffodil bulbs, and one evening this fall, the main caretaker, a group of college students, and I picked up litter and planted one thousand bulbs at the farm’s edge and in adjacent street tree beds. This was a first step to rebuild our street tree care community. The next spring will be a time to consistently connect with our neighbors and reinvest in place-keeping. I want to mobilize the community around street tree care without attracting institutional interference and ideals of beauty.
Feeding Our Neighbors through Community Fridges By Laura Landau
Original fridge and fridge shelter painted by M.Silin for Collective Focus Resource Hub. Photo by M.Silin
Public spaces take on a new meaning and level of necessity in times of crisis. In my past research, I have studied many examples of how parks, community centers, and houses of worship serve as flexible spaces that can be activated into emergency meet-up spots, donation collection hubs, and organizing centers following a disaster. Scholars have found that community needs and the chain of events following a crisis are often the same, regardless of the specific type of disaster event. Emergencies simply heighten and expose existing needs. The onset of COVID-19 in New York City reactivated the networks of civic groups, community leaders, local businesses, and elected officials that had been formed in response to a variety of other acute and chronic disasters, from Superstorm Sandy to ongoing chronic racism and gentrification. In addition, the pandemic brought a surge of new responders in the form of mutual aid networks, many of which are committed to working outside of systems of public aid and charity models that have strict requirements for who can participate and what they are eligible to receive (Landau 2022). Many mutual aid efforts have focused on food insecurity, a reality that predated COVID-19 in New York City but has increased by 36%since the pandemic due to a combination of income loss, rising costs for food and rent, and health and safety risks.
Community refrigerators (fridges) are one example of mutual aid that use public space to connect people with food in a low-barrier way. They are often located on the sidewalk, a public right of way that anyone can reach. Unlike many government and non-profit food assistance programs, community fridges do not limit or monitor the level of need each person can demonstrate, or the type or amount of food each person can take. They are also set apart from other models by the way they are stocked and managed. Anyone can put food in the fridge, and anyone can take it. This practice models a core principle of mutual aid, that everyone has something to give and something they need. In practice, navigating this principle can be complex. The role of neighbors is unique in this form of social infrastructure, because community fridges are usually managed by networks of people that are not explicitly connected to larger, more formalized organizations and nonprofits that come with resources and management skills. This allows for a great deal of organizing flexibility, but also can lead to conflicts over place-keeping, since anyone can place a claim on the public right of way.
As part of my dissertation research, I interviewed representatives from mutual aid groups across New York City that were formed in response to COVID-19. Many of the groups I spoke with operate community fridges, often in gentrifying neighborhoods with large low-income communities of color. All of these fridges depend on the unpaid labor of local residents, but other entities, both public and private, still shape their practice.
When one mutual aid group decided they wanted to create and operate a community fridge, a local beloved restaurant offered to purchase the fridge and keep it on their sidewalk. Almost immediately after being set up, the fridge was vandalized and broken. The restaurant owners were not dissuaded by the incident, and they purchased a new fridge and installed it on a crate so that it couldn’t be tipped over. With the organizing power of the mutual aid group, they have now maintained the fridge for over a year and a half. Volunteers operate on a regular schedule to pick up leftover food from restaurants, grocery delivery services, and the local food co-op, and stock the fridge and adjacent pantry with a mix of fresh ingredients and prepared items. Another team of volunteers regularly cleans out the fridge to remove any food that has gone bad. A group of college students brings leftover food from the dining hall. The operation has not been without its challenges — there have been a few other vandalism incidents and some volunteers have suspected that certain people are removing everything from the fridge and selling some of the food — but more often than not people are respectful. Where a charity model might view these incidents as problems to solve, the mutual aid group prioritizes the community’s right to food and does not believe in policing access.
When something does require intervention, mutual aid groups rely on their skills and networks to mediate. Another mutual aid group that operates a community fridge witnessed some ongoing conflict over food. In accordance with their values, the group wanted to help de-escalate the conflict without getting the police involved and potentially endangering the community. Although they are careful about their relationships with government representations and have in the past turned down offers of support from elected officials who wanted their endorsement or a photo opportunity in exchange, they were able to use their connection to a different elected to hire a translator to decrease conflict over miscommunication at the fridge. Similarly, in a different neighborhood, a disgruntled neighbor called the police to try to get a community fridge and pantry removed from the sidewalk, and a council member stepped in to defend the mutual aid group. These are just a few examples of many that illustrate the interconnectivity and interdependence of the civic, public, and private sectors in shared spaces.
In addition to providing food, community fridges can serve as points of connection. One mutual aid group asked a local art student to paint their community fridge to beautify the sidewalk space and reflect the culture of the neighborhood. Another volunteer shared an experience of going to stock the fridge and seeing an older woman waiting. The volunteer asked if there was something specific she was waiting for and discovered that she was hoping for a specific pastry that was sometimes delivered from the local bakery. Not only was it in the delivery haul, but it turned out to be the volunteer’s favorite treat as well, and the two were able to share a nice moment reflecting on their similar taste. While the transient nature of community fridges and the goal of allowing people some anonymity as they take their food sets them apart from other sites of social infrastructure, the loose social ties formed on the sidewalk are a crucial part of what keeps people coming back and working toward a city where everyone has the food they need.
Reflections and future work
Let’s return to the questions we posed at the outset of this essay as illuminated by these cases:
What are the physical sites and spaces in your city that support civic life and community care?
Who are the groups and what are the governance structures that support these sites?
What are the values and principles shaping these collective spaces?
How do they do stewardship through specific practices and activities?
These vignettes reveal diverse forms of social infrastructures in our communities. These “third spaces” ― beyond the home and the workplace (be they public, private, or in-between) ― are vital sites for providing/receiving social services, interacting with neighbors, and participating in civic life. In discussing how to adapt our framework beyond the specific site type of community gardens, we felt that the framework has many of the key components of any social infrastructure system ― the actors, the values, and the activities. But we need to consider the constellation of ways in which these dimensions come together. We can ask: who is caring for and using space for what and why?
We grappled with how to better capture key differences in organizational structures and institutional contexts across a wide spectrum ― from publicly-funded and staffed facilities to mutual aid networks. These differences have real implications for the role of paid and unpaid labor, the power dynamics of decision-making, and the control of space. Governance questions — Who decides? Who funds? Who labors? Who cares? — are crucial to pose and make transparent when seeking to understand these dynamics. As the vignettes reveal, there is complexity even within a single site type as publicly-funded spaces can include “friends of” groups and community-organized programs and activities.
We also identified constraints, challenges, and limits on the use of spaces and social infrastructures. As discussed earlier, access to sites varies widely across public and private spaces, with a whole range of configurations that might be described as “quasi-public” or public for some people, some uses, and in some instances. Particularly where we see commercial ventures that require purchasing an item or a service (e.g., coffee shop, restaurant, bookstore) ― this presents barriers for those who cannot afford to pay to access that space. Some sites and systems present challenging tradeoffs. For example, is an “open street” that activates a city street for an outdoor restaurant a transformation that invites publicity and conviviality, or is it one that privatizes space and excludes some users? The answer, frustratingly, may be “both” ― and being attuned to subtle and not-so-subtle acts of inclusion and exclusion are critical. Access also depends on the identities and bodies of the users, with lower-income people, people of color, and unhoused people more frequently surveilled and policed within “public” spaces that sanction certain activities (e.g., sleeping, solicitation, vending).
In focusing on positive social benefits in our framework, these challenges can recede into the background ― and yet they can be some of the main factors that differentiate between systems. We must pose the questions: Who is seen as the public? Who is served? Who is left out? Given these questions, how might we build even more complete frameworks that both celebrate the hidden benefits, but also acknowledge challenges and conflicts ― including dimensions of inequity, inequality, and injustice that thread through these systems? Going forward, how do we recognize the multiple values of these social infrastructures, and how might we better support and enable them? What unique forms of support might be needed in the context of stresses ranging from fiscal crises to climate change to pandemics? Building on national conversations about deferred maintenance and needed upgrades to physical infrastructures, what would a comprehensive plan look like to support, grow, and transform social infrastructures to meet the needs of all people.
Lindsay Campbell1, Robin Cline2, Ben Helphand2, Paola Aguirre2, Sonya Sachdeva2, Natalie Campbell3, Nora Almeida1, Laura Landau1, Georgia Silvera Seamans1 New York1, Chicago2, Washington D.C.3
Acknowledgments: All Partnerships Lab participants and TNOC Festival Caring in Public attendees, including Erika Svendsen, Michelle Johnson, Sophie Neuhaus, Sarah Fox Tracy, Bep Schrammeijer, Paula Acevedo, Pete Ellis, Gitty Korsuize, Tuba Atabey, Neda Puskarica-Stojanovic, Yaritza Guillen, Natalie Perkins, Staice Martin, Francesca Birks, Samantha Miller
Robin Cline serves as Assistant Director of NeighborSpace, an urban open space land trust in Chicago. Robin is also the part-time executive director for the art group OperaMatic, a site-specific artist group that activates public spaces in Humboldt Park and Hermosa with participatory art.
For more than twenty years, Ben has focused on ways to help communities have a direct hand in the creation and stewardship of the built environment. He is the Executive Director of NeighborSpace, a nonprofit urban land trust dedicated to preserving and sustaining community-managed open spaces in Chicago.
Paola Aguirre Serrano is an urban designer and partner at Borderless since 2016. She has served as Commissioner of Chicago Landmarks and the Cultural Advisory Council of the City of Chicago, and currently serves in the Scholarly Advisory Committee for the National Museum of the American Latino. Paola received a B. of Architecture from the Institute Superior de Arquitectura y Diseño de Chihuahua, and M. of Architecture in Urban Design from the Harvard School of Design.
Sonya Sachdeva is a computational social scientist with the US Forest Service in the greater Chicago area. She utilizes machine learning and other computational methodology to understand the socio-cultural factors that shape environmental values and behavior.
Natalie Campbell is a curator, exhibit developer, and part of the DC Public Library Exhibits team. She has consulted on art and exhibits at the DC Public Library since 2016, including the MLK Library’s permanent exhibit Up From the People. She studied Art History at Hunter College CUNY and has taught at the Corcoran School of Arts + Design at George Washington University and the Maryland Institute College of Art.
Nora Almeida is an urban swimmer, writer, performance artist, librarian, and environmental activist. She’s an Associate Professor in the Library Department at City Tech and a long-time volunteer at Interference Archive. She has organized media-making workshops, public events, and street performances across NYC.
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.
Georgia lives and breathes city trees--with experience in New Haven, Boston, Oakland, and NYC, and a dissertation about urban forestry policy in Northern California cities. Georgia is the founder of Local Nature Lab and directs Washington Square Park Eco Projects where she designs urban ecology programs for New Yorkers of all ages.
References
Almeida, Nora, and Jen Hoyer. 2020. “The Living Archive in the Anthropocene,” in “Libraries and Archives in the Anthropocene,” eds. Eira Tansey and Rob Montoya. Special issue, Journal of Critical Library and Information Studies 3, no. 1. DOI: 10.24242/jclis.v3i1.96.
There is not one magic framework that will tell the true story of community gardens, but it is crucial that we pay attention to the profound work occurring in community-managed garden spaces, and tell the story that does these efforts justice.
A team of practitioners and researchers at the Central Park Conservancy Institute for Urban Parks, NeighborSpace, Borderless, and USDA Forest Service – Northern Research Station met from September to November 2021 to discuss research on social infrastructure and urban green spaces, with the goal of translating academic literature into practical knowledge that can support nonprofits, community gardeners, foundations, and policymakers. Our aim is to better communicate the value of community-managed spaces and their stewards as critical social infrastructure. Starting from the synthesis of the literature and a case study of community gardens, we created a framework for diagramming visible and invisible systems that produce known benefits and outcomes that could be applied to multiple community-managed spaces.
Social infrastructure and stewardship
Social infrastructure is defined as “the physical places and organizations that shape the way people interact with each other in everyday life” (Klinenberg 2018, p. 5). We recognize that these are both physical spaces―such as parks, libraries, coffee shops, and sidewalks―as well as virtual spaces and social processes. In this essay, we turn our focus on less-visible social dynamics of how neighborhood leaders and stewardship groups operate because we think these dynamics and networks are critical in shaping community spaces but require better understanding.
We define stewardship broadly as any act of caring for the local environment and it often occurs through these six types of actions or functions: conservation, management, education, monitoring, advocacy, and transformation (Svendsen & Campbell 2008; Fisher et al. 2012; Connolly et al. 2013). It involves hands-on work such as digging in the dirt and planting trees, but also community organizing. Stewardship is distinct from land ownership. Anyone can be a steward, including civic groups without formal jurisdiction over a site. Research has found that civic stewardship groups activate green space to function as social infrastructure in a range of important ways. Stewards foster friendships, associations, and social cohesion. They create gathering spaces and enliven them with place-based and culturally relevant programming and engage in community organizing and planning (Campbell et al. 2021).
Practices by which stewards activate green space to function as social infrastructure. Adapted from Campbell et al. (2021). Illustrations by Borderless in collaboration with E. Mejia for Partnerships Lab/NeighborSpace
Community stewardship is not without tensions, challenges, and conflicts. In fact, mediating differences among community garden members has been identified by gardeners as one of the critical ways that they learn conflict resolution and strengthen democratic practice (Campbell et al. 2021). Further interrogating the power dynamics and decision-making processes that enable or constrain constructive conflict resolution is crucial to understanding the social function of civic groups.
Stewardship practices are critical building blocks for strengthening community capacity and well-being and fostering social resilience. If you better know and trust your neighbors, and can come together to organize and solve problems, you are better poised to adapt to future events. Indeed, decades of research has demonstrated the ways in which stewards often work in the context of disturbance and recovery cycles. Whether the disruption is slow-moving presses or fast-moving pulse events, stewards both prepare for and respond to disruptions caused by climate change, tornadoes, hurricanes, and pest invasions. And they also respond to social and political upheaval, such as the September 11, 2001 terrorist event, as well as chronic disinvestment, economic decline, and social and racial injustice (Campbell et al. 2019).
Stewards work to restore landscapes, enhance livelihoods, and support communities through acts of caretaking and claims-making. Research has found that stewardship can strengthen social resilience through fostering: place attachment, collective identity, social cohesion, social networks, and knowledge exchange (McMillen et al. 2016). Most recently, scholars have been examining stewardship during the COVID-19 pandemic, and we have found that stewardship groups exhibited learning and flexibility during the pandemic. Groups learned from previous disturbances (e.g., Superstorm Sandy) and adapted to COVID-19 and uprisings for racial justice (Landau et al. 2021). Clearly, stewardship groups are displaying an incredible amount of adaptive capacity and are a critical part of our social infrastructure that shapes the functions and meanings of our public realm.
Describing a framework for social Infrastructure visibility
Providing updated narratives about the real work of what it takes to “community manage” a space is part of our shared stewardship work. It is not only garden leaders who need a richer reflection on how community gardens function as social infrastructure. The general public, policymakers, and funders would be more powerful advocates if a more complete picture of community gardens was made more legible.
It was with this challenge in mind that NeighborSpace, as part of the Central Park’s Conservancy’s Partnership Lab, convened a working group, brainstormed, and discussed both content from selected literature and specific examples of NeighborSpace community-managed gardens. Out of these discussions emerged a design challenge to identify and organize key concepts in a way that integrated, analyzed, and visualized dimensions of social infrastructure happening in community-managed space. The first step was to identify a thematic structure that could serve as an umbrella for multiple layers and multiple gardens.
The framework that emerged focused on three connected themes:
Neighbors: This theme relates to organizational aspects of the community ― the core and consistent caretakers, and the community leaders who are “behind the scenes” organizing people (volunteers), building relationships with the broader community (partnerships), planning both the physical space and activities (maintenance and programming), and identifying resources to support the garden activities.
Place-keeping: This is often the theme that generally has more visibility ― how the space is protected and held for the neighborhood, how the physical features of the space reflect the values and aesthetics of the community of caretakers and stewards. This also refers to the spatial typology (e.g., small-scale gardens that are embedded in the neighborhood fabric), and their accessibility and communication system (signage and other “signs of care”).
Community connections: This theme refers to the network of relationships and support(ers) that neighbors from community-managed spaces seek to develop to engage their community assets and resources. The stronger the network and the capacity for collaboration with other community groups, organizations, and initiatives, the more community gardens create a sense of belonging and inclusion.
These themes led us to map the existing activities and the conditions supporting the activities and to define the values, principles, and outcomes that are supportive of community-managed spaces, particularly community gardens. The guiding questions for these layers, from inside the circle to out, are:
Activities: What diversity and range of activities occur in these spaces?
Conditions: What enables these activities to happen?
Values and Principles: What guides how or why activities happen?
Outcomes: What is the impact or the benefit of these activities and conditions guided by values and principles?
These themes and layers provided the template to compose statements describing the relationship between these elements. Below is an example organized by the aforementioned themes:
Neighbors come together to make informal decisions. This leads to a slow steady trust building. The informal decision-making is the condition that enables trust building as a principle; these influence, for instance, how planning, engaging, and/or organizing activities happen.
Neighbors care in public in multiple creative ways. Signage and art by neighbors create a sense of place. Caring in public is a condition of place-keeping that enables creating a sense of place as a principle; these influence, for instance, how beautification and cleaning activities happen.
Neighbors activate the garden through yoga, music, dance, and art. These activities build a recognized and accessible community venue. Diversity of activities is a condition of community connections that enables community gardens as community venues; these influence, for instance, how artmaking or exercising activities happen.
An important goal of our framework is to create a consistent narrative and visual language for specific gardens to share with multiple audiences, including stakeholders, foundations, media, government, and their own garden community to advocate for policies that support investment in community-managed space stewardship. This framework offers a step toward more comprehensively mapping and expanding the public visibility of community care.
Plotting Garden Care: A framework for social infrastructure visibility in community-managed open space with key elements of community connections, neighbors, and place-keeping. Diagram: Borderless for Partnerships Lab + NeighborSpacePlotting Garden Care: Highlighting key components in the framework for social infrastructure visibility in community-managed open space, demonstrating activities, conditions, values, and outcomes. Diagram: Borderless for Partnerships Lab + NeighborSpace
Two versions of visualizations are available, a pamphlet prepared for a more concise explanation of community gardens as social infrastructure, as well as a deeper dive, prepared from the slide presentation presented at The Nature of Cities March 2022 conference, in collaboration with the authors of this paper.
Community care in community-managed open space: NeighborSpace in history and process
This framework was informed, inspired, and framed by the work of NeighborSpace, a 25-year-old urban land trust in Chicago and an umbrella organization for more than 130 open-space neighborhood projects across the city. NeighborSpace supports community leaders in their effort to bring together neighbors to activate, transform, and protect empty lots and underutilized open space. NeighborSpace, since its founding, has been an anchor for land protection and a unique national urban land trust model; its mission-driven long-term protection and constancy provides an important vantage point for observing changing stewardship models. The community projects that NeighborSpace helps support are community-managed, grassroot efforts that bring together collaboration among neighbors and local community groups and are predominantly mobilized and maintained by volunteers.
At the founding of NeighborSpace in 1996, NeighborSpace’s structure existed under two basic buckets― land acquisition and land monitoring, playing a minimal role in leadership development, fundraising, and programming. In the last ten years, however, garden groups have asked more urgently for navigation and training in these latter areas. This is a marked difference from the first decade of NeighborSpace; the mid 1990’s reflected a period in which several Chicago nonprofits prioritized community gardens, providing now non-existent financial support, programming, and maintenance. This emerging request for guidance also, perhaps, reflects that many who step into community garden leadership today have less experience with “third space” places -churches, social clubs, and other informal associations that engage in regular group decision-making. Additionally, group decision-making as a public practice of equity (or not, as often is the case) is something that many community-engaged leaders want to get better at in a thoughtful, accountable way.
In 2012, NeighborSpace’s organizational chart replaced “land monitoring” with “stewardship”, to more intentionally and organizationally “steward the stewards.” As part of this shift, NeighborSpace regularly surveys garden leaders about their garden’s “community health.” The responses are both broad and specific, and include requests for online fundraising tools, training in facilitating, decision-making and conflict resolution, opportunities to socialize with other garden leaders, favorite tools for the tool library (including video projectors and outdoor projection screens, ice cream makers, fire pits), and access to porta-potties. The most pressing requests from gardens groups are not what one might immediately think (how to yield more vegetables, for example); again and again, groups ask for better skills at navigating the way a community works together- how to successfully engage with governmental organizations, community groups, alderman, private businesses, neighbors, and other community gardeners.
In the surveys, garden leaders also share frustrations. They consistently observe that much of the general public does not understand how community management functions. Uninvolved neighbors, they report, tend to think garden leaders are getting paid, feel uninvited to the garden, and sometimes think the public effort of community gardens looks messy. Additionally, new gardeners who enter the gardening group are surprised by the tensions among the group. And, as it relates to this essay particularly, the leaders themselves often feel, because there are so few examples of community-managed processes, (i.e., the “warts and all” of public care) that they personally might be doing something wrong.
Sharing a more complete story, internal and external, of community-managed spaces
A key place to start a more complete story of community care is to investigate the pre-existing narratives and public perceptions of community gardens. The popular novella Seed Folks, for example, sets the traditional stage of what comes to mind when thinking of a community’s best self; a shared garden gives people from different races, socioeconomic statuses, skill levels, and ages the opportunity to share in work, grow food and conversation, and understand each other better. Each character gets an equal opportunity and a full chapter to share their story, and the vegetables and flowers are an idyllic background for the group photo at the end of the book.
In real life, the aspiration of community cohesion is an honorable and urgent thing; people do want opportunities to come together for group work in shared spaces, to be connected, to do a thing, and, yes, to take good pictures; and it can’t be denied, community gardens at the end of a workday are very photogenic. But community care is messier, more complicated, and shows up in many more ways than vegetables and flowers. Leaders spend time picking up litter from their parkway, practicing decision-making rules, hosting classes, counseling new gardeners, writing grants, building accessible spaces, negotiating with aldermen, coordinating local partners for events, and fixing fences, both literally and figuratively, between neighbors and each other. Community care is all of that, and future garden leaders are in a better position to “keep on caring” through the hard parts if the work they are doing is reflected back to them in affirming ways.
Intergenerational art project at South Merrill Community Garden’s public parkway growing bed. Photo credit: Natalie Perkins
To “keep on caring”, community gardens need to feel seen; the visual framework of community gardens as social infrastructure creates a shared place to build and say, “that’s us!” to not only gardeners themselves, but to funders, government entities, and policymakers. Funders often don’t fully understand truly what community gardens set the conditions for, undervaluing some things (community and neighbor connection, stormwater management, participatory decision-making), and overvaluing others (vegetable output). Policymakers and municipal departments, often brought together for collaborative open space projects that engage water, land, and asset departments could use these intersections to create productive dialogues that don’t often happen between city services. A truer understanding of how community-managed spaces function, for example, could mitigate enforcement of weed fines, feed funding back into the very community caring for these green spaces, and create relationships between residents and sanitation departments, all while offering a truer picture to all parties of what it means for a city to work together.
NeighborSpace has taken steps to address some of these issues of legibility quite practically. For the public, transparent processes, continued engagement, and clear invitation are key. For the garden leaders, continued check-ins, dialogues, and leadership training on decision-making and public programming are vital for leadership growth. For city leaders and funders, when doing site visits, opportunities to speak and see communities at work (not just the garden spaces themselves) are essential. In all cases, recognizing prior beliefs about community gardens is an important place to start. NeighborSpace sometimes tells new garden leaders, “You have to host harder than you think,” and that applies to NeighborSpace in its role as well. Community gardens are not well understood, so we have to keep explaining them harder than we think.
The public face of community gardens and the gap between what is happening and how it is being perceived needs attending to, and the framework provides opportunities for that. On the micro-level, this condition requires thoughtfulness on how the general public is invited in to participate, for example, and entails simple but often overlooked things like more explicit visitor-centered invitations on workdays (for example, signs in large font that say, “Talk to the person in the orange vest to get involved!”) On the macro-level, there is need for a national interrogation of why some people are involved more than others (who and how neighbors feel invited or available often reveals structural inequities that are reflected in the larger culture, but not talked about explicitly in community gardening), and how those with more time (and often more resources) inherit decision-making.
Creating visible opportunities for the general people to care for space simply by enjoying it with their family is an emerging model that makes community-managed space more available for those with less free time. Nature play and conservation trail gardens, with inviting language, where the primary activity allows for children to play in nature, and allows families with less free time to learn, enjoy nature, and maybe pick a weed, are emerging models for community-managed spaces. Another example of “caring by enjoying” encourages gardens to host events that invite non-garden people, for example, with backpack giveaways, coat drives, free haircuts, tasty food, and live music. This clear invitation creates a “goodwill gateway” to invite folks back for volunteer work and planting days.
Internal visibility is essential for garden leaders to continue the work they are doing in their community. New garden leaders, when provided a guide on “what to expect in community-management”, are less likely to be surprised when challenging things happen, and more likely to recognize it as an opportunity to exercise their community-management muscle. NeighborSpace provides an orientation for new garden leaders that is explicit, light in tone, and pragmatic about what will likely happen in a community garden. Generated by more seasoned leaders, this guide includes reflections on volunteers not showing up for workdays, vegetables getting stolen, and conflict resolution policies. This normalizing of likely occurrences ensures that when they happen, leaders are prepared, and sometimes even excited, to meet the challenges. This internal visibility goes a long way to creating a more resilient community group that feels supported and curious about the complicated nature of community-managed care.
Outward visibility to the bigger municipal and foundation players can be challenging, but there are opportunities to be proactive; NeighborSpace gets out ahead of future challenges by writing a yearly letter to commissioners about who NeighborSpace is, works with funders, writes letters to city department heads, and meets with aldermen to explain the nature of community-managed work and the value of this human and social infrastructure. It is still, unfortunately, the case, however, that the lion’s share of funding, both public and private, is focused on or limited to physical infrastructure, while there are fewer resources available for the human investment it takes to steward gardens. The cost of this gap between image and reality can leave some funders out of touch, and community stewards discouraged and overworked. Of utmost importance, then, is to continue filling in the blanks, and we hope other practitioners will be encouraged to grab this fill-in-the-blank baton, this unique framework, and diagram the true but sometimes invisible social infrastructure work going on “under the hood” of community gardening.
Conclusion
While NeighborSpace is working to “explain harder than we think,” it is still the case that a simplified story of community gardens can blunt the real work going on in community gardens. In turn, the resources available for advancing community-managed work (e.g., capital, urban agriculture) don’t always match the resources needed (e.g., community organizing, neighbor stewardship). There is not one magic framework that will tell the true story of community gardens, but it is crucial that we take seriously and pay attention to the profound work occurring in community-managed garden spaces and tell the story that does these efforts justice.
There are many claims in the literature that community gardens and related community-managed open space help to address issues of disconnection and isolation and set the conditions for improved community health. Here we’ve used an in-depth case study of NeighborSpace as a city-wide garden group to model and share some of the key drivers and outcomes of community-managed open spaces that are uniquely beneficial to our cities and towns. This experimental framework for social infrastructure visibility builds both a visual and structural language for allowing gardens to tell more complete stories.
Lindsay Campbell1, Robin Cline2, Ben Helphand2, Paola Aguirre2, Sonya Sachdeva2, Michelle Johnson1, Erika Svendsen1 New York1 and Chicago2
Robin Cline serves as Assistant Director of NeighborSpace, an urban open space land trust in Chicago. Robin is also the part-time executive director for the art group OperaMatic, a site-specific artist group that activates public spaces in Humboldt Park and Hermosa with participatory art.
For more than twenty years, Ben has focused on ways to help communities have a direct hand in the creation and stewardship of the built environment. He is the Executive Director of NeighborSpace, a nonprofit urban land trust dedicated to preserving and sustaining community-managed open spaces in Chicago.
Paola Aguirre Serrano is an urban designer and partner at Borderless since 2016. She has served as Commissioner of Chicago Landmarks and the Cultural Advisory Council of the City of Chicago, and currently serves in the Scholarly Advisory Committee for the National Museum of the American Latino. Paola received a B. of Architecture from the Institute Superior de Arquitectura y Diseño de Chihuahua, and M. of Architecture in Urban Design from the Harvard School of Design.
Sonya Sachdeva is a computational social scientist with the US Forest Service in the greater Chicago area. She utilizes machine learning and other computational methodology to understand the socio-cultural factors that shape environmental values and behavior.
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.
Acknowledgments: All Partnerships Lab participants and TNOC Summit Caring in Public attendees, including Laura Landau, Georgia Silvera Seamans, Natalie Campbell, Nora Almeida, Sophie Neuhaus, Sarah Fox Tracy, Bep Schrammeijer, Paula Acevedo, Pete Ellis, Gitty Korsuize, Tuba Atabey, Neda Puskarica-Stojanovic, Yaritza Guillen, Natalie Perkins, Staice Martin, Francesca Birks, Samantha Miller.
References
Campbell, Lindsay K., Svendsen, Erika, Johnson, Michelle & Laura Landau. (2021): Activating urban environments as social infrastructure through civic stewardship, Urban Geography, DOI: 10.1080/02723638.2021.1920129.
Campbell, Lindsay K.; Svendsen, Erika; Sonti, Nancy Falxa; Hines, Sarah J.; Maddox, David, eds. 2019. Green Readiness, Response, and Recovery: A Collaborative Synthesis. Gen. Tech. Rep. NRS-P-185. Newtown Square, PA: U.S. Department of Agriculture, Forest Service. 358 p. https://doi.org/10.2737/NRS-GTR-P-185.
Connolly, James J., Svendsen, Erika S., Fisher, Dana R., & Campbell, Lindsay K. (2013). Organizing urban ecosystem services through environmental stewardship governance in New York City. Landscape and Urban Planning, 109(1), 76–84. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.landurbplan.2012.07.001
Fisher, D. R., Campbell, L. K., & Svendsen, E. S. (2012). The organisational structure of urban environmental stewardship. Environmental Politics, 21(1), 26–48. https://doi.org/10.1080/ 09644016.2011.643367.
Klinenberg, Eric. (2018). Palaces for the people: How social infrastructure can help fight inequality, polarization, and the decline of civic life. Crown Publishing.
Landau, Laura F.; Campbell, Lindsay K.; Svendsen, Erika S.; Johnson, Michelle L. 2021. Building Adaptive Capacity Through Civic Environmental Stewardship: Responding to COVID-19 Alongside Compounding and Concurrent Crises. Frontiers in Sustainable Cities. 3: 705178. 14 p. https://doi.org/10.3389/frsc.2021.705178.
McMillen, Heather; Campbell, Lindsay K.; Svendsen, Erika S.; Reynolds, Renae. 2016. Recognizing Stewardship Practices as Indicators of Social Resilience: In Living Memorials and in a Community Garden. Sustainability. No. 775. 8(8): 26p. https://doi.org/10.3390/su8080775.
Svendsen, Erika, & Campbell, Lindsay. (2008). Understanding urban environmental stewardship. Cities and the Environment, 1(1), 1–32. https://doi.org/10.15365/cate.1142008.
Formigas-de-embaúba carries out environmental education programs to plant native mini-forests in public schools together with school communities. Students become active citizens, inspired to act and take small steps towards collective and transformative futures.
Formigas-de-embaúba carries out environmental education programs to plant native mini-forests in public schools together with school communities.
If you asked someone if they could imagine growing a forest from scratch, they would most likely say no. If you then asked them if they could grow a mini-forest of 500 m² in their old school yard using only native trees, they would almost definitely say no. Yet, this is exactly what the non-profit organization formigas-de-embaúba is doing. And under a new agreement with the City of São Paulo, many students in public schools in São Paulo will be able to say yes to both answers. That’s almost 3,000 schools and about 1 million students.
Students hold native tree saplings. Photo: Primavera Digital
Through a pedagogical course that lasts one semester, formigas-de-embaúba’s mini-forests program works with the school community and students aged 2 to 14 to plant a mini-forest of native trees directly on the school’s property. Together they study and prepare the soil and learn about the Miyawaki Method to finally plant and care for the plants. In 2021 over 1,500 students helped to plant more than 2,000 seedlings of approximately 125 species of trees native to the Atlantic Forest. And each forest grows to become open-air classrooms for the students. On top of this, the mini-forests create biodiversity corridors, absorb carbon and lower the temperature in the regions where they are located, increasing the well-being of people and other living beings from all around.
The Miyawaki Method is a method of reforestation with native species to facilitate rapid growth and biodiversity named after its founder, the late Japanese botanist Akira Miyawaki. Urban forests grown using this methodology have become fascinating complex ecosystems, learning from, and mimicking the native vegetation near the planting site. In the Atlantic Forest’s case, the tropical rainforest that used to cover Brazil’s coast and now has only about 10% of its original area preserved, means to prepare the soil with organic compost, to plant native seedlings densely with a wide variety of species, to cover the soil with organic matter, and to maintain the area for the initial two years.
Students prepare to plant the mini-forest in their school. Photo: Primavera Digital
These mini-forests are appearing around the world, and bring many benefits to communities beyond their impact on biodiversity. These green areas can help to improve people’s health, counter heat islands, and to reduce air and sound pollution. And formigas-de-embaúba is successfully using the method to grow its mini-forests with school communities in the Great São Paulo area, one of the main urban conglomerates in the world with more than 30 million inhabitants.
The organization not only works with students but also provides an online training program for teachers to develop critical environmental education projects in their schools. In 2021 this trained over 300 participants from municipal public networks from several cities in the Great São Paulo region and is now expanding to other areas in Brazil.
Students prepare seed bombs with native trees and cover crops. Photo: Primavera DigitalStudents get ready to throw the seed balls in the mini-forest in their school. Photo: Primavera Digital
“Through project-based pedagogy, we take ecological restoration into schools, so that school communities become aware of and act in the face of climate change, conservation and regeneration of biodiversity”, explains Rafael Ribeiro, co-founder of formigas-de-embaúba. “It is necessary to cultivate in children from an early age the principles of sensitivity to the earth, ecological responsibility and to encourage them to understand themselves as part of nature and not apart from it”, continues environmental educator Gabriela Arakaki, who co-created the organization together with Rafael. Currently, the two coordinate the entity in partnership with Sheila Ceccon, who is also a very experienced environmental educator.
As a result of its efforts to raise awareness about the urgency of rewilding our planet, in 2020 the organization was selected by the Democracy and Sustainability Institute (IDS), a local think tank, as one of the 10 civil society organizations to implement the UN Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) in Brazil, as has now been confirmed as an actor for the UN Decade on Ecosystem Restoration.
Students learn about the importance of living soil. Photo: Primavera Digital
“Educational systems around the world have been provoked to assume their responsibility in the face of the need to form citizens with a new attitude towards nature, with values and attitudes different from those that led the planet to the current situation of intense environmental imbalance”, Sheila Ceccon explains. “Through our programs, students become active citizens and are able to connect this local community intervention with global socio-environmental issues, inspiring people to act and take small steps towards collective and transformative actions”.
About formigas-de-embaúba
Formigas-de-embaúba is a nonprofit organization that promotes environmental education through the planting of native mini forests by students in public schools in Brazil, bringing the urgency of ecosystem regeneration and climate change mitigation to the new generations.
Co-founders Rafael Ribeiro and Gabriela Arakaki. Photo: Maggiory Simões Ferrara
See more on Instagram @formigasdeembauba and on the short documentary film recently made about their work: https://youtu.be/bo6sO3dl7P4
You can engage with them through their Instagram account and e-mail ([email protected]), there is a lot you can do as an online volunteer and also donate to support their activities.
“Traditional” conceptions of heritage can, at times, prove inadequate to pursue current greening strategies. Considering new values, such as historical ecosystem services, socio-cultural practices, or local and native biodiversity, we open the door to new forms of heritage-making which are in line with sustainable development goals.
Urban green spaces often become entangled in notions of heritage. Multiple factors explain this convergence, from the historical origins of so many major urban green spaces, to the range of values (cultural, spiritual, etc.) that are tied to these places (see Feng & Tan, 2017; Forrest & Konijnendijk, 2005) and linked to matters of memory and identity, with which heritage is habitually concerned. Furthermore, there is an evident degree of overlap between practices of nature conservation, within which some urban greening efforts can be embedded, and those practices related to the preservation and protection of any given material or immaterial heritage, which can obviously include natural heritage. In fact, the very conceptualisation of “natural heritage” has evolved in part as a reaction to processes of urbanisation [i] ― this has, however, commonly been translated into legislation and planning policies that reinforce a nature-urban dichotomy which presents certain difficulties to contemporary urban green space management and planning practices (Berdoulay & Soubeyran, 2013, pp. 351-352).
Despite playing a role in the protection of many important green zones in urban areas, traditional conceptions of heritage can, at times, prove inadequate to pursue current greening strategies, even constituting a hindrance to the sustainable management of the spaces they seek to preserve. This does not necessarily entail a need to excise heritage discourses from discussions on nature conservation or urban greening, though. Conventional notions of heritage have long been questioned by scholars, and alternative understandings of what constitutes heritage have been put forward, which could become useful to incorporate into policy and practice. In some circumstances, even more conventional views are still justifiably being leveraged in the defence of urban green areas.
This article is organised into two sections ― first, considering the European context, some of the reasons which explain the inadequacy of long-established heritage frameworks for supporting urban greening efforts are clarified, before presenting alternative conceptualisations that could prove more beneficial. In the second section, cases from Paris, Brussels, and Lisbon are weighed to illustrate how different notions of heritage can sometimes be advantageously employed to preserve urban green spaces. It is here argued that, though predominant conceptions of heritage guiding policymaking have largely become antithetical to sustainable development practices, under certain circumstances these might still prove relevant. Moreover, debates from the field of heritage studies in recent decades have put forward alternative frameworks which have the potential to support rather than hinder contemporary city greening practices, should they effectively be introduced into policy ― this article then also calls for their consideration. The methodology employed is based on a bibliographical review, discourse analysis, and insight from relevant actors.
Inadequate protection
Depending on the legislation of any given country, heritage classification can afford a site some of the highest degrees of protection from destruction, intervention, or redevelopment. Despite the efficacy with which it has preserved historical urban green areas, this tool is often not particularly appealing to planners, policymakers, and other practitioners pursuing ecological goals. During a recent guest lecture at Vrije Universiteit Brussel (VUB), Etienne Aulotte, head of department at Bruxelles Environnement, explained some of the major limitations of this statute for nature planning and conservation in Brussels. The main issue is that the very strict protection conferred by this classification also makes it very restrictive when it comes to managing the protected sites in an adaptable manner. Legislation in place dictates that the original layouts, visual appearance, and maintenance practices of these places must be rigorously adhered to, regardless of ecological concerns and methodological anachronisms. A couple of examples illustrate the difficulties faced by practitioners and experts:
[In these historical sites] if the trees disappear, for phytosanitary reasons, for example, you have to replace the tree by exactly the same trees. […] And this is problematic because you have species [which] are [not] adapted to climate change, for example, so you need to change the species, but you cannot. And you have to cut the grass like it was historically, […] so you have to cut the grass every week because it has to be landscaped, clean, etc. So it’s totally against ecological management, because if you cut the grass every [week] it’s dramatic for insects and things like this […]. (Aulotte, 2022)
Aesthetic considerations and material historical continuity are pursued to the detriment of environmental preoccupations. These kinds of restrictions can make it very difficult to engage in sustainable greening practices, especially in the case of dense historical city centres in which, due to developmental pressures, the few remaining green areas might be precisely those which enjoy protection due to similar statutes. What is highlighted is a mismatch between dominant conceptions of heritage as enshrined in policy and the needs identified by experts and practitioners on the terrain, which has become commonplace (see e.g., DeSilvey et al., 2020, pp. 359; 368), and which is not exclusive to natural heritage. The contrast identified ― between a top-down conception of heritage as a set of specific endangered material objects which require preservation and a more practical approach that regards it as a socially embedded process and recognises the need for adaptation ― seemingly signifies an ongoing transition in attitudes towards heritage that has been gradually taking place. Natural heritage, specifically, has registered this phenomenon with an accentuated sense of urgency brought about by the undeniable immediacy of climate change.
Until this point, the predominant vision was of natural heritage being an element of an environment that needed to be saved. This element however was […] relatively residual. A rescue failure would not jeopardize society […] Today, what seems to be required of natural heritage is of an entirely different ambition and responsibility. (Berdoulay & Soubeyran, 2013, p. 352)
Berdoulay & Soubeyran describe two possible resulting approaches to planning as a reaction to this challenge, establishing a distinction between resistance heritage and resilience heritage. The first reaction of resistance, however, remains relatively conventional, in the sense that it seeks to restore a locationally bounded area back to a former state, whereas, in resilience heritage, the “focus is less on providing a way back to the system’s initial state after its ecological destabilization, and more on conceiving its self-organizing, learning and evolutionary capacities” (ibid., p. 356), identifying itself with “the initiative capacity of the affected community, often in novel, surprising, or informal and makeshift ways”. This narrative, in a sense, shifts the focus of preservation towards more humanised and immaterial heritages:
[…] this approach to creating heritage out of nature seeks to show the importance of maintaining the continuity of certain practices, certain kinds of life, all the while recognizing evolutionary and changing aspects. As such, in terms of heritage, we retain the precious nature of something to preserve, something worthy of universal interest. (ibid., p. 357)
The transition here described echoes a larger shift within the field of heritage studies, away from rigid conventions, and granting a renewed importance to heritage-making practices, or the processes that surround heritage and through which meaning and value is ascribed to it (see e.g., Smith, 2006).
In recent years, the recognition of widespread ecological and social change has been attended by the emergence of new theoretical approaches, understanding heritage as a socially embedded, future-oriented process through which the past is brought into the present to shape new practices and environments. These approaches frame heritage significance as an emergent, relational property ― not an inherent quality linked to the preservation of specific material states […] Change and transformation has been reframed as an integral element of heritage, with the potential to generate new connections between the past and the future and between human and more-than-human agents (DeSilvey et al., 2020, p. 360).
Such a shift in perception, if adequately translated into an effective heritage protection policy, could more aptly accommodate novel forms of ecological management within historical urban green spaces, maximizing the ecosystem services which these afford. Such a re-thinking of policy is, in fact, one of the objectives being pursued by Bruxelles Environnement, in cooperation with other international partners, through the LIFE Preparatory programme (Aulotte, 2022; see also Bruxelles Environnement, 2022). Until statutes are revised, however, environmental management professionals must continue to navigate the discrepancies between the rules and practices of heritage.
In the following section, several cases are briefly considered, illustrating opportunities for urban greening opened by heritage, ranging between more or less progressive views of what this notion entails.
Natural heritage in the making
Fort D’Ivry Photo: Fábio Gouveia
Standing at the top of a hill immediately southeast of Paris, largely engulfed in vegetation, is Fort D’Ivry, a XIX century fortification that nowadays houses the French military’s audio-visual archives within its walls ― outside them, on the fort’s moat and glacis, 250 plots of community gardens are cultivated across 7,5 hectares.[ii] Similarly, just to the north of the city, in Aubervilliers, another set of community gardens cover 7 hectares of the glacis of a different fort from the same period.[iii] Both forts (along with fourteen other similar structures) were part of the network of fortifications that complemented the Thiers Wall (Enceinte de Thiers), designed to defend Paris during the second half of the XIX century. Having lost their original military function, much of this infrastructure has been repurposed or redeveloped. In the cases of Ivry and Aubervilliers, the interstitial spaces that surround the forts have so far retained large areas of green space, partly due to the presence of their now historic workers’ gardens (jardins ouvriers), established through the efforts of priest and social reformer Jules Auguste Lemire.
Fort D’Ivry Photo: Fábio Gouveia
However, the continuity of these practices that have been taking place around both forts is far from guaranteed. In Aubervilliers, gardeners are currently engaged in a long dispute for the right to carry on with the cultivation of these terrains, which had been targeted for redevelopment in the context of the 2024 Paris Olympics. Through petitions, protests, occupation, and other available means, the association of workers’ gardens, now called “gardens to be defended” (jardins à défendre), has been attempting to fight against the construction of a solarium within the terrains of the gardens, planned as a complement to a future Olympic swimming pool. The discourse which supports the association’s claims and acts of resistance hinges on various arguments. In their communications, appeals are made to matters of environmental and social justice, to the full scope of ecosystem services provided by the gardens (provisioning, regulating, supporting, and cultural), and (more relevantly for this paper) to the historical and patrimonial value of the gardens.
An explanatory text on the Association’s webpage begins by stating that “[f]or nearly a hundred years, the workers’ gardens of Aubervilliers have been prolonging the horticultural history of Seine-Saint-Denis”, adding that “[t]hese natural areas are a precious heritage with a rich biodiversity” (Jardins à défendre (JAD), 2022) [own translation].[iv] The passage emphasises not only the long history of the place itself but also establishes a continuity between the work undertaken in the gardens and a much older set of practices in the extended area where these are located. This act of identification, contextualisation, and thus of heritage-making is reiterated, for example, in a more comprehensive publication by the collective (Collectif de Défense des Jardins Ouvriers des Vertus, 2020, pp. 28-29), which includes a section devoted to this framing of their history. Though this can be regarded as relying on more progressive notions of heritage, it is apparent how, in similar circumstances, even more conservative stances can already be called upon to uphold claims to urban (green) spaces. This is recognized by the gardeners themselves, who stress it, for instance, when stating that “[i]t is also impossible to understand how GPA [Grand Paris Aménagement], in spite of its numerous declarations concerning the patrimonial importance of the allotments, can decide to hand over more than one hectare of this heritage to property development” (ibid., p. 13).[v]
Fort D’Ivry Worker’s Garden Photo: Fábio Gouveia
In Ivry, workers’ gardens sharing a similar setting have encountered similar challenges. Following a ground subsidence incident, access to the military grounds in which the gardens are located was restricted. A lengthy process of resistance and negotiation then ensued, as certain areas are deemed unsafe, and it is unclear who (if anyone) will bear the costs of consolidating the terrains. Despite the area being labelled a sensitive natural space (Espace Naturel Sensible), which should protect it as a green space and biodiversity hotspot, this statute gives the gardeners’ association little assurance as to the continuation of their current practices. Faced with the possibility of having parts of the garden lost or redeveloped, as well as risking external interference in their relatively autonomous organisation, Ivry’s gardeners also leverage their history to legitimise and defend their position. Physical memorials erected in a square within the gardens celebrate the former heads of the association, simultaneously establishing a direct lineage from its founder, Father Jules Lemire, through Gustave Marque and Jacques Perreau, until the current president, Jean Huart. This suggestion of a legitimate lineage is also present in the association’s web page, which includes sections on the history and heritage of the workers’ gardens (see Association des jardins ouvriers d’Ivry, 2022). Additionally, the association is now in contact with Jules Lemire’s museum house, in Hazebrouck, establishing a partnership that could help cement their heritage claims.
In both these cases, the sought outcome is a form of perpetuation of established practices in each space. Though a greater legislative concern with immaterial heritage and its cultural practices would likely benefit the interested parties, even an appeal to a conservative notion of heritage (one which is restrictive, inflexible, and resistant to change) suitably furthers their agenda. Appeals to heritage have the potential to support resistance to processes of expropriation,[vi] and further struggles for the right to urban green spaces.
The forts at Ivry and Aubervilliers constitute examples of what can be referred to as transitional spaces ― sites that have lost their originally intended function and which present opportunities for heritage-making practices to take place and manage the processes of change in a way that both respects their history and allows for new usages that serve local communities.
Many of these transitional spaces within cities equally present occasions for urban greening. Former industrial areas, for instance, often have significant heritage value at risk of demolition due to developmental pressures. These spaces can, however, be revitalized, and greening practices can not only provide much-needed ecosystem services to formerly grey areas but also engage with their heritage. Parc de la Senne (or the upcoming Parc de la Sennette)[vii], in Brussels, for example ― a green corridor meandering through a dense, post-industrial neighbourhood within the city ― not only revives a former industrial area through greening, but simultaneously helps to recover a connection with the historical and eponymous river which used to run through its location (having been diverted and partially vaulted in the XIX century).
Innovative forms of ecological management can likewise take place in the context of heritage protection, as demonstrated by the recently renovated Jardin Jean-Felix Hap,[viii] also in the Belgian capital.
In this case, formerly private domains, listed for their historical, urbanistic, and aesthetic values, did not impede the establishment of wilder areas in the now-public park. Despite its relatively small footprint (approximately 1 hectare) and mixed uses, the park has become a haven for numerous species of birds, insects, and amphibians, for instance. In fact, restrictions on the park’s uses, such as a ban on sports activities, have not only made both natural and heritage preservation easier, but have also created a quiet green space for rest and relaxation in the neighbourhood (which offers alternative spaces for the regulated practices). Additionally, the creation of community gardens in the property re-establishes a connection to the site’s horticultural history.
But, even if there is room for working with heritage towards urban greening targets through conventional legislation, novel conceptions of heritage should still supersede these statutes. Considering, for instance, urban forests, it can be argued that their true heritage value lies not so much in their appearance, but rather in the ecosystem services they provide. The case of Monsanto Forest Park, a roughly 1000 hectares urban forest in Lisbon, exemplifies this claim, as the original motivations for planting it pertained to its climate regulation, health, and recreational benefits (Ministério das Obras Públicas e Comunicações, 1934). Here the services and practices associated with the forest arguably hold more heritage value than its materiality, making the forest worth preserving regardless of aesthetic considerations and historic management protocols. Researchers are also experimenting with applying the Miyawaki method[ix] to interstitial spaces within the Portuguese capital city, in what could be regarded as a form of new heritage-making, by preserving and connecting people to local species of fauna and flora (see Fernandes, 2021).
As these examples show, by considering new values, such as historical ecosystem services[x], socio-cultural practices, or local and native biodiversity, we open the door to new forms of heritage-making which are in line with sustainable development goals.
Conclusion
Though there is often a mismatch between heritage policies and the needs encountered by professionals seeking sustainable management of urban green infrastructure, there are still circumstances in which the classification of a given space might confer a degree of protection that largely compensates for the restrictions it could entail. In addition, more progressive conceptions of heritage, which are gradually being translated into policy, present novel opportunities for city greening efforts to take place, particularly in transitional spaces, whose history can be preserved even as they are reinvented through active heritage-making practices. Further research could help clarify in which scenarios it would be desirable to pursue green heritagisation strategies, how best to curate a given site’s history in the context of redevelopment or adaptive re-use, as well as identify potential pitfalls of such an approach, which could include, for instance, accelerated degradation of certain vulnerable heritage sites, or a combined risk of green and heritage gentrification.
Association des jardins ouvriers d’Ivry. (2022). Patrimoine – jardins ouvriers d’ivry. https://www.jardins-ouvriers-ivry.com/patrimoine-a-defendre
Aulotte, E. (2022). Lecture: Greening the City – The Case of Brussels. Vrije Universiteit Brussel.
Beeksma, A., & de Cesari, C. (2018). Participatory heritage in a gentrifying neighbourhood: Amsterdam’s Van Eesteren Museum as affective space of negotiations. International Journal of Heritage Studies, 25(9), 974–991. https://doi.org/10.1080/13527258.2018.1509230
Berdoulay, V., & Soubeyran, O. (2013). The meaning and role of natural heritage within a context of sustainable planning and climate change. L’Espace Géographique (English Edition), 42(4), 350–360. https://doi.org/10.2307/26213696
Collectif de Défense des Jardins Ouvriers des Vertus. (2020). Projet de Destruction des Jardins Ouvriers des Vertus à Aubervilliers. Jardins Des Vertus (Provisional Version). https://www.jardinsaubervilliers.fr/CahierJardin.pdf
DeSilvey, C., Bartolini, N., & Lyons, A. (2020). Living with Transformation. In Heritage Futures. UCL Press. https://www.jstor.org/stable/j.ctv13xps9m.30
Feng, Y., & Tan, P. Y. (2017). Imperatives for Greening Cities: A Historical Perspective (pp. 41–70). https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-10-4113-6_3
Fernandes, C. (2021, May 19). Minifloresta está a nascer em Lisboa, através do método Miyawaki | National Geographic. National Geographic. https://www.natgeo.pt/meio-ambiente/2021/05/minifloresta-esta-a-nascer-em-lisboa-atraves-do-metodo-miyawaki
Forrest, M., & Konijnendijk, C. (2005). A History of Urban Forests and Trees in Europe. In C. Konijnendijk, K. Nilsson, T. Randrup, & J. Schipperijn (Eds.), Urban Forests and Trees (pp. 23–48). Springer. https://doi.org/https://doi.org/10.1007/3-540-27684-X_3
Jardins à défendre (JAD). (2022). Défense des jardins ouvriers d’Aubervilliers. https://www.jardinsaubervilliers.fr/index.html
Ministério das Obras Públicas e Comunicações. (1934). Decreto-lei no 24625. In Diário do Govêrno n.o 257/1934: Vol. Série I. https://files.dre.pt/1s/1934/11/25700/19471948.pdf
Smith, L. (2006). Uses of Heritage. Routledge. https://www.routledge.com/Uses-of-Heritage/Smith/p/book/9780415318310
Notes
[i] One can see this dimension emerging in interpretations of the concept of stewardship from several countries, for instance (see https://www.thenatureofcities.com/2019/10/11/how-is-the-concept-of-stewardship-and-care-for-local-environments-expressed-around-the-world/ ).
[ii] This location was visited in May 2022, in the context of a research project done in collaboration with Larissa Gorbatikh, where we interviewed the president of the gardener’s association and a few of the gardeners. See https://www.jardins-ouvriers-ivry.com/
[iv] Original passage: “Depuis près de cent ans, les Jardins ouvriers d’Aubervilliers prolongent l’histoire maraîchère de la Seine-Saint-Denis, sur 7 hectares ceinturant le Fort. Ces espaces naturels sont un patrimoine précieux avec une riche biodiversité” (Jardins à défendre (JAD), 2022).
[v] Original: “Impossible également de comprendre comment GPA, malgré ses nombreuses déclarations concernant l’importance patrimoniale des potagers peut décider de livrer plus d’un hectare de ce patrimoine à la promotion immobilière” (Collectif de Défense des Jardins Ouvriers des Vertus, 2020, p.13).
[vi] For a more nuanced description of how a neighbourhood resisted redevelopment through an appeal to heritage, but in which the seemingly bottom-up initiative was ultimately co-opted by governance see Beeksma & de Cesari, 2019.
There is huge potential to incorporate mycelium into urban natural systems and infrastructure. To brainstorm this potential in the Portland area, we have created a loose network of interested ecology professionals called the Mycelium Net-Working Group. This epistemic network will serve as a starting point among government and NGO land stewards.
Fungi, that bizarre kingdom that includes yeasts and mushrooms, can be partnered with for healthier outcomes in urban natural areas and landscapes. Fungi, which are not plants and are more related to animals, are masters of chemistry. Enzymes created by fungi have been found to digest cigarette butts, DDT, and wood. They can transform wood into soil and polycyclic aromatic hydrocarbons (PAHs) into less toxic molecules. Working with fungi has almost limitless possibilities to improve plant health, break down urban toxins, and produce food and medicine from waste products. Mycorrhizal fungi, fungi that partner with tree roots, are integral to plant and ecosystem health. Fungi grow outward similar to plant roots but then can reconnect their hyphae (or strands of fungal tissue) moving nutrients in changeable directions. Their adaptable forms and networks are also a good model for a biophilic city. The mycelium, or the webbed collection of hyphae, can form vast networks. Using mycelium as a model for relationships, we humans can work in collaboration with fungi. Mycorrhizal relationships demonstrate that many species prosper with more connection and collaboration and that our world is mostly NOT a battle between opposing forces Partnering with fungi and soil has multiple benefits for our shared future.
Microscope photo of intertwining mycelium: Citation: Cartabia, M.; Girometta,C.E.; Milanese, C.; Baiguera, R.M.; Buratti, S.; Branciforti, D.S.; Vadivel, D.; Girella, A.; Babbini, S.; Savino, E.; et al. Collection and Characterization of Wood Decay Fungal Strains for Developing Pure Mycelium Mats. J. Fungi 2021, 7, 1008. https://doi.org/10.3390/jof7121008 Creative Commons
Mycorrhizal networks
Mycorrhizal fungi intertwine with tree roots, exponentially expanding their nutrient capture capacity by ten to a thousand times. These fungi also connect to other plants creating an extensive and adaptable network in the soil, which can move nutrients from one plant to another creating a resilient web. In addition, mycorrhizal fungi produce glomulin, a sticky protein that helps bind soil particles together and enhances soil stability and health. This network is the foundation for ecosystem resilience and has been coined “nature’s internet” by mycologist Paul Stamets.
Approximately 95% of all vascular plant species form mycorrhizal relationships. This partnership has been seen in fossils of the very first land plants, dating back to about 460 million years ago. The fungi are the reason that the plants first survived at all on land, as the fungi produce enzymes that break down rocks and other substances into usable nutrients for the plants and themselves.
Drawing: (Used by permission, 33rd New Phytologist 33rd Symposium logo courtesy of the New Phytologist Foundation/Promotional Gods)
Research by Dr. Suzanne Simard and many others reveals how these fungi intertwine and entangle the whole ecosystem. “Mother trees”, as Dr. Simard calls them, are the pillars of the forested ecosystem. And it is the mycorrhizal network through which the wisdom of these oldest trees is able to communicate messages about pests, water, and nutrients. Mother trees are able to direct nutrients to their offspring via the fungal network and fungi can stimulate the growth of other microorganisms to protect the plants. When trees are connected to these networks die, they will transfer carbon and other nutrients to their neighbors via the fungal hyphae. Amazingly, this sort of shuttling of nutrients can happen between tree species, such as passing nutrients in the summer from a birch tree in the sun, to a Douglas fir in the shade, and then, in the winter, the Douglas fir will move nutrients back to the birch.
The interconnectedness of the plant-fungi relationship also expands to numerous wildlife. Maser et al, in “Trees, Truffles, and Beasts: How forests function”, explain how many forest mammals in present-day Australia and the United States are so dependent on mushrooms, specifically the underground reproductive structures produced by hundreds of species of mycorrhizal fungi called truffles, for their diet. Where I live in the Pacific Northwest of the United States, the western flying squirrel is one such truffle-seeking mammal (and it eats up to 100% of its diet in fungi during certain seasons). It digs for truffles in the soil and then glides its way from tree canopy to tree canopy using its wing-like skin between its legs. As these and other mammals and birds dig out and consume truffles, they are unknowingly dispersing the mushroom’s spores and further enhancing the mycorrhizal network.
Western-trained ecologists have for a while now known about the existence of these complex fungal networks, and we are finally realizing how a healthy network is so key to healthy forests. With this knowledge, there needs to be a shift in our frameworks of how we think about and steward the ecosystem, to one that promotes mycorrhizal network stewardship as a main driver. We can learn to team up with fungal networks to benefit our living systems, especially in urban areas that have experienced the most habitat degradation.
Fungi Practices in Urban Areas
Cultivating healthy fungal networks, rather than focusing solely on plants, is a paradigm shift that will take some experimentation and advocacy. There are large industries built on growing and nurturing plants, but only a few are dedicated to building mycorrhizal networks and building soil health. In landscape projects, soil is often neglected and rarely tested for its texture, compaction, or heavy metal composition. And testing for soil fungal and microbial community structure is possible but rare. Plants that thrive on a given site long term are matched not just with the microclimate but are an expression of the health and composition of the soil. The fungal and bacterial communities in the soil are an expression of soil health.
If the goal for an urban natural area is to establish native plant communities — this has been a major goal for most of my career — we need to put more value on the soil properties along with healthy fungal and bacterial communities. There are practices to improve the soil food web, but many of them have yet to become common practices in restoration.
Miguel Lopez decompacting soil and incorporating biochar and compost. Photo by Toby Query
Threats to mycorrhizae
The mycorrhizal network is dependent on living plants as well as soil organic matter. The disturbance of either one will result in hurting the mycorrhizae. Dense soils from vehicles and equipment compaction also damages soil health. This reduces the availability of space between soil particles for roots and mycelium to breath and grow, and also for mammals to burrow and dig. Herbicides, such as glyphosate, are also fungicides that can disrupt soil fungi.
Making a morel spore slurry Photo by Toby Query
Repairing soil
Healthy soil generally means high organic matter (usually 3-4% or higher), good aeration, a balance of nutrients as well as the right mix of sand/silt/clay along with abundant beneficial microorganisms. On a few of the sites I steward, I’ve been adding organic matter in forms of woodchips, biochar, and compost to amend soils. To loosen up imported soils, I’ve been using Dave Polster’s “Rough and Loose” technique. In landscaping and natural area projects with construction components, engineers and designers should treat soil and their mycorrhizae as critical for project success and continue to develop associated specifications.
Arbuscular mycorrhizae can be cultivated and many species are promiscuous as to what species they associate with, meaning one species of fungi can form connections with many different types of plants. It is possible to purchase mycorrhizae spores, but it could be an added benefit to cultivate spores from species that thrive in urban environments and magnify their abundance. Many techniques incorporate magnifying fungi, often times moving soil from healthy forests to newly planted or cultivated areas.
Korean Natural Farming is a technique that actively cultivates “indigenous microorganisms” to benefit crops by bringing mycelium and microorganisms from the forest into a farm field. We often transfer plants from more wild places into the city. Why not transfer mycelium the same way? Soil food web scientist Elaine Ingham promotes compost tea and other techniques to amplify microbial soil life. Rather than spraying weeds with pesticide, what if land stewards sprayed beneficial organisms on desirable plants? We are experimenting with using morel mushroom spore slurries and spawn to inoculate constructed beds of sawdust. Our hope is that the morel mycelium will feed on the sawdust substrate and gradually form a symbiotic relationship with surrounding trees, expanding the food web for the trees and expanding the mycelial network. And if this trial does succeed, who is going to be against having a harvest of morels?
Non-mycorrhizal fungi can also enhance soil quality and improve plant health. The Queen Stropharia mushroom (Stropharia rugosoannulata) is widely available and can produce large edible mushrooms weighing up to 2.25 kg grown on wood chips and straw. Woodchips can be used as a mulch around plantings and the fungi can benefit surrounding plants. This species breaks down toxins, reduces levels of E. coli, and shoots out spikes, called acanthocytes, that impale nematodes! This fungus feeds on both wood and animals! Many nematodes eat plant roots, so this fungus and other nematode-consuming fungi (like the oyster mushroom) can keep nearby plants healthy. Inoculated chips can regulate water and temperature around plants as well, improving growth. Queen Stropharia beds are easy to construct, a way to build soil and produce edible mushrooms for humans. If humans or other mammals don’t consume them, fly larvae will feed on the mushrooms which will in turn feed insectivorous birds or other creatures.
Photo by Toby Query: Mixing straw and woodchips with Queen Stropharia spawn to make mushroom bed.
Although many mushrooms are edible, one should NEVER eat mushrooms that grow near roads or that are exposed to air, soil, or water pollution. Fungi can break down various toxins but can also hyper-accumulate heavy metals in their fruiting bodies. Fungi used for remediation purposes should never be consumed, but mushrooms grown on non-contaminated substrate will be safe. Mushrooms used for remediation should never be consumed, their mushrooms should instead be harvested and disposed of if found to have heavy metals.
Inoculating Dead Wood
Blown down trees or pruned limbs can be converted into mushrooms. I’m experimenting with drilling myceliated wooden dowels into dead wood. This will help break down the wood and add medicinal and edible mushrooms to the landscape. Matching the fungi strain with the wood species is important as is the time of year and care of the fungi. As mushroom foraging increases in popularity, why not have landscapes and nature trails in the city cultivated with mushrooms?
Cultivating fungi on dead wood can be part of fire reduction plans, as inoculated wood might break down faster than left to natural fungi for decomposition. Dead wood often develops mushrooms without cultivation and species like turkey tails (Trametes versicolor) and the split-gill (Schizophyllum commune) are common and medicinal.
Beaver-chewed tree inoculated with myceliated dowels-Photo by Toby Query
Mycoremediation: Fungi for remediation practices
Fungi produce enzymes that are sent outside of their body to break down and digest surrounding materials. Lignin, the principal component of wood, is extremely hard to digest for most of the world’s organisms, but some fungi actually rely on lignin to survive. Because lignin has a chemical structure similar to some persistent human-created toxins such as PAHs, and PCB, we can use inoculated wood chips or straw as filters to break down road runoff or in other areas known to have toxic inputs. There is also mycoremediation potential for wastewater treatment systems where fungi can be used to break down pharmaceuticals and other hazardous chemicals that are usually not treated by conventional processes. There is a need for mycologists to be integrated into stormwater and wastewater treatment design to transform toxins into less toxic molecules for cleaner urban watersheds.
Fallen tree inoculated with oyster mushroom mycelium last year is fruiting in January 2023
Fungi for the climate
Trees are often thought of as the natural carbon storage vessels of our planet, but soil-dwelling fungi play a huge role. Fungi produce compounds that are more persistent at storing carbon in the soil than any other organisms and their importance should not be overlooked. Fostering tree-to-fungi-to-tree connections can help support canopy health in cities. Climate resilience of urban trees is ultimately a collaboration between soil microorganisms, soil texture, hydrology, and tree selection.
As I shift my own awareness and focus to be a land steward for all Portlanders, fungi can be part of this equity work. My own shift includes humans as nature: we are part of nature and rely on its abundance. Part of stewarding land can be harvesting foods, medicines, and materials to reconnect to the land. Edible and medicinal fungi can be part of this stewardship and mushrooms like reishi, lion’s mane, oyster, and shiitake can be cultivated in natural landscapes. These mushrooms could be available to the lucky human or squirrel. Medicinal and edible mushrooms are already harvested by the public in cities. Why not add to their abundance?
The Future is Fungi
To shift to prioritizing fungi in natural landscapes, we need more mycologists. The City of Portland has a very detailed and vetted plant list, but no fungi list. Fungi have been a forgotten taxa for species lists, identification, and conservation, and developing a species list is a good place to start. Intentional mycological landscapes and mycoremediation projects have been created by interested community members, but it is time for governments and educational institutions to build up their own knowledge and experience. Ecologists, landscape designers, and land stewards can begin to learn about their biology as well as simple techniques to work with fungi.
Selfie of Toby Query holding first flush of Queen Stropharia mushrooms from inoculated wood chips
There is huge potential to incorporate mycelium into urban natural systems and infrastructure. To brainstorm this potential in the Portland area, we have created a loose network of interested ecology professionals called the Mycelium Net-Working Group. This epistemic network will serve as a starting point among government and NGO land stewards to brainstorm potential uses of fungi, advocate for mycology projects, set up trials, share results, and educate ourselves and the public. Ideally, this will spawn innovative projects that lead to healthier and more inclusive urban natural systems and create a hub for resilience building. Not unlike a mycelial network! Community connections will be vital and learning the desires for medicinal or edible fungi in landscapes from different communities will need to be integrated into decision making. It is time to start building this infrastructure and I incorporating the fungal kingdom into our stewardship practices. It should be done in reciprocity, giving respect to the fungi and partnering with them to heal landscapes and communities. Working with fungi is a way to reconnect to the cycles of growth and decay and the web of the natural world. Changing our focus to protect mycorrhizal networks and encourage beneficial fungi will support resilient communities.
“This is a crucial and much-neglected topic. If children are not designed into our cities, they are designed out. This means that they are deprived of contact with the material world, with nature, with civic life and with their own capacities.” George Monbiot (Arup, 2020, 15)
How can Liverpool City Council more meaningfully shape a better world? By creating a city that offers streets, spaces, and facilities for all ages, abilities, and backgrounds to enjoy together. A child-friendly approach has the potential to unite a range of progressive agendas and to act as a catalyst for urban innovation. But it hasn’t been easy.
1 Where do children belong in a city?
Globally there are countless examples of city-wide projects that endorse child-friendly cities, such as the Belfast Healthy Cities partnership, Climate Shelters in Barcelona, the Oasis project in Paris, and a mobility app in Oslo. Yet, providing multi-functional, playable space in nature for children ― beyond the playground ― seems to have largely been written out of urban planning agendas. The aim of this paper is to draw attention to the incoherence between local government support for child-centred and green planning and their unprecedented neoliberalisation-linked budget cuts and residential property development.
The case study of a community-led urban park in Liverpool called the Baltic Green serves as a strong example of how local councils are prioritising financial projections and urban development over the needs of cities’ children. Overall, this paper contributes to wider discussions around children’s access and exposure to (urban) nature. The literature review, case study, and discussion build up a cohesive argument to emphasise that we must prioritise children’s outdoor play in urban planning. It is clear that putting children centre-stage in city planning can help make a city safe, inclusive, and accessible.
2 Methodology
I observed a combination of qualitative and quantitative data collection and analysis. A literature review was executed by synthesising academic articles, journals, reports, and books using a keyword search[i]. I also carried out one semi-structured interview with the brainchild of the Baltic Green project, Tristan Brady-Jacobs (See Appendix B for interview questions). In the interest of full disclosure, I sporadically volunteered at the Baltic Green between February 2021 and June 2021. Therefore, I am in a unique position to recall the evolution of the park and access an abundance of primary data.
3 Literature Review
Child-friendly urban planning is an emerging field to increase efforts in improving children’s development, health, and access to opportunities. Such endeavours have been
neglected over economic, spatial, and welfare developments in the context of neoliberal urbanisation. Cities have become increasingly motorised and hostile with few outdoor places reserved for children. The context of austerity, disinvestment in the public realm, and the dismantlement of social and welfare structures led to the emergence of new spaces and activities for children, such as commercial indoor playtime activities and organised after-school activities (Karsten, 2005). Clearly, children’s access to and participation in non-commodified urban spaces and their associated health, equality, and well-being concerns have been limited (Karsten 2005). The literature presented in the following section will make a compelling case for the importance of providing access to nature in the places where children live, play, and learn.
There is an abundance of research showcasing the detrimental effects of Nature Deficit Disorder amongst children living a suburban, sedentary, and indoor lifestyle (Baró, 2021, 2). This condition encapsulates the loss of children’s free-ranging exploration of ‘‘wild lands’’ in cities and suburbs, as children’s attention is absorbed by televisions and computer screens, parents’ fears for children’s safety outdoors grew, and bulldozers relentlessly removed wild edges (Chawal, 2015, 434). Karsten divided the experiences of children into the self-explanatory categories of “inside children” and “outside children”, drawing attention to the present-day rarity of the latter (2016, 76). Multi-sensory, experiential outdoor learning amongst flora and fauna has been shown to benefit children socially, psychologically, academically, and physically, fostering a sense of shared responsibility and cooperation. In these uncertain times of environmental destruction, Oscilowicz postulates that children show greater environmental stewardship and attachment to nature through regular engagement with nature (2020, 778). It is vital to instill children with such values in order to imagine a future in which the human megatropolis can live in harmony with nature, something to be chartered by the young people of today.
More generally, environmental justice literature has shown that green play spaces are critical assets that may improve community presence, cohesion, and resilience (Oscilowicz, 2020, 782). In Arup’s report ‘Cities Alive: Designing for Urban Childhoods’, they emphasised that spaces that are free at the point of access and provide a mix of uses, natural elements, and activities away from congestion are a powerful tool to decrease inequality between different communities (2017, 37). The report elaborates on how green amenities can facilitate social cohesion and community building or in other words “an inclusive space that opens the door to interaction” (Arup, 2017, 27). Oscilowicz further defends this theory by stating that urban parks, gardens, and community gardens provide neighbours with an opportunity to build community by facilitating chance encounters (767, 2020). This point illustrates how green spaces are beneficial for a multitude of stakeholders, a priority being the developmental benefits to the children, but also social connections for the guardian, parents, grandparents, and caretakers (Oscilowicz, 2020, 768). Intergenerational interactions, serendipitous encounters, and multicultural exchange are invaluable consequences of open green spaces for children.
Such spaces played a crucial role during the COVID-19 lockdown. Many countries imposed strict rules on people’s movement and interaction to limit the spread of the virus, thus city dwellers found solace and joy in their local green space. Outdoor sites became popular and overcrowded, demonstrating the very value of open spaces in cities, and thereby postulating the importance of their maintenance and funding. Now more than ever, community planners and city officials should consider prioritising the cultivation of high-quality play spaces with public infrastructure and programming.
A number of authors have recognised the importance of ‘everyday freedoms’ for children (Chawal 2015, Baró 2021). This idea combines the ability of children to play and socialise with high levels of independent mobility, establish supportive social groups and multicultural relationships, and strengthen their overall emotional and relational well-being (Baró, 2021, 2). As enshrined in the UN Convention on the Rights of a Child “play is an instinctive, voluntary, and spontaneous human learning impulse, and a basic human right. Nussbaum supported this argument by listing affiliation as one of the central capabilities to compose human well-being; being able to live with and toward other people, engage in various forms of social interaction, imagine the situation of another and show concern for others (2013, 444). She views creative play as a starting point for children to exercise these capabilities. Furthermore, in Chawla’s research, they also adopt a philosophical lens to underpin the importance of health and well-being. They revive Aristotle’s notion of eudaimonia or happiness, often translated as ‘‘human flourishing’’, as the ultimate goal of human life, achieved through people’s full and balanced realisation of their capabilities (Chawal, 434, 2015). Another author argues that neighbourhood green play spaces may be the only space where children experience-free exploration and liberty in an urban setting (Oscilowski, 768, 2020). In light of these discussions, the importance of play environments for children is clear to enable them to explore, test their capabilities, contribute to their social and cognitive development, acquire new knowledge and skills, and enjoy a sense of competence (Chawal, 438, 2015).
One leading academic within the topic of children’s access to nature is Roger Hart, he completed his dissertation on Children’s Experience of Place in 1979. His later work tracked how his ability to carry out research on children’s interaction with nature became increasingly difficult from the 1970s to the early 2000s. He attributes this to the new culture of fear among parents, who over the years have relinquished children’s right to roam. This parental control and protection are evident within a multitude of comparative studies, for example, children in countries such as Finland and Germany are granted high levels of independent mobility (Arup, 2017, 16; Karsten, 2016, 77). These findings serve as a reminder of how children in the UK who walk (or less frequently bike) independently to school or other hobbies have now become the exception (Karsten, 2016, 77).
There exists a considerable body of literature on the positive associations between urban nature and child well-being including benefits to mental and physical well-being. Interaction with nature has been demonstrated to have a positive impact on both physical and mental health, this can include ADD/ADHD, overall mental health, stress, resilience, self-esteem, depression, respiratory diseases and allergies, neonatal survival, and mitigating pesticide risks (Tillmann, 2018, 958; Chawal 2015). Chawla draws on a series of reports to substantiate her research claims of the benefits of green spaces on children’s health. For example, when Scottish families with young children live less than twenty minutes walking distance from a green space, mothers rated the general health of their children as higher (Aggio et al. 2015 in Chawal, 434, 2015). Furthermore, Dutch children who lived near green spaces had lower rates of respiratory diseases (Maas et al. 2009), and four- and five-year-olds in the United States who lived in neighbourhoods with more street trees were less likely to have asthma (Lovasi et al. 2008).
Given all the literature outlined above, this section has built up a clear overview of why cities ought to pay attention to facilitating access and exposure to urban nature for all residents. There is an abundance of research advocating for the benefits of access to urban green spaces, this underpins the calls of families for clean, safe, and green neighbourhoods.
4 Case Study of the Baltic Green
Liverpool proclaims itself as the gateway to nature given the ability to access a wide variety of natural landscapes including greenery, forestry, seaside, and coastal regions. The city council manages over 500 parks in the region (Open Spaces, 2022). Yet, despite attention to community cohesion and social interaction highlighted in local planning documents, it seems the local authority’s focus on children has ceased to be compulsory. The context of austerity and dismantlement of social and welfare structures has been further compounded by the abolition of the National Play Strategy. Youth services in England and Wales have been cut by 70%, with the loss of £1bn of investment resulting in zero funding in some areas (Weale, 2020). The following section will illustrate how, despite attempts by local community groups, access to urban nature for children in Liverpool has been interrupted.
Historically a place of industry, the Baltic Triangle is now considered one of Liverpool’s most bohemian areas and has emerged as a popular cultural hotspot, as well as a place to live surrounded by thriving creative and digital industries. The area is indistinguishably marked by the plethora of coffee shops, bars, convenience stores, yoga studios, co-working spaces, and new residential property developments. In and amongst this symbiotic mix of businesses, residences, and amenities, there is a single remaining patch of green.
Aerial image of the Baltic Triangle (Source: Strategic Regeneration Framework, 2020, p.7.)
The plot of land was described by Liverpool City Council in the Strategic Regeneration Framework as “poorly maintained and requires improvement” (2020, 15). In February 2021, during the second wave of the COVID-19 lockdown, a team of volunteers assembled to transform the site into a multi-purpose recreational space. By all means, an upgrade from the previously abandoned and uninviting scenery. It was born from the desire to install tables and chairs for local residents to utilise on their daily outings permitted during the COVID-19 lockdown. This idea evolved to see volunteers and artists build a variety of structures, this included a puppet stage, a chess board, large thrones, and a wooden dragon.
Construction workers having a break around the table and bench. Source: ‘Baltic Green Working Group’ Facebook group chatWide angle shot of the entire site. Source: ‘Baltic Green Working Group’ Facebook group chat.Site in use by the local community at the weekend (Source: ‘Baltic Green Working Group’ Facebook group chat)
Complimentary to the wooden creations, volunteers planted trees to border the park, treated the grass, and put in waste management facilities. The site rapidly became a popular meeting spot for residents, families, and construction workers or a welcome discovery for people walking past. The green provided a space for young and old to meet, sparking exchange, interaction, and delight.
Baltic Green in Actin April 2021 (Source: Baltic Green Facebook Group)Example of Baltic Green being used by families and local community members in May 2021 (Source: Baltic Green Facebook Group).Vision board of how the Baltic Green could look (Source: Baltic Green Facebook Group).
Efforts were pursued by the team of volunteers to obtain permission from the council to establish the site as a permanent urban park. Such status would require financial support, health and safety assessment, and insurance. Despite the success of the park, the values collided with Liverpool City Council. The council pursued a litany of complaints and faults with the project, its intentions, and provisions for the area. First, the council representatives issued complaints about anti-social behaviour being attracted to the site at night time, such as excessive noise, street drinking, and recreational drug use. But when pest control discovered rats on the site, the council heeded this problem and ordered the removal of three structures. The council’s instructions were responded to by the volunteers. Diligently, they removed the “rodent-infested” structures, continued to clear garbage bins, and maintained clear communication with the council about their actions. Nonetheless, the Baltic Green was bulldozed in the early hours of the 7th of June 2021 by Liverpool City Council.
Baltic Green the day after demolition (Source: Baltic Green Working Group Facebook Chat)Shot of Baltic Green from residential apartment block on the day of demolition (Source: Baltic Green Working Group Facebook Chat).Baltic Green from the fence after demolition (Source: Baltic Green Working Group Facebook Chat)
Today, the site has reverted to its previous desolation visited only by the occasional dog walker or resident crossing it en route elsewhere. It is hard to imagine that this plot once hosted the creations of volunteers and artists. The Baltic Triangle has already been subject to worrying tell-tale signs of gentrification whereby the financial projections of developers have been prioritised over the local needs of residents. It is clear there are tensions arising between the longstanding businesses, the new inhabitants, and the agenda of the local council, and the Baltic Green is the epicentre of this collision.
5 Discussion
Equipped with a detailed understanding of the urban, environmental, and socio-economic context of the Baltic Green from previous sections, this part of the paper will extrapolate the ways in which the site fulfilled children’s access and exposure to outdoor spaces and in turn aided the prosperity of the local community. The discussion will not attempt to rebut the decisions made by Liverpool City Council but instead illuminate the tragic loss of a unique community-led initiative to meet the demands of a neoliberal city.
In the literature review, numerous studies emphasised the importance of independent and creative play for children in nature. The Baltic Green offered a unique and experimental way for children to interact with space. The fencing, constructed by volunteers, reduced the need for constant parental supervision. As the structures did not match the standardised and monotonous amenities found in a children’s play park, the wooden creations provoked children to use their imagination to interact and play with the unfamiliar objects. This approach recognised the fundamental importance of independent play and learning to help shape a child’s development and prospects, hence their adult lives. When interviewing Tristan, he encapsulated this idea by saying “if we control the way they [children] think, we control their development and we don’t get new ideas or concepts.” Furthermore, Tristan recalled the “wonderful feedback” from parents and guardians’ thoughts on the space given its unique offering.
As revealed in the map in Appendix A, the Baltic Green is one of the few remaining green spaces within the urban density of the Liverpool City Centre. In the Strategic Regeneration Framework (SRF), it reports that there are now in excess of 14,000 residential units in total in the city centre core with a resident population of 45,000. In addition, there is a potential 12,800 units in the proposed pipeline across 31 schemes (Liverpool City Council, 2020, 8). Such developments are displacing children and families to other (indoor) play spaces or increasing the likelihood of them staying home. Although Liverpool boasts a wide variety of family activities, such as museums, restaurants, and festivals, such events include parental supervision as an integral part of the experience. Where do children have the space to engage in outdoor, autonomous, and non-commodified play? The Baltic Green was one of the few remaining outdoor provisions in the area that offered a versatile function for all generations. The destruction of such spaces promotes sedentary and indoor lifestyles and as discussed in the literature review this has negative impacts on a child’s health, well-being, and cognitive development.
In the Baltic Triangle, the fear of looming gentrification is already starting to create displacement pressures and a sense of community loss. The rapid pace of development has initiated a narrative in alignment with Karsten’s statement that the city has become “the domain of young, childless households.” (2016, 76). The Baltic Green embodied social interaction and community development, such activities are key to counteract community erosion and instead empower a community to build social capital. Drawing on the interview with Tristan, he shared how the space was very useful for parents and guardians to “grab a drink and cake to sit on the green and chat” in the knowledge that their children were playing in a safe space. When the space was dismantled local residents took to Twitter to express their outrage, one resident exclaiming that Liverpool City Council clearly did not care for “community” or “culture” (See Appendix C).
Screenshot on Twitter of @AskLittleAlan’s response to the demolition of Baltic Green (Source: Baltic Green Working Group Facebook Chat)
These spaces for social connection are particularly important in neighbourhoods. One would assume that such civic action would be celebrated by the local council but, in this case, it seems to have been punished. Returning to the interview with Tristan, he summarised how in his opinion Liverpool City Council saw “People are problems to be resolved not a resource to be harnessed”. City planners should perceive the growth of the city in a balanced and spatially responsive manner as a priority.
To compress the findings of this discussion section, it is clear that communication between the volunteer group and Liverpool City Council was not mediated in a productive manner. The evidence provided in the literature review attested that the Baltic Green adequately met the needs of the local community and most importantly the children’s access to urban nature. Despite the efforts of volunteers to install bins and ensure regular checks, there were still issues with the upkeep of the site. Yet, the ability of volunteers to prohibit the misuse of space is limited. Social control exerted on public spaces will not stop people who want to misbehave, if it were not at the Baltic Green, it would have been another open space in the city. Collaboration and communication with the Liverpool City Council prior to the dismantling of the site could have seen mutually beneficial outcomes for all parties involved.
6 Conclusion
How can Liverpool City Council more meaningfully shape a better world? By creating a city that offers streets, spaces, and facilities for all ages, abilities, and backgrounds to enjoy together. A child-friendly approach has the potential to unite a range of progressive agendas – including health and well-being, sustainability, resilience, and safety — and to act as a catalyst for urban innovation. Such emancipatory and intersectional elements of greening interventions were facilitated in the Baltic Green. This paper demonstrated this with the inclusion of primary materials including photos, interviews, and social media posts. Thus, the main argument in this paper deplores Liverpool City Council’s decision to dismantle the community-built urban park. The Baltic Green offered a space for children to interact with nature, engage in independent play, counteract sedentary and indoor lifestyles, and also an opportunity for community cohesion. In future urban planning and development plans, Liverpool City Council needs to better consider the needs and identities of children living in the city centre to create a just and prosperous city.
[i] Keyword search included public green spaces, child-friendly cities, intergenerational space, community gardens, playable spaces, multifunctional green infrastructure, and playful encounters.
Baró, F., Camacho, D., Pérez Del Pulgar, C., Triguero-Mas, M., & Anguelovski, I. (2021). School greening: Right or privilege? Examining urban nature within and around primary schools through an equity lens. Landscape And Urban Planning, 208, 104019. doi: 10.1016/j.landurbplan.2020.104019
Campbell, S. (1996). Green Cities, Growing Cities, Just Cities?: Urban Planning and the Contradictions of Sustainable Development. Journal Of The American Planning Association, 62(3), 296-312. doi: 10.1080/01944369608975696
Chawla, L. (2015). Benefits of Nature Contact for Children. Journal Of Planning Literature, 30(4), 433-452. doi: 10.1177/0885412215595441
Hadani, H. (2021). By 2030, 60% of the world’s urban population will be under 18. Are our cities ready? [Blog]. Retrieved from https://www.weforum.org/agenda/2021/07/building-better-cities-for-children-coordinating-within-and-across-city-agencies-to-harness-the-power-of-playful-learning#:~:text=By%202030%2C%20up%20to%2060,and%20health%20and%20well%2Dbeing.
Hart, R. (1979). Children’s Experience of Place. City University of New York.
Karsten, L. (2005). It all used to be better? different generations on continuity and change in s Geographies, 3(3), 275290. https://doi.org/10.1080/14733280500352912
Karsten, L. (2016). City Kids and Citizenship. In V. Mamadouh, & A. van Wageningen (Eds.), Urban Europe : Fifty tales of the city (pp. 75-81). AUP. https://doi.org/10.26530/OAPEN_623610
Nussbaum, M. (2013). Creating Capabilities. Cambridge, Mass.: Belknap Press of Harvard University Press.
Open Space. (2022). Retrieved 9 June 2022, from https://www.liverpool.nsw.gov.au/venues/parks-and-playgrounds/open-space
Oscilowicz, E., Honey-Rosés, J., Anguelovski, I., Triguero-Mas, M., & Cole, H. (2020). Young families and children in gentrifying neighbourhoods: how gentrification reshapes use and perception of green play spaces. Local Environment, 25(10), 765-786. doi: 10.1080/13549839.2020.1835849
Tillmann, S., Tobin, D., Avison, W., & Gilliland, J. (2018). Mental health benefits of interactions with nature in children and teenagers: a systematic review. Journal Of Epidemiology And Community Health, 72(10), 958-966. doi: 10.1136/jech-2018-210436
Figure 1. Aerial image of the Baltic Triangle (Source: Strategic Regeneration Framework, 2020, p.7.)
Appendix B – Interview Questions for Tristan Brady-Jacobs
Chronological overview of all activity related to the Baltic Green, i.e., when did it start, what date were the council threats enacted, and what remains on the Baltic Green today?
What were the original intentions (mission, goals, and outcomes) when you imagined the Baltic Green?
Can you recall some of the feedback and experiences of visitors to the site? Here I want to capture the diversity of users.
Having read the Baltic Triangle Strategic Regeneration Plan – they maintain the importance of public space to facilitate community cohesion and access to nature. They even comment that the ‘flourishing art scene’ ought to be celebrated. What went so wrong? Why was none of this appreciated?
Why do you think it went so wrong?
Clashed with the neoliberal agenda of Liverpool City Council
Was not in unison with the gentrified image of the Baltic Triangle
Simply an attempt for the council to assert their authority and deter other communication action groups from following in your footsteps
Appendix C – Additional Community Response to the Dismantling of Baltic Green
Screenshot on Twitter of @PinkElliefont’s response to the demolition of Baltic Green (Source: Baltic Green Working Group Facebook Chat)Screenshot on Twitter of @AskLittleAlan’s response to the demolition of Baltic Green (Source: Baltic Green Working Group Facebook Chat)Screenshot on Twitter of @JHESolomon’s response to the demolition of Baltic Green (Source: Baltic Green Working Group Facebook Chat)Screenshot on Twitter of @bettybrisco’s response to the demolition of Baltic Green (Source: Baltic Green Working Group Facebook Chat)
I go to nature every day for inspiration in the day’s work. — Frank Lloyd Wright
Cities should be collaborative creations, no? Various professions, ways of knowing, modes of action, governments, and the people that live there, work together (we hope) to build their city from their shared and often contested values. And we need to find greener routes to built cities for them to be sustainable. This mixing of different ways of knowing into shared visions toward cities that are better for both people and nature is the core spirit of TNOC. In this spirit, let us celebrate some of the highlights from TNOC writing in 2022. These contributions from around the world were some combination of widely read, especially innovative, and/or disruptive in a useful way. What follows will give you a sampling of 2022’s remarkable content.
In 2022, TNOC continued to lean into the arts — and specifically art-science collaboration — as a productive route to innovation. Such art-centered projects are reflected in these highlights. We also presented our third major event, The Nature of Cities Festival 2022. We continue all of these efforts.
In addition to our projects, we have grown to over 1,000 contributors. We welcome new collaborators and contributors. If you would like to join us in a project, as a support, or as a contributors, visit here.
In our writing we continue to seek the frontiers of thought found at the fizzy boundaries of urban ecology, community, design, planning, infrastructure, and art. Onward and upward, let us hope.
Thank you. We hope to see you again in 2023.
Donate to TNOC
TNOC could use your help. We are a public charity, a non-profit [501(c)3] organization in the United States, with a sister organizations in Dublin (TNOC Europe). We rely on private contributions and grants to support our work. No pay-wall exists in front of TNOC content. So, if you can, please help support us. Any amount helps. Click here.
The Nature of Cities Festival
TNOC Festival 2022 pushed boundaries for a new form of meetings: one that is more inclusive and less carbon consumptive. Check out various outputs of TCOC Festival 2022 and out other events here.
Key to us is lowering barriers to participation. Barriers of all sorts: the costs of travel and lost time at work, language, registration costs (we are very inexpensive and often free). And the the program is largely crowd sourced to reflect the kinds of conversations that you want to have.
Future events are in the works.
Roundtables
Patricia Johanson’s Fairpark Lagoon, Dallas, Texas. Photo by Michael Barera, CC BY-SA 4.0, via Wikimedia Commons
What if scientists and artists worked together to co-create knowledge? This could be in active co-production, or even just in sharing ideas about shared objects of inquiry. This kind of sharing happens relatively rarely — most people in art and science tend to work squarely within their disciplines — but more and more of us are trying to create useful spaces in which artists and scientists interact. As land care and ecosystem regeneration become increasingly paramount, more artists and scientists, and practitioners are dedicating their efforts to participating in such practices together. We are one, with multiple shapes. In the same logic, collaboration between knowledge bases is crucial to addressing problems that haven’t been solved by monolithic thinking, and may have been created by it.
As urban and environmental practitioners and change-makers, whether in the public, private or NGO sectors, we work to respond to the global imperative to bring more nature into our cities, with a seemingly clear understanding of the science that underpins the urgency of the current moment. We know full well that nature provides many benefits which sustain our increasingly urban lives. We also know that this nature is diminishing at unprecedented rates and needs to be protected, conserved, and even restored as a matter of priority. Acknowledging the need to act now is an easy message to promote, and at the strategic planning level, awareness, and advocacy of the need for action are at an all-time high. But do we know what this action entails at a practical level?
Politicians discussing climate change. Montreal, Canada (2015). Isaac Cordal
What will spur action? Recently some climate activists have taken to gluing themselves to or throwing food on famous paintings. There have been quite a few examples. Several activists were recently fined. (Apparently, no paintings have been seriously damaged yet.) “The adults aren’t listening”, say many young people, and it is hard to say they are wrong.
Are such shock tactics useful? Can they change their opinion (in either direction)? Are they directed at the wrong targets? This is a prompt that asks us to reflect on the value of contentious and activist dialogue at intersection of art, science, ecology, activism, cities, and public opinion. A common theme among many of the responses included here — across the YESs, MAYBE, and NOs — is a deep exasperation at our failure to move climate action forward. One thread is that such activism aims at the wrong target. Another is that, well, it may be absurd, but at least it gets people talking about climate change.
As societies and individuals, we only overcome such a system of oppression by recognizing it and dismantling it. Dismantling might require a kind of reverse engineering. Is that too slow? If so, is the approach to figure out where the wrenches are best thrown into the gears? Making us all look away from the larger machinery of racism is one of the racialized machine’s most insidious strategies for its own perverse resilience.
Of course, such oppressive systems do operate all over. The gigantic social-environmental system of racism has dimensions of colonialism at global and within-nation scales. In traditions where race doesn’t provide the operative hierarchy, colorism often stands in. Oppression has other dimensions too: religion and sect, gender, class, migrant status, and access to training and education, among others. Research on such things as the global extent of segregation, or the deep, lasting legacies of colonialism in both the “periphery” and the “mother country,” demonstrate the virtually universal importance of a structurally inequitable system that affects access to nature’s benefits.
Art and Exhibits
One of the things I learned [as the first artist-in-residence at NASA] was that artists and scientists have a lot more in common than you think because scientists don’t know what they are looking for either. — Laurie Anderson
In recent years TNOC has greatly expanded out investment in and comment to art and art-science-practice collaboration. This has taken the broad forms of poetry, fiction, exhibits, comics, graffiti, and residences of artists working with science teams. In every expression, we design to mix voices from artists, scientists, and practitioners together in the joined conversations about the issues we face. Here are a few examples.
The Urban Field Station Collaborative Arts Program is a virtual, community-centered artist residency brought to you by the USDA Forest Service, The Nature of Cities, and local partners. Selected artists engage with land managers and researchers to better understand, represent, and communicate about urban social-ecological systems through works of art and imagination. The program’s mission is to promote understanding of and engagement with urban ecology through art. The Urban Field Station Network understands cities as social-ecological systems, and this year’s call for artists focuses on the theme of connectivity.
Photo Credits: Edith de Guzman, Rosamaria Marquez, Genaro Molina, Los Angeles Times
To tackle the issue of urban heat, a group of 18 artists and activists in Los Angeles’ vibrant Highland Park neighborhood raised awareness of shade as an equity issue in an outdoor public art installation called Shade in LA | Rising Heat Inequity In A Sunburnt City.
In a warming world, shade equity is an issue that disproportionately affects low-income and working-class communities, people of color, and communities in developing nations who are more likely to work outdoors, rely on public transportation, and live in denser neighborhoods with a lack of trees and shade.
The Underground Sound Project is a collection of underground sound recordings made by artist Nikki Lindt over the course of the past year in the five boroughs of NYC and in rural Cherry Valley, NY. The recordings are made by placing microphones underground, underwater and even inside trees.
The Soundwalk is experienced along the trail in Prospect Park, NY. Along the path you will encounter features, such as a stream, old growth tree, soils, wildflowers, and many more. Via a sign with a QR code at designated locations along the walk, you will be able to experience the corresponding subsurface sounds. The soundwalk can also be experienced remotely with headphones.
As a way of looking at the intersections between people, nature, and cities, for SPROUT’s second issue we invited poets to think about the edges of the eco-urban. Specifically, we were interested in how poets interpreted what constitutes the edge (or edges) of city life with its marginalia, liminality, and transitional spaces. The contributions that make up the issue offer us a window through which to view the edge(s) as places of (re)invention and (dis)comfort—where the edge can synchro- nously signal endings and beginnings. In the in-between, the edge offers up a fresh, creative space—a space where things overlap and push us to consider new ways of working, seeing, and being in the world.
Essays
Devastating floods in Mumbai on July 26, 2005. Source: PK Das & Associates
With over 140 km of coastline and 480 sq.km land area, Mumbai is one of the most vulnerable cities to climate change-induced hazards such as sea-level rise, storm surge, and urban flooding amongst many others. With significant climate change impacts already affecting us, we need to go one step further than to simply suggest methods of mitigation and focus more on radical adaptation and change the way we look at development in our cities.
Governments and communities around the world are embracing Nature-based Solutions (NbS) as a major climate adaptation strategy. In order to address the challenges of the 21st century, we cannot rely on 20th-century managerial paradigms and must embrace new multi-scalar governance arrangements centering beneficial human relations with nature and reduce our dependence on technological extractivism.
View of Soi Ratchawithi 6, still from walk-through video shot by Bung, one of the students in the workshop (January 2021).
Video data gathering captured the spatial and temporal distribution pattern — the flux/flow — of the ecology of small lanes in Bangkok. We present this distributive architectural system of local urban ecological data gathering as fundamental in collectively addressing the twin crises of social justice and climate change. It suggests that we should stop seeing cities in terms of centers and peripheries, a residual concept of colonial metropolitanism, but as patchy distributive ecological systems, where every point in the system has value.
Maranna the majestic peepul tree Illustration: Neeharika Verma
Historically, thopes have been an integral part of the rural landscape, planted with fruit and timber yielding trees, and cared for by the local community. But, in recent times, there have been transformations to these thopes, especially in the peri-urban interface of cities such as Bengaluru, the capital of Karnataka. Our story is about one such thope that transformed from a grove of towering mango (Mangifera indica) and jamun (Szyzygium cumini) into a landscaped park with lawns and ornamental plants.
Breaking down the components of urban heat resilience, including heat contributors, impacts, and strategies (Ladd Keith and Sara Meerow)
Faced with the growing threat of extreme heat, cities everywhere need to plan for urban heat resilience — proactively mitigating and managing heat across urban systems and sectors. Here are seven key principles and eight strategies or urban heat resilience. Yet, compared with other hazards like flooding, heat governance, or the actors, strategies, processes, and institutions that guide decision-making for mitigating and managing heat as a hazard are underdeveloped.
As the clearly expressed will of the people vis-à-vis environmental rights, Section 19 will both constrain and guide legislative action. The amendment provides a floor below which environmental protections cannot sink, and all laws will have to take account of that environmental floor. Going forward, Section 19 offers important guidance to New York’s legislature as it debates a wide range of new legislation across a host of topics including eliminating structural racism, criminal justice reform, public education, transportation and energy needs, housing and development, and climate change.
As urban practitioners, it’s important to understand the significance of these city rankings and indices, how they may or may not be useful, and be clear and mindful of their limitations. In this post, we present the preliminary findings from our research on city rankings and indices, exploring who are the users of city rankings, and how they use rankings in practice. We also identify the limitations of city rankings and propose future prospects and recommendations.
One of the author’s favorite lunch spots, overlooking the northeastern edge of Seoul city.
The images in this series were taken over a period of seven years, during which I made frequent visits to Bukhansan. This is what a sustainable ecological culture means: It is not about sustainable materials or sustainable economics or sustainable political laws themselves—these all change with the winds—but rather, about figuring out an underlying cultural mindset that helps us to understand who we are, and how we relate to each other and to this living earth.
Singapore is one of the most densely populated cities in the world. Photo: Lincoln Garland
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? 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.
Distribution of home prices in areas within and outside of the 2030 annual flood zones. Data by Urbanmetry
As millions and billions are being spent on Environmental, Social, and Governance (ESG) innovation investments, my thoughts are swimming toward not letting our weakest drown in the coming floods. A fundamental dilemma of Climate Tragedies in old cities is the memories and history that will undoubtedly sink with it. Our institutions and leaders have a moral obligation to exercise their resources to assess the risks at hand and generate a response plan to minimize the impact to its citizens.
As we work to heal the earth, the earth heals us. ― Robin Wall Kimmerer
The Nature of Cities was launched 10 years ago, in June 2012. I believe it has been a success, with over four million reads and around 1,000 contributors. I believe it has been valuable in framing and propelling dialogue in its promotion of collaboration and transdisciplinarity that are essential to cities that are better for both people and for nature; cities that are resilient, sustainable, livable, and just.
It is the long history of humankind (and animal kind, too) that those who learned to collaborate and improvise most effectively have prevailed. — Charles Darwin
All four.
Not just the one or two we might pursue from the confines of one discipline, but all four, which can only achieved by reaching beyond the edges of our knowing to engage with someone else’s. Indeed, the wicked problems we so often talk about these days would seem to logically demand similarly rich approach to solutions — that is, transdisciplinary solutions that are as complex and nuanced as the problems.
The world is before you and you need not take it or leave it as it was when you came in. — James Baldwin
The three quotes you see to the right knit together, for me, a sense of we can achieve if we (1) seek inspiration in nature; (2) share, collaborate, and innovate with each other; and (3) are fierce with ourselves about the imperative of progress. These ideas have been driving forces in the ongoing evolution of TNOC.
We have published almost 1,300 essays and roundtables in these 10 years, and worked on a variety of projects. I believe that all work at TNOC has great value; the 30 pieces highlighted here represent a selection that were particularly widely read, singular, or key in some way. There are many others that could easily have made this list.
Onward and upward, we can hope. In our work we continue to seek the frontiers of thought and action found at the fizzy boundaries of science. practice, community, design, planning, infrastructure, and art.
Thank you for participating with us over 10 years. Let’s continue to collaborate and act for progress.
* * *
Ten years ago, the birth of TNOC was fired by conversations with many people, but two in particular: Mike Houck in Portland, and Erika Svendsen in New York. From Houck, I received his passion about fierce activism in service of a nature that was right outside the door; an urban nature that wasn’t many miles away, accessible to only a few, but right outside. The idea of accessible nature nearby is foundational to any concept of urban environmental justice. From Erika, I was moved by the idea of people working together in community to create and steward the natural work around them. An urban environment that centers both nature and people is key to any real progress in green and livable cities. Erika, Lindsay Cambell, and Liza Paqueo of the the US Forest Service are among TNOC’s greatest friends.
There are many more people I appreciate for influencing what TNOC has become, growing from 12 writers to over 1,000. First to mention is our board: Mike Houck (Portland); Martha Fajardo (Bogotá); Mark Rowe (Toronto); Marcus Collier (Dublin); Siobhán McQuaid (Dublin); Chantal van Ham (Brussels); Gilles Lecuir (Paris); Pippin Anderson (Cape Town); and Huda Shaka (Dubai) — plus former board members Thomas Elmqvist (Stockholm); Rodolpho Ramina (Curitiba); Valerie Gwinner (Washington/Vaison du Romain); and David Tittle (London). A million thanks also to remarkable core TNOCers M’Lisa Colbert, Patrick Lydon, Carmen Bouyer, Claudia Mistelli, Karen Tsugawa, and Emmalee Barnett.
Finally, thank you to all our sponsors and partners. You can see who they are at the footer of this page.
Donate to TNOC
TNOC is a public charity, a non-profit [501(c)3] organization in the United States, with a sister organization in Dublin (TNOC Europe). We rely on private contributions and grants to support our work, and to demonstrate grassroots support to our organizational funders. No pay-wall exists in front of TNOC content. So, if you can, we could use your help. Click here to donate.
The Nature of Cities Festival
We have presented three large global events at TNOC, starting with TNOC Summit in Paris in 2019. Two versions of an entirely virtual TNOC Festival followed in 2021 and 2022. The common thread in the three was a commitment to having many different ways of knowing and modes of action all at the same meeting. We also, especially in the virtual Festivals, tried to make sure that everyone could participate to disrupt the notion that international urban meetings were only available to the people who can afford them. Key to us is lowering barriers to participation.
Graffiti and street art can be controversial. But it can also be a medium for voices of social change, protest, or expressions of community desire. What, how, and where are examples of graffiti as a positive force in communities?
In many cities, graffiti is associated with decay, with communities out of control, and so it is outlawed. In some cities, it is legal, within limits, and valued as a form of social expression. “Street art”, graffiti’s more formal cousin, which is often commissioned and sanctioned, has a firmer place in communities, but can still be an important form of “outsider” expression.
Corridors have been promoted by conservation biologists to restore connectivity of habitats and to facilitate the movement of plants and animals. The exchange of genetic material between spatially distinct communities has a fundamental impact on ecological processes such as diversity-stability relationships, ecosystem function, and food webs.
Urban green corridors are a good example of where we jump ahead to solutions before defining the problem. Before calling for the establishment or protection of corridors, it’s important to consider what kinds of ecological and social objectives we want in our cities. I think that green corridors have great potential because they can perform multiple functions. However, exactly what these desired functions are needs to be clearly defined first before guidelines for their design can be set.
We asked a collection of scientists and artists, each actively engaged in some form of art-science collaboration, how they approach it. Some are artists, some are scientists, some are both. All are interested in exploring a fizzy boundary of expression at the intersection of artistic and scientific approaches to storytelling.
Key to the question of this roundtable: can we be changed by interactions with other ways of knowing, changes in ways that would enrich both useful knowledge and our interdisciplinary practice?
A farmer took this picture of her son to talk about how proud she was to be a farmer and to train her children to be self-sufficient. Photo: Photo voice project
Sustainability is key to our future, and, as urbanization steadily grows, keys to increased global sustainability must be found in cities and how they use and are provided with resources. In this area there has been much excitement about urban agriculture, which for our purposes here we will define as the production of food in and near cities at scales larger than home or community gardens.
There are many potential benefits to such efforts, including the support of social movements; economic development; creation of local businesses and jobs; environmental education; community building; and local food security. But does urban agriculture have the potential to contribute significantly to urban sustainability by reducing cities’ dependence on food grown at great distance from the city? Can it produce enough to address food insecurity?
Are cities ecosystems in the senses in which we think of classic natural and ecological areas outside of cities? After all, urban spaces are connected mosaics of green space, biodiversity (including people), non-biological structure, biophysical processes, energy flows, and so on. That sounds a lot like a natural ecosystem.
But perhaps more importantly, does thinking explicitly about cities as ecosystems help us? Does it offer us any insight into urban design? For example, are our goals for cities—sustainability, resilience, livability, and justice—advanced by an urban ecosystem concept?
Many of the benefits of green roofs are appreciated and increasingly well-studied: stormwater management, mitigation of heat islands, insulation, biodiversity, increased longevity of the waterproof membrane, green space for enjoyment, and so on.
With all these benefits, why don’t more buildings—especially large ones—have green roofs? Shouldn’t they? Should all public buildings and large new construction be required to have green roofs?
Answering these questions obviously requires complicated technical and political calculations about the real and perceived values of green roofs, what they cost to build and maintain, and whether greens roofs are “worth it”.
Necklace, by Ligia Ceballos de Wiesner. Photo María José Velasco.
We are all confined to our homes—if we are lucky. Which is something, since most of us are “outdoor types”, “people types”. Can we find meaning, motivation, and renewed spirit for action in this contemplative but deeply strange time? We find ourselves wondering, doubting, planning our next steps or perhaps second-guessing our last ones. We are trying to keep all the parts of lives still stuck together and not flying apart.
Now that we have seen how our cities around the world truly function at their most vulnerable, what possible excuse do we now have to not emerge solely committed to fixing it? Maybe in searching for a new post-Covid “normal”, we need to act on the idea that the old normal was a big part of the problem.
In the creation of better cities, urban ecologists and landscape architects have a lot in common: to create and/or facilitate natural environments that are good for both people and nature. Mostly. Some may tilt toward the built side, some to the wild. Some may gravitate to people, others to biodiversity, form or ecological function, or social function, or beauty.
There are a lot of shared values. And yet, they are still two distinct professions, ecology and design, and so there are ways in which we may say similar sounding things but mean something different. What is something your partner in environmental city building, the other profession, just doesn’t get about you? And what would it take it fix it?
“Ice Receding/Books Reseeding” projects. “Cleo reading TOME II.” 300-pound ephemeral ice sculpture embedded with native riparian seeds. Photo: Basia Irland
As human beings who inhabit bodies made mostly of water, connecting to water as an element means connecting to a large part of who we are. Yet more than this, the artists in this roundtable teach us that if we pay close attention, water can help us connect in profound and useful ways to the environments around us.
Water is vital, spiritual, and restorative. It is a common that connects us all, to each other, and to our biosphere. The conversations here take various forms, from the performative to the media-based, from poems to sculptures to design, and from community and civic engagement, to methods of collaborative caring for water and for each other. We are pleased to have you discover these conversations with us, and invite you to further enrich them by responding to the work and perspectives together.
Jane Jacobs and Elinor Ostrom were both giants in their impact on how we think about communities, cities, and common resources such as space and nature. But we don’t often put them together to recognize the common threads in their ideas.
Jacobs is rightly famous for her books, including The Death and Life of Great American Cities, and for her belief that people, vibrant spaces and small-scale interactions make great cities—that cities are “living beings” and function like ecosystems. Ostrom won a Nobel Prize for her work in economic governance, especially as it relates to the Commons. She was an early developer of a social-ecological framework for the governance of natural resources and ecosystems. These streams of ideas clearly resonate together in how they bind people, economies, places, and nature into a single, ecosystem-driven framework of thought and planning
We have assembled a list of 90 must-reads on cities from a diverse group of TNOC contributors—a nature of cities reader’s digest. The recommendations are as wide-ranging as the TNOC community, from many points of view and from around the world. They are a reflection of the breadth of thought that cities need. And, as my grandmother would have said: “This will keep you off the street and out of trouble”.
The prompt seems easy, but it turns out to be difficult to recommend the one thing everyone should read on cities, and what we have created here is a remarkable and diverse reading list. You will likely think of other essential works yourself, and when you do, leave them here as a comment.
There has been a growing belief in the need for “equity” in how we build urban environments. The inequities have long been clear, but remain largely unsolved in environmental justice: both environmental “bads” (e.g. pollution) and “goods” (parks, food, ecosystem services of various kinds, livability) tend to be inequitably distributed. Such problems exist around the world, from New York to Mumbai, from Brussels to Rio de Janeiro to Lagos. Indeed, among many there is a sense that “equity” is not enough. Perhaps we need a more active expression of the social and environmental struggles that that underlie issues of equity and inequity in environmental justice and urban ecologies: one that is explicitly “anti-racist”, and which recognizes and tries to dismantle the systemic foundations of the inequities.
The Just City Essays
The Just City Essays: 26 Visions for Urban Equity, Inclusion and Opportunity was a collaboration of the J. Max Bond Center on Design for the Just City at the City College of New York, The Nature of Cities, and Next City; funded by the Ford Foundation. It has been among the most widely read publications at TNOC, and among other things, was the required reading of all freshman at Stanford University in 2019.
Art and Exhibits
Science does not know its debt to imagination. — Ralph Waldo Emerson
As COVID-19 began, The Urban Ecological Arts Forum at The Nature of Cities, sometimes known as FRIEC, started bringing to life virtual exhibition spaces, highlighting current exhibitions on urban ecological themes that would otherwise be impossible to experience due to the closure of cultural facilities. We have expanded this idea of a regular series or “installations” that traverse the shared frontiers of art, science, and practice. This commitment to art engagement has expanded to fiction, poetry, comics, graffiti, and, in collaboration with the US Forest Service, artist residencies.
This is our second volume of short fiction about current and future cities. We wanted to explore how to imagine cities. We asked authors to be inspired by an imagining, an evocative phrase: “City in a wild garden.” In this volume, there are stories of transformation, loss, and despair, and also stories of great beauty and hope, with nature and people that emerge from trials, in which people and the wild have merged in fundamental ways. Forty-nine stories from 20 countries are in this book, including the six that we judged to be “prize-winners,” by authors from the United States, India, and Brazil.
SPROUT is an eco-urban poetry journal that curates space for trans- and multi-disciplinary collaborations between poets, researchers, and citizens with a focus on geographical diversity, polyvocality, and translation. For the first volume, in inviting new work to reflect expansively about space, the contributors took up the call to carve out space(s) for themselves. The collected product reflects a multitude of poetic practices. What brings them all together is a particular attentiveness to the liminal, the in-between, the beingness of being-in-space, and acts of seeing out (or, indeed in) wards, into space.
@mohamedali_nizar_saleh | In Kintambo township, a porter who rites his rickshaw to pull it out of a large puddle full of trash.
The hidden flows exhibition emerged out of a need to enrich current conversations about resources, infrastructure and services in African cities. There is ongoing research, through the lens of urban metabolism, to measure and track how resources flow through our cities, in order to support decision making and policy generation. Traditional urban metabolism research approaches rely on extensive quantitative data. Gathering these data accurately is difficult in most cities and even more so in African contexts because of the way resources move – not through typically piped and cabled network infrastructures – but in ways which are reliant on decentralized systems and on private [informal] individuals and organizations.
Beaver Village from Undiscovered City, 2018- ongoing. Courtesy Julia Oldham.
This exhibition was originally mounted at the Queens Museum in September 2019, and highlights the stories, geographies, and impacts of diverse civic stewards across New York through art, maps, and storytelling. The virtual iteration which you are about to experience is provided through a collaboration between the Forum for Radical Imagination on Environmental Cultures (FRIEC) at The Nature of Cities, and the USDA Forest Service, NYC Urban Field Station.
The show features artists whose work aligns with the themes of community-based stewardship, civic engagement, and social infrastructure: Magali Duzant, Matthew Jensen, Jodie Lyn-Kee-Chow, and Julia Oldham. Through photography, drawing, book arts, and performance, these artists reflect upon, amplify, and interpret the work of stewards and the landscapes and neighborhoods with which they work.
Photo Credit: Edith de Guzman, Rosamaria Marquez, Genaro Molina, Los Angeles Times
To tackle the issue of urban heat, a group of 18 artists and activists in Los Angeles’ vibrant Highland Park neighborhood raised awareness of shade as an equity issue in an outdoor public art installation called Shade in LA | Rising Heat Inequity In A Sunburnt City.
In a warming world, shade equity is an issue that disproportionately affects low-income and working-class communities, people of color, and communities in developing nations who are more likely to work outdoors, rely on public transportation, and live in denser neighborhoods with a lack of trees and shade.
The Underground Sound Project, featured on CBS Mornings, is a collection of underground sound recordings made by artist Nikki Lindt over the course of the past year in the five boroughs of NYC and in rural Cherry Valley, NY. The recordings are made by placing microphones underground, underwater and even inside trees.
The Soundwalk is experienced along the trail in Prospect Park, NY. Along the path you will encounter features, such as a stream, old growth tree, soils, wildflowers, and many more. Via a sign with a QR code at designated locations along the walk, you will be able to experience the corresponding subsurface sounds. The soundwalk can also be experienced remotely with headphones.
Essays
Sense of Place Jennifer Adams, New York. David A. Greenwood, Thunder Bay. Mitchell Thomashow, Seattle. Alex Russ, Ithaca
A place may also conjure contradicting emotions—the warmth of community and home juxtaposed with the stress of dense urban living. Sense of place—the way we perceive places such as streets, communities, cities or ecoregions—influences our well-being, how we describe and interact with a place, what we value in a place, our respect for ecosystems and other species, how we perceive the affordances of a place, our desire to build more sustainable and just urban communities, and how we choose to improve cities.
Inner green areas. Photos: Maria Ignatieva and Per Berg
Hammarby sjöstad (Hammarby Lake City) is an urban development project directly south of Stockholm’s South Island. This is no doubt the most referenced and visited spot among Scandinavian examples of implemented eco-friendly urban developments. Today, the Lake City offers a more sustainable framework for everyday life compared to the average Swedish city but hardly challenges its inhabitants to lead a more resilient life.
Urban garden in Manhattan, New York City. Photo by David Maddox.
Vacant land has been overlooked for far too long. If cities were to invest in the social-ecological transformation of vacant land into more useful forms, they would be creating the potential to increase the overall sustainability and resilience of the city. Depending on the kinds of land transformations urban planners and designers dream up, vacant land could provide increased green space for urban gardening and recreation, habitat for biodiversity, opportunities for increasing water and air pollution absorption and many other regulating, provisioning, and cultural ecosystem services.
A 134 ha remnant native Plains Grassland reserve located 20 km from Melbourne’s Central Business District. Photo: M. J. McDonnell
The actions we undertake under the banner of “creating biodiversity-friendly cities” are about more than just conservation, they are about managing urban biodiversity in a broader sense. Frequently in our discussions of this topic, two distinct but interdependent ideologies tend to emerge. First, we begin by talking about how to preserve the area’s unique plants, animals and ecosystems, which is largely the foundation for the conservation objective in managing biodiversity. However, discussions are increasingly incorporating a second notion, which centres on our motives for managing biodiversity, and in urban areas these are largely expressed as a desire to manage biodiversity for the multiple benefits it provides to people.
The Green Cloud Project. Photo Credit: The Nature Conservancy
The Nature Conservancy (TNC), along with other key partners, launched an innovative pilot projec—Green Cloud—on an old building in Gangxia village, transforming its rooftop into a “living sponge” space. The project utilizes three-dimensional light steel structures that are simple to construct and have the capacity to hold over 420 plant containers filled with plants mostly native to Southern China. The original concrete rooftop is transformed by vegetation, which is capable of absorbing and preserving rainwater, creating a nature-based stormwater management system for the residential building, achieving a 65% of run-off control rate. As a result, a living “green cloud” is formed on a rooftop of Gangxia village.
Nature in View, Nature in Design: Reconnecting People with Nature through Design Whitney Hopkins, London
Poorly conceived design visibly divided us in urban areas from our wilds and contributed to our recent ability to see nature as something isolated from us. Yet reinvigorating our bond with nature is a challenge architecture and urban design are well placed to address. Architects and designers have control over our built environment; by changing the way we design cities and buildings to connect to rather than disconnect from nature, we can change our proximity to nature and shift our physical relationship to the environment.
In rapidly growing Indian cities, change seems like the only constant. Heritage buildings are torn down, roads widened, lakes and wetlands drained, and parks erased to make way for urban growth. Nature is often the first casualty in a constant drive towards development. Yet the street tree stubbornly survives across Indian cities. The lives of street trees are emblematic of the multiple entanglements that characterise the nature-society dialectic animating the ever expanding urban in the global south—entanglements that knit together the past and present, the secular and sacred, and the global and local.
Landscape-like eco building; Monterey Bay Shores Ecoresort. Designed by Thomas Rettenwender and Brent Bucknum for Rana Creek Habitat Restoration and BSA Architects.
During modern era of human development, growth of towns and cities displayed a separation between nature and human activities. This was not the case in premodern times, when human settlements either integrated or co-existed peacefully with the nature. The realization that nature embraces the city has powerful implications for how cities are built and maintained and for the health, safety, and welfare of each resident. Social factors are a key component of a viable and healthy eco system.
I believe, indeed fear, that until we are happy to really acknowledge the value of each other’s method, any real transdisciplinary engagement, so critical to urban ecology and more broadly global sustainability, will continue to elude us. Simon Lewis (quoted in Zoe Corbyn’s piece “Ecologists shun the urban jungle”), commenting on the failure of ecologists to engage in the social really, calls us on it when he attributes this to the fact that it helps make complex systems more analytically tractable.
In other words, when upacking a complicated multidisciplinary problem, we often have more fealty to the method that to understanding.
Colorful houses at the base of the Rocinha Favela in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. Image shot 2010. Source: Alamy.com
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. 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.
While figuring out the intricacies of our own body’s metabolism is no simple feat, doing a holistic assessment of something as complex as a modern industrial city, with all its physical and cultural microcosms, can seem daunting. With citizen-generated maps and diagrams based on real-life conditions and structured around a holistic framework, the patterns that emerge allow for both residents and planners to ask questions that can lead to both local and regional ecological improvements.
The same broad categories of infrastructure, environment, equality and access to amenities apply to all urban centres, almost irrespective of scale. Yet there’s something in—or of/about—The African City that defies easy categorisation. African cities, to paraphrase Soja above, are places where “everything comes together,” in an almost dizzying panoply of contradictory binaries. Black/white; rich/poor; chaotic/controlled; hi-tech/lo-tech, as though there is no space or appetite for the nuance, the in-between, or the subtleties that make up any urban narrative in which most citizens somehow locate, negotiate and recognise themselves.
A shared garden lot in Kazan (Russia). Photo: Nathalie Blanc
These are times of crisis. One might even think that the COVID-19 crisis looks like a an alternative expression of crises that are already building, especially ecological ones. Neglecting gender and the unequal dimension of access and decision-making rights would doom environmental movements to failure. Let us be imaginative. What does it mean to revisit what the promise of equality means in terms of integrating the importance of gender in socio-environmental inequalities?
41% of the total land area in the densely built city of Mumbai must be reserved as open spaces. A change in the mindset, along with not so radical changes in the development plan, can make this city very eco sensitive and a sustainable urbanized centre to live in. The ‘Open Mumbai’ plan takes into consideration the various reservations in the existing development plan of the city. The recreation grounds, playgrounds, gardens, parks, rivers, nullahs, hills are already marked in the development plan; we are recognizing them and linking them with marginal open spaces and pavements along roads.
Crow family conversation. Credit: Ifny Lachance(CC BY-SA 4.0)
One of Metro Vancouver’s greatest spectacles is its twice daily crow migration that occurs every dawn and dusk, 365 days a year. Whereas biophilia is a popular meme for urban and ecological design, rarely is biophobia addressed. Perhaps it’s easier to pretend the “undesirables” don’t exist, but that’s just not realistic. The “crows of Vancouver” posed a reality check on the consistency of my narrative. In this era of biodiversity loss and the rising consequences of an over-engineered world our most common species represent an opportunity to reconnect with the dwindling wildness of the Anthropocene.
As an artist, having the opportunity to develop a project at the scale of a city has been a remarkable experience. WaterMarks has grown out of a three-year engagement with the city of Milwaukee. City government, academic institutions, and many nonprofits have been essential contributors to the development of this urban-scaled project. Focusing on water, the project has three important goals in mind: address environmental issues as a gateway to sustainable development; engage communities as active partners; help identify Milwaukee as a global water center. Call and response is a means of dialogue: Physical interventions call out some aspect of the natural systems and infrastructure and, through community engagement activities, the people of Milwaukee respond to and activate the sites.
Fundación Cerros de Bogotá has been inviting children from Bogota and the surrounding region to paper our walls with their landscape drawings. Last year alone, children from diverse backgrounds sent us more than 2,000 drawings of Bogotá’s mountains and their surroundings. In pondering all of these children’s drawings and listening to their stories about their interests, we began to realize that these children would be our greatest allies in bringing about the changes we have been dreaming about.
Before becoming India’s information technology hub, Bengaluru was known for its numerous lakes and green spaces. Rapid urbanization has led to the disappearance of many of these ecosystems. Those that remain face a range of challenges: residential and commercial construction, pollution and waste dumping, privatization, and so on. Today, Bengaluru’s lakes are principally seen as garbage dumps and sewage ponds that can have either of two fates: one, be transformed into recreational oases to suit the needs of wealthy residential neighborhoods, or two, be encroached upon until none of the original shapes and functions can be traced. But how does this affect the lives of the people living at the very margins of Bengaluru’s beloved yet contested lakes?
I frequently lead natural history walks around the 160-acre Oaks Bottom Wildlife Refuge, Portland’s first official urban wildlife refuge that lies on the east bank of the Willamette River, not far from the city center. The mural overlooks the refuge and the tale of its origins invariably intrigues my guests. I certainly learned a lot by working with muralists, artists, building owners, foundations, and the public while helping create the 55,000 square foot wetland mosaic. When it comes to community murals, nothing substitutes for persistence and perseverance. But the results are worth the effort.
I live in a country that lives the dream of conquering the desert and building new cities. Cairo is the second largest city in Africa with a booming population crossing 23 million over an area representing less than 5 percent of the whole country’s land. New ideas such as green roofs could add a decent amount to Cairo’s green spaces, given the huge amount of abundant flat concrete roofs. The idea has triggered the government’s attention in the form of two national campaigns.
There is now a huge and growing body of evidence that green infrastructure or green-blue infrastructure (soil, vegetation, and water) that provides the setting for our cities, provides us with a range of benefits (also described as ecosystem services), including reduction in flooding, purification of air and water, summer shade and cooling, better health and wellbeing, places to relax and mingle, as well as food and habitat for wildlife. Having begun to appreciate the benefits of putting green infrastructure onto buildings, architects, engineers, horticulturalists, and others have developed techniques to do this.
Floating cities. Flying cities. Domed cities. Drowned cities. Cities that flip over once a day to expose different populations to sunlight. Cities underground, in the oceans, or in orbit. Cities on moons, asteroids, or other planets. Cities of memory, of surveillance, or of violence.
Speculative fiction in the twentieth and twenty-first centuries has offered an enormous range of urban visions of the future, many of them dystopian, a few utopian, and quite a few somewhere in between.
For good reason: Cities have taken on a new centrality for human futures.
What is the essence of a city? What is the kernel of urban civilisation, which, as we know, is engulfing the planet? Urban life is spreading from a minority’s lifestyle to be the predominant fate of human and increasingly nonhuman beings. As I thought in a first glimpse, being stopped at that glowing traffic island, the essence of a city is a constant immersion of everything and everybody in human affairs.
Saint-Henri, June 2020. Lucie Lederhendler (2020) Acrylic, gouache, and graphite on paper. 20″ x 16″.
I have been working on a mind map of emptiness, inspired by an old Wiccan meditation practice of gazing into a bowl of water and trying to see the middle of the water. In the middle of a large sheet of newsprint, I encircled the word “emptiness” and build outwards with interlocking shapes. This is the experiment design phase of my practice, so it is yet to be seen if it will become a work of art, writing, or exhibition.
When commuters once again gather at the metro station, they will join the sound of fauna and the fragrance of flora in an atmosphere of palpable connections. Perhaps we may insist on sharing that space with a revived sense of the need for a radical redistribution of resources and care.
We can imagine sustainable cities—ones that can persist in energy, food, and ecological balance—that are nevertheless brittle, socially or infrastructurally, to shocks and major perturbations. That is, they are not resilient. Such cities are not truly sustainable, of course—because they will be crushed by major perturbations they’re not in it for the long term—but their lack of sustainability is for reasons beyond the usually definitions of energy and food systems. So, here’s my vision of the just city. It’s green. It’s full of nature’s benefits, accessible to all. It is resilient, and sustainable, and livable, and just.
En tant que paysage patrimonial avec de nombreuses années d’histoire, il semblait fondamental d’intégrer la fragmentation du Parc Jean-Drapeau plutôt que d’essayer de l’aplanir. L’idée était de reconnaître que le parc est un produit évolutif de plusieurs siècles, récupérant le sens perdu et affirmant l’identité.
Retrouver le sens perdu et affirmer l’identité du parc
Les parcs sont aujourd’hui une collection éclectique de strates de paysages aménagés et construits issus de multiples époques[1]. Autant pour ceux qui réalisent des parcs que ceux qui les conçoivent, il est à propos de se questionner sur la conciliation entre d’une part révéler et célébrer l’historicité des parcs et leurs composantes et d’autre part appliquer des approches actualisées de transformation pour en faire des parcs qui répondent aux besoins du XXIe siècle. Comment considérer les patrimoines qu’ils contiennent et représentent tout en laissant place à la production de nouvelles formes contemporaines?
La célébration du grand parc insulaire grâce à la consolidation de ses rives et du cœur des îles Sainte-Hélène et Notre-Dame. Photo: NIPPaysage et parc Jean-Drapeau (2020)
Est-ce qu’une cohabitation des fonctions, des styles et des traces est possible et souhaitable? Comment répondre aux éléments de rupture et de désuétude tout en assurant une continuité identitaire du lieu? Quelles formes devraient prendre les parcs du futur? Ces questions ont informé l’approche conceptuelle du Plan directeur de conservation, d’aménagement et de développement du parc Jean-Drapeau 2020-2030 réalisé et dirigé par NIPpaysage, avec Réal Paul, architectes, ATOMIC3 et Biodiversité conseil.
La mise en en valeur des espaces et des écosystèmes pour assurer un continuum d’expériences paysagères. Photo: NIPPaysage et parc Jean-Drapeau (2020)
Dans les dernières décennies, l’usage public du parc Jean-Drapeau a vécu une crise. Un éloignement et une distanciation se sont opérés avec les citoyens au point de faire du Parc un « landscape of estrangement» pour reprendre le concept de James Corner. Celui-ci critiquait la technologie et le capitalisme qui contribuaient à nous éloigner de la valeur poétique de l’architecture de paysage et prônait pour une conciliation de l’histoire et du sens du lieu avec les circonstances contemporaines. «Many fail to even appreciate the role that landscape architecture plays in the constitution and embodiement of culture, forgetful of the designed landscape’s symbolic and revelatory powers, especially with regard to collective memory, cultural orientation, and continuity[2]». Il convenait donc, à travers le processus de conception paysagère, d’œuvrer à positionner clairement l’identité du Parc pour lui redonner une cohérence physique, refléter ses valeurs culturelles et le réinscrire dans les pratiques citoyennes. Après avoir placé la conservation comme l’une des principales orientations stratégiques, sept principes d’aménagement ont été élaborés : positionner le Parc à l’échelle métropolitaine et régionale, célébrer le caractère insulaire du Parc, mettre en valeur le riche héritage patrimonial, mettre en valeur les paysages aquatiques et leurs écosystèmes, favoriser la diversité et la connectivité des écosystèmes, assurer le continuum d’expériences paysagères du Parc et miser sur les expériences de mobilité pour découvrir le Parc. En découla le concept d’aménagement qui répond directement à cette perte de sens et de contact, soit : «La célébration du grand parc insulaire grâce à la consolidation de ses rives et du cœur des îles Sainte-Hélène et Notre-Dame».
Les trois grands gestes d’aménagement : la liaison des cœurs des deux îles, la promenade riveraine, les attaches entre les rives et les cœurs. Photo: NIPPaysage et parc Jean-Drapeau (2020)
Le parc et le paysage comme destination paysagère et sociale
À la manière des parcs de Frederick Law Olmsted, la volonté partagée était de faire du paysage insulaire réinventé du parc Jean-Drapeau une destination en soi[3]. Citons en exemple Central Park, Millenium Park ou Governor’s Island où la qualité de l’aménagement a été, dès l’étape de planification, prévue pour être une attraction locale et touristique de premier plan. Le plan d’aménagement du parc Jean-Drapeau vise aussi à créer du vide, à laisser s’exprimer le design du Parc dans toute sa créativité. Comme le soulignait Bernard Huet : «We are afraid of emptiness. Afraid of void, of an empty, beautiful space[4]». L’importance de cesser de surcharger et de remplir l’espace d’installations temporaires de tout genre (panneaux de signalisation, barrières, clôtures, mobilier, arrangements floraux, plateformes, etc.) de même que de viser l’optimisation des paysages a largement fait partie des réflexions pour valoriser le site patrimonial, célébrer les legs en architecture de paysage et surtout contribuer à l’émergence de milieux habités. Comme l’écrivait Kate Orff dans The New Landscape Declaration : «Where the spaces can be reimagined as productive landscapes that are not only pastoral settings but also active generators of social life[5]».
Clare Cooper Marcus écrivait que: «Two frequently cited reasons for park use are: a desire to be in a natural setting and a need for human contact[6]», un constat toujours d’actualité aujourd’hui qui a informé tout le processus créatif. Celui-ci s’est également appuyé sur les «guidelines», «design recommandations» et «users’ needs ” élaborés par plusieurs auteurs au fil des ans, dont les critères de qualité pour les espaces fréquentés par les piétons de Jan Gehl, (2012), qui ont fait ressortir les éléments qui font le succès des espaces publics (successfulfeatures) (notamment Whyte, 1980[7], Cooper Marcus et Francis, 1990[8], Tate et Eaton, 2015[9]). La réflexion a été particulièrement soucieuse de répondre aux besoins et aux habitudes de tous les usagers et des communautés culturelles par un engagement envers la diversité. Divers auteurs ont en effet étudié les différences culturelles dans les attitudes, comportements et occupations des parcs; certains groupes culturels préférant davantage des rassemblements autour de repas ou une récréation passive et d’autres préférant le mouvement et la récréation active à titre d’exemple[10].
Ces connaissances issues de recherches scientifiques et d’observations terrain ont été sérieusement considérées afin de s’assurer d’une justice sociale dans l’accessibilité au parc (égalité, équité, inclusion). Dans The Politics of Parks Design, Cranz écrivait que le potentiel des parcs à façonner et à refléter les valeurs sociales n’était pas encore pleinement apprécié ou compris et qu’un contrôle social a de tout temps limité l’accès au parc[11], un constat appuyé par Beardsley à travers la notion «d’érosion[12]». Cette lecture demeure plus que jamais valable et comprise dans la planification et la conception. Les aménagements proposent ainsi à la fois des opportunités de rencontres, de contact social et de rapprochement avec la nature, une complémentarité entre les espaces verts et urbains, une variété d’espaces et de types de paysages ouverts et fermés qui permet des activités dynamiques et statiques, récréatives et passives. À l’instar des écrits de Jean-Marc Besse[13], le plan d’aménagement considère le paysage avant tout comme une expérience, une manière d’être, d’y être impliqué pratiquement, c’est-à-dire de l’habiter. Les propositions visent moins à contempler qu’à vivre et sentir le paysage. La promenade riveraine de 15 km permettant de découvrir les paysages des rives des deux îles ainsi que les panoramas sur le fleuve Saint-Laurent et même au-delà est le premier geste d’aménagement clé pour renforcer l’identité du Parc et en faire une destination. Cela permet de réhabiliter la passerelle du Cosmos et le pont de l’Expo-Express et d’offrir un contact direct avec l’eau tout en bonifiant l’intérêt écologique du pourtour des îles.
La consolidation des forêts à trois strates permet une variété d’espaces et de types de paysages ouverts et fermés pour des activités dynamiques et statiques, récréatives et passives. Photo: NIPPaysage et parc Jean-Drapeau (2020)
La création d’un pré-fleuri ponctué d’œuvres d’art redonne la place à la nature au cœur du mont Boullé. Photo: NIPPaysage et parc Jean-Drapeau (2020)La reconfiguration de la berge, par l’adoucissement de son profil, permet la création d’une promenade riveraine et un nouveau rapport au fleuve Saint-Laurent. Photo: NIPPaysage et parc Jean-Drapeau. (2019). Projet d’idéation de réaménagement du stationnement P8 en promenade verte riveraine. Société du parc Jean-Drapeau.La promenade riveraine et un emmarchement à la Place des Nations permettent de découvrir les paysages des rives ainsi que les panoramas sur le fleuve. Photo: NIPPaysage et parc Jean-Drapeau (2020)
Une matrice verte comme structure de connectivité
En s’inspirant de la triade Bridging, Mediating, Reconciling d’Elizabeth Meyer[14], la stratégie d’aménagement voulait reconnecter les espaces, faire une médiation des vocations et se réconcilier avec le lieu. Influencée par l’approche «Process-based» d’Anita Berrizbeita[15], la conception s’est appuyée sur les formes existantes, le sens du lieu et l’accumulation des histoires pour révéler la trajectoire du Parc, augmenter la lisibilité des forces et faire émerger une matrice qui répond à la multiplicité, la flexibilité et la temporalité nécessaires à la vie d’un grand parc urbain. Aux qualités visuelles et spatiales recherchées s’ajoutent des notions de préservation, de performance, de connectivité et de fonctions écologiques. Gilles Clément posait la question : «Peut-on élever le non-aménagement, et parfois le désaménagement, à hauteur de projet?[16]» Sans aller jusqu’à proposer une pédagogie de l’herbe, le plan d’aménagement laisse une grande place à la protection des paysages aménagés et naturels et au design écologique adaptatif, en plantant massivement et en restreignant l’accès à plusieurs secteurs du parc. La liaison des cœurs des deux îles est le deuxième geste d’aménagement clé à travers la création d’un corridor écologique entre la micocoulaie du mont Boullé et les zones ripariennes de l’île Notre-Dame via un pont vert au-dessus du chenal Le Moyne. Cela permet d’assurer une connectivité des écosystèmes au sein du Parc et d’enrichir ces noyaux de biodiversité, où la faune et la flore sont particulièrement abondantes[17].
La matrice écologique : le corridor écologique entre les cœurs des deux îles, la bonification de l’intérêt écologique du pourtour des îles et l’aménagement de liens entres les rives et l’intérieur des îles. Photo: NIPPaysage et parc Jean-Drapeau (2020)L’axe véhiculaire de la passerelle du Cosmos transformé en pont vert et en promenade urbaine. Photo: NIPPaysage et parc Jean-Drapeau (2020)Creation of an ecological corridor between the Mont Boullé wetland and the riparian areas of Île Notre-Dame by widening the Cosmos footbridge and providing access for wildlife. Photo: NIPPaysage and Parc Jean-Drapeau (2020).
Un paysage hérité stratifié
Bernard Huet disait qu’un parc avait une continuité, une longue histoire[18], alors que Peter Latz affirmait qu’un parc n’était jamais complété, mais devait plutôt être considéré comme un processus continuel[19]. Cette vision d’agrégation qui a émergé dans les années 1990 se matérialise notamment dans les approches et les projets d’Adrian Geuze et de Norfried Pohl qui misaient sur les qualités intrinsèques du lieu comme inspiration conceptuelle. «This is one of the reasons why it is necessary to add different layers over a period of time in order to evolve into a ’public park of stature’; ‘because the already existing and intented qualities must be understood and not forgotten’[20]». En tant que paysage patrimonial ayant eu plusieurs phases de planification et couches d’occupation, il est apparu fondamental de tirer profit de la fragmentation du parc Jean-Drapeau plutôt que d’y voir qu’amalgame de choses disparates qu’il convient de lisser. L’idée n’était pas de créer un nouveau grand geste monumental, mais de faire état que le parc est un produit évolutif depuis plusieurs siècles. La prise en compte des traces, la révélation des couches et la superposition de trames ont été les bases de la réflexion. Les objectifs étaient d’inviter le public à se réapproprier le parc, de le réinscrire dans la mémoire collective et d’assurer une continuité tout en ajoutant une nouvelle structure et organisation spatiale. Le plan d’aménagement propose ainsi une matrice pour rendre manifeste l’existant et conjuguer différentes «associations de temps»[21].
Dans la considération de la valeur patrimoniale du Parc et dans la logique de la «conservation inventive» de Pierre Donadieu[22], l’aménagement de l’espace a privilégié à la fois la conservation d’éléments concrets du paysage et la création de formes innovantes correspondant à de nouvelles ou à d’anciennes fonctions du territoire. Le concept d’aménagement s’est attardé à enrichir la tridimensionnalité du paysage, ce que Jacques Simon nommait des «rapports d’alliances et d’autonomies de trois étages distincts de l’organisation de l’espace[23]». C’est dans ce contexte que le troisième geste d’aménagement clé a été imaginé, celui des attaches entre les rives et les cœurs. Ce geste est intimement lié à l’expérience de la promenade riveraine ainsi qu’à celle des cœurs historiques et écologiques du Parc. Les attaches comprennent une déclinaison d’objets paysagers (passerelles, quais, belvédères) qui permettent de décloisonner et de relier les paysages enclavés tout en offrant une expérience unique «à plusieurs niveaux» qui révèle et expose l’identité du Parc. Cette série de liens ponctuels et continus répartis sur les deux îles offre un nouveau regard sur des trésors oubliés et sur les paysages du fleuve tout en créant de nouveaux dialogues entre les ensembles autrefois isolés. Les passerelles sont inspirées des structures aériennes du minirail de l’Expo 67, à l’époque constituées de pilotis en forme de V inversé reliés par une longue poutre longitudinale. Leur matérialité dialoguera avec la signature contemporaine du paddock et des futurs bâtiments de parc, contribuant ainsi à l’émergence d’une identité architecturale ancrée dans l’histoire et l’imaginaire du lieu.
Les attaches entre les rives et les cœurs permettent de décloisonner et de relier les paysages enclavés tout en offrant une expérience unique « à plusieurs niveaux » qui révèle et expose l’identité du Parc. Photo: NIPPaysage et parc Jean-Drapeau (2020)Les passerelles sont inspirées des structures aériennes du minirail de l’Expo 67, à l’époque constituées de pilotis en forme de V inversé reliés par une longue poutre longitudinale. Photo: NIPPaysage et parc Jean-Drapeau (2020)
Le ménagement d’un «parc public d’envergure»
Certes, de grands projets transformeront l’image, la mobilité et l’expérience du parc Jean-Drapeau, mais ils le seront principalement sur des terrains sous-exploités et des infrastructures existantes n’incarnant pas les valeurs du Parc. Nous ne sommes plus à l’heure de l’invention d’un nouveau paysage, mais à celle de prendre soin de notre territoire, de le lire, de le repenser et de le valoriser. Comme l’exprimait si bien Thierry Paquot : «Il faut inventer un ménagement des gens, des lieux et des choses[24]». Le parc Jean-Drapeau n’est pas et ne sera pas une esthétique unifiée et finale, mais un amalgame cohérent de formes héritées qui s’adapteront à de nouvelles préoccupations environnementales et pratiques sociales. C’est là que résidera l’innovation et que se concrétisera l’identité retrouvée et rehaussée du parc Jean-Drapeau. C’est en privilégiant les superpositions, les connexions et les médiations qu’aura lieu la réémergence d’un grand parc urbain aspirant à devenir un «parc public d’envergure».
[1] Cet article est une version plus détaillée de l’article : Jonathan Cha (2022), « Superpositions, connexions et méditations, la réémergence d’un grand parc urbain », p. 35-37, Paysages, no-17.
[2] James Corner (1991), « Theory in Crisis » in Simon Swaffield, Theory in Landscape Architecture, Philadelphie, University of Pennsylania Press, p. 20-21.
[3] Alexander Garvin (2011), « Park development », in Public Parks. The key to livable communities, New York et Londres, W. W. Norton & Company, p. 58.
[4] Bernard Huet (1995) [1993] « Park design and continuity », in Martin Knuijt, Hans Ophuis, Peter van Saane et David Louwerse, ModernParkDesign. RecentTrends, Bussum, Thoth Publishers, p. 21.
[5] Kate Orff (2016), « Urban Ecology as activism », in Landscape Architectural Foundation, New Landscape Declaration, Los Angeles, Rare Bird Booksp, p. 77-79.
[6] Clare Cooper Marcus et Carolyn Francis (1990), People Places. Design guidelines for Urban Open Space, New York, Van Nostrand Reinhold, p. 71.
[7] William H. Whyte (1980), The Social Life of Small Urban Spaces, Washington, The Conservation Foundation, 125 p.
[8] Clare Cooper Marcus et Carolyn Francis (1990), People Places. Design Guidelines for Urban Open Space, New York, Van Nostrand Reinhold, 295 p.
[9] Alan Tate et Marcella Eaton (2015), Great City Parks, New York, Routledge, 332 p.
[10] Halil Özgüner (2011), “Cultural Differences in Attitudes towards Urban Parks and Green Spaces”, LandscapeResearch, Vol. 36, no-5, p. 599-620.
[11] Galen Cranz (1982), The Politics of Public Parks. A History of Urban Parks in America, Cambridge, The MIT Press, 347 p.
[12] John Beardsley (2007), « Conflict and Erosion : The Contemporary Public Life of Large Parks » in Julia Czerniak et James Corner, Large Parks, New York, Princeton Architectural Press, p. 199-213.
[13] Jean-Marc Besse (200), “Le paysage et les discours contemporains: Prolégomènes” in J.-B. Brisson (dir.), Le jardinier, l’artiste et l’ingénieur, Paris, Les Éditions de l’Imprimeur, p. 71-89.
[14] Elizabeth Meyer, « Uncertain Parks : Disturbed Sites, Citizens, and Risk Society”, in Czerniak et Hargreaves, op.cit. : 59-85.
[15] Anita Berrizbeitia, « Re-placing Process » in Czerniak et Hargreaves, op.cit. : 175-197.
[16] Gilles Clément (2006), Où est l’herbe?, Arles, Actes Sud, 159 p.
[17] Pour plus de détails, voir Jonathan Cha (2021), « La réinvention du parc Jean-Drapeau : un nouveau parc plus accessible, diversifié, public, et vert » , The Nature of Cities, 18 octobre : https://www.thenatureofcities.com/2021/10/18/la-reinvention-du-parc-jean-drapeau-un-nouveau-parc-plus-accessible-diversifie-public-et-vert/.
[18] Knuijt, Ophuis, van Saane et Louwerse (1995) [1993], « Time, space and landscape », op.cit. : 83.
[19] Knuijt, Ophuis, van Saane et Louwerse (1995) [1993], « A park est un parc is een park ist ein Park », op.cit : 30.
[20] Knuijt, Ophuis, van Saane et Louwerse (1995) [1993], « Continous change or changing continuity », op.cit. : 34.
[21] Knuijt, Ophuis, van Saane et Louwerse (1995) [1993], « Time, space and landscape », op.cit. : 84.
[22] Pierre Donadieu (1994), « Pour une conservation inventive des paysages » in Augustin Berque et al, Cinq proposition pour une théorie du paysage, Paris, Éditions Champ Vallon, p. 52-81.
[23] Des surfaces (0 à 2 mètres) à l’organisation topographique et végétale (2 à 8 mètres) jusqu’au massif forestier (8 à 20 mètres) Jacques Simon (1980), Les parcs actuels, (Ser. Aménagement des espaces extérieurs, no-13). Espaces ouverts, 127 p.
[24] « Thierry Paquot, « Il faut inventer un ménagement des gens, des lieux et des choses ». Entrevue avec Thierry Paquot, Philosophie magazine, 19 mars 2014.
* * *
The Conceptual Approach of the Parc Jean-Drapeau Conservation, Planning, and Development Master Plan 2020-2030
As a heritage landscape with many years of history, it seemed fundamental to incorporate the fragmentation of Parc Jean-Drapeau rather than trying to smooth it out. The idea was to acknowledge that the park is an evolving product of several centuries, recovering lost meaning and affirming identity.
Today’s parks are an eclectic collection of layers of landscapes built and developed from multiple eras. For both park makers and park designers, it is appropriate to question the balance between revealing and celebrating the historicity of parks and their components and applying updated approaches to transformation to make them responsive to the needs of the 21st century. How can we consider the heritage they contain and represent while leaving room for the production of new contemporary forms? Is a cohabitation of functions, styles, and traces possible and desirable? How can we respond to the elements of rupture and obsolescence while ensuring a continuity of identity for the site? What forms should the parks of the future take?
The celebration of the great island park through the consolidation of its shores and the heart of the islands of Sainte-Hélène and Notre-Dame. Photo: NIPPaysage and Parc Jean-Drapeau (2020).
These questions informed the conceptual approach of the Master Plan for the Conservation, Planning, and Development of Parc Jean-Drapeau 2020-2030, produced and directed by NIPpaysage, with Réal Paul, architects, ATOMIC3, and Biodiversité conseil.
The enhancement of spaces and ecosystems to ensure a continuum of landscape experiences. Photo: NIPPaysage and Parc Jean-Drapeau (2020).
In recent decades, the public use of Jean Drapeau Park has been in crisis. A distancing and estrangement from citizens have occurred to the point of making the park a “landscape of estrangement” to use James Corner’s concept. Corner criticized technology and capitalism for distancing us from the poetic value of landscape architecture and advocated a reconciliation of the history and meaning of place with contemporary circumstances. “Many fail to even appreciate the role that landscape architecture plays in the constitution and embodiment of culture, forgetful of the designed landscape’s symbolic and revelatory powers, especially with regard to collective memory, cultural orientation, and continuity. It was, therefore, necessary, through the landscape design process, to clearly position the Park’s identity in order to give it physical coherence, reflect its cultural values, and reintegrate it into the practices of citizens. After identifying conservation as one of the main strategic orientations, seven planning principles were developed: positioning the Park on a metropolitan and regional scale, celebrating the Park’s island character, highlighting its rich heritage, emphasizing the aquatic landscapes and their ecosystems, promoting ecosystem diversity and connectivity, ensuring a continuum of landscape experiences in the Park, and focusing on mobility experiences as a means of exploring the Park. The concept of development that directly responds to this loss of meaning and contact is: “The celebration of the great island park through the consolidation of its shores and the heart of St. Helen’s and Notre Dame Islands.
The three major development actions: linking the hearts of the two islands, the riverside promenade, and the links between the shores and the hearts. Photo: NIPPaysage and Parc Jean-Drapeau (2020).
The park and landscape as a landscape and social destination
In the manner of Frederick Law Olmsted’s parks, the shared desire was to make the reinvented island landscape of Jean Drapeau Park a destination in itself. Examples include Central Park, Millennium Park, and Governor’s Island, where the quality of the design was intended from the planning stage to be a major local and tourist attraction. The development plan for Parc Jean-Drapeau also aims to create emptiness, to let the Park’s design express itself in all its creativity. As Bernard Huet pointed out: “We are afraid of emptiness. Afraid of void, of an empty, beautiful space. The importance of not overloading and filling the space with temporary installations of all kinds (signs, barriers, fences, furniture, floral arrangements, platforms, etc.) as well as aiming to optimize the landscapes has been a major part of the reflections to enhance the heritage site, celebrate the legacies of landscape architecture and especially contribute to the emergence of inhabited environments. As Kate Orff wrote in The New Landscape Declaration: “Where the spaces can be reimagined as productive landscapes that are not only pastoral settings but also active generators of social life.
Clare Cooper Marcus wrote that: “Two frequently cited reasons for park use are: a desire to be in a natural setting and a need for human contact”, an observation that is still valid today and that informed the entire creative process. This process was also based on the “guidelines”, “design recommendations” and “users’ needs” developed by several authors over the years, including Jan Gehl’s quality criteria for spaces frequented by pedestrians (2012), which highlighted the elements that make public spaces successful (notably Whyte, 1980, Cooper Marcus and Francis, 1990, Tate and Eaton, 2015). The thinking has been particularly concerned with meeting the needs and habits of all users and cultural communities through a commitment to diversity. Various authors have indeed studied cultural differences in attitudes, behaviors, and occupations of parks; some cultural groups prefer more meal gatherings or passive recreation, and others prefer movement and active recreation as examples.
These insights from scientific research and field observations have been seriously considered to ensure social justice in park accessibility (equality, equity, inclusion). In The Politics of Parks Design, Cranz wrote that the potential of parks to shape and reflect social values is not yet fully appreciated or understood and that social control has historically limited access to the park, a statement supported by Beardsley through the notion of “erosion. This reading remains more valid and understood than ever in planning and design. The developments thus offer opportunities for encounters, social contact and closeness to nature, a complementarity between green and urban spaces, a variety of spaces, and types of open and closed landscapes that allow dynamic and static, recreational, and passive activities. Following the example of Jean-Marc Besse’s writings, the development plan considers the landscape above all as an experience, a way of being, of being practically involved in it, that is to say, of inhabiting it. The proposals aim less at contemplating than at living and feeling the landscape. The 15-km shoreline promenade, which will allow visitors to discover the landscapes along the shores of the two islands, as well as the panoramic views of the St. Lawrence River and beyond, is the first key development to reinforce the Park’s identity and make it a destination. This will allow for the rehabilitation of the Cosmos footbridge and the Expo-Express bridge, providing direct contact with the water while enhancing the ecological interest of the islands’ perimeter.
The consolidation of the three-layered forests allows for a variety of open and closed spaces and landscape types for dynamic and static, recreational and passive activities. Photo: NIPPaysage and Parc Jean-Drapeau (2020).
The creation of a meadow punctuated with artworks restores the place of nature in the heart of Mount Boullé. Photo: NIPPaysage and Parc Jean-Drapeau (2020).The reconfiguration of the riverbank, by softening its profile, allows the creation of a riverside promenade and a new relationship with the St. Lawrence River. Photo: NIPPaysage and Parc Jean-Drapeau (2019). P8 parking lot redevelopment ideation project as a waterfront green walkway. Société du parc Jean-Drapeau.The riverside promenade and a step at Place des Nations allow for the discovery of the shoreline landscapes as well as the views of the river. Photo: NIPPaysage and Parc Jean-Drapeau (2020).
A green matrix as a connectivity structure
Inspired by Elizabeth Meyer’s Bridging, Mediating, Reconciling triad, the planning strategy sought to reconnect spaces, mediate vocations, and reconcile with place. Influenced by Anita Berrizbeita’s process-based approach, the design drew on existing forms, sense of place, and accumulated histories to reveal the trajectory of the park, increase the legibility of strengths, and emerge a matrix that responds to the multiplicity, flexibility, and temporality necessary for the life of a large urban park. In addition to the visual and spatial qualities sought, there are notions of preservation, performance, connectivity, and ecological functions. Gilles Clément asked the question: “Can we raise the non-development, and sometimes the disdevelopment, to the level of a project? “Without going so far as to propose a pedagogy of grass, the development plan leaves a lot of room for the protection of developed and natural landscapes and for adaptive ecological design, by planting massively and restricting access to several areas of the park. Linking the hearts of the two islands is the second key design gesture through the creation of an ecological corridor between the Mount Boullé wetland and the riparian areas of Ile Notre-Dame via a green bridge over the Le Moyne Channel. This will ensure the connectivity of the Park’s ecosystems and enrich these biodiversity nodes, where flora and fauna are particularly abundant.
The ecological matrix: the ecological corridor between the hearts of the two islands, the improvement of the ecological interest of the islands’ perimeter and the development of links between the shores and the interior of the islands. Photo: and Parc Jean-Drapeau (2020).The vehicular axis of the Cosmos footbridge transformed into a green bridge and urban promenade.Creation of an ecological corridor between the Mont Boullé wetland and the riparian areas of Île Notre-Dame by widening the Cosmos footbridge and providing access for wildlife. Photo: NIPPaysage and Parc Jean-Drapeau (2020).
A stratified inherited landscape
Bernard Huet said that a park has a continuity, a long history, while Peter Latz said that a park is never completed, but rather should be seen as a continuous process. This vision of aggregation, which emerged in the 1990s, is reflected in the approaches and projects of Adrian Geuze and Norfried Pohl, who relied on the intrinsic qualities of place as conceptual inspiration. “This is one of the reasons why it is necessary to add different layers over a period of time in order to evolve into a ‘public park of stature’; ‘because the already existing and intended qualities must be understood and not forgotten’.
As a heritage landscape that has had several planning phases and layers of occupation, it seemed fundamental to take advantage of the fragmentation of Parc Jean-Drapeau rather than seeing it as an amalgam of disparate things that should be smoothed out. The idea was not to create a new great monumental gesture but to state that the park is an evolving product for several centuries. Taking into account of traces, the revelation of layers and the superposition of frames were the bases of the reflection. The objectives were to invite the public to reappropriate the park, to reinscribe it in the collective memory, and to ensure a continuity while adding a new structure and spatial organization. The development plan thus proposes a matrix to make the existing manifest and to conjugate different “associations of time”.
In consideration of the Park’s heritage value and in the logic of Pierre Donadieu’s “inventive conservation”, the planning of the space has privileged both the conservation of concrete elements of the landscape and the creation of innovative forms corresponding to new or old functions of the territory. The concept of planning has focused on enriching the three-dimensionality of the landscape, what Jacques Simon called “relationships of alliances and autonomies of three distinct floors of the organization of space. It is in this context that the third key planning gesture was imagined, that of the ties between the banks and the hearts. This gesture is intimately linked to the experience of the riverside promenade as well as to that of the Park’s historic and ecological hearts. The links include a series of landscape objects (footbridges, quays, belvederes) that break down the barriers and connect the enclosed landscapes while offering a unique “multi-level” experience that reveals and exposes the Park’s identity. This series of punctuated and continuous links across the two islands offers a new look at forgotten treasures and river landscapes while creating new dialogues between once-isolated ensembles. The footbridges are inspired by the aerial structures of the Expo 67 minirail, which at the time consisted of inverted V-shaped pilings connected by a long longitudinal beam. Their materiality will dialogue with the contemporary signature of the paddock and future park buildings, contributing to the emergence of an architectural identity rooted in the history and imagination of the site.
The linkages between the shoreline and the core areas allow for the decompartmentalization and connection of enclosed landscapes while providing a unique “multi-level” experience that reveals and exposes the Park’s identity. Photo: NIPPaysage and Parc Jean-Drapeau (2020).The walkways are inspired by the aerial structures of the Expo 67 minirail, at the time consisting of inverted V-shaped pilings connected by a long longitudinal beam. Photo: NIPPaysage and Parc Jean-Drapeau (2020).
The creation of a “major public park”
It is true that major projects will transform the image, mobility, and experience of Jean Drapeau Park, but they will be carried out mainly on underused land and existing infrastructures that do not embody the values of the Park. We are no longer at the time of the invention of a new landscape, but at the one to take care of our territory, to read it, to rethink it, and to develop it. As Thierry Paquot expressed it so well: “We must invent a way of caring for people, places and things”. Jean Drapeau Park is not and will not be a unified and final aesthetic, but a coherent amalgam of inherited forms that will adapt to new environmental concerns and social practices. This is where innovation will reside and where the new and enhanced identity of Parc Jean-Drapeau will take shape. It is by privileging superimpositions, connections, and mediations that the re-emergence of a large urban park aspiring to become a “major public park” will take place.
Regularly, we feature a Global Roundtable in which a group of people respond to a specific question in The Nature of Cities.
show/hide list of writers
Hover over a name to see an excerpt of their response…click on the name to see their full response.
Marina Alberti, SeattleActivism can change the world only if its forms reflect its values. Activism wins when it is creative, not destructive.
Carmen Bouyer, ParisWe have many solutions to solve the environmental and social challenges we are facing today, but we are not acting much. This is nonsense. Citizens are saying we are ready for change, we are desperate, look at what we are doing… absurd stuff — like spraying mashed potatoes on a painting.
Bibi Calderaro, New YorkAlthough I do not advocate for violence, if shock is what puts the violence of Climate Change on the front page for a while, then I’d rather have shock.
M’Lisa Colbert, MontrealI believe we are in a state of emergency, and we live in a world where capturing audiences and increasingly short attention spans seem to be the only way to gain some momentum around an issue. So, why not glue yourself to a Van Gogh?
Marcus Collier, DublinTo deliberately damage art as a form of protest seems misinformed and doomed to backfire as the cynicism takes hold. But here we are, talking about it now and even though there is still a lot of cynicism, dramatic acts grab attention.
Tim Collins, GlasgowGluing one’s head or hand to the frame, or the glass of a painting while tossing tomato soup about is not the same as ignoring the environmental impact of anthropogenic, carbon-based climate change.
Stuart Connop, London New fossil fuel licencing is now front-page news and, it is possible that some people that were not aware of the scale of this new licencing are now more informed. But does this mean it is helping?
Ben Davis, BrandonFamous art pieces are recognized currency that will always appreciate, and emblematic of reassuring continuity, where their familiarity through media proliferation alludes to static institutions and inert dominant beliefs. They beg to be disrupted and problematized.
Edith de Guzman, Los AngelesVan Gogh is said to have sold only one painting in his lifetime, yet his works are among the most prized in the world. Contrast that with our inability to ascribe value to a livable planet, and all of a sudden what these climate activists are doing begins to make more sense, at least to me.
Paul Downton, Melbourne The shock value of the glue and food/paint splatter has been enormous because we’ve evolved into a society that values artistic objects more than living landscapes.
Chisai Fujita, KyotoMy profession is to write about art, but you know what? Screw it! Throw soup at art. In the end, maybe it is better than a nature art festival with half a million cars lined up to see it.
Alysha Farrell, BrandonThe actions demand a scrutinizing look at a system that places less value on the flourishing of life (real sunflowers) than it does on the fossil-fueled fetishization of objects in an im/material world. More extreme provocations are called for in a time crumbling under a proliferation of global crises.
Sumetee Gajjar, Cape TownHumankind, and especially those who have caused and continue to generate the highest levels of global emissions, unfortunately, do not care to see the links between their wealth, consumption practices, and the social and environmental predicaments other humans find themselves in.
Nancy Grimm, PhoenixDefacing famous art draws attention to the act, not the crisis, and centers on the activist, not the reason for the activism.
David Haley, Walney IslandHistory loves the romance associated with activists as they create memorable events. The stories in the books of most of the world’s religions, nation hoods, and social movements feature activists who needed to disrupt oppressive conditions.
Cecilia Herzog, Rio de JaneiroOn one hand, I love art and am shocked by this “vandalism”. On the other, I know that the message of the critical situation our civilization is now, is not reaching the public.
Cathel Hutchison, GlasgowIt is precisely because of the significant power differentials that exist between activists and climate-wrecking corporations and their compliant governmental allies, that we need to embrace a diversity of strategies and tactics, as well as work together with a rich mosaic of activists and perspectives.
Pantea Karimi, San JoseTo bring attention to climate change, we need more conversations, and more scientific facts to be shared through conferences, local community events, at schools by discussing it with youth, and through art exhibitions, which are focused on the subject to bring awareness.
Christopher Kennedy, New YorkHere’s the thing: the earth has already been so significantly “defaced” that I’m not quite sure we understand what shock or urgency looks like anymore. Or perhaps more importantly, how best to build empathy for the more-than-human world.
Robin Lasser, San JoséI don’t consider shock or violence a sustainable, engaging, or empathic strategy for anything, including societal transformation regarding climate change. Perhaps investigating our connections to everything ― living and dead, regional, and galactic ― has a chance of inspiring sacrifice, and love has a chance of engendering action.
Lucie Lederhendler, BrandonThese performative gestures of threat and violence are powerful enough to disrupt societal complacency in the face of the climate crisis. Science has deciphered what is unavoidably unfolding, but activists are shouldering the responsibility of shifting the paradigm from awareness to meaningful action.
Patrick Lydon, DaejeonI dig punk rock, and throwing soup at art is a nice punk rock try. What we need now are more compelling stories, not about the world we currently inhabit, but about the world we want to inhabit, and how we can get there.
Krystal Mack, BaltimoreWhen science needs a little boost to really get folks on board, everyone knows shock value protests are always a great move.
Claudia Misteli, BarcelonaArt has been part of human life since the very beginnings of humanity and has forged our civilization. Attacking something that is an inherent part of human life is a contradiction.
Nea Pakarinen, FreiburgThe message from the activists is loud and clear: nothing is sacred if we are treating our planet like trash. Rings true right?
Mitchell Pavao-Zuckerman, College ParkShock alone is not enough to change minds and make people act, but relationships between art, ecology, and activism can reframe how we see our planet and our place in it.
Cristian Pietrapiana, New YorkPersonally, I think that people and governments have to act now. if not ‘yesterday’, even though it might mean adjusting habits and making personal sacrifices in order to navigate the transitions needed to reach a more sustainable way of living.
Rob Pirani, New YorkBold statements that our shared heritage is at stake, whether it is our art or our shared planet, remind us that business as usual is not really going to cut it.
Baixo Ribeiro, São PauloThe climate urgency really calls for more radical solutions to get people’s attention.
Martin Rokitzki, FreiburgIt appears as if those in power are unwilling to redistribute power and wealth. In which case those among us, who are frustrated at the lack of transformational action will see sufficient cause to rebel. The risk is that it may not remain performative, which the recent acts by climate activists were.
Andrew Rudd, New YorkAgainst the increasingly numbing news about climate change which risks becoming background noise, that is already useful.
Tanya Ruka, Te Whānganui-a-TaraThe time for fighting over whether climate change does or doesn’t exist is long past. The most effective activism does something constructive to alleviate the issues around us.
Peter Schoonmaker, BeirutSo far, everything that climate activists have tried has failed to slow our global economic juggernaut. Doesn’t mean they shouldn’t keep trying. But art destruction looks like a dead end. Why? Four Reasons.
Ania Upstill, New YorkI don’t think this can be done effectively with scientific knowledge alone but instead needs to be combined with an artistic approach that appeals to our senses, to our love of humanity and its accomplishments, and encourages an appreciation of our place in the global ecosystem.
Stéphane Verlet-Bottéro, ParisAt the crossroads of institutional critique, action painting, and happenings, there is a performativity of the gesture that is carefully thought through: a new protest sport that blurs art and life (or rather, extinction)
Domenico Vito, MilanSuch forms of action, besides being wasteful and damaging —and climate change is not about waste but about regeneration — can be very counter-effective for the climate movement.
David loves urban spaces and nature. He loves creativity and collaboration. He loves theatre and music. In his life and work he has practiced in all of these as, in various moments, a scientist, a climate change researcher, a land steward, an ecological practitioner, composer, a playwright, a musician, an actor, and a theatre director. David's dad told him once that he needed a back up plan, something to "fall back on". So he bought a tuba.
Introduction
“How do you feel when something beautiful and priceless has been defaced?” asked the climate activist after throwing food on an iconic painting.
The “something” to which the activist referred was the Earth itself.
We have been talking about climate change for a long time now — the recent climate COP in Egypt was, what?, the 27th edition —but still progress, if you can call it that, is excruciatingly slow. We are running out of time.
Is science not enough to convince people to act? It seems not. One-hundred year storms every three years? Nope. 250,000 extra deaths and health costs of $US2-4B a year (an estimate from the WHO)? Not enough. Millions of climate-displaced people? Not even that.
So, what will spur action? Recently some climate activitists have taken to gluing themselves to or throwing food on famous paintings. There have been quite a few examples. Several activists were recently fined. (Apparentely no paintings have been seriously damaged yet.) “The adults aren’t listening”, say many young people, and it is hard to say they are wrong. But some new research in the United States suggests that people are indifferent to or slightly turned off by disruptive protests. Museums curators are upset, saying the the activist don’t know how fragile the works are, and museums are places of dialogue (which somehow seems to miss the point).
Are such shock tactics useful? Can they change opinion (in either direction)? Are they directed at the wrong targets? This is a prompt that asks us to reflect on the value of contentious and activist dialogue at intersection of art, science, ecology, activism, cities, and public opinion. A common theme among many of the responses included here — across the YESs, MAYBE, and NOs — is a deep exasperation at our failure to move climate action forward. One thread is that such activism aims at the wrong target. Another is that, well, it may be absurd, but at least it gets people talking about climate change. (Or does it?)
The prompt for the roundtable was “Are shock tactics such as defacing famous art useful?” For the record, this group, a mixture of artists, scientists, and practitioners (not a scientific sample!), votes like this:
Yes: 12
Maybe: 12
No: 8
I don’t know: 1
There is no consensus here, which is consistent with the hands-in-the-air exasperation most of us feel. Glue yourself to a van Gogh? Why not? Nothing else works.
Banner image: “Politicians discussing climate change”, Montreal, Canada (2015), by Isaac Cordal. It seems to capture the state of play fairly well.
Marina Alberti is Professor of Urban Design and Planning and Director of the Urban Ecology Research Lab at the University of Washington. Her research focuses on complexity, resilience, and eco-evolutionary dynamics in urban ecosystems.
Marina Alberti
Art as a Force that Changes the World: Why a New Imagination is Necessary to Draw Attention to the Climate Crisis
Activism can change the world only if its forms reflect its values. Activism wins when it is creative, not destructive.
My answer to your question: I don’t know!
What I know is that the image of two climate activists defacing a painting was hard to watch, it was a punch to my stomach, upsetting, and hard to understand. All that I believe in and all that I love put against each other. Activism can change the world only if its forms reflect its values. Activism wins when it is creative, not destructive. Symbolically the action did not make sense. There is something that the Earth and art have in common, they do not have a monetary value. Historically, art has been a form of protest. Why target art?
I say I do not know, rather than NO simply because I am trying to suspend my judgment and understand the action, beyond my emotional response. I do not condemn the form of protest per se. Each of us has a different perspective as to what form of protest we are willing to engage in and consider acceptable or effective, from civil disobedience to guerrilla warfare. But why against art? I know that the intention was not destructive, but the symbolic action was. Besides my emotional response, I have been asking myself whether the form of protest and its justification, the choice of targeting art reflects a cultural bias, a vision of what generates change that is of one community of the global north. How do people from other cultures relate to the image of climate change activists placing their survival to climate change against art? How would people of a future generation judge such action?
Climate change and protecting the Earth’s future are global problems. The urgency and scale of transformative action that addressing climate change will require are beyond what movements have ever experienced before. They call for a new global activism that connects places, cultures, and generations. Protest will need to engage a diversity of actors, expand its imagination, and speak a diversity of languages. Creating a global, pluralistic movement is not a trivial task. Protest is a multidimensional phenomenon that reflects the complex interplay between society, history, and culture. To be effective, the forms of activism that we choose to fight climate change as the solutions that we propose require a global, intercultural, and intergenerational perspective. They require imagining a future where humans and the planet cooperate. As a universal language and catalyst for transformation, art has the power to change the world and create a better future for both people and the planet.
Carmen Bouyer is a French environmental artist and designer based in Paris.
Carmen Bouyer
We have many solutions to solve the environmental and social challenges we are facing today, but we are not acting much. This is nonsense. Citizens are saying we are ready for change, we are desperate, look at what we are doing… absurd stuff — like spraying mashed potatoes on a painting.
MAYBE
It is clear that governments are not acting fast enough to tackle the climate crisis. Their responsibility is huge when it comes to implementing the systemic changes that can propel the transition to a solidarity-based and environmentally aware society cherishing all forms of life. Some actions we might expect now: unlocking massive funding to support climate action (just like in the case of a pandemic or economic crash), implementing dissuasive and persuasive taxation and accountability favouring life-sustaining practices, installing ambitious carbon taxes tightly combined with social redistribution measures, move indicators from the goal of eternal economical growth (in a finite world) to the goal of collective well-being expansion, and much more. We are ready for a paradigm shift. Do you see this happening in your country? Well here in France, in a very timid way. How to alert people and governments of our readiness to engage in a new society model?
In my view, it is not a surprise that climate activists would question places like museums. For many here in Europe, museums represent a form of archetypal repository of our culture, a form of paramount. Places that were important parts of our artistic heritage are preciously kept to inform our present. But one can ask: How are museums paving the way for a cultural transition to a desirable future? Based on which narratives and tangible actions? When targeting famous artworks all over Europe, this civil disobedience movement ― sometimes called “Splashtivism” ― is highlighting the level of schizophrenia displayed in such cultural institutions, mirroring our society as a whole. We have many solutions to solve the environmental and social challenges we are facing today, but we are not acting much. This is nonsense. Citizens are saying we are ready for change, we are desperate, look at what we are doing… absurd stuff — like spraying mashed potatoes on a painting. In a way, they are using the language of absurdity that is ruling our world.
To me, museums also exemplify a form of relationship to art as separated from practice, outside of life, encapsulated in objects neatly preserved in a white box. This setting reinforces the myth of separation that is currently destroying the Earth: to be separated from the natural world thanks to our human genius, to be an observer, an extractor of resources, rather than an active participant, responsible for preserving healthy life cycles along with other species. But as much as I wish for this myth of separation to fall, I also value the fact of preserving heritage objects for current and future generations to learn from. We need to ask ourselves how to put this heritage into motion to spur new cultural forms that respect life today. A key element for our discussion is that the “splashtivists” are making sure not to destroy the art pieces. That aspect is crucial to the debate. Some are even working with experts to make sure they do no damage at all, like the protestors who glued their hands to the Botticelli painting in Florence. The chosen artworks are all protected by glass, a care not to damage that not all of their social activists’ predecessors had. From the anti-authoritarian Situationist to the British suffragettes, other activists destroyed artworks altogether to push their ideas forward. It is not the case here, showing that heritage and environmental preservation should go hand in hand. Another important aspect of the debate is that climate activist groups acting in museums are also involved in many “classic” civil disobedience actions such as blocking polluting industrial sites and protesting at the headquarters of banks or oil companies. But such actions receive very little media attention, so new strategies to get the public gaze have been envisioned successfully: they turned their attention to the artists.
I would like to propose a hypothesis. What if the activists were finally bringing those targeted artworks to life?
Bringing forth the ‘revolutionary’ aspect those artworks had when they were made. They represented shockingly meaningful, subversive, beautiful, skillful reflections of the state of the nature of their time. Leonardo da Vinci, just like Nicolas Poussin, Monet, Manet, Van Gogh, and other targeted artists, were marvelling at nature in its effusion of trees, waters, flowers, fields, montagnes, night skies… Along with Goya, Vermeer, Raphaël, and others, they literally dedicated their lives to the exploration of nature, also in the form of human characters in their diversity of expressions, revealing the dynamics and beliefs of whole human societies. While many of those artists were tightly connected to the structures of power, one can feel their rebellious nature in how deeply they honoured the intricacies of life in its various shape-shifting ways. It feels that this spirit of passionate attentiveness and respect for nature is loudly called back by activists, as they symbolically activate those artworks in support of the thriving of life on earth today.
A question for each of us, let’s imagine Paris, New York, London, and other cities famous for their museums. You probably know a few of their museums’ names and some of the art pieces they protect. Let’s imagine that for each of those cities you would also know the name of the natural wonders that inhabit them and that their citizens eagerly protect as important parts of their culture. On your trip to Paris, you would not only visit the Louvre (free from stolen artefacts), but also the lush, restored banks of the Seine, the fertile agricultural fields of ‘le triangle de Gonesse’ and ‘plateau de Saclay’, the hectares of allotment gardens in Aubervilliers (Les Jardins des Vertus) and of Montreuil (Les Murs à pêches) and many more. Remarkable examples of historical, ecologically, and socially significant sites currently under threat. Let’s name them and visit them as we do with artworks in museums. What are the nature artworks you like the most around your home? Go visit them with the kids, with your tourist friends, take care of such places and they will be protected. They don’t have to be as showy as the Niagara Falls, simple ones, we find beauty in the small and the common, that’s the Van Gogh painting “Les Tournesols” (the Sunflowers) right there.
“It is not the language of painters but the language of nature which one should listen to, the feeling for the things themselves, for reality is more important than the feeling for pictures.” said Vincent Van Gogh.
Bibi Calderaro is a transdisciplinarian who weaves research, theories and practices from art, education, technology and ecology, blending diverse knowledge fields. Her work circulates internationally since 1995 aiming to build ecological solidarity within and beyond the human.
Bibi Calderaro
Although I do not advocate for violence, if shock is what puts the violence of Climate Change on the front page for a while, then I’d rather have shock.
Yes.
“…The truth is that no human endeavor can succeed on a planet beset by catastrophic climate change. None of our values, joys, or relationships can prosper on an overheated planet. There will be no “winners” in a business- as-usual scenario: Even wealthy elites are reliant on stable ecosystems, agriculture, and a functioning global civilization…”1
These are Margaret Klein Salamon’s words, the young psychologist behind the Climate Emergency Movement (CEM), one strategic thinker and funder backing the last wave of shock climate activism. Salamon’s research gives historical context to CEM’s logic. Their theory of change and strategizing are based on the fact that anthropogenic climate warming is not only not under control, but it is getting worse. CEM claims that Climate Change (CC) needs to be made the priority #1 for all governments and people alike and proposes a WWII-scale veering of all societal endeavors toward climate action―no more emissions and drawdown.2 Prioritizing this ‘emergency mode’ is what might halt CC in 10 years of full-on, dedicated work. Historically, this mode can also orient individuals to set aside their egos and willingness to thrive on their own and create a sense of community that works toward a shared goal―climate action.
I reached Salamon’s name by navigating a few key global newspapers where this last wave of shock activism made their front page for a while, after which inflation, the midterms, COP27, etc. took center stage in unconnected-loop-mode-as-usual. In another report from the same coverage, I read Aileen Getty― “The unfortunate truth is that our planet has no protective glass covering.”3 Despite my reticence to quote the daughter of a fossil fuel magnate, I admit that the resources and attention they draw are much needed and done quite “softly” — their language, far from radical, does not alienate.
So, should a piece of art ‘suffer’ to get the message across at a huge scale and fast pace? Activists were actually careful to glue themselves to art with glass protection, and suffering is one characteristic that has been extended to the more-than-human in the latest ontological turn, but artworks have not yet reached the set of suffering beings.4 One can also extrapolate without much imagination and predict that any piece of art along with whole collections will “suffer” a tremendous amount when the museums that house them and protect them for the enjoyment of the public5 become flooded by sea level rise, something that will occur in major coastal cities if governments do not make zero emissions and drawdown their #1 priority, now. Along with the museums and the artwork, those who are suffering CC are the public in general who, depending on where they live, are already feeling the immense repercussions of CC denial and greed.
My reflections on this inquiry as an artist, researcher, and educator for climate action are multiple, as they should be. Dr. Salamon is more convincing than most politicians, and activists are the only ones risking it all now so that life on the planet continues. Also, behaviors that engage ‘business as usual’ from all fronts of society are not just denialist, they are plain suicidal as individual response, but genocidal and biocidal―so, criminal and violent―on the part of governments. Violence has that complexity about it―never plain, straightforward, or immediate. It is layered, reciprocal, and, although I do not advocate for violence, if shock is what puts the violence of Climate Change on the front page for a while, then I’d rather have shock.
1 https://margaretkleinsalamon.medium.com/leading-the-public-into-emergency-mode-b96740475b8f
2 This means no more fossil fuel licenses and the capture of carbon at an expedited rate.
3 Aileen Getty; https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2022/oct/22/just-stop-oil-van-gogh-national-gallery-aileen-getty
4 On the contrary and historically it is artists who have suffered and also struggled to make art popular. The “artworld” instead is still an elitist space for the circulation of art and in this sense supportive of the “status quo.”
5 I am here quoting some museum directors in the same coverage of this news.
M'Lisa works to assemble connections and collaboration between diverse groups in cities. She is also Associate Director of The Nature of Cities.
M’Lisa Colbert
I believe we are in a state of emergency, and we live in a world where capturing audiences and increasingly short attention spans seem to be the only way to gain some momentum around an issue. So, why not glue yourself to a Van Gogh?
Maybe. It might be helpful. Similar acts of protest like road-blocking pipeline installations and inhabiting vacant buildings until the city accepts your communities’ bid over the condo developer’s bid are all forms of protest that have been proven to work. The difference is that those were attached to real carefully strategized goals ― there was a plan that made taking that risk a useful contribution and a small step for the wider cause. In the case of this painting and other incidents like this, I worry they risk setting the cause back by trivializing it. I had trouble formulating my thoughts on this one, so I hashed this out with my family over the recent holiday. I believe we are in a state of emergency, and we live in a world where capturing audiences and increasingly short attention spans seem to be the only way to gain some momentum around an issue. So, why not glue yourself to a Van Gogh? As my mother said, it’s not his fault his paintings are so famous and expensive. He died penniless and in relative obscurity like a lot of great artists do. My sister said that at the end of the day it’s a performative act, and not meant to be ‘real action’, you’re preaching to the choir basically. My father’s take was one where he thinks good energy is being wasted. He’d like to see all those youth just run for office and go where they need to go to get the job done. Imagine if you had Senators and Bureaucrats who cared enough about climate change, they’d glue themselves to paintings, in our governments!? I think seeing things like this makes me more sad than thrilled. Climate change got more attention, but it’s a debased kind of attention. It’s disingenuous, fleeting, and ego-ridden. I have no doubt that the passion and the urgency are real in the person committing these acts, but I disagree with the outlet. Do something real to solve the problem you are worried about. In the process of the doing and getting your hands dirty ― whether you’re tree planting, working to indict companies skipping out on environmental assessments, teaching kids in a classroom, or painting the beautiful landscapes we all stand to lose ― you’ll find more solace, bravery, and good energy to do more, in actually working towards the change you want to see. As my mother said, don’t resort to destruction because something is being destroyed. Grow, create, regenerate, or re-build something, among many other more helpful options. So, I don’t agree that gluing yourself to a Van Gogh is helpful, but I think acts of protest that may obstruct or destroy may be useful tactics, but it depends on the context. Lastly, on the level of personal growth for these kids who did the gluing, I think this experience probably helped them grow, if not the cause directly. It takes guts to subvert standing orders and normalized accepted behaviour (even if we are just talking about museum etiquette), if that’s channeled somewhere meaningful, it could lead to something really inspiring one day!
Marcus is a sustainability scientist and his research covers a wide range of human-environment interconnectivity, environmental risk and resilience, transdisciplinary methodologies and novel ecosystems.
Marcus Collier
To deliberately damage art as a form of protest seems misinformed and doomed to backfire as the cynicism takes hold. But here we are, talking about it now and even though there is still a lot of cynicism, dramatic acts grab attention.
Yes.
In the early 1980’s, when I was an undergrad, a huge environmental issue on our campus was ‘acid rain’. Acid rain is brought about by industrial emissions of nitrogen oxides (NOX) and sulphur dioxide (SO2) carried and deposited across borders. This often results in large-scale fish die-off in lakes far from where the emissions originated. The resulting international transboundary emissions agreements have largely taken acid rain off the agenda but, in my university at the time, no such agreements were in place and some students got very concerned. To raise concern, several prominent students took to wearing motorcycle helmets all day in order to indicate the deadly threat of acid rain. Even though acid rainfall does not cause injury to human heads like a motorcycle crash would, a subtle parallel was being drawn. But it was too subtle. The wearing of motorcycle helmets by non-bikers was viewed by other students as indicative of misinformed ‘activists’ ― just a bit silly. Acid rain was, and still is, a serious environmental issue, and indicative of a transboundary issue that can impact regions disproportionately. Making a dramatic visual statement seemed to be a good idea, but if it is too subtle then it is doomed to failure and even ridicule. Cynicism can be a hard barrier to break.
At the same time in the early 1980’s we did not yet use the phrase ‘climate change’, rather we spoke of ‘global warming’ ― a phrase that was not at all accepted or understood, and for many (especially in cold, rainy Ireland) it was something to look forward to, perhaps! Some of us tried to draw attention to the potential future perils of global warming. However, we were mindful of the unfortunate helmet wearers, so we tried desperately to find a new way to make our protests: something symbolic, something dramatic. But all we could manage were some loud marches with a lot of placard waving, and then some lecture picketing and distribution of information pamphlets. Predictable results: no media coverage, no policymakers meeting us to discuss our concerns, no debates in government, no protest songs, nothing. This was very frustrating, and for many it still is. However, as desperate as we were to make our point, we would never, in a million years, have considered damaging art to make our protest. Art is a sacred cow, an untouchable, something that is universally appreciated and respected, even if not understood. To deliberately damage art as a form of protest seems, as with the helmet wearers, misinformed and doomed to backfire as the cynicism takes hold. But here we are, talking about it now and even though there is still a lot of cynicism, dramatic acts grab attention. So, this overtly extreme form of protest has achieved its purpose in drawing public and media attention to the climate issue, as well as driving more people to visit galleries, but… where to go from here?
The Collins + Goto Studio is known for long-term projects that involve socially engaged environmental art-led research and practices; with additional focus on empathic relationships with more-than-human others. Methods include deep mapping and deep dialogue.
Tim Collins
Head to glass – aye.
Gluing one’s head or hand to the frame, or the glass of a painting while tossing tomato soup about is not the same as ignoring the environmental impact of anthropogenic, carbon-based climate change.
Earth is a living web of aquatic, terrestrial, and atmospheric entities that have fundamental intrinsic value, benefitting all forms of life. Our world is a living thing yet it has no moral standing. It has resource value and ecosystem service value.
Paintings in a museum have intrinsic cultural value, and as a result, are of moral concern, the benefits of such objects are limited to human interest. Historic paintings also have significant exchange value.
Intrinsic means essential, inherent, or a fundamental, constitutional value of a thing; good in and of itself, valuable because of its existence, in its own right.
Moral standing is the innate ability to recognize ethical duty and extend moral concern and consideration to others. It is a more-than-human, interspecies condition of care.
Ethical duty suggests responsibility and care for people, places, and things that have value.
In the case of the Just Stop Oil activism in art galleries, historic paintings are instrumentalized as the focal point of resistance and media coverage. The glue-teams protest a global culture of late-capital modernity that has instrumentalized the carbon forms found in nature as the foundation of social, economic, and political expansion. The difference between our two examples is an assumed ethical duty and a degree of harm caused by instrumentalization. Gluing one’s head or hand to the frame, or the glass of a painting while tossing tomato soup about is not the same as ignoring the environmental impact of anthropogenic, carbon-based climate change. The first and second waves of northern industrializing countries would go on to become colonizing states. They are responsible for legacy pollutants and have not as yet made significant reductions in current pollutants or taken responsibility for impacts that will primarily impact countries (often former colonies) in the global south.
I have been thinking about how we got this way. I was eight years old in the summer of 1964 when my mom and dad announced, we were going to the World’s Fair in New York City. I have a vivid memory of that experience. I recently reminded myself that the grand displays were sponsored by Ford, Dupont, General Electric, General Motors, IBM, ITT-Bell Systems, Sinclair Oil, Westinghouse, the National Space Agency, and the Department of Defence (NASA/DOD). The whole family was besotted by this peek into the future. Imagine a man in a jet suit, plans to explore the moon and the deep oceans, and telephones where you could see the people talking to you. The World’s Fair opened our minds to computers and space travel and helped us see into the past where the oil came from that made all things possible. Various displays claimed we would monitor the earth from space and control climate from the poles of the earth. The sea would reveal new resources. Even at age eight, I was besotted with modern ideals and the potential production of new things, the promise of an exciting and ever-better future.
Over the past centuries, the narrative of modern development has moved across the world like a juggernaut with the viral idea that a fair share of continuous improvement to the quality of life could be had by any nation that opened itself to capitalist democracy. Resource development would lead to new industries, technologies, and global development. It has been the most powerful narrative in world history. It divides the world into winners and losers, those that have and those that have not.
Today we live in the information age, at a time of massive human-initiated changes to the planet, yet somehow here we are writing about outrageous gestures, that whet the appetite for TikTok activism that seek emotional and moral entanglement. Maybe we are all at fault, unwilling to criticize gestures that initiate no imaginative response while fulfilling the erotic desire for individual publicity. There is no absolution to be found in the enactment of this spectacle or in our response to it. So, I agree with the Judge in the Hague, who reduced the sentences of the Vermeer-glue- team so as not to discourage future protests. Head to the glass until enlightenment 2.0 emerges and life as we know it begins to change. Head to the glass.
————————————-
Otherwise: Head to glass, and hand to frame a potted history. According to Reuters, (Oct 27), two Just Stop Oil (JSO) protesters entered the Mauritshuis museum in the Hague, Netherlands with the intent to 1) glue a head to a painting, 2) glue a hand to the wall, 3) toss some tomato soup on each other. The target was a 1665 work by Johannes Vermeer. Since then (Oct 30) in Berlin protesters glued themselves to a railing surrounding a dinosaur in a Berlin Natural History Museum. And on July 22nd in Italy members of ‘Ultima Generazione’ (Last Generation) glued their hands to Sandro Botticelli’s Primavera at the Uffizi Gallery in Florence Italy. On the 5th of July, five JSO protesters glued themselves to the frame of a copy of Leonardo da Vinci’s ‘Last Supper’ at London’s Royal Academy. The painting depicts Jesus’ announcement of the betrayal of Judas, which the protesters equated with the betrayal of future generations by today’s global leaders. On the 4th of July, JSO protesters glued their hands to the frame of John Constable’s ‘The Hay Wain’ (1821) at the National Gallery, London. They also covered the painting with their own dystopian interpretation. In a Guardian article (July 1, 2022) JSO was involved in glue protests in relation to a Turner painting in Manchester, a Vincent van Gogh Painting at the Courtald Gallery in London, and a Horatio McCulloch work in Glasgow, and various other sites and works.
Dr Stuart Connop is an Associate Professor at the University of East London's Sustainability Research Institute specialising in biomimicry/ecomimicry in urban green infrastructure design.
Stuart Connop
New fossil fuel licencing is now front-page news and, it is possible that some people that were not aware of the scale of this new licencing are now more informed. But does this mean it is helping?
Maybe. Following the latest defacing of artwork (the black oily substance thrown on the Klimt masterpiece) the fact that we are discussing this here, means that, on some level, the protagonists have succeeded in their goal. New fossil fuel licencing is now front-page news and, it is possible that some people that were not aware of the scale of this new licencing are now more informed. But does this mean it is helping? I am not so sure … I understand and share the frustration but, whilst the underlying message is meant as a metaphor for how we are treating the planet, for me, the overriding message comes across as one of irreverence and criminality, turning many people against climate activists at a time when their voices need to be heard the most. This is, even more, the case with protests in the UK recently where Just Stop Oil campaigners have caused significant disruption to transport infrastructure. These divisive methods create more negative headlines (criminal damage, individuals missing funerals, etc.) than they do raise a positive message. This provides fuel for anti-environmentalism messaging in mainstream, and social, media. As a parent of two young children, I try to teach them to treat others (including the planet) as they would want to be treated themselves. To me, defacing art is the opposite of this ethos. It teaches that anything is dispensable as a means to an end. Indeed, following the latest art protest, the activists have even argued that the devastating effects that climate change will have, outweighs any potential damage to the paintings. This short-term ‘means-to-an-end’ argument is the very justification for why the majority of us continue to live way beyond the planetary means, and why only a small proportion of the global population lives in harmony with the planet.
Science and science communicators have done an excellent job in raising awareness of the challenges of climate change, but the planet is trapped in a stalemate between increased global awareness of the imperative to address climate change and a public majority divided between feelings of powerlessness and a lack of willingness to sacrifice their quality of life in order to drive the necessary global change. Politicians are stuck in the middle of this inertia, trapped between making long-term strategic decisions for the good of the planet and making decisions for the good of their short-term popularity in the ballot box. To change policies like fossil fuel licencing, there needs to be a shift in political will, and it seems to me that the only way to do this is through unifying public opinion around solutions rather than dividing it with shock-tactic awareness-raising approaches.
Scientists have a key role to play in this: evaluating and providing evidence for emerging solutions that empower people to make changes that balance social justice and environmental sustainability. Whilst both the COVID-19 pandemic and the crisis in Ukraine have been linked to significant tragedy, some of the indirect impacts arising from these challenges have done more for driving individual positive climate change mitigation behaviour than any shock tactic activism has managed. On my climate change adaptation project, for example, COVID-19 meant that air travel miles were slashed, but the project was still delivered successfully. Restricting travel, turning down thermostats (for those who can), and reducing consumerism, can all be positive steps to reducing one’s ecological footprint. Scientists need to be evidencing and communicating the impact of such behaviour changes in terms of global carbon emissions, to quantify the effects that both policy changes and individual behaviour changes can have, how this can be done in a way that minimises negative impacts on individuals, and the power of this change if done by a critical mass of individuals.
Is there still a need for environmental activism to highlight bad political decisions? Absolutely, science can only take us so far and there need to be mechanisms alongside scientific communication pathways that raise awareness of the impact of short-termism in political decisions. But perhaps this would be more helpful if done in a way that commands similar headlines, but is more solution orientated, is creative and respectful, sets the right example, and doesn’t impact institutions such as museums that, in my experience, are already advocates for education and awareness raising in relation to global challenges like climate change.
Edith is a researcher-practitioner, educator & curator working with diverse audiences on climate change solutions. A cooperative extension specialist with UCLA, she investigates best practices for the sustainable transformation of cities. She has a PhD in environment & sustainability, a master’s in urban planning & a BA in history & art history. She can also be found hiking, playing guitar, or creating art exhibitions that explore the human-environment connection.
Edith de Guzman
Van Gogh is said to have sold only one painting in his lifetime, yet his works are among the most prized in the world. Contrast that with our inability to ascribe value to a livable planet, and all of a sudden what these climate activists are doing begins to make more sense, at least to me.
Is it helpful? If helpful means influencing the conversation, then YES.
When I first started hearing about the various actions by climate activists targeting works of art, I was one part aghast and two parts perplexed. I was dismissive at first, wondering how disrespecting one thing could possibly result in respecting another. Then I heard an interview with Phoebe Plummer, one of the activists, and was floored by the articulate and focused responses. I began talking with some friends, colleagues, and family about these actions and quickly realized that while opinions varied greatly, reactions across the board were palpably strong. These activists were succeeding in breaking through the noise.
As an artist, it hurts me to see works of art targeted. But as a researcher-practitioner focused on applied research that has a tangible impact, I can’t help but appreciate that these activists are willing to do something drastic and stick their necks out to change the conversation ― trying to secure a livable future that is potentially even bigger than the preservation of art and culture.
The value we instill on art is notoriously arbitrary, and most of the time I find it to be either grossly undervalued or outrageously inflated — no happy medium to be found! Van Gogh is said to have sold only one painting in his lifetime, yet his works are among the most prized in the world. Contrast that with our inability to ascribe value to a livable planet, and all of a sudden what these climate activists are doing begins to make more sense, at least to me. The value we place on art is subjective, but the value we should be willing and able to ascribe to a livable future for all critters and habitats should strive to be unshakably objective. So why is it that we are witnesses to the value of art being inflated but can’t seem to agree that a sustainable future should be worth more than anything else? We are all in this planetary boat together and it behooves us to agree that despite our differences, we need that boat to stay afloat — if only so we can still enjoy what art and culture have to offer.
Writer, architect, urban evolutionary, founding convener of Urban Ecology Australia and a recognised ‘ecocity pioneer’. Paul has championed ecological cities for years but has become disenchanted with how such a beautiful concept can be perverted and misinterpreted – ‘Neom' anyone? Paul is nevertheless working on an artistic/publishing project with the working title ‘The Wild Cities’ coming soon to a crowd-funding site near you!
Paul Downton
How Dare They!
The shock value of the glue and food/paint splatter has been enormous because we’ve evolved into a society that values artistic objects more than living landscapes.
Yes. The activist shock tactic of being glued to the frame of a Van Gogh is worth it and will eventually help change public opinion regarding action on climate change.
On one hand, you have the climate of an entire planet worsening daily and threatening the existence of billions of people, and on the other hand, as a means of drawing attention to this existential threat, you have some works of art being ritually threatened with damage which, at its worst, would mean the loss of monetary value of an object which is nominally worth millions of dollars to its owner but which brought little or no financial reward to the original artist.
The shock value of the glue and food/paint splatter has been enormous because we’ve evolved into a society that values artistic objects more than living landscapes. When a living landscape is threatened with destruction it is dismissed as the cost of doing business but when an art object is agreed to be financially valuable the idea of damaging it attracts international headlines. The activists effectively pretended to damage some works of art? How dare they!
The asymmetry of the ‘balance’ in that equation is utterly offensive. One side is about maintaining the conditions for all of us to be able to live on this planet, the other side is about protecting bank accounts.
It is remarkable that some works of art have phenomenal monetary value, but that value is negotiable and disputable. It is less a recognition of the value of the artists’ work and more to do with the commodification of creative ‘product’. In World War 2, the Nazis recognised the monetary value of the works of imagination they stole from Jewish owners, but regarded the living, breathing Jewish population of real people as worth less than nothing. Thus, Jews were dispensable, the art they owned was not.
The bizarre perversity in the way humans think about value is made worse by consumerist capitalism and its transactional approach to social relations. That perversity is at the heart of the glue-food-paint-splatter phenomenon, and it is why such activism is useful ― and inevitable.
The same forces are at play in the (ongoing) history of slavery in which human beings are reduced to commodities to be made into slaves whilst their lives as living, loving people are dismissed as irrelevant. The only reason to pay attention to a slave’s well-being was (is) to keep them alive and functional as a kind of exotic machine. Slaves needed to take extreme action to change the status quo, e.g., the 1831 Jamaica Slave Rebellion was brutally crushed but two years later the Slavery Abolition Act was passed (https://libcom.org/article/1831-jamaica-slave-rebellion). The slaves are complaining? How dare they!
The same forces were (are) at work in the movement for women’s liberation. Edwardian women were valued for what they could do to maintain the lives, status, and power of men provided they accepted the roles assigned to them by male society. When Emily Davison was killed trying to pin a scarf on the king’s horse in the middle of a major race (https://www.theguardian.com/society/2013/may/26/emily-davison-suffragette-death-derby-1913), her death was seen as tragic but her actions as indefensible. How dare she!
When civil society fails to deliver, and the legal system makes it ever harder to engage in peaceful demonstrations (as it is now in the UK, USA, and Australia), people can become remarkably uncivil and resort to violence. Or they can throw some paint to make a point. I’m with the art activists.
Chisai is an art writer, journalist, and researcher of contemporary art. In the 2000s, she started her career and managed independent web art magazine, living in Tokyo. After moving to Kyoto in 2012, she researches contemporary art in Asian countries. She wants to connect and research it deeply in the 2020s. If you are interested in Asia, please ask her!
Chisai Fujita
My profession is to write about art, but you know what? Screw it! Throw soup at art. In the end, maybe it is better than a nature art festival with half a million cars lined up to see it.
Maybe, No. In order to answer this, I need for you to take a short trip with me, to East Asia. You see, before COVID-19, I would travel from my home in Kyoto to see exhibitions and meet artists in China, Hong Kong, Taiwan (please pay attention to distinguish these areas!), Korea, etc. once a month. There are two reasons. First, the cost of the Shinkansen (High-speed railway in Japan) from my home Kyoto to metropolitan Tokyo was similar to a flight from Japan to anywhere in East Asia. Second, artworks and artists in Japan are less dynamic and interesting to me than my neighboring countries.
In October, I went to Taiwan after the reopening of the borders. It was to see a friend’s exhibition in Kaohsiung, Taiwan. Apart from the exhibition, this friend drove his own car and we went to the “Mattauw Art Festival” in Tainan. This is a ‘remote’ arts festival, he said would feel similar to Japan’s “Echigo Tsumari Arts Festival”.
In Japan, Echigo Tsumari started in 2000 and began a trend of giant, sprawling rural arts festivals. Today there are more than 100 such ‘remote’ art events in Japan. The large festivals draw more than half a million visitors a year. Now multiply those two figures by a lot of gasoline, because when we travel to art festivals in the mountains, or near the sea, or into some other part of the countryside we need cars to get to most of these artworks. When you finally get there, most of the works at these art festivals have no deep meaning. Although they seem to fit in nature, you could say that ‘nature’ is greater than any of the artworks in these art events. That’s why we remember the beauty of nature more than artworks.
So we finally arrived at the “Mattauw Art Festival“ in Taiwan. I thought, yes, it resembles Japanese rural art events, but he said “I am sorry” when we arrived. Why? He might have thought that artworks were more attractive than impressive nature and apologized to me. But in fact, I think he was apologizing to nature. Perhaps he was sorry that he used much gasoline and polluted the air in order to enjoy such a remote festival?
Me too. After all, I got here on a too-cheap flight, in a too-much-oil-burning airplane. And all I can think is: do I take part in environmental pollution? Are not these artworks environmental pollution? Are we really satisfied to see such works? Are these works helping to change us, or which is more important environmental or satisfaction? Do we need to go see artworks by car or plane? Will I swim to Taiwan the next time?
The bottom line is that we unconsciously pollute the environment every day. All of us participate in climate change. My profession is to write about art, but you know what? Screw it! Throw soup at art. In the end, maybe it is better than a nature art festival with half a million cars lined up to see it.
Sumetee Pahwa Gajjar, PhD, is a Cape-Town based climate change professional who has contributed to scientific knowledge on transformative adaptation, climate justice, urban EbA and nature-based solutions. I currently work at the science-policy-research interface of climate change, biodiversity and vulnerability reduction, in the Global South.
My research interests continue to be focused on urban sustainability transitions, through collaborative governance, just innovations and climate technologies.
Sumetee Gajjar and Martin Rokitzki
Humankind, and especially those who have caused and continue to generate the highest levels of global emissions, unfortunately, do not care to see the links between their wealth, consumption practices, and the social and environmental predicaments other humans find themselves in.
Yes, it is helpful, in that it is an act that showcases the level of despair that some of us feel, and share. Humankind, and especially those who have caused and continue to generate the highest levels of global emissions, unfortunately, do not care to see the links between their wealth, consumption practices, and the social and environmental predicaments other humans find themselves in. We come from some of the highest emitting societies of the world (Germany, India, South Africa), and feel that ‘getting our priorities right is key’ and by now warm words are not enough. The intended audience of the climate activists who have been defacing “precious” works of art are the very privileged and powerful among us, who have enough wealth to own such works of art, and possibly the means as well to drive a recalibration of societal trajectories.
We understand that the intent of the climate activists was to deface famous works of art and glue themselves to the spot, in order for their frustration and anger to be heard since they could not be removed from the site of the ‘crime’. While the paintings were not actually damaged, the series of well-orchestrated acts of frustration have succeeded in creating a reaction, as evidenced in all the articles and comments about them, while earlier protests, science, and appeals have not solicited such a wide societal reaction, to date. The shock value of these tactics has spurred dialogue, debate, and polarisation in some cases, in places where privilege otherwise softens a scientifically-informed and locally-grounded response to the climate crisis.
Unfortunately, the actual beautiful and priceless “thing” that the paintings are meant to represent, the earth and all life on it, remains under existential threat and does not have a glass cover protecting it. It is a gift whose resources we have inherited and needs all of us to care for and protect it. Are we, as the carers of this planet, a world society and, between countries, able to manage a rights-based, peaceful transition / transformation process, with the necessary scale and speed? As an appropriate response to the current socio-economic and environmental crises facing humanity? Or are conflict and disruption (sometimes forcefully) needed? As disruptive as these acts have been, they are also reminiscent of the Chipko Andolan, whereby rural women in India clung onto trees that they did not want authorities to cut down. The defaced famous paintings serve the dual purpose of standing in for our precious planet, and for hurting the privileged, where it hurts.
Historically, it appears as if those in power are unwilling to redistribute power and wealth. In which case those among us, who are frustrated at the lack of action, believe the science that predicts large areas of the earth as becoming unliveable, well before the end of the century, due to the climate crisis, and see current practices culminating in further exacerbated biodiversity loss, will see sufficient cause to rebel. We will also find support among those of us who find our writing, research, and scientific endeavours failing to achieve the desired shifts toward transformational change. The risk is that it may not remain performative, which the recent acts by climate activists were. We are in an era of hard questions and challenges when tweaking around the edges will not be sufficient, to avoid doom and gloom.
These acts by the climate activists lead to the basic question:
What kind of action would the wealthy and powerful react to so that an agreed, consensus-based, peaceful transition / transformation process (at the necessary scale and speed), can be commenced? Such a rights-based process must incorporate the difficult task of redistribution of wealth (including dismantling the supremacy of private ownership of land and property rights) and the injustices associated with current agreements, whereby those who have contributed the least to climate change, suffer the most, and will continue to do more so in the future.
Martin is the founder and the current Managing Director of PlanAdapt, based in Freiburg, Germany. He heads and manages the PlanAdapt Coordination Hub. Martin also leads the continuous co-design and curation process behind the Climate Co-Adaptation Lab – PlanAdapt’s Collaboration and Innovation Platform.
Nancy B. Grimm is an ecologist studying interactions of climate change, human activities, resilience, and biogeochemical processes in urban and stream ecosystems. Grimm was founding director of the Central Arizona–Phoenix LTER, co-directed the Urban Resilience to Extremes Sustainability Research Network, and now co-directs the NATURA and ESSA networks, all focused on solving problems of the Anthropocene, especially in cities. Grimm was President of the Ecological Society of America (ESA) and is a Fellow of AAAS, AGU, ESA, SFS, and a member of the NAS. She has made >200 contributions to the scientific literature with colleagues and students.
Nancy Grimm
Defacing famous art draws attention to the act, not the crisis, and centers on the activist, not the reason for the activism.
No.
Yes, I am frustrated that insufficient action is being taken to avert the climate crisis in the face of overwhelming evidence of its current and future impacts. Yes, I feel helpless against a power structure that seems continually to be all talk, no action. Our opportunities as individual citizens to influence policy seem to be too few and too weak to meet the urgency of the problem. As a scientist, I work on the impacts of climate change and strategies for adaptation and resilience and co-create future visions that can help steer cities toward meaningful actions. I worry that this too is insufficient and has little influence.
Yet, actions intended to incur shock and dismay to draw attention to the crisis are not effective. First, we must consider who the audience is. Museum visitors likely view the activists as eccentric and radical, and the press latches on to their actions as outlandish stunts that are newsworthy for their weirdness. The outrageousness allows those who really need to hear the message to ignore it as fringe behavior. In effect, these actions can marginalize all climate activism.
And the analogy doesn’t transfer well. “How do you feel when something beautiful and priceless has been defaced?”, asked when comparing precious art to the precious Earth, is probably more apt as an analogy for countless other global changes, such as land transformation wrought by mining and industrial agriculture, or modification of shorelines, rivers, and water bodies. Global-warming impacts manifest through more unseen, though certainly deadly, changes like increases in severity or frequency of storms, sea-level rise, extinctions due to phenological mismatches, or extreme heat events that put people’s lives at risk.
Climate scientist Katherine Hayhoe has been a vocal advocate for talking about climate change—in our homes and workplaces, with our friends and colleagues. The logic for this strategy is that a sea change in mass sentiment is needed, which can be a powerful driver of policy change. Talking about climate change is something that everyone can do. Would shock climate activism get climate conversations started? Perhaps. But the conversations should instead center on why and how to change our lifestyles, and how to elevate the rank of climate change among “issues we care about” above that of the economy or the price of gasoline, how we can effectively lobby for change with our pocketbooks and our votes.
Defacing famous art draws attention to the act, not the crisis, and centers on the activist, not the reason for the activism. There are more and better ways to support policies to mitigate climate change and to strengthen local capacity for resilience and adaptation in support of climate equity and justice.
David makes art with ecology, to inquire and learn. He researches, publishes, and works internationally with ecosystems and their inhabitants, using images, poetic texts, walking and sculptural installations to generate dialogues that question climate change, species extinction, urban development, the nature of water transdisciplinarity and ecopedagogy for ‘capable futures’.
David Haley
Four of Many Stories
History loves the romance associated with activists as they create memorable events. The stories in the books of most of the world’s religions, nation hoods, and social movements feature activists who needed to disrupt oppressive conditions.
Maybe… ‘getting people’s attention’ is not the most important issue?
Maybe… ‘activists’ still have a role to play, but maybe the time requires different forms of action?
Maybe… science was never ‘enough’, as its methods don’t represent everyone, particularly the most climate vulnerable?
Maybe… the arts have a part to play in addressing the nexus of climate, species, and cultural crises, by shifting the way we think?
Maybe… it’s time for other stories?
A Story of Settlement and Rebellion
In Eurasia, around 7500 BCE, the Neolithic period ended with the first Agricultural Revolution. Sedentary living made settlements necessary in the Fertile Crescent and the inception of cities, made institutions of power, subjugation, and Modernity possible; and the corollary of rebellion necessary.
From this time, the Abrahamic religions share the story of Exodus, when Moses rebelled against Pharaoh over the enslavement of his people. That this story is now understood to be a myth, does not matter, for its the art of storying (the making and telling of stories) that is important in the creation of a belief system that has supported Modernity’s obsession with controlling sedentary culture to the present day. Indeed, colonial (and neo-colonial) expeditions and exploitation relied on the dominance of one people and their domain over others.
This story begat other stories that, over time, provided the narratives and methods of religion and science, state and corporation, to perpetuate normative, industrialised, urban, Western mindsets. However, this is not necessarily “human nature”. Within the Amazon, for instance, Aztec-like townsfolk maintained a symbiotic relationship with nomadic people who maintained the forest to benefit all.
A Story of Personalities and Transformations
History loves the romance associated with activists as they create memorable events. The stories in the books of most of the world’s religions, nation hoods, and social movements feature activists who needed to disrupt oppressive conditions. However, from the prophets and saints of antiquity to Mahatma Gandhi, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., and Nelson Mandela, some activists convert their activism into more meaningful and enduring transformations. But, have such transformations made the world a better, more peaceful, more just, and more inclusive place?
A Story of Oppression and Theatre
Oppression can suppress populations to comply with their oppressors, or as Augusto Boal wrote in Theatre of the Oppressed, it can prompt creative response. He marks the dramatic moment when an actor from the Athenian chorus spoke out against the city authorities’ control of performances and became the first protagonist. This act of activism provided the opportunity to transform the art form and civil society, simultaneously. Boal, himself, used this insight to develop a form of theatre in which audiences became the protagonists to potentially engage in their own emancipation.
A Story of Armageddon and Evolution
Planetary epochs and human advancement are described as revolutions, but the term is more readily applied now to political, or civil transitions – the end of one regime and the start of another. The scale and complexity of the climate emergency may, however, be understood as Armageddon (the Christian concept of a catastrophic conflict between good and evil, likely to destroy the human race) or Tandava (Shiva Nataraja’s dance of evolutionary creation and destruction) or Panarchy* (an unpredictable transitionary period within an ecological adaptive cycle). Maybe, the inevitable cascading tipping points, predicted by science, render the actions of activists like JSO, XR, and others somewhat futile. Or are they? If nothing else, their activism has provoked this TNOC Roundtable of thirty-six articles from people around the world and they will be read by many more.
Maybe… such provocations will evoke** a post-apocalyptic reconnection with nature for those who may survive and cities may support their ecosystems, for no story is ever complete…?
Cecilia Polacow Herzog is an urban landscape planner, retired professor at the Pontifical Catholic University of Rio de Janeiro. She is an activist, being one of the pioneers to advocate to apply science into real urban planning, projects, and interventions to increase biodiversity and ecosystem services in Brazilian cities.
Cecilia Polacow Herzog
On one hand, I love art and am shocked by this “vandalism”. On the other, I know that the message of the critical situation our civilization is now, is not reaching the public.
Maybe. The activists who are harming unique artworks, trying to call attention to the systemic planetary emergency that is impacting societies and the biosphere, are driving attention around the world. I am not sure what I think about those actions. On one hand, I love art and am shocked by this “vandalism”. On the other, I know that the message of the critical situation our civilization is in now is not reaching the public. As what has happened for decades with scientists’ alerts based on robust knowledge. I don’t think these attacks on famous paintings are effective for the intended target. In fact, they call it one-day news attention, and that’s it… Luckily the artworks have not been severely damaged.
Our civilization has surpassed some planetary boundaries and the speed to exceed others is evident. The system is too powerful and destructive and needs to keep the unsustainable growth myth that supports capitalism. Businesses as usual have been greenwashed to seduce consumers, no structural change has been effectively done yet. The consumerism and advertisement are guiding most people’s choices in the direction of self-destruction, accumulating monetary wealth in the hands of very few families. At the same time, having half of humanity out of the game, but those don’t count toward the market… Actually, they are part of the humanitarian crisis that is the other side of the coin of the predator capitalist system… The poor people did not cause the climate crisis, but they are the ones who suffer the most.
At the opening of the COP27, António Guterres, Secretary-General of the United Nations, gave a serious alarm stating: “We are on a highway to climate hell with our foot still on the accelerator.” Although I believe everyone should do what is possible to take their foot off the accelerator, I doubt that the extreme activists’ behavior will have a real long-lasting effect to contribute to the urgent transition that humanity must do.
Art is a powerful means of inspiration and provokes emotional, personal changes. That’s what an unaccountable number of artists have been doing. They are engaged in illuminating unseen critical ecological and social issues. They have gained worldwide visibility, using their talents to get the message to the public in a constructive manner, such as Yann-Arthus Bertrand, Sebastião Salgado, Mary Mattingly, Dr. Alexandra Daisy Ginsberg, Olafur Eliasson, Doug Aitken, Nicole Dextras, Vik Muniz, among so many others. Several museums, cultural, and art centers have been promoting exhibitions to raise awareness about the pressing ecological and social issues. The approach of inspiring change, using art to make people feel how we could have better cities in harmony with nature and ourselves, is another way to make the public have a vision of a better present and future, that’s how Patrick Lydon works. I love his approach.
I believe real change comes from the people, with so many examples around the world, but needs real articulation. There is a need to overcome denial, diversion, and divide, as Michael E. Mann writes in the seminal book: The New Climate War.
I hope that the empowerment of new wiser leaders, young and historically excluded people, will enable a turn in the economic system. A paradigm shift is undergoing, forests and biomes are being intrinsically valued for the benefits they bring to the planet and humanity. In this process, the artists have been front-runners to call attention to the urgent ecological and humanitarian challenges. I believe nature-based solutions are the emerging transformation that will enable the rise of a nature-positive economy, an ecological economy.
I am a socio-ecologist committed to fostering wilder places and spaces for nature, as well as better connecting urban and rural areas. I am also a climate activist who has engaged in my fair share of disruptive actions – one of my favourites can be found here.
Cathel Hutchison
It is precisely because of the significant power differentials that exist between activists and climate-wrecking corporations and their compliant governmental allies, that we need to embrace a diversity of strategies and tactics, as well as work together with a rich mosaic of activists and perspectives.
YES.
Disruptive tactics are necessary.
When employed effectively, they can act to challenge and destabilize entrenched power and expose injustice. Indeed, it is precisely because of the significant power differentials that exist between activists and climate-wrecking corporations and their compliant governmental allies, that we need to embrace a diversity of strategies and tactics, as well as work together with a rich mosaic of activists and perspectives.
In this way, I find myself more or less supporting recent attention-grabbing actions by Just Stop Oil (JSO) activists, including the infamous spraying of tomato soup on Van Gogh’s Sunflower painting in the National Portrait Gallery in London. Indeed, while I think I was more amused than anything else by the action itself, I feel their exposure of the disparity in the value assigned to ‘nature’ and particular officially-sanctioned cultural objects ― described as ‘priceless’, but effectively meaning they would sell for a very high price ― is both timely and necessary.
I have visited some of the most celebrated galleries in the world ― including the Prado in Madrid, Hermitage in St Petersburg, and the Museum of Pre-Columbian Arts in Santiago, Chile. Many of the famous artistic pieces they house are undoubtedly products of both cultural and individual genius, and their preservation and display are a source of great pleasure to millions. Nevertheless, the value and privilege assigned to some of these cultural objects, often enact a highly unequal, racist, and even speciest approach to preservation.
Beyond Cheap Nature
Part of this relates to the unspoken understanding that nature is or else should be cheap. In spite of the fact that the value of nature is increasingly acknowledged by a whole spectrum of actors ― from politicians, to developers, and the public at large ― the prevalence of a ‘cheap nature’ mentality remains widespread. It manifests in a lack of available funding for the maintenance of many city parks, even while they provide health and well-being benefits to thousands; a lack of official recognition given to urban wildlife on vacant and derelict land, even while these can be some of the richest sources of biodiversity in cities; and the extraordinary efforts that local activists must pursue to protect even the most highly designated protected areas from the flimsiest development proposals.
While increasing public access to and recognition of nature is essential, there needs to be a much more nuanced conversation about how and what we reciprocate to other species. Part of the challenge here is that the domineering neoliberal model of development constantly looks to narrow the field of responsibilities, including to other species, and increase opportunities for exploitation to monetary gain. Against this, regulation that mitigates the worst effects of this exploitation ultimately comes up short. This is exemplified in the fact that, in spite of genuine advances in the understanding of urban wildlife and the formulation of pro-wildlife policy, the most significant impacts of cities on wildlife remains poorly addressed – namely their ecological impacts through their global material and energy supply chains.
Returning to JSO’s tomato soup attack, it clearly ruffled some feathers in the UK press and generated heated condemnation and support. Was it merely performative? Maybe, maybe not. Activists like BP or Not BP have quite effectively employed disruptive tactics to force galleries such as the National Portrait Gallery to drop their fossil fuel sponsorship. Perhaps this desecration of an officially sanctioned artistic piece ― in consonance with attacks on colonial statues by Black Lives Matter activists ― can be understood as an escalation tactic in the ongoing conflict between an elite cultural regime and those who would see it take true account of its costs?
Pantea Karimi is an Iranian-American multidisciplinary artist, researcher, and educator based in San Jose, California. Her art explores historic, religious, scientific, and political themes. Karimi utilizes virtual reality (VR), performative video, animation, sound, print, drawing, and installation.
Pantea Karimi
To bring attention to climate change, we need more conversations, and more scientific facts to be shared through conferences, local community events, at schools by discussing it with youth, and through art exhibitions, which are focused on the subject to bring awareness.
How do you feel when something beautiful and priceless has been defaced?” asked the climate activist after throwing food on an iconic painting. The “something” the activist referred to was the Earth itself.
As an artist, I can’t justify seeing any artworks being attacked or ruined even for a good cause. It is wrong! Art for centuries has chronicled the earth story. Van Gogh’s Olive Trees picturing a hot climate warms our spirit, while Turner’s Stormy Sea chills our spine. These paintings tell the story of climate.
We have been talking about climate change for a long time now, but still, progress is slow, and we are running out of time. Is science not enough? Yes, science is enough for featuring facts, but it is not enough to reach the masses who are not avid readers or active listeners. It happens that it doesn’t reach everyone the same way. Science has to be simplified and accessible for non-scientists.
What will spur action? Recently some climate activists have taken to gluing themselves to or throwing food on famous paintings. (Apparently, no paintings have been seriously damaged yet.) Are such shock tactics useful? No! to me they are property and cultural acts of vandalism. To bring attention to climate change, we need more conversations, and more scientific facts to be shared through conferences, local community events, at schools by discussing it with youth, and through art exhibitions, which are focused on the subject to bring awareness. As an artist, I would like to see more collaborations among scientists, artists, and institutions where we can express issues and reach the masses.
Christopher Kennedy is the associate director at the Urban Systems Lab (The New School) and lecturer in the Parsons School of Design. Kennedy’s research focuses on understanding the socio-ecological benefits of spontaneous urban plant communities in NYC, and the role of civic engagement in developing new approaches to environmental stewardship and nature-based resilience.
Christopher Kennedy
Here’s the thing: the earth has already been so significantly “defaced” that I’m not quite sure we understand what shock or urgency looks like anymore. Or perhaps more importantly, how best to build empathy for the more-than-human world.
Maybe, but here’s the thing: the earth has already been so significantly “defaced” that I’m not quite sure we understand what shock or urgency looks like anymore. Or perhaps more importantly, how best to build empathy for the more-than-human world. Actions like the ones at Courtauld Gallery remind us that we do need to test the boundaries of what agitates and excites the imagination to confront a crisis of worldviews that seems unwilling to understand the true scope of our climate crisis. This leaves us with a persistent question: what kinds of art, science, or activism will actually connect with people and enable large-scale societal change? And how do we compete with the likes of TikTok and a media-rich escapist environment so pervasive in our culture today?
If we consider these acts from a research perspective, a study by Sommer and Klöckner (2021) might be helpful. Their research highlights how artworks that inspire novel solutions and offer a way for communities to participate are often more impactful than conventional methods (e.g., mainstream news media, and scientific reports). Why? Because they can elicit a personal and emotional connection, which scholars and media critics continue to emphasize are more effective than providing facts or employing scare tactics concerning impacts or risks.
Is the recent wave of ‘climate shocktivism’ able to accomplish this personal connection? Maybe not fully, but I think we need all the tools at our disposal. And that may very well include Deborian spectacles like the ones being produced by Just Stop Oil and other groups. However, if we really want to indeed inspire a systems-level change, then we also need something more entrenched in our everyday experiences. Something long-term that is both gradual and “in-your-face”. Interventions into the food system (supermarkets, farms), the energy system (your car and gas station), the social systems (schools and courts), and economic systems (your work and livelihood) for which we depend upon. And while many artists or activists make attempts to do this, and even propose new systems (see Ant Farm, Bonnie Sherk, Eve Mosher, Superflex, Future Farmers, etc.), it’s rare that these interventions manifest into the kind of change at the scale we need. Ultimately, art, science, or activism in isolation will never be effective or sufficient. What we need is a multiplicity of strategies alongside transglobal policy that calls for a fundamental rethinking of our fossil fuel-obsessed culture, and actually holds corporations and actors accountable.
A splash of paint and a glued hand may not deliver that to us ultimately. Nor will condemnation from the art world that merely labels these actions a “stunt”. Perhaps these, like Thunberg’s climate strike, are examples of actions we need to see and debate as we imagine new practices and acts of creative resistance. Ones that help us shift our worldviews away from a human-centered narrative toward one of mutual flourishing.
Robin Lasser produces photographs, sound, video, site-specific installations and public art dealing with environmental and social justice issues.
Robin Lasser
Trees Talk: They May Save US If We Listen
I don’t consider shock or violence a sustainable, engaging, or empathic strategy for anything, including societal transformation regarding climate change. Perhaps investigating our connections to everything ― living and dead, regional, and galactic ― has a chance of inspiring sacrifice, and love has a chance of engendering action.
NO
I don’t consider shock or violence a sustainable, engaging, or empathic strategy for anything, including societal transformation regarding climate change. Perhaps investigating our connections to everything ― living and dead, regional, and galactic ― has a chance of inspiring sacrifice, and love has a chance of engendering action. Immediate ventures require personal sacrifice for the health of our planet and all who experience this place as home. “Our house is on fire,” thank you Greta Thunberg for asking us, “what will we do?” Our children are rightly outraged by climate change, and the havoc my generation creates. Do we expect our children to clean up our mess? If not, who will? Perhaps the trees and their cooperative underground communication systems may offer a viable clue as nature struggles to adapt to a warming world.
Robin Lasser, Trees Talk, 24”x 72” archival ink jet postcard, Big Basin Redwoods State Park, 2022
Do violent acts, metaphorical or otherwise, targeting artworks inspire social change, movement, action? Let us consider the burning of books by the Nazis or the 2001 destruction of the two giant Buddhas in Bamiyan, Afghanistan by the Taliban. Are these acts of cultural violence an effective way to achieve cultural transformation?
Consider more recently, the actions of Wynn Bruce, a climate activist who set himself on fire in the plaza of the United States Supreme Court Building in Washington D.C. This act of self-sacrifice reflects the depth of his conviction that the value of an individual life is negligible compared to the havoc we are irrevocably bringing to our planet. This act of ultimate sacrifice carries a different weight than throwing soup on an iconic artwork, created by a male western Caucasian artist.
What call and response do such actions provoke in your nervous system?
Personally, I take refuge, wisdom, and inspiration from the trees. When the single organism vast aspen grove is threatened in any way, vital messages must be transmitted through a cryptic underground fungal network; interconnections to help sustain the health and vitality of the collective organism. These signals have evolved in unique and highly specialized ways so that subtle but effective messages move efficiently among highly interconnected trees, and cue appropriate defense responses. This network is pervasive throughout the entire forest floor, connecting all the trees in a constellation of tree hubs and fungal links. “The most shocking aspect of this pattern is that it has similarities with our own human brains. In it the old and young are perceiving, communicating, and responding to one another by emitting chemical signals…. It is enough to make one pause, take a deep breath, and contemplate the social nature of the forest and how this is critical for evolution. The fungal network seems to wire the trees for fitness. These old trees are mothering their children.” (Suzanne Simard, Finding the Mother Tree: Discovering the Wisdom of the Forest)
Robin Lasser, Trees Talk, 24”x 72” archival ink jet postcard, Big Basin Redwoods State Park, 2022
Damage from global warming represents the culmination of decades of rampant industrialization throughout the world and any effort to slow or reverse this condition will require a shared global recognition of cause and effect and a highly integrated and organic transcultural messaging system much like the communication system nature has provided the aspen grove. The trees offer wisdom, and they may save us, if we listen.
Do these museum interventions align with this challenge?
Lucie Lederhendler has been the curator of the Art Gallery of Southwestern Manitoba, a community-engaged, contemporary public art gallery, since 2021. Her research is concerned with the ecosystems of mythologies and the mythologies of ecology. She is a lecturer in art history at Brandon University.
Lucie Lederhendler, Ben Davis, and Alysha Farrell
Louder for the People in the Back
These performative gestures of threat and violence are powerful enough to disrupt societal complacency in the face of the climate crisis. Science has deciphered what is unavoidably unfolding, but activists are shouldering the responsibility of shifting the paradigm from awareness to meaningful action.
Unanimous YES.
To tease apart the assumptions that inform our “yes”, we offer excerpts from a conversation we (an artist, an educator, and a curator, each at different times inhabiting all three roles) had at a local pub. We chose to frame our response as a barroom métissage because this type of conversing and life writing invites contradictory ways of being, relating, knowing, and acting in precarious times. As such, the following is a weaving of perspectives:
These performative gestures of threat and violence are powerful enough to disrupt societal complacency in the face of the climate crisis. Science has deciphered what is unavoidably unfolding, but activists are shouldering the responsibility of shifting the paradigm from awareness to meaningful action. They can be reconfigured in our minds as self-proclamation performed in the vernacular of modern media fluency.
The events entangle the artists’ hands, the hands of the activists, and the manicured fingers of those who work in the commodification of art objects.
The accusations, retweeting, and vitriol on social media responded to this messiness in two apparent ways. One, our global vulnerability is laid out; our fingers and fates are interlocked. You can’t touch a surface or another being without being touched. Two, we have yet to collectively name the anticipatory grief that roils underneath the material and metaphoric losses precipitated by the climate crisis. Without a goodbye, we sow seeds of unmetabolized sorrow.
The art objects themselves are many things. At one time, they were selected to be a part of the canon in an unspoken consensus formed by the enfranchised few. Because their participation in the canon endures today, they are also integral to the market as commodified objects. The idea that they are priceless as heritage objects play into the conception of “rare genius,” when, in fact, their heritage value is in their canonical status. That is, they tell a story of priorities that are shifting or static. Meanwhile, the damage done to the frames, walls, and public access to these works will resonate very much with the workers whose time, expertise, and labour are exchanged for currency.
They are recognized currency that will always appreciate, and emblematic of reassuring continuity, where their familiarity through media proliferation alludes to static institutions and inert dominant beliefs. They beg to be disrupted and problematized.
They are also a vehicle for attention. We are reminded of the horses racing at the Epsom Derby under which Emily Dickson ran in 1913 to protest against women’s suffrage and fight for women’s votes.
These art objects, now, are indistinguishable from ourselves.
The actions demand a scrutinizing look at a system that places less value on the flourishing of life (real sunflowers) than it does on the fossil-fueled fetishization of objects in an im/material world. More extreme provocations are called for in a time crumbling under a proliferation of global crises.
The value of these protests lies in the ease with which they strategize today’s communication. Projects that compete for the world’s attention inevitably must be deliberate gestures that threaten violence toward “untouchable” artworks. Resilience manifested as radical acts and civil disobedience imagines a shared fracture and requests pause for reflection. This particular brand of passion, screaming into the storm out of desperation instead of staying silent out of hopelessness, is the sole option left to insist on the changes that we have to make, sure, to stop global temperature rise, but mostly to ready ourselves for the inevitable adjustments we will have to make to the ways we live together.
*In the spirit of responsibility, gratitude, and reconciliation, the authors acknowledge the Anishinaabe, Cree, Oji-Cree, Dakota, and Dene peoples as the rightful inhabitants of this territory designated as “Treaty Two,” and honour the Red River Métis, on whose homeland we reside.
Visual artist Ben Davis has an expanded practice, working across a diverse range of media and approaches, often collaboratively, to explore land and meaning through lenses of social justice, eco-aesthetics, and postcolonial theory. Through his research, he unsettles and responds to the physical and socially-constructed terrain of a location. He has exhibited widely, and since moving to Canada, has taught at Brandon University while also being actively involved in community arts education.
Alysha Farrell is an Associate Professor in the Faculty of Education at Brandon University. Her research focuses on the emotional dimensions of teaching in the face of the climate crisis. She uses arts-based methods like narrative photography, playwriting, and forum theatre to share stories about what it feels like to live and learn in a warming world.
Patrick M. Lydon is an American ecological writer and artist based in Korea whose seeks to re-connect cities and their inhabitants with nature. He writes The Possible City series, is co-founder of City as Nature (Daejeon). He is an Arts Editor here at The Nature of Cities.
Patrick Lydon
I dig punk rock, and throwing soup at art is a nice punk rock try. What we need now, are more compelling stories, not about the world we currently inhabit, but about the world we want to inhabit, and how we can get there.
Maybe it is a start.
Does context matter?
Some thirty years ago, the artist Ai Weiwei painted the Coca-Cola logo onto a 2,000-year-old urn. A few years later, he broke two such ancient vases on purpose, photographing the act. The images became an artwork known as Dropping a Han Dynasty Urn. Most of the international art community hailed these as ‘brilliant’ works of art.
When asked why he dropped the 2,000-year-old vases, Weiwei commented that “Chairman Mao used to tell us that we can only build a new world if we destroy the old one.”
Could Mao’s instructions help us today? Maybe ‘destroying’ old social values is a bit extreme. But one could hardly argue with the need to at least ‘let go’ of most of our aggressively anthropocentric value systems.
Can we let go?
Most humans actually want to. The wall between us and that ‘letting go’ in most cases, is simply the fact that we are afraid of not knowing where we’ll land after we have let go. This fear is understandable, and it seems to come mostly from our not having met the right stories—narratives of what a possible, equitable, regenerative world might look and feel like in our own corner of the world.
Does story matter?
One could argue that the thing which separates the current spat of climate activism from artworks like Dropping a Han Dynasty Urn, is the absence of a cohesive story embedded into the act. Story is a necessity. For the whole of human history, so far as we know, story is the tool that has built our world, reminded us who we are, why we are here, and most importantly, what we value.
Our culture is a story. Things like currency, status, power, material wealth, science, the nuclear family, precious artworks. These are, all of them, cultural stories; viewpoints of how to see the world. There is no finite value for instance, in a pile of paper with numbers on it, or in a blockchain of 1’s and 0’s. The value comes from a collective societal belief in a story. “Ah, money has value. Ah, this artwork is priceless.” These are all stories; epiphanies transcended into shared values through continued cycles of retelling and believing.
Is it wrong to value money or artwork more than we value human survival? I don’t know. What I do know is that money and art are both good examples of how the value system of our society works. Both offer compelling stories, and compelling stories work.
Our biggest issue in our inability to deal with climate change then, is not that we do not know how to solve it — both science and practice show that we do know how. The issue is that we have not yet written and/or shared enough good stories about the way forward, stories about the possible world that biologists, farmers, solar punks, sustainable urbanists, and others are trying to show us.
I dig punk rock and throwing soup at art is a nice punk rock try. What we need now, are more compelling stories, not about the world we currently inhabit, but about the world we want to inhabit, and how we can get there.
Illustration from “SHORT #23: The Guadalupe Parkway of Juanjuan’s Dreams” on The Possible City
This is partly why last year, City as Nature began a series of illustrated stories called The Possible City. It is also part of why places like The Nature of Cities are so important, gathering points where we can thoughtfully share and take in such diverse opinions.
The more effort we put into such interactions, the more we transform and nurture the sort of values that will bring us through these times, and into what is possible.
Krystal C. Mack is a self-taught designer and artist using her social practice to highlight food and nature’s role in collective healing, empowerment, and decolonization. Through comestible and social design, Krystal seeks to publicly unpack and heal personal traumas relevant to her lived experience as a disabled Black woman.
Krystal Mack
When science needs a little boost to really get folks on board, everyone knows shock value protests are always a great move.
Yes.
No, science is not enough.
We learned this during the COVID-19 pandemic.
Even with a substantial amount of science around social distancing, masking, and vaccination, many people still ignore the researched and proven facts presented to them, even when their lives and loved ones’ lives are at stake, science can at times be not enough or even too much to believe in.
So, when science needs a little boost to really get folks on board, everyone knows shock value protests are always a great move.
Actually, I think they’ve been scientifically proven to be a great move, but you know how fake science can be…
But I do believe that shock value protests are useful up to a point.
They can bring attention (positive or negative) to an issue.
They can create opportunities for public discourse around protest strategy.
And these types of protests could help folks think critically about the effects of climate change and how they’re present in our lives today.
The Just Stop Oil activists succeeded in their more immediate goal to spread their message of ending our global reliance on oil.
But when it comes to getting those in power to end their dependence on oil?
Social communicator, journalist and social designer, interested in how design, communication and social innovation can shape and reshape a more resilient and sustainable future. A strong believer that empathy, creativity, cooperation and the force of landscape opens up infinite opportunities to build better societies, more connected to nature and people.
Claudia Misteli
Art has been part of human life since the very beginnings of humanity and has forged our civilization. Attacking something that is an inherent part of human life is a contradiction.
I answer this question with a No, and immediately this cartoon by the Spanish cartoonist Flavita Banana comes to my mind. We see a group of artworks making a counter-protest against the attacks they are suffering from environmental activists, joining together as an “association of paintings that have nothing to do with global warming.
And it is at this point that I ask myself, why is it that, instead of going against art, we use it as an ally to protest and raise awareness about the impact of climate change?
Some artists have used art to raise awareness and nurture people’s critical spirit around climate change and the importance of taking immediate action.
The Galician artist, Isaac Cordal, questions these concrete men with water around their necks the commitment of political leaders and society, in the fight against global warming, and their lethargy and inability to act.
Politicians discussing climate change. Montreal, Canada (2015). Isaac Cordal
“We live in a society full of uncertainty; I am interested in using creativity as a strategy of struggle to try to understand the world we have created, and if possible, to change it. Answer the artist in an interview.
Another artist, Silvestre Santiago originally from Santander, has been leaving signs in major cities across Europe for years about the impact of global warming on the Earth.
“The world is going down the drain” by Silvestre Santiago
“The world is going down the drain” is one of his many works that challenge us and make us reflect on the consequences of climate change and our responsibility for it.
Yes, art can also be an instrument of awareness-raising and a tool for mobilizing people against climate change. But is it enough? Raise awareness, but to whom? Hardly to those people who hold the power to make decisions.
But if in order to draw attention, it is decided to attack or destroy art, there is certainly something wrong going on here.
To vindicate the life of the planet by attacking art is to attack something that forms part of our life, of who we are as a society and our culture. Art has been part of human life since the very beginnings of humanity and has forged our civilization. Attacking something that is an inherent part of human life is a contradiction.
Why attack art? Perhaps because art represents another form of power. For some short-sighted people, it may be just that. For the rest, art is much more. That’s why vandalizing works of art arouses more rejection than conscience because it is an attack against what we are.
Let us raise our voices against climate change, but let art be our great ally in doing so, not the target to attack.
Nea is interested in how social interaction and tailored communication can affect our behaviors, specifically in the context of sustainable transitions. She has a M.Sc. in Sustainable Development, and has studied international journalism, marketing and communications. Nea has worked at the International Trade Centre Ethical Fashion Initiative, European Centre in Infectious Disease Prevention Control and ICLEI - a network of sustainable cities and towns, in development, media and communications roles.
Nea Pakarinen
The message from the activists is loud and clear: nothing is sacred if we are treating our planet like trash. Rings true right?
Yes – albeit my initial reaction upon seeing the news was what has Van Gogh done to deserve this? Why not choose a Picasso instead? But one has to admit the stunts are effective. People are growing immune to the effects of the barrage of climate doom and gloom in the news – and this made headlines far and wide. Further, the action ruffled the feathers of the high art circles who thought they might not have to deal with the climate change debate. Like in the ending of the movie ‘Don’t Look Up’ (spoiler alert) after the asteroid that everyone ignores (climate change) destroys the whole planet human artifacts float lost in space, as nothing more than detritus ― all of their imbued meaning lost without their host. “Attacking” timeless and classic art is poignant as we are running out of time. Note I will now talk of the young and the old, in very generalised terms ― there are exceptions! The younger generations are getting tired and cannot comprehend the resistance to change among the older generations. Slow and steady here does not win the race. I would expect this to be the spark for more drastic acts of ecoterrorism. Is throwing tomato soup or gluing oneself to art the most productive path for change? No, but I understand the frustration and desperation watching endless COPs and IPCC reports go by without drastic actions. Change when one is comfortable is difficult, and many affluent western nations and certain generations are just that. The previous generations feel like they worked hard for this wealth, prosperity, and power ― they did not expect the carpet being swiped out below their carefully built foundation at this stage in their lives. As we get past a certain age there is the expectation that things will become more settled and that we get to reap the benefits of our hard work. One can empathise with the resistance to having been told that what you strived for was wrong, your lifestyle damaging, and you need to change now now now! However, much of this striving for stableness ― or shall we say staleness, comes from the desire to ignore the inevitable ― death. People want to lull themselves into a false security as they age to avoid the unavoidable. But the thing is ― change is the only constant. We would do better as a species acknowledging this and embracing the other side of life, maybe by acknowledging how fleeting and precious our time is, we would treat things as more sacred. So what do I think a more productive path is to address climate change? Dialogue, understanding, and empathy. Incremental and persistent small changes reverberate into bigger transformations. But shock tactics do not hurt (we hope) either.
The message from the activists is loud and clear: nothing is sacred if we are treating our planet like trash. Rings true right?
Dr. Mitchell Pavao-Zuckerman is an Associate Professor at the University of Maryland. He is an ecologist studying the interactions of decision making, design, and environmental change on ecosystem processes in urban landscapes.
Mitchell Pavao-Zuckerman
Shock alone is not enough to change minds and make people act, but relationships between art, ecology, and activism can reframe how we see our planet and our place in it.
No.
These activists attempt to spur action by connecting climate change, art, and science, and, while they are right to make those links, they miss the mark.
While we might also be tempted to say, ‘listen to the science!’ ― science and facts about climate change alone are not enough to motivate action. People understand our planet is changing. Headlines constantly show the increasing role climate change is playing in the frequency and intensity of extreme weather events like drought, floods, heatwaves, and fires. Motivating people to act on climate change is more a matter of communication. We already have enough facts and know enough about climate change. So, people in general already know about climate change ― as Just Stop Oil themselves recognize, “it’s not even about raising awareness now, it’s about demanding action.” If that is the case, what role can art take in raising awareness of climate change?
People may have trouble connecting with the global scale of climate change and need some local touchstone to help make that global scale more intimate. The environmental writer Mitchell Thomashow suggests that personal links between art and science, such as keeping a nature journal, would help us observe changes around us over time, changes in places we are emotionally connected to ― this could motivate people to act by connecting them to a planetary scale change.
On the recent art protests, eco-philosopher Tim Morton said, “that’s the point of [the soup protest], to make everything suddenly uncanny…deliberately or not, to stop people and make them see things differently.” Art itself can do that too. Protestors and activists can cut out the middleman and seek out collaborations with artists and scientists. We could flip the conversation and see how the art itself can be an intervention, a tactical innovation, and a form of protest to raise awareness of climate change, help build coalitions, and spur people to action. Shock alone is not enough to change minds and make people act, but relationships between art, ecology, and activism can reframe how we see our planet and our place in it.
A great example of this is a work of art that is a collaboration between the artists Justin Brice Guariglia and Tim Morton, titled, We Are the Asteroid. In this piece, an electronic construction message sign is altered to display a set of ‘eco-haikus’. These messages are jarring and disruptive (just like throwing soup on a painting). These messages make things uncanny and in doing so, make us see things differently. We reconceptualize our place and role ― equivalent to a cosmic event ― framed within a warning sign that is common in our urban spaces. Throwing soup might be shocking and uncanny (pun intended?) ― but it seems to make people angry and not necessarily see themselves and their relationship with the Earth differently.
We Are The Asteroid – by Guariglia and Morton – photo by MPZ
The performative nature of the recent art protests (no paintings were harmed in the making of this protest) is shocking, but not enough to help us reframe our relationship with nature and act urgently to meet the challenges we face.
Unknown – Street graffiti in Paris – photo by MPZ
References
Thomashow, M. 2001. Bringing the biosphere home. MIT Press.
Originally from Buenos Aires, Pietrapiana lives and works in New York City. His work has been exhibited at Exit Art NY, AES Gallery NY, Local Project, The Argentine Consulate in NYC, El Bodegon Cultural de Los Vilos Art Center in Chile and Centro Cultural Recoleta in Buenos Aires, among other venues and part of the Pfizer Corporate Collection, The Springfield Museum of Art and private collectors.
Cristian Pietrapiana
Personally, I think that people and governments have to act now. if not ‘yesterday’, even though it might mean adjusting habits and making personal sacrifices in order to navigate the transitions needed to reach a more sustainable way of living.
Maybe.
As a visual artist myself, I have incorporated the overarching theme of our climate crisis into my own practice, in order to bring awareness and make it part of the conversation. I admit that I can be quite obsessive when it comes to pollution, plastic, and mass consumption of disposable items that end up in landfills. But, according to science, aka facts, we are at a point where we, collectively, have to force ourselves to stop and think before buying or consuming the abundance of product choices that a post-industrial society offers.
Pietrapiana “Seatbelt”
That is ―in reality― the point.
When it comes to this environmental crisis, yes, progress is dangerously slow, (especially when big players like China, Russia, and India do not sit at the table of COP 27).
The clock has been ticking for decades now.
The scientific community and environmental leaders have been ringing the bell for years, but few were listening, and many were in denial or simply did not care.
We are coming out of a global pandemic, people have somehow lost trust in governments, and I get the feeling that those disillusions and frustrations fall into the funnel of living the moment, pursuing pleasure and instant gratification. I am not an academic but cannot avoid thinking of what legacy most people will then leave to their beloved offspring.
Personally, I think that people and governments have to act now. if not yesterday, even though it might mean adjusting habits and making personal sacrifices in order to navigate the transitions needed to reach a more sustainable way of living.
The climate crisis is not something that happens to others while we remain safe and untouched.
It affects us all and respects no borders.
The crude reality is that when it comes to our climate crisis (proven that was caused by us), nuclear threat, and the vaguely touched topic of infotech combined with biotech, we are all on the same boat.
And that boat is our planet Earth.
This scenario is challenging us all to think differently, be aware of our habits and adjust our behaviors accordingly.
At this point, all methods to bring awareness and provoke civil actions are worth trying. I am not here to pass judgement on other actions taken, but after many years of psychotherapy, I tend to think that we might want to channel our frustrations through proper and hopefully effective routes, like addressing government officials, fossil fuel giants, and other sources of global pollution.
Serious legislation and enforcement are long overdue.
Nations seem polarized as well as the societies within their borders. Reactions are short-lived and easy to manifest. Maybe what we need here is to take the hard, difficult road of adjusting our consumption habits, and engaging those who oppose or deny this reality in conversations that are inclusive, patient, and generous in essence, in order to inspire action and hammer out serious agreements.
Civility, open and respectful conversations are not a sign of weakness. It is easy to “be bad”.
It takes strength and character to stay on course. If we do care for our present and future generations (who are our kids today), we have to try to be and do good. We all know the difference.
The climate/environmental crisis is happening to us now and it is urgent. We have no time to point fingers and argue what has happened since the Industrial Revolution. That would be a waste of time.
And time is of the essence.
Indulge me in closing this with a passage from John Steinbeck’s 1960/2 Travels with Charley:
“American cities are like badger holes, ringed with trash ―all of them― surrounded by piles of wrecked and rusting automobiles, and almost smothered with rubbish. Everything we use comes in boxes, cartons, bins, the so- called packaging we love so much. The mountains of things we throw away are much greater than the things we use. In this, if in no other way, we can see the wild and reckless exuberance of our production, and waste seems to be the index.”
Robert Pirani is the program director for the New York-New Jersey Harbor & Estuary Program at the Hudson River Foundation. HEP is a collaboration of government, scientists and the civic sector that helps protect and restore the harbor’s waters and habitat.
Rob Pirani
Bold statements that our shared heritage is at stake, whether it is our art or our shared planet, remind us that business as usual is not really going to cut it.
Yes
But what makes public discourse?
Here is a scenario you might be familiar with: Your committee’s deliberations stretched past lunch and into the late hours of the afternoon. The group had run through the icebreakers, developed a theory of change, prioritized actions, brainstormed metrics, and was now considering next steps and assigning responsibilities. The excitement of the challenge and finding common understanding had faded. The uncertainty of knowledge, familiar disagreements, and the need for additional data, study, funding, and time loomed ahead.
No one expects that developing a collective response to climate change is easy. The imperative for action can easily run aground on the slow pace of developing scientific, technical, and political understanding and consensus.
But the imperative is there. It is sometimes easy for the scientists, planners, managers, and policymakers among us to lose sight of that during needed, but sometimes endless, deliberations.
The tragic consequences of extreme weather can impel action (and the availability of funding). But post-disaster decision-making is unlikely to lead to thoughtful responses. And once the disaster has left the headlines, people and politicians forget. Daily life resumes. And the will to make substantial, long-lasting, and effective change seems to fade as well.
Gluing one’s head to a painting is not a response to climate change. It’s just a cry for help. But political theatre and creative protests keep climate change and its consequences in the public eye and in the collective discourse. While muddling through our climate crises is perhaps inevitable, muddle we must. The only wrong thing to do is to stop trying to find answers.
Bold statements that our shared heritage is at stake, whether it is our art or our shared planet, remind us that business as usual is not really going to cut it.
Baixo is President of the Choque Cultural gallery in São Paulo.
Baixo Ribeiro
The climate urgency really calls for more radical solutions to get people’s attention.
Yes and no.
The climate urgency really calls for more radical solutions to get people’s attention. In fact, the population has not been sensitized by the scientists’ warnings and time is passing without the world reacting to the height of the urgency. That said, the attitude of the activists who threw food at historical paintings seemed, at first, something valid: after all, it really caught the attention of many people and caused reflections on the urgency. However, the repetition of this same type of action ends up causing the opposite effect: it creates dislike for the movement represented by the activists and for actions in favor of climate awareness.
Andrew Rudd is the Urban Environment Officer for UN-Habitat’s Urban Planning & Design Branch in New York, where he leads substantive advocacy for the urban dimension of the 2030 Agenda for Sustainable Development (including the SDGs).
Andrew Rudd
Against the increasingly numbing news about climate change which risks becoming background noise, that is already useful.
Yes.
Emily Brocklebank and Louis McKechnie have our attention. Against the increasingly numbing news about climate change which risks becoming background noise, that is already useful. Now we are debating several questions which would probably not otherwise have attracted such a diverse crowd. Do activists have to destroy art or anything of value? Can they make their point with less collateral damage? Is there some other way?
Considering these questions reminded me of the debate around the protests against George Floyd’s murder. Many were peaceful protests organized by Black Lives Matter. Others involved more spontaneous destruction of property and looting of shops. Critiques of both had more or less the same gist: disruption is not the right way to solve injustice; in a civilized society we use accepted channels.
Yet, in the US and elsewhere, there is a long history of law enforcement not being held accountable for lethal use of force, particularly against Black people. When institutions constituted to represent and protect citizens from harm fail to do so, what recourse is there? Trevor Noah explained it well: ‘When people burn things, they say it’s not the right way…it’s never the right way to protest because that is what protest is. It cannot be right because you are protesting against the thing that is stopping you.’ In other words, no—there is no other way than to protest.
Another critique is that protest can backfire, swaying public opinion against the right to dissent. I actually think it has laid bare perverse ideas of value. How can property be worth more than life? How does the destruction of a glass storefront even compare to the destruction of a person’s life? Is the limited damage of several paintings really on par with the annihilation of countless species? Activism has forced a reckoning with these questions. Many people finding answers will catalyze change.
In her ruling for the Courtauld Gallery, the district judge wrote ‘it is not in a state where it can return to its original state…it is not minor, insignificant, temporary, or trivial.’ That she was referring to the painting’s frame rather than the planet’s fate is ironic, to say the least. It betrays a deadly lack of proportionality that these activists are bringing to light. They are drawing a useful analogy that will change some minds for the better. In other words, yes—there is another way to value life. Whether enough minds are changed in time to avert a climate tipping point remains to be seen but this is a collective effort, and we must all do what we can to try.
An indigenous artist of Ngati Pakau, Ngapuhi descent, Tanya works with Mātauranga Māori (ancestral knowledge and navigational tools) to design pathways of transitional Indigenous Futures and Indigenous Speculative Design. She is currently working with dedicated indigenous and non-indigenous textile researchers, academics, scientists, engineers, growers, and local Iwi (tribes). Documenting the journey to develop circular designed, native plant fibre materials and textiles that will help to connect people back to the land through indigenous ways of knowing. As Executive Director for Native Land Digital, she is honoured to be a part of the team and is dedicated to the representation of indigenous tribal voices and their homelands.
Tanya Te Miringa Te Rorarangi Ruka
The time for fighting over whether climate change does or doesn’t exist is long past. The most effective activism does something constructive to alleviate the issues around us.
No.
Why are we manifesting dystopian future worlds devoid of hope?
I respectfully acknowledge the global human suffering of many cultures around the world because of the already prevalent climate issues. From my perspective, indigenous nations have lost and continue to lose connection to everything they consider home. In Aotearoa (New Zealand), we continue to lose access to our ancestral wild foods because of agricultural pollution in our sacred waterways. For generations, our tribal councils have been fighting to protect the whenua (land) and arawai (waterways). Every year we watch as our tupuna glaciers recede further revealing the scarred underlying rocks beneath. Further across the Pacific, small island nations such as Tuvalu are facing rising sea levels threatening their island homes. However, rather than give up they are empowering their youth to actively advocate and show strength as leaders. Standing Rock saw indigenous tribal nations come together to stop the Keystone XL pipeline from crossing sacred land. The O’ahu Water Projectors are also fighting for safe clean water against the US Navy. Yet so much of this work by indigenous leaders and their communities goes unnoticed and unpublished. Indigenous nations are continually the first hit in times of environmental corruption, yet they continue to show mana collectively working for environmental justice by aiming directly at the corporations creating the devastation and because of this indigenous lives have been lost.
Environmental trauma from extreme weather events, whether experienced personally or not surfaces as feelings of grief, helplessness, fear, avoidance, anxiety attacks, depression, anger, and in severe cases suicide. Eco-anxiety, Climate-anxiety, or Climate Crisis depression were first documented in 2007. There is growing evidence to support the correlation between extreme weather events and increased depression. In the UK, a 2020 survey of child psychiatrists highlighted 57% of children and young people were distressed about climate crisis. In the US 75% are concerned about environmental issues and 25% are highly distressed. Comparatively many indigenous peoples experience the same symptoms. We understand that we belong to the natural world, therefore we honour and respect the environment because the natural world is the source of our spiritual knowledge systems. To claim ownership of the land our ancestors were actively disconnected from the natural world in an attempt to assimilate or extinguish them. In this way our tupuna (ancestors) experienced ‘worlds end’ and, collectively as their descendants, we have witnessed the emptiness of new worlds devoid of our cultural beliefs.
As a female indigenous artist and environmental activist, this form of vandalism within the gallery space saddens me. In my opinion, public galleries and museums are spaces for learning, dreaming, and inspiration. Ironically, even though these places are commonly bereft of indigenous stories I feel these superglue the hand to the frame, throwing oil onto paintings and subsequent copycat activations make a mockery of the hard work that is actually happening within our communities. It is equally saddening that this type of “activism” flows out into digital spaces and is picked up by social media platforms and viewed by millions, feeding into and enhancing negative feelings of powerlessness and fear. There is no empowerment in the performance of these actions.
This type of activism makes the assumption that the global populace is oblivious to climate issues, that we are all thoughtlessly walking into an abyss at the end of the world. The time for fighting over whether climate change does or doesn’t exist is long past. The most effective activism does something constructive to alleviate the issues around us. Environmental activists, artists, designers, scientists, urban planners, architects, policymakers, and all peoples who share a love for the ecosystems that sustain us are collectively thinking about how we can work together to do the real work. All energy and resources should be directed towards the most common and simple actions. We should be encouraging our collaborative relationships and building respect toward each other by serving our more than human relations. We can choose to manifest future worlds that are beneficial to all, simply by choosing to showcase this way of being.
Peter Schoonmaker leads the outdoor education program at American Community School Beirut, and is president of Illahee, a non-profit organization focused on designing new models for cooperative environmental/social/economic problem solving.
Peter Schoonmaker
So far, everything that climate activists have tried has failed to slow our global economic juggernaut. Doesn’t mean they shouldn’t keep trying. But art destruction looks like a dead end. Why? Four Reasons.
Is defacing art helpful in climate activism?
Sadly, no. But not much else is either. Scientists and policymakers have been aware of climate change since the 1950s. And the general public has been well-enough informed about environmental issues since at least the first Earth Day, if not earlier (see A Silent Spring 1962, A Sand County Almanac 1949, Man and Nature 1849, and many others).
We have done plenty of “awareness building.” And it has led to a heartening level of “climate action” in terms of policy change, innovation, and implementation. At local, regional, and national in international scales. Renewable portfolios, take-back laws, efficiency standards, green planning, and sustainable farming are among the many actions we’ve taken to address climate change.
The problem is, it’s not enough. Not even close.
Why? Because the primary driver of climate change is a shared human delusion where we decouple the long-term, large-scale consequences of global economic growth from personal benefits that accrue from that growth in three broad categories: cost, comfort, and convenience. Wealthy nations and their citizens are unwilling to negotiate those three categories in a meaningful way, while less wealthy countries look to get in on the action by optimizing their own “three C’s,” which to them looks a lot like survival.
Climate activists are understandably frustrated that, after twenty-seven UN Climate Change Conferences in the last three decades, concrete, enforceable climate commitments linked to actual performance are, um, elusive.
I understand the frustration. As someone who followed Amory Lovins as an undergraduate in the 1970s, did my first climate change research in the 1980s, worked in the environmental field for decades, and suffered blow-hard business-as-usual incrementalists masquerading as “innovators,” I’ve LIVED that frustration.
So, I’m open to new approaches. I’m open to rattling a few cages. But so far, everything that climate activists have tried has failed to slow our global economic juggernaut. Doesn’t mean they shouldn’t keep trying. But art destruction looks like a dead end. Why? Four reasons.
First, doing bad things to art (destroying, defacing, appropriation, theft) puts you in pretty bad company, whether it’s the Taliban and Isis destroying statues and temples, the British Museum (Elgin Marbles), World War II Germany, or the various criminals who have smashed and grabbed works by Rembrandt, Raphael, Munch, and on and on). Do climate activists really want to be part of that club?
Second, destroying art to make a point doesn’t actually win friends and influence people. Don’t believe me? Ask the Taliban after they blew up the Bamiyan Buddas in 2001, or Isis after they leveled the temples of Bal Shamin and Bel in Palmyra in 2015. Okay, raising awareness to save the planet is not the same as imposing religious dogma. But the point stands. Find me a case of art destruction that changed attitudes and enlightened minds.
Third, defacing priceless art has a diffuse (small) public impact because of the ever-churning news cycle, briefly garnering the attention of a public that likely runs the spectrum from a few “approvers” to more “it’s sad they felt the need to do that, but I get it” to maybe more “these activists are nuts.” And then everyone moves on; attention moment over.
And finally, art attacks miss the crucial audience: powerful, wealthy decision-makers. If you want to influence this latter group, you have to threaten the things they truly care about. You think that’s art and culture? Think again, it’s power and wealth. The divestment movement has tried this with some, but not enough, success.
So, climate activists, you want impact? Look for high-impact, systemic, enduring, cage-rattling strategies. Defacing art isn’t one of them.
Ania Upstill (they/them) is a queer and non-binary performer, director, theatre maker, teaching artist and clown. A graduate of the Dell’Arte International School of Physical Theatre (Professional Training Program), Ania’s recent work celebrates LGBTQIA+ artists with a focus on gender diversity.
Ania Upstill
I don’t think this can be done effectively with scientific knowledge alone but instead needs to be combined with an artistic approach that appeals to our senses, to our love of humanity and its accomplishments, and encourages an appreciation of our place in the global ecosystem.
Maybe. I think these actions can be valuable for raising attention, but I don’t know how helpful they will be in the long run. There’s a part of me that loves the actions these climate activists are taking ― especially given that these paintings are protected with glass and are in no danger of being destroyed. The tactics are certainly effective at raising awareness ― I’ve seen more coverage of climate activism recently than I have for a long time. Part of that is the shock value. The images of iconic paintings with food spread across them are certainly striking. There’s an audacity that’s difficult to ignore. Who would dare deface the Mona Lisa, the most famous painting in the world?
So why my doubt? I question the assumptions these activists are making about their audience. The most obvious is that most, or all, people agree that the Earth is beautiful and priceless. I certainly agree, and I find the metaphor moving and powerful. Sadly, I’m not convinced that everyone agrees with this premise, nor am I convinced that defacing artwork will change anyone’s mind about the intrinsic value of the Earth. Another assumption is that simply raising awareness of climate change and environmental degradation will either a) spur greater overall public action or b) inspire world leaders to take faster action. But I’m not sure anyone who doesn’t already agree will be convinced by a metaphor, no matter how elegant or moving. I love humans, but we are slow to change our minds or actions, and when we do it is usually in response to something directly related to our lives, and in which we have a stake. While climate change does, or will, affect all of us, we have a hard time envisioning exactly how or what those impacts will be, and we can’t fathom actions we could take to prevent it. A strong call to action is powerful. What I find most powerful about my work with Theatre of the Oppressed is that our shows are framed to practice actions in the world to advance social justice. We show the problem, and the audience tries out solutions. The actions are concrete, and so are the outcomes. Adding a metaphor to a call to action (‘the painting is the Earth’) doesn’t necessarily make action feel more urgent or more achievable.
I also wouldn’t be surprised if public opinion is against them. These actions could encourage people to believe that climate activists are insane; that they are destructive; and that they are selfishly promoting their beliefs at the expense of others’ enjoyment of precious cultural artifacts. I don’t think we want to set up a scenario where we give more ammunition to the idea that we must choose between human culture and pleasure (art) and the natural world (the Earth). I believe better effects will come from actions that encourage people to see themselves as a part of the Earth and to build an understanding of how we will all be affected by climate change. I don’t think this can be done effectively with scientific knowledge alone but instead needs to be combined with an artistic approach that appeals to our senses, to our love of humanity and its accomplishments, and encourages an appreciation of our place in the global ecosystem. For such actions, we need scientists to share their understanding of natural systems. We need artists to think outside the box and create something beautiful and affecting. We need activists to bring their boldness and passion. I’d love to see what we can all accomplish together.
Stéphane Verlet Bottéro (b. 1987) is an artist working at the intersection of social practice, installation, education, writing, gardening, and cooking. He is interested in the entanglements of community, materiality, body, and place. Based on site-specific research and durational interventions, his practice seeks to open spaces to unlearn and unsettle ways of inhabiting the world.
Stéphane Verlet-Bottéro
At the crossroads of institutional critique, action painting, and happenings, there is a performativity of the gesture that is carefully thought through: a new protest sport that blurs art and life (or rather, extinction).
Maybe.
Much has been said already about the efficiency, symbolism, and aesthetics of climate activists’ spectacular throwing of soup, puree, oil, flour, ink, glue, at artworks that are all somewhat iconic of western modernity ― from Constable’s pre-industrial revolution, bucolic Hay Wain to Warhol’s fossil fuel-infatuated BMW Art Car. At the crossroads of institutional critique, action painting, and happenings, there is a performativity of the gesture that is carefully thought through: a new protest sport that blurs art and life (or rather, extinction). Most of these actions took place at museums that safeguard a eurocentric history of art and, consequently, of how art and environmental history mutually inform each other.
Commenting from Paris, I haven’t read in the French media and art criticism microcosm, any reference to another striking militant gesture by Congolese activist Emery Mwazulu Diyabanza, who in 2020 attempted to liberate and exfiltrate a 19th ritual pole from Chad out of the Quai Branly museum. A French equivalent to the British Museum, Quai Branly is located a few steps away from the Eiffel tower, another symbol of European industrial power, and was chosen by Diyabanza and his partners for its emblematic role in the debate on colonial theft and the restitution of African heritage.
Putting these gestures in dialogue would have seemed obvious, but the refusal to make the connection is not really surprising. In the North, most white middle-class ecologists who can afford to get arrested, tend to reproduce the totalizing view of the Anthropocene human/nature binary that silences not only its continuous relation to slavery and imperialism but also the practices and resistance of people subjected to them in the South. Little is done, in environmental movements and media, to connect the race to save the Earth with the struggle to repair the scars of colonialism. Malcom Ferdinand has coined the concept of double fracture ― environmental and colonial ― of modernity, to discuss how such silencing reinforces imperialist domination on plural ways of inhabiting the world sustainably.
In the Report on the restitution of African cultural heritage, Bénédicte Savoy and Felwine Sarr argue that nothing can replace what has been unrooted and compensate for the colonizers’ crimes; however, restitution of artworks and artifacts can operate at a symbolic level to start fixing the relationship that was broken. Environmental repairing must face the racial premises of capitalist extraction and rethink the claim to a habitable planet through the radical lens of restitution.
As long as climate actions refer to the museum as a white affair, the possibility to interpret them remains stuck on one side of history. If, beyond the pragmatic imperatives of urgency and spectacle, these initiatives seek to engage more closely and consistently with anti-colonial activists who also use the museum as a site of expression and contestation, I believe we really have a chance to overcome history and open spaces where the restoration of planetary relationships can truly begin.
Domenico Vito, PhD engineer, works in European projects on air quality in Italy. He has been an observer of the Conferences of the Parties since 2015 - the year the Paris Agreement. Member of the Italian Society of Climate Sciences, he is active in various environmental networks and has been active participant in YOUNGO, the constituent of young people within the Framework Convention of Nations Unite.
Domenico Vito
No.
Such forms of action, besides being wasteful and damaging —and climate change is not about waste but about regeneration — can be very counter-effective for the climate movement.
Climate activism is one of the most important ways to participate in climate action. Anyway, even climate activism can turn into a “misuse” of the power it has. I will be clear I will not agree with such a way to pursue climate activism even if I can deeply understand the feelings inside who made it.
Such forms of action, besides being wasteful and damaging —and climate change is not about waste but about regeneration — can be very counter-effective for the climate movement. If street demonstrations have raised attention and brought the public opinion in favour of tackling climate crises, hitting culture and historical heritage can indeed move people away from sustaining climate activism and in final climate action.
So, even if I feel the emotion of who is lead to such action, in general, I will not feel to support them. Anyway, I take them as a signal of the discomfort civil society has towards a lack of ambition in current planetary governance.
City authorities around the world are looking for policies and tools to facilitate urban greening ― in particular, the process of bringing more soil, vegetation, and water into the built environment through the development planning system. In the UK, authorities are looking at the Urban Greening Factor.
What is it?
City authorities around the world are looking for policies and tools to facilitate urban greening ― in particular, the process of bringing more soil, vegetation, and water into the built environment through the development planning system. In the UK, authorities are looking at the Urban Greening Factor (UGF). UGF has recently been adopted by the City of Swansea in Wales (where it is called the Green Space Factor), and by the Greater London Authority in support of the Urban Greening Policy in the London Plan. This essay looks at how UGF works, its origins, and how it is being used in Swansea and London to boost urban greening.
UGF and the other variants mentioned in this essay are based on Berlin’s Biotope Area Factor. Different landscape cover types in a development plan are assigned scores between 1 and 0, where 1 is natural vegetation and 0 is for completely sealed surfaces. Various categories are given scores according to permeability and naturalness, which acts as a proxy for the various ecosystem services provided. Table 1 lists the various categories used in the London UGF scheme. To calculate an overall score for a scheme, the various landscape cover types are measured and multiplied by their factor score and totalled. This total is then divided by the site area to calculate an overall UGF score. (See Figure 1). Targets of 0.3 are set for commercial developments and 0.4 for residential schemes. Counting of overlapping treatments (for example planting under tree canopies or balconies on tall buildings) is allowed and vertical greening can be measured in elevation, so it is possible to get a score of more than 1.
Semi-natural vegetation (e.g., trees, woodland, species-rich grassland) maintained or established on site.
1
Wetland or open water (semi-natural; not chlorinated) maintained or established on site.
1
Intensive green roof or vegetation over structure. Substrate minimum settled depth of 150mm.
0.8
Standard trees planted in connected tree pits with a minimum soil volume equivalent to at least two-thirds of the projected canopy area of the mature tree.
0.8
Extensive green roof with substrate of minimum settled depth of 80mm (or 60mm beneath vegetation blanket) ― meets the requirements of GRO Code 2014.
0.7
Flower-rich perennial planting.
0.7
Rain gardens and other vegetated sustainable drainage elements.
0.7
Hedges (line of mature shrubs one or two shrubs wide).
0.6
Standard trees planted in pits with soil volumes less than two thirds of the projected canopy area of the mature tree.
0.6
Green wall ― modular system or climbers rooted in soil.
The diagram and table show a theoretical square development site of 100 sq.m., showing how the site has been analysed in terms of surface cover and areas of each type.
Figure 1: Diagram of simplified theoretical development site to demonstrate how the UGF works (modified from Southampton City Council’s Guidance notes)
Formula for calculating the overall GSF score
(Score A x Area) + (Score B x Area) + (Score C x Area) + (Score D x Area) etc.
Total Site Area
Depending on how a scheme is operated by an authority, failure to meet the target can result in rejection of a scheme, or an indication that a proposal needs to be amended, to include a larger area of green infrastructure overall, or elements with higher functionality. Cities usually set a minimum score that must be achieved, and some have targets to encourage developers to be more ambitious and innovative, or they may have requirements which relate to the delivery of a specific function or outcome (e.g., stormwater management).
UGF schemes are usually applied to high-density zones or districts where large-scale urban renewal is planned, where rapid development is expected, or where particular problems (including, for example, biodiversity losses, surface water flooding, or deficiency of accessible green space) could be exacerbated by inappropriate development.
UGF schemes are tools to help translate policy objectives into practice. They are used in combination with the full suite of policies that relate to amenity, green infrastructure, and biodiversity and are usually applied in concert with combinations of green infrastructure and biodiversity strategies, district plans, neighbourhood plans, landscape plans, masterplans, and design codes. UGF schemes do not replace policies, strategies, plans or codes, but help planners and designers to understand how designers are interpreting these.
As UGF schemes are part of a response to the problems associated with the increasing density of cities, they are usually applied in locations that tend to be dominated by multi-storey developments. Achieving a satisfactory UGF score in developments with limited or no ground-level greenspace (where a building covers most or all a site) will normally require green roofs. Although tall buildings have the potential for the overall surface area that is greened to be increased, there is also the question of whether target scores should be increased to reflect this potential and to address the higher demands associated with taller buildings. Conventional green infrastructure planning is usually characterised by ground-level emphasis that overlooks the potential to green the roofs, terraces, and facades of buildings. With high-rise developments with green roofs and walls located on multiple levels and aspects it will be increasing important that not only UGF schemes, but all policies related to green infrastructure, biodiversity, and climate change adaptation, take account of the challenges and opportunities and challenges associated with denser developments and taller buildings. (See Singapore’s Skyrise Greenery campaign below).
With increasing building heights and the increasing complexity of building forms, with many terraces, roofs and facades at different levels and aspects, and the importance of understanding the thermal performance of buildings, their influence on microclimate and city-wide phenomena like the urban heat island, researchers are looking at ways of analysing proposals and modifying planning to take account of these factors. Modelling software, including Envi-met and Greenpass, will become increasingly important as climate change increases the number and intensity of heat waves.
Origins
The origins of the UGF, go back to Berlin, which had its Biotop Flächenfaktor or Biotope Area Factor (BAF), that was introduced in 1994, having been explored in the Western Sector of the city in the 1980s. The BAF is applied, in combination with Landscape Plans, in several Berlin’s inner-city neighbourhoods. Landscape Plans address spatial issues and opportunities and the BAF ensures that adequate green space is provided within each development parcel. The BAF works by setting target scores for greening, which are adjusted according to land use, with sites with educational use, for example, requiring the highest scores. Minimum scores for sites within neighbourhoods covered by the scheme vary between 0.3 and 0.6. Problems with surface water flooding and an overall lack of green space were the catalysts for the BAF initiative, and surface cover types are assigned scores that were based on their ability to infiltrate, store, and evaporate water. The BAF is viewed positively by city planners, architects, and developers, who have praised its simplicity and flexibility, however, it is recognised that it cannot be used to assess the environmental impact of a scheme.
A UGF scheme was trialed in 2001 in a new residential development in the post-industrial Western Harbour area of Malmö, Sweden. The original purpose was to ensure that adequate green space was provided on every plot and that sealed surfaces were minimised. A minimum target score of 0.5 was set. The scheme was subsequently revised after the quality of some developments did not match the planning authority’s expectations. A Green Points System was also added to improve the quality of landscape design and to encourage the inclusion of features that increase biodiversity. The scheme is now being applied to a wider area within Malmö as well as the neighbouring town of Lund.
Figure 2. Greening of social housing in Malmö
Seattle, in the State of Washington, adopted the Green Factor scheme in 2006, which has been subsequently updated. It was modelled, in some respects, on the Berlin BAF. The three priorities of Seattle’s scheme have been liveability, ecosystem services, and climate change adaptation. As with other schemes, Seattle’s has a catalogue of landscape elements, each with its own score, and a requirement for project proposals to meet a minimum overall score. Minimum scores vary according to zones, with residential zones requiring the highest scores and commercial and industrial areas, lower scores. To qualify for certain scores, landscape features must comply with detailed standards set by the city. For example, bio-retention facilities must include adequate soil volumes. Increased diversity of planting is also encouraged. The scheme includes a provision for bonus credits for drought tolerance, irrigation with harvested rainwater, landscape features visible to passers-by, and food cultivation. For a scheme to be awarded a score, it must be submitted with a landscape plan and landscape management plan and be submitted by a licensed landscape professional. A landscape professional must also verify that the landscape scheme has been installed in conformance with the approved plan. Since the scheme was adopted, Seattle’s Department of Planning and Development has noted higher quality and better-integrated landscape design, with increased use of permeable paving, green roofs, and green walls.
Washington DC operates the Green Area Ratio (GAR) regulation. It was introduced in 2013 and subsequently revised. It has similarities with the Seattle scheme. It has been established by regulation and applies to all applications for building permits for new buildings and major renovations (with a few exemptions). The satisfactory implementation of a landscape scheme, that has met the minimum GAR score, must be demonstrated by a Certified Landscape Expert, before a certificate of occupation may be granted. The scheme gives high scores for trees (measured by canopy size), intensive green roofs, and the conservation of existing soil. Target scores vary according to planning zones, with differentiation between residential, mixed-use, and downtown (city-centre) areas.
Helsinki, Finland, considered a UGF scheme as part of its Climate-Proof City – Tools for Planning (ILKKA) project (2012-2014). The approach was to test the operation of a tool and to use the tool to assess design options in two new development sites (Kuninkaantammi and Jätkäsaari). A unique scoring system was developed by a panel of local experts. Issues considered were ecology, functionality, amenity, and maintenance, with the ecological and functional goals prioritised over amenity and maintenance. Minimum scores were set for various land use classes, including residential (0.5), office (0.4), commercial (0.3), and industrial/logistics (0.2), with an expectation that higher targets would be met. These targets reflect the typical differences in the extent of greenspace provided within these development types in Helsinki.
Singapore, which has promoted the ‘City in a Garden’ vision, has explored a Green Plot Ratio (GnPR), which measures overall leaf area and compares this with site area. Typical leaf area indices for trees, palms, shrubs, and grasses are used in the calculations and it is intended that the GnPR approach will assist in evaluating green infrastructure on tall buildings. Singapore has also been at the forefront of promoting green roofs and green walls on tall buildings through its Skyrise Greenery scheme of incentives and awards.
UK Initiatives
Using a UGF tool is a requirement for applications within Southampton’s City Centre Action Plan (AP 12), which in 2015, “required all developments (and especially key sites) to assess the potential of the site for appropriate green infrastructure improvements by using the Council’s Green Space Factor, and to improve the score for the site.” For other sites not within the City Centre, the council encourages, but does not require, use of the tool. Scores are assigned according to the rate of infiltration of rainwater for each landscape element. The scoring system considers existing land cover, encourages retention of existing features, and requires an overall increase in score compared with the existing condition. Performance requirements for surface cover types are not prescribed (as they are in the US for example). A completed spreadsheet is submitted as part of an application; however, there is no requirement for a suitably qualified professional to do this and no mechanism for verifying that a scheme has been implemented satisfactorily.
Swansea introduced the Green Space Factor in 2021, as part of its city centre green infrastructure strategy. Swansea’s GSF is based on London’s UGF (see below). In Wales, sustainable drainage (SuDS) for new development is a requirement and local authorities act as SuDS approving bodies (SABs). Having SuDS on its own does not always result in the best multifunctional outcome, with engineers opting for tanks instead of nature-based solutions, however, the GSF highlights the importance of high-quality green infrastructure in new projects. This has already led to several urban renewal proposals, featuring green roofs and green walls in Swansea City Centre. An example is the Biophilic Living housing and office project in the High Street. A culture is being created whereby there is an expectation that all new buildings will feature a green roof.
The New London Plan was adopted in 2021 and features the Urban Greening Factor (UGF) as a tool to boost urban greening in new development. In anticipation of the formal adoption of the UGF, local planning authorities in London have been asking for developers to submit UGF calculations for schemes for some time. An example is the City of London Corporation, where there is a cluster of high-rise buildings which will need vertical greening to meet UGF targets. Inner London boroughs are preparing their own version of the UGF ― see for example the London Borough of Southwark. And the London Legacy Development Corporation (LLDC) in east London centred on the Queen Elizabeth Olympic Park. Examination of planning applications in that borough show how developers are squeezing green space onto buildings to meet the 0.4 UGF target (Figure 2 shows a controversial high-density scheme in Ilderton Road to illustrate this point).
In those cities where they have been adopted, UGF schemes have been shown to increase the amount of green space within developments, as well as increasing functionality, particularly with respect to surface water drainage. Depending on how they are operated, UGF schemes may also have the aim of requiring, or encouraging, more developers to take specialist advice (usually from landscape architects) to ensure that their plans meet the planning authority’s requirements. With most UGF schemes, the purpose is easily explained and understood and the calculation of the overall score is a relatively straightforward and inexpensive process. Schemes allow flexibility with respect to plot layout and landscape design and are not prescriptive. Scores for particularly desirable features can be increased to encourage use.
The benefits of UGF schemes include,
A reported increase in the use of multifunctional green infrastructure features
More greening on restricted sites in densely developed areas
A simple mechanism easily understood by non-specialists
Facilitation of conversations between developers and planners
Empowerment of local authorities, who may successfully argue the case for more greening
Flexibility: scores and targets can be adjusted to reflect local priorities
UGF schemes may be perceived as an unnecessary additional administrative burden. This is more likely to be the case in cities, like those in the United States, for example, where the attainment of a score is a pre-requisite of the permitting process. It has been suggested that fragile landscape features (like intensive green walls for example) could be included in plans for meeting a target, with those features subsequently failing if not properly installed or maintained. It should be noted that artificially engineered features tend to require more maintenance and are more vulnerable to failure than retained existing features or more traditional planting in natural soils.
Although scoring schemes are relatively simple, the score assigned to any surface cover may vary from city to city and the assignment of a score to a landscape treatment can be subject to debate. There is the potential for low-quality features (for example green roofs with inadequate substrate depth) to be used to promote and build unsatisfactory schemes that meet the target score. These difficulties can be overcome by providing good definitions and accurate descriptions of the various types of surface cover. If necessary, scoring schemes can be reviewed to address persistent shortcomings.
Potential issues (depending on how a UGF is implemented) can include the following:
given that a UGF determines only the quantum of broadly described categories, the design quality of each treatment cannot be assessed in detail.
there is a possibility of the UGF scheme being too rigidly interpreted, with proposals meeting, but not exceeding targets (a compliance mentality)
Not promoting green roof and green walls could result in insufficient green infrastructure being created in schemes with tall buildings and a small ground-level curtilage.
Considering these issues, it will be essential to be clear and precise about how a UGF scheme relates to the full suite of policies that influence greenspace planning and design. Planning authorities will need to make clear that the UGF will be an assessment tool and will not be the sole method of assessing GI proposed as part of a development scheme. Planning tools cannot be a replacement for good design. UGF needs to be promoted as a tool to complement and help deliver policies and standards on, urban greening, well-being, biodiversity, and climate change adaptation, including summer cooling and sustainable drainage.
Aside from the huge number of swanky resorts and their reputation as a honeymoon destination, the Maldives is probably best known for their less fortunate status as the nation most under threat from climate change.
I recently had the great pleasure and privilege of a holiday on a boat in the Maldives. I had never sailed before, and am by no means an ocean-going character (indeed I took a year of swimming lessons in anticipation of this holiday), so the whole experience of being at sea was wonderfully novel to me and got me thinking about nature in all sorts of new ways. The Maldives is tiny, ranking the smallest country in Asia, and made up of over 1000 islands spread out over the Indian Ocean.
A bird’s eye view of the Maldives. Photo: Pippin Anderson
Their population is small, at around 533 900 people all living on a cumulative 298 km2 (115mi2) of land. Aside from the huge number of swanky resorts and their reputation as a honeymoon destination, the Maldives is probably best known for their less fortunate status as the nation most under threat from climate change. If scientific projections are correct the nation will be inundated by 2100. Their cabinet famously held an underwater meeting ahead of the 2009 U.N. Climate Summit in Copenhagen as a symbolic cry for help.
A cabinet meeting held underwater prior to the 2012 UN Climate meeting in Copenhagen sought to draw attention to the plight of the Maldives who are predicted to be underwater by 2100. (https://www.reuters.com/article/us-maldives-environment/maldives-sends-climate-sos-with-undersea-cabinet-idUSTRE59G0P120091017) Photo: Mohammed Seeneen
What I found revelatory about my trip however was far more basic and straightforward. It is that in the Maldives, and no doubt numerous other coastal and island places, urban nature for them is mostly underwater. Not only is the bulk of daily experienced nature underwater, but with climate change and associated sea-level rise, there is more of this nature encroaching all the time.
Many of the islands are so small that you can stand on the beach where you land and look down the main street right through to the ocean on the other side.
Photo: Pippin AndersonFrom the beach, you can sometimes see right through town to the sea on the other side. Photo: Pippin Anderson
The proximity of the sea and life in the sea is astoundingly ever-present. And the beaches are littered with shells and in a few strides into the water you are surrounded by sea life. Roads are often compact sand, and when it rains, or the tide is high, this sand is wet giving the uneasy sensation of almost being underwater all the time.
When the sandy roads are wet, from rain or a high tide, you get a giddy feeling that with just a little more water you could swim through the town. Photo: Pippin Anderson
It felt unclear to me where the sea ended, and the land began. It’s not to say there is no terrestrial nature. Indeed, there seems to be a concerted effort on the part of residents to grow what greenery they can, but this feels incidental compared to the vast nature presented by the surrounding sea.
Balconies full of greenery and life in the capital city Male. Photo: Pippin Anderson
While I might take a walk to my local greenbelt, or visit the neighbourhood park, it would seem to me any equivalent outing in the Maldives would involve a beach or the sea. I was delighted by an urban park that demonstrated exactly this, where a portion of the sea had been cordoned off at the end of a block and shaded gazebos set up on the sand for mothers who looked on while small children splashed about in the water.
A portion of cordoned off sea forms a park in the city of Male. Photo: Pippin Anderson
Another city park has paths set among stretches of beach sand in the manner of paths crossing a public lawn.
This city park, in Male, uses beach sand in the way other cities might use lawn. Nature in the Maldives is set against a backdrop of sand and sea and this in turn occupies their urban nature spaces. Photo: Pippin Anderson
Almost all nature in the Maldives is sea, sand, and ocean-related and this infuses many of their urban public park spaces.
So, what must it feel like when this nature, the nature you grow up with, the nature that fills your childhood parks, the nature you love, starts to encroach on your city? I try and imagine the terrestrial equivalent. I guess it would be living in a city and the trees and lawns start to creep closer to your house. Grass runners inching their way up the steps towards your front door. Saplings sprouting in your living room. It’s hard to imagine. But for the Maldivians this is reality. Climate change will almost certainly bring nature even closer, threatening their cities, towns, and lives.
The Sinamale bridge, and airport expansion, both being constructed by the Chinese, are among a number of large engineering projects that also appear to be shoring up the islands in anticipation of sea level rise. It’s an expensive project—as island building always is—and it’s hard to know how viable it really is. There is a lovely piece of urban nature-based graffiti beautifully and cleverly painted onto a street in Hulhumale, the airport island just next to the capital of Male, which depicts dolphins breaking through the street, with a wooden bridge across the divided, broken, and submerged tarmac.
A magnificent piece of urban nature-based graffiti painted onto a road speaks of the mounting concern around sea level rise. Photo: Pippin Anderson
This piece of art seems to suggest nature is revered, and loved, but also is a clear statement of panic and concern over sea level rise. The piece is striking. It says to the viewer the sea is just beneath us, and it’s about to get a whole lot closer.
I do acknowledge these musings are undoubtedly naïve. The brief insights gained are enough to let me know my reading of these landscapes is grossly limited. I can cast my eye across a public park or a nature reserve and have some sense of diversity and system health, but in this nature, I am at a loss. I am sure the sea presents textures and colours that are easily understood by locals and lost on me. I cannot imagine what living with this kind of nature must mean for one’s everyday life, but its beauty is readily evident, and the nature is breathtaking.
Looking out across the natural vistas of the Maldives. Landscapes unlike any I have encountered or imagined before. Photo: Pippin Anderson
While I cannot claim an understanding of these seascapes, the experience has shifted my terrestrial thinking and turned me on my head. I look at my terrestrial landscapes now with greater depth. I think I see the air and the soil now in ways I did not before. I see my landscapes as immersed, embedded, upside down, fluid, and connected; less separate entities and more clines.
Regularly, we feature a Global Roundtable in which a group of people respond to a specific question in The Nature of Cities.
show/hide list of writers
Hover over a name to see an excerpt of their response…click on the name to see their full response.
Rebecca Bratspies, New YorkThe grim reality is that far too many communities of color, and low-wealth communities must fight tooth and nail for clean air, clean water, and a healthy environment. This situation is neither accidental nor inevitable.
PK Das, MumbaiI argue participation in planning and design ought to be a right too. Planning that is inclusive takes all existing reality—life forms, activity, and places as the basis of planning.
Marthe Derkzen, ArnhemThe prompt ‘How can we uproot structural inequity in the provision of nature?’ sounds as if something radical needs to happen, something that makes the earth shiver, a need to completely revise what we are doing now. But in reality, oftentimes, a small turn of direction can make a big difference.
Joost Gerretschen, ArnhemOne group that ‘scores’ low on nature quantity, quality, and access, are residents of social housing units. They often live in small rental houses in working-class neighborhoods with little public greenery and may not have the means and/or little opportunity to visit parks, forests, and other nature areas. For them, having a garden can potentially make a big difference.
Rob McDonald, BaselEcologists should advocate for nature as a universal service if we are serious about uprooting structural inequality in nature access, and then be willing to engage in the messy policy discussions about how this policy can be achieved consistent with other goals of city residents, including affordability.
Maria Mejia, BogotáWho gets the best piece of urban green first has to do with abilities to create stories of protection; secondly, the ability to mobilize it and make it popular but these possibilities are, of course, linked to race, gender, class, and historical implications
Praneeta Mudaliar, IthacaFostering meaningful diversity and inclusion within environmental departments will inevitably be accompanied by significant growing pains, as the chorus for addressing structural inequities becomes louder.
Steward Pickett, PoughkeepsieStructural inequality is globally ubiquitous, reflecting consumer capitalism, profligate resource extraction, settler colonialism, and violent enclosure of indigenous lands.
Stephanie Pincetl, Los AngelesThe provision of nature is something that humans have been active agents in delivering for millennia. The degree of structural inequality today is an artifact of the triumph of capitalism, that rode into the far reaches of the globe on the back of Imperialism and fossil energy.
Rebecca Rutt, CopenhagenThe lens of environmental justice brings social disparities into focus but, historically, has imparted a partial view emphasizing human inequality. We do not believe we will ever ease the great disparities across the human species if we do not also deconstruct the artificial separation of humans from the rest of nature.
Huda Shaka, JeddahI would suggest that nature provision is embedded into social infrastructure planning policies and procedures, especially since nature does provide many social services.
Henriette Steiner, CopenhagenHow can we humans place all species in the realm of deserving benefits and broader well-being? How can we remember that ‘nature’ is not there waiting to be provided, but a web of life within which we are deeply embedded? How can we deepen awareness of our own dependency on everything else
Ebony Walden, RichmondOnce we see differently, we can act differently and be disruptors. Otherwise, we will try to solve the problem with the same heart, mindset, and biases that created the problem. To be disruptors we have to uproot these things in ourselves, first and on an ongoing basis.
Steward Pickett is a Distinguished Senior Scientist at the Cary Institute of Ecosystem Studies in Millbrook, New York. His research focuses on the ecological structure of urban areas and the temporal dynamics of vegetation.
Introduction
An Invitation to Nature for All: Uprooting Structural Inequity
As an African American born in the (then officially) segregated South of the United States, I have always understood the oppressive effects of racism. My understanding was originally shaped by two myths that in fact helped reinforce the oppression. Myth One is the idea that racism is in the hands of individual bad actors. Racism emerges from the words and deeds of individuals who happen to be bigots.
Myth One suggested that the oppression of racism could be overcome by countervailing individual action: whatever individual people of color chose to do, we had to work harder at it than the bigots. Of course, that is an oppressive assumption in itself: “Just spend your life being more productive than the people who hate you. No problem. Work harder and the doors to natural benefits in city and country will open.” If that sounds ridiculous, that’s because the “solution” can only live in a world governed by a second myth.
Myth Two was that racism in the United States was an affliction of the empowered white majority alone, leaving people of color unaware of how Myth One distracted everybody from the social, economic, and cultural system that was the deep source of individual bigotry in the first place. In other words, the first myth is a symptom of the operation of the oppressive system purposefully obscured by Myth Two. The second myth makes us blind to the fact that we are all participants – oppressors and oppressed — in an interlinked system of social, cultural, and economic processes. Even while chafing against it, sometimes the oppressed unknowingly support the system by accepting one or both of the myths. One doesn’t overcome such a large, oppressive system by working longer, harder, or more cleverly. Oppressors have too much at stake in the system to admit that it even exists, or that it favors them, or that it is anything other than the outcome of supposedly inherent, negative attributes of the oppressed.
Forget both myths. As societies and individuals, we only overcome such a system of oppression by recognizing it and dismantling it. Dismantling might require a kind of reverse engineering. Is that too slow? If so, is the approach to figure out where the wrenches are best thrown into the gears? Making us all look away from the larger machinery of racism is one of the racialized machine’s most insidious strategies for its own perverse resilience.
Of course, such oppressive systems do not just operate in the United States. The gigantic social-environmental system of racism has dimensions of colonialism at global and within-nation scales. In traditions where race doesn’t provide the operative hierarchy, colorism often stands in. Oppression has other dimensions too: religion and sect, gender, class, migrant status, and access to training and education, among others. Research on such things as the global extent of segregation, or the deep, lasting legacies of colonialism in both the “periphery” and the “mother country,” demonstrate the virtually universal importance of a structurally inequitable system that affects access to nature’s benefits.
This round table asks scholars, activists, scientists, and humanists having diverse perspectives, experiences, and geographic spheres to examine how to address the myths supporting inequity that they see at work; to explore how the situations in different global regions, countries, or different social-cultural perspectives shape the modes and opportunities for dismantling the network of structural inequities confronting marginalized and excluded groups and persons. What stands in the way of access to nature’s benefits, and the avoidance of any hazards that can emerge from nature’s energies? How do we sweep those barriers away?
Rebecca Bratspies is a Professor at CUNY School of Law, where she is the founding director of the Center for Urban Environmental Reform. A scholar of environmental justice, and human rights, Rebecca has written scores of scholarly works including 4 books. Her most recent book is Naming Gotham: The Villains, Rogues, and Heroes Behind New York Place Names. With Charlie LaGreca-Velasco, Bratspies is co-creator of The Environmental Justice Chronicles: an award-winning series of comic books bringing environmental literacy to a new generation of environmental leaders. The ABA honored her with its 2021 Commitment to Diversity and Justice Award.
Rebecca Bratspies
If we are going to uproot environmental inequality, we must take two critical steps. First, we must “see” the problem. Second, we must reorient the machinery of urban environmental decision-making to prioritize protecting the most vulnerable.
We all deserve to live in healthy communities. Yet, the grim reality is that far too many communities of color, and low-wealth communities must fight tooth and nail for clean air, clean water, and a healthy environment. This situation is neither accidental nor inevitable.
Consider New York City. The city’s racial segregation was carefully planned. This link shows a map of the New York City neighborhoods that were redlined nearly a century ago. It is a map of structural racism — of the government’s deliberate decision to exclude racialized Black and brown neighborhoods from the economic prosperity of the New Deal.
The choices New York City has made since then have only reinforced the inequalities driven by structural racism. Tracking where the city sited its power plants, its wastewater treatment plants, and its waste transfer stations creates a map of New York City’s environmental racism. Unsurprisingly, this map is virtually identical to the redlining map, and also closely tracks the neighborhoods targeted by the city’s unconstitutional stop and frisk policy and that continue to suffer most from mass incarceration.
Now take this map of structural and environmental racism and add neighborhoods with few green spacesor street trees. Add neighborhoods where environmental enforcement is lax. Add neighborhoods where kids struggle with asthma and miss too much school because they are sick. Add neighborhoods where residents bear a disproportionate cardiopulmonary disease burden. Then add the neighborhoods most vulnerable to the city’s heat island effect, and finally add the neighborhoods where COVID-19 hit first and hardest. Once again it is largely the same map. This is the map of New York City’s environmental injustice, the places where the polluting industry has the biggest impact on the health and welfare of residents, and the city has failed to address the environmental needs and priorities of the community.
These combined maps grew out of both the legacy of past de jure racialized exclusion and of current de facto racial discrimination. Past and present combine to create structural inequality in the provision of nature and its benefits to people. Yet, history is not destiny. The future does not have to be an endless replication of environmental inequality, but it will take active intervention to uproot environmental inequality and build a greener, fairer, more equitable city.
If we are going to uproot environmental inequality, we must take two critical steps. First, we must “see” the problem. That means acknowledging that profound inequalities exist in our cities with regard to air quality, water quality, tree canopy, and access to green spaces. And it means confronting the reality that these inequalities are, in fact, structural. They cannot be reduced to market forces, or about the accumulation of private preferences. Instead, environmental inequalities are a manifestation of the racialized, structural inequality that sits at the core of so much public decision-making. Once we recognize that the problems are structural, it becomes clear that the solutions must be structural as well.
This brings us to the second step. We must reorient the machinery of urban environmental decision-making to prioritize protecting the most vulnerable. In 2021, New York took an important step toward this goal by adding Art. I, Sec 19 to the state constitution. This amendment reads, in its entirety, “Every person shall have the right to clean air, clean water, and a healthful environment.” In adopting this language by an overwhelming majority, New Yorkers put themselves on the right side of history. They joined the United Nations, and 150 states in recognizing that clean air, clean water, and a healthy environment are basic human rights that belong to everyone. Everyone! Not just those with enough money, not just those living in the right zip code, or having the right complexion, accent, or religion.
Putting the right to a healthy environment at the center of urban decision-making can be a way to get us from environmental racism to environmental justice. By drawing a clear starting point that no communities are sacrifice zones, this approach to urban decision-making reorients priorities.
P.K. Das is popularly known as an Architect-Activist. With an extremely strong emphasis on participatory planning, he hopes to integrate architecture and democracy to bring about desired social changes in the country.
PK Das
Nature for All
I argue participation in planning and design ought to be a right too. Planning that is inclusive takes all existing reality—life forms, activity, and places as the basis of planning.
We have two important questions before us in this round of discussions—overcoming structural inequity and accessing nature services and their benefits by all. Let us deliberate.
1 Overcoming structural inequity
Inequity in the access to nature and its benefits is a structural issue, intertwined with larger inequity questions—exclusion, oppression, discrimination, and abuse of vast sections of people, places, and the environment. This wide spectrum of inequity, injustice, and violent conflicts is being relentlessly carried out by the ruling dispensation through many divisive means—religion, caste, race, faith, gender, classes, and so on. Addressing or dealing with one or the other issue individually will not yield any significant structural change in the prevailing conditions of inequity.
The way forward is to comprehensively address these fundamental inequity issues across the various divide that have over the years violently fragmented and severely damaged the ecology of places—people & nature; and build close relationships across various social, environmental, and political rights struggles. As a matter of fact, access to nature and nature services equally by all could form an effective means for spearheading the larger coalition and unity objective. The issues relating to nature and its services, particularly their segregation from people’s lives, has come to be one of the most critical concern–having resulted in catastrophic climate events and the compounding existential crisis of the planet itself.
Alongside the need for building larger forces of unified struggles, an understanding of the significance of nature and its services little understood is a necessary step. Knowledge dissemination through wider public campaigns, dialogues at all levels—including engaging governments, protests, and deeper study and research are necessary tools for the achievement of the objective of overcoming inequity at all levels, including nature and its benefits.
2 Accessing nature services and benefits by all
Benefits of nature and its services must be equally accessed by all. As a matter of fact, such access must be considered a right. Not a matter of decision and discretion in the hands of a few who direct the supply and provision. Being a right would mean decision-making in the hands of collectives in which all the people―being increasingly aware, participate equally, towards the achievement of the objective of democratizing natural elements and assets.
In what form do we relate to nature and its benefits, establish close relationships between people and nature, and thereupon access equally? Such forms, also being the means in providing wider awareness and knowledge, re-enforces the resolve of the various movements demanding equity and justice for all. For example—it is the restoration, conservation, re-invigoration, and integration of nature and its services with development objectives, through participatory planning, and design of our places of habitation at all levels—cities, towns, and villages. Therefore, I argue participation in planning and design ought to be a right too. Planning that is inclusive takes all existing reality—life forms, activity, and places as the basis of planning.
This would mean an exercise by the collective of movements in evolving through participatory means an open data and mapping of the natural areas, thereafter the understanding of their impact and benefits, with an objective of promoting nature-led planning as the way forward. To make this process successful, it would be prudent to address planning at the neighborhood level as a bottom-up process in city/town planning.
The catastrophic climate events and the existential crisis warrants the urgency for re-inventing our places of habitation—the expansion of commons. A paradigm shift from the ways by which business is carried out as usual—top-down authoritarian planning with an objective of colonization of the commons, including nature, to individual and corporate interests.
Hopefully, the above understanding of the macro-issues and the need for mobilization of people’s collective forces would facilitate and enable a structural shift towards the achievement of equity of nature and all its benefits for all.
Dr. Marthe Derkzen is a researcher and lecturer with the Health and Society chair group. She studies urban nature from a social justice perspective with an interest in climate adaptation, local food, healthy neighborhoods and stewardship of the commons.
Marthe Derkzen and Joost Gerretschen
The prompt ‘How can we uproot structural inequity in the provision of nature?’ sounds as if something radical needs to happen, something that makes the earth shiver, a need to completely revise what we are doing now. But in reality, oftentimes, a small turn of direction can make a big difference.
The prompt ‘How can we uproot structural inequity in the provision of nature?’ sounds as if something radical needs to happen, something that makes the earth shiver, a need to completely revise what we are doing now. But in reality, oftentimes, a small turn of direction can make a big difference. I will share an example from my hometown Nijmegen in the Netherlands where a few good-intended people are making big, green changes.
In the Netherlands, as in many countries, a decisive factor in structural inequity in nature provision (and many other things) is where you live: in a spacious suburban residential area or in a working-class neighborhood? In an apartment or a detached house? And do you rent or own your home? Inequity in the provision of nature and its benefits to people are related to quantity (the amount of nature available), quality (does it serve people’s needs), and access (for anyone anytime). One of the groups that ‘scores’ low on nature quantity, quality, and access, are residents of social housing units. They often live in small rental houses in working-class neighborhoods with little public greenery and may not have the means and/or little opportunity to visit parks, forests, and other nature areas.
For this group, having an attractive garden can potentially make a big difference. But if you work long hours, fall ill, if your children keep you busy, or you just don’t have a green thumb, designing and maintaining a garden can become too much. Also, in some cities, it used to be practiced to completely remove a garden and strip it back to sand or tiles when a new renter would move in. So, in many social housing areas, sealed front and back yards keep nature far away. The private sphere is hard to influence, and there is no tax on sealed surfaces (yet), so if you want to make a change, you need to get personal.
Start talking to your neighbors. That is what they thought at the housing corporation Portaal and community center De Broederij in Nijmegen. In 2021, they piloted the Groenpost: a team of community center volunteers, living in the neighborhood, who maintain gardens of residents who are not or who are no longer capable to take care of their gardens. In a few months, several gardens have been transformed so that residents can start enjoying their outdoor space. Sometimes, a vegetable garden is brought back to life, other times it is weeding that gives a garden a fresh new look. The goal is not to turn the garden into a nature paradise, but to let residents enjoy and make use of their garden rather than perceiving it as a burden or something to be ashamed of. And a goal of the Groenpost pilot that is at least equally important, is to grow social contacts among neighbors.
Gardens transformed via the Groenpost project. Photos: De Broederij
The gardenwork performed by the volunteers brings them benefits also. The Groenpost volunteers are not otherwise employed, and admit they have few social contacts themselves. The Groenpost is a reason to leave home, helps structure the week, and gives meaning to their lives. Volunteers indicate that the work brings them joy and energy and that it benefits their mental health. They experience feelings of purpose, self-esteem, and independence. Working in a team also brings along responsibility and a feeling of togetherness, reducing the risk of loneliness according to one participant. The fact that the volunteers are personally acquainted with many issues that are common among residents of this neighborhood, helps them in establishing contacts. Decreasing social isolation and increasing social control drive the participants to continue their Groenpost work.
Mid-2022, DeBroederij, Portaal, two other housing corporations, and the local government have signed an agreement to collaborate and continue with the Groenpost pilot. This is just a small example of how structural inequity in nature provision can be uprooted by good intentions and personal action – and that governments should play a role in facilitating citizen engagement.
Joost recently graduated from Wageningen University and Research (WUR) in the field of environmental sciences, having specialized in the relationship between urban climate adaptation and socio-economic inequalities. He now works for the Dutch Association of Municipalities (VNG).
Dr. Robert McDonald is Lead Scientist for the Global Cities program at The Nature Conservancy. He researches the impact and dependences of cities on the natural world, and help direct the science behind much of the Conservancy’s urban conservation work.
Rob McDonald
Ecologists should advocate for nature as a universal service if we are serious about uprooting structural inequality in nature access, and then be willing to engage in the messy policy discussions about how this policy can be achieved consistent with other goals of city residents, including affordability.
To think about how to uproot nature inequality, we need to be clear about its causes. These are complex, and vary a lot by society (and indeed, one study found very little nature inequality in Singapore) and the type of natural feature. In the United States, where I have conducted the bulk of my research, tree canopy cover is very unequally distributed, for at least two (related) reasons. Structurally, most households of low income or of people of color are in dense neighborhoods often near the urban core, whereas most households of high income or of non-Hispanic whites are in less dense suburban or exurban neighborhoods. This leads to a degree of structural inequality in tree cover since denser neighborhoods have higher impervious surface cover and hence lower tree canopy cover on average. One could argue that income inequality (or past discriminatory policy) leads to land inequality which leads to inequality in tree cover. Even after controlling for differences in density, poor and minority neighborhoods tend to have lower tree cover than equivalently dense higher-income or white neighborhoods. This residual inequality can be more directly attributed to unequal investment in tree planting and maintenance, either on public or private sector land.
Concerted efforts by the public sector to invest in tree cover improvements in currently less-green neighborhoods could go a long way toward rectifying tree cover inequality. This is especially true for “residual” inequality, which my coauthors and I estimate could be rectified in US cities by planting 62 million trees for around 18 billion dollars. But for structural inequality, solutions must also be found on private land, whether yards or buildings, simply because it is difficult to plant enough trees on public land in dense neighborhoods to reach tree cover levels in less dense neighborhoods. Other solutions must be sought.
I would argue that the provision of nature in cities is undergoing a transition to being thought about in a way equivalent to other urban services, such as the provision of water, sanitation, and electricity. Sanitation and drinking water provision was, for instance, thought of for centuries primarily as the responsibility of individual households, with some important exceptions (the aqueducts and sewers of the Romans among them). In the 19th century, however, the germ-theory of disease and other factors led to the development of what has been called the Sanitary City. Sanitation and water (and later electricity and phone service) became universal services supplied by the state to all, an expectation of urban citizens. In the same way, there is a movement toward thinking of access to nature as a universal right. This movement goes stronger each day, as the evidence of the mental and physical health benefits of nature grows.
Imagine if workplaces and schools were required to have a certain minimal level of nature, with thresholds varying depending on the circumstances of the building. This would parallel the requirement for natural lighting as much as possible in the European Union workplaces. Imagine if homes, before they were sold or rented, were required to have certain minimal levels of nature, with the threshold varying by building circumstances. This would parallel requirements of services such as water, sanitation, and electricity.
Urban planners, of course, have many factors to consider. They must balance competing demands such as traffic flow, energy use, cost of construction, and residents’ preferences. Creating affordable housing is often a key concern and should be considered in any plan. A mandate for equitable provision of nature would require someone (city governments, landowners, employers, or individuals) spending money and would increase property values of greened neighborhoods relative to not-yet-greened ones. But universal mandates for water and sanitation provision also require substantial public and private sector investment, one which we now think of as worthwhile (and do not blame for gentrification often, because services are provided universally). Ecologists should advocate for nature as a universal service if we are serious about uprooting structural inequality in nature access, and then be willing to engage in the messy policy discussions about how this policy can be achieved consistent with other goals of city residents, including affordability.
My heart is scattered across Colombia, Germany, the United States. and the Philippines. I have worked with incredible teams (Asian Development Bank, German Cooperation Agency, PIK Institute, etc.). Now back home, I'm currently leading the BiodiverCities by 2030 Initiative at the Humboldt Institute of Colombia. Editor of Urban Nature: Platform of Experiences (2016) and Transforming Cities with Biodiversity (2022). Volunteer at Fundación Cerros de Bogotá. Friend of TNOC since 2013.
Maria Mejia
Who gets the best piece of urban green has to do with abilities to create stories of protection, secondly, the ability to mobilize it and make it popular but these possibilities are, of course, linked to race, gender, class, and historical implications.
“Carnival for Life” or Carnaval por la vida was a 5.000-people mobilization organized by activists of comuna 18 and corregimiento La Buitrera in Santiago de Cali (Colombia) in 2014. The aim was to raise awareness of the need to protect the Meléndez River—the City’s pride back in the 50s and now significantly transformed. An important front of this struggle was El Morro (“The Hill”), an area locals attached environmental and cultural values to but designated for housing developments by the City Administration. The Meléndez River medium-low basin is home to a low-income, working-class community. Read more here: https://epub.uni-bayreuth.de/4520/
I’m interested in how urban biodiversity conservation is no longer a field lying exclusively on scientific knowledge, but rather what we are witnessing is that it is becoming an issue for civic engagement, for collaborations between activists, scientists, researchers, artists, and they are shaping new stories to protect nature in cities. In two words, my interest would be the civic turn that urban nature is taking!
Who gets the best piece of urban nature and why?
Place yourselves in Stockholm, Sweden. Civic associations stopped the building of motorways and houses in a park by interlinking royal heritage values with animal habitat preservation. On the other side of town, however, a similar effort at a green area led to a very different outcome—the Stockholm City Council ignored local resistance and previous decisions to invest in a landscape park and went ahead with plans to build 4000 flats.
What I aim to illustrate here is that even if we are talking about advocates, there are profound differences in how power is distributed across civic mobilizations. So, who gets the best piece of urban green has to do with abilities to create stories of protection, and secondly, the ability to mobilize it and make it popular. However, these possibilities are, naturally, linked to race, gender, class, and historical implications.
Bottom line, let’s follow power distribution to understand who gets the best piece of urban green and why.
What do you think needs to be “uprooted” to achieve equity of the benefits of nature in cities?
If you are an urban ecologist: Ask yourself how often you think about nature i.e., parks, lakes as black boxes, spreading benefits equally across the city. Feel encouraged to unpack power relations, and acknowledge structural and historical aspects such as race, gender, and class.
If you’re an advocate: Create a narrative, a story to protect that piece of nature you are aiming to keep. Add power to your story by ‘picking up’ artifacts (often produced by other actors) and align them with their program to give it ‘weight’. Artifacts can be Scientific reports, maps, numeric values, projections of scenarios, lists of species or ecosystem services, etc., Also, physical structures e.g., buildings.
If you are a local authority: Listen, stabilize good innovations to then connect between them. Why not create a laboratory to understand and transform environmental conflicts in your city? Also, support platforms that spread good ideas and practices. Value experimentation and encourage learning.
What are a couple of important ways you see to dismantle structural inequity?
Enhance tools and mechanisms of participation;
Do not be afraid of addressing conflict but understand what’s at stake in each case;
Do not be skeptical about experiments. Here is one of my favorite aspects of the so-called Transformative Change theory: transformation means, in essence, developing a shared vision of the future, a common idea of well-being and inclusion (a space where the rules of the dominant system do not predominate)
Do you have an inspiring or important example in your city or region you think people should know about?
Yes, I do. The social movement in defense of urban wetlands in the city of Bogota. It is an example of how place-based engagements can create significant agency leading to new forms of knowledge production and even new policy frameworks. Here are some highlights:
Since the early 1990s up-to-date, the struggle has never ceased. As Certeau pointed out in 1984: “Whatever it wins [the powerless], it does not keep. It must constantly manipulate events in order to turn them into opportunities.”.
Twenty years back, advocates opened up a new layer the city had overlooked: the ecological value of urban wetlands.
Advocates involved in these place-based struggles overcame local barriers and developed community actions based on embedded bonds of solidarity – 15 different networks engaged with urban wetlands.
Collaboration between advocates and academics led to the possibility of re-framing the city policy. Technical knowledge was produced thanks to the interest in this social mobilization, this evidence ultimately supports the work of advocates and helps create a larger impact. (Read more: https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/full/10.1177/2399654420929355)
Praneeta Mudaliar is an Assistant Professor of Environmental Natural Resources Policy and Stewardship at the University of Toronto Mississauga. Her interdisciplinary social scientific research and teaching spans the commons, collective action, climate justice, climate policy, and decolonizing conservation.
Praneeta Mudaliar
Fostering meaningful diversity and inclusion within environmental departments will inevitably be accompanied by significant growing pains, as the chorus for addressing structural inequities becomes louder.
Institutions of higher education (IHEs) have been complicit in perpetuating and maintaining structural inequity, racism, and white dominance since their inception. In Ebony and Ivy: Race, Slavery, and the Troubled History of American Universities, Craig Steven Wilder writes, “The first five colleges in the British American colonies—Harvard…William and Mary…Yale…Codrington…and New Jersey—were instruments of Christian expansion, weapons for the conquest of Indigenous peoples, and major beneficiaries of the African slave trade and slavery (p.17). While the United States’ long-overdue reckoning with racism has been fraught, environmental departments in IHEs have been silent. Acknowledging the racist origins of the environmental movement and the racist founding of their institutions can be a first step toward uprooting structural inequity in the provision of nature and its benefits to people.
The silencing, minimizing, and erasing of Black, Indigenous, and People of Color (BIPOC) students and faculty is distressing at best and infuriating at worst. During my own education, I, a Brown person from India, could not shake off the feeling of being an outsider. In graduate school, we studied the preservation and conservation debate between John Muir and Gifford Pinchot through Ken Burns’ documentary, The National Parks: America’s Best Idea. The documentary was gripping and yet unsatisfactory in its uncritical depiction of John Muir as the “father of preservation” at the expense of the genocide of Indigenous peoples. We watched the 1970 Dixie cup commercial where an “Indigenous” person sheds a tear as trash, callously thrown out of a car window, lands at his moccasins. The narrator says, “People start pollution. People can stop pollution.” We did not explore the hypocrisy of corporations to shift responsibility onto people for keeping the environment clean, nor did we discuss the whitewashing of an Italian actor to portray an Indigenous person. Even my dissertation on race and caste erased me. Instead of discussing how a Brown person conducts fieldwork in an all-white context, my dissertation committee questioned me on the validity and reliability of qualitative methods in my dissertation defense. I was left questioning my place in the environmental field because I did not see my experiences represented in what I was studying. The environmental field as well as these departments universalized whiteness.
Correcting this legacy of environmentalism in environmental departments to benefit the environmental movement will take all faculty to engage in intentional planning and effort. Awareness of the prejudiced history of environmentalism can help students intervene for altering the racist trajectory of this history. Yet, moving beyond content is essential. While writing anti-racism plans to support BIPOC students and faculty is fashionable, the actual work that faculty must do in educating themselves on the historical reality of systemic racism and developing self-awareness about different experiences falls to the wayside. Faculty can learn to articulate what dominant culture is and how language, tropes, and norms of the environmental discipline drive BIPOC students away to departments where they might feel more heard, seen, and welcomed. Faculty can reevaluate the ways in which they deemphasize social and racial identities in teaching about the environment—as well as in everyday interactions. Faculty can reflect on how they adopt colorblind ideologies, foster meritocracy, and “help” or “save” minoritized folx that pushes students away.
Fostering meaningful diversity and inclusion within environmental departments will inevitably be accompanied by significant growing pains, as the chorus for addressing structural inequities becomes louder. Instead of ignoring the racist origins of environmentalism and the racist founding of IHEs, engaging in uncomfortable conversations, and working through the discomfort will retain more BIPOCs in the environmental field and better equip them to meaningfully empower and touch the lives of people and nature.
Steward Pickett is a Distinguished Senior Scientist at the Cary Institute of Ecosystem Studies in Millbrook, New York. His research focuses on the ecological structure of urban areas and the temporal dynamics of vegetation.
Steward Pickett
How can ecologists, as part of the social-economic “industry” of conservation, resilience, and greening stop getting in the way of nature for all?
Structural inequality is globally ubiquitous, reflecting consumer capitalism, profligate resource extraction, settler colonialism, and violent enclosure of indigenous lands.
Structural inequality is globally ubiquitous, reflecting consumer capitalism, profligate resource extraction, settler colonialism, and violent enclosure of indigenous lands. Ecologists can unintentionally reinforce a “conservation-industrial complex” that constrains nature for all by supporting structural inequity. Ecologists’ lapses include supporting conservation based on displacement of indigenous peoples or those experiencing poverty; embracing a view of resilience that references past social or environmental states in which social oppression is embedded; and assuming that greening is a neutral solution suitable for all social and ecological situations. Ecologists might begin to correct their lapses by examining problematic concepts that reinforce structural inequity in conservation, resilience, and greening. Here are some examples.
Non-white. Used to label all racialized groups incurring lower status in some societies, this term has three faults. First, it obscures the variety within socially assigned categories and their equally diverse ecological situations. Such homogenization can environmentally or economically disadvantage certain people in conservation decision-making. Second, it “accidentally” honors white folks by naturalizing their assigned hegemonic position. Third, it is wrong to define people by what they are not, implying that they lack something. “Disabled,” suffers from this same problem.
All Green is Good. Green ecological infrastructure in cities can reduce the burden on engineered infrastructure and can increase ecosystem services. However, assuming that green infrastructure is good for all people at all times may be a mistake. GI may have costs and hazards that are differentially apportioned among residents. For example, some communities fear negative social implications of green infrastructure or worry that they must spend time and money maintaining it. Dialog with communities that might be impacted — in any way — by green infrastructure should start early in projects and be ongoing to address fears and burdens of GI.
Green gentrification is just the market in action. Greening can lead to increased rents and housing prices, conversion of apartments to short-term rentals, or more aggressive policing of the unhoused or long-time residents of color. Fear of gentrification is real in neighborhoods hosting disempowered or under-resourced people. The market is often seen by ecologists and residents alike as an inevitable consequence of greening. That assumption should be rejected. When ecologists’ work supports greening, they should also use their social position to speak for policies that limit the damage an unfettered housing market can cause. Ecologists who accept this challenge must work with other experts and activists.
Avoid socially loaded terms. Vernacular terms transported into technical contexts may still carry social baggage. When such terms act as “industry standards,” their implications for systemic inequities are rarely evaluated: What does “invasive” species connote about human immigration? Does “exotic” suggest dismissive othering of people’s social or ethnic identities? Does the negative implication of “non-native species” parallel judgements from nationalist movements? Does “resilience” draw comfort from reactionary movements, or seek to maintain past social rankings? Does “sustainability” suggest keeping inequitable social structures? Even the seemingly innocent study of vegetation dynamics has terms with social baggage. “Succession” justifies societal stability. Likewise, “colonizing species” may ignore global resource extraction, displacement, and genocide. “Pioneer species” explores the same colonialist frontiers. This is no mere call for superficial political correctness because these terms tacitly reference social assumptions supporting systemic inequity.
Don’t normalize criteria of inequity. Social categories are socially constructed for political or economic purposes. But many categories supporting inequity have been “naturalized,” that is, assumed to be givens that just describe the way things are. Terms like race, poverty, privilege, education, and wealth are often treated in research as inherent characteristics of groups. Consequently, what these terms assume about merit or disadvantage has been hidden. Such terms should be seen as tools of structural inequity. Race is particularly problematic. Introduced by Linnaeus in 1753 as a geographic and physical descriptor of human variety, it became a Euro-centric hierarchy of social worth in the 10th edition of Systema Naturae (1758-59). Since then, many people assumed that race was a biological criterion, leading to decades of misguided and ultimately rejected racist research and eugenics, aiming to support the alleged human racial hierarchy.
Ecologists must understand that race is actually a socially constructed tool, in spite of the fact that some heritable physical features may be used as racialized markers. Any stability of race is social, not biological. Similarly, individuals or populations are not inherently poor, privileged, educated, wealthy, or vulnerable to hazards. Social and spatial circumstances affect what status people experience. This suggests alternative ways of speaking: “people who are experiencing poverty,” “people benefitting from privilege,” or “people identified as members of a racialized group.”
Don’t just work in your own “backyard.” Social-ecological researchers often work in locations that are familiar to them in terms of racial categories, economic status, or social class. This of course can bias data that are available to support conservation, resilience, and greening efforts, especially when those results are to be applied to areas with different social characteristics. Similarly, research questions may be biased as a result of the social spectrum represented by a research team. Posing conservation and greening research questions that go beyond those asked by a team that reflects only white or middle- or upper-class concerns, may be crucial to address structural inequities. Working in unfamiliar places and asking novel questions are best accomplished when research teams include people who are schooled in or have lived in a variety of situations, and who are sensitive to the ethics of such work.
Ecology is not morality. Ecological knowledge is a way of understanding how various material worlds work. Those worlds of course include humans, other organisms, institutions (in the broadest sense), biogeochemical processes, and interactions among all these. Humanistic concerns, religions, ethical thinking, and moral tenets can influence the interactions involving humans in all their richness, and certainly affect how the material understanding of ecology is shaped and applied. However, the morals and ethics surrounding ecology and its use are social phenomena, not the result of scientific knowledge alone. Ecology is sometimes cited to mean that human action should favor equilibrium or balance, that ecosystems demonstrate almost teleological progress toward socially desired conditions, or that systems are closed and self-adjusting toward some end. None of these things does ecological science require, although it can empirically illustrate the material implications of those assumptions. As powerful and consequential as social values about closure, endpoint, or balance are, those guides are just that – human and social values. Ecology can be put in service of a community’s or a polity’s accepted values, but ecological data themselves do not supply those values. Ecologists concerned with ethics and values, and ecology as a socially embedded process of generating knowledge about material worlds, must be in dialogue with other communities and thinkers in a wide variety of other human pursuits, ranging from art, to politics, to law, and religion at the least.
Pincetl has written extensively about land use in California, environmental justice, habitat conservation efforts, urban ecology, water and energy policy.
The provision of nature is something that humans have been active agents in delivering for millennia. The degree of structural inequality today is an artifact of the triumph of capitalism, that rode into the far reaches of the globe on the back of Imperialism and fossil energy.
How to uproot structural inequality in the provision of nature and its benefits to people is a substantive question in the first quarter of the 21st century where we are experiencing an acceleration of the enclosure of nature, of country sides where people have exercised a living for hundreds, if not thousands of years, cultivating, harvesting, and nurturing trees, herbs, crops, coppices, prairies, and meadows. The increasing concentration of land ownership, whether in private hands such as agribusiness companies, mining companies, timber companies, or in public hands such as Chinese municipalities, is forcing more people into cities and transforming nature. They are rationalizing complex landscapes productive of food, fiber, and diverse life, into extractive landscapes, depleting them rapidly.
Humans have been organically mixed into nature and what we perceive to be natural processes since they have arisen on the planet, planting, harvesting, burning, cultivating, and building. But until the rise of Western Imperialism and the harvesting of the Earth for the growth of capitalism, natural system transformation was not ubiquitous, and extractivism, at the scale made possible with fossil energy, was more modest, and in many places, remediable. Thus, the provision of nature is something that humans have been active agents in delivering for millennia. The degree of structural inequality today is an artifact of the triumph of capitalism, that rode into the far reaches of the globe on the back of Imperialism and fossil energy. Unraveling that coupled situation is the task before us today, and structural inequality will not be uprooted until we do.
The current growth in incursions for soy and cattle in the Amazon encouraged and fostered by the Brazilian government and at the service of agribusiness, is a particularly obvious example. The continued conversion of rainforests in Sumatra and Kalimantan for palm oil (250,000 hectares a year), or the Cambodian push for more sugarcane fields, is pauperizing the local inhabitants, transforming them into labor for the commodity, and no longer able to cultivate food for themselves or the region, and maintaining biodiversity. Rather, in the search for cheap commodities, the countryside and nature, continue to be the sacrifice zones for capital.
Once we were concerned with Enclosure, this was in the context of industrializing Europe, and particularly the UK, recognizing that this process squeezed people off the land and concentrated wealth, as well as access to resources – those shallow coal veins – leaving behind toxic slag and poisoned streams to feed the growing industrial machine. We saw how this process forced people into cities to become wage laborers. But we tend to be blind to this process today, and the consequences for nature and its benefits for people, not only in terms of soil fertility and health, diverse foods, and wildlife but also for human health and well-being.
These commodity frontiers as they have been described, are still extant, inexorably continuing to transform country sides to supply ever larger urban agglomerations devoted to consumption activities. High-energy modernist urbanism is dependent on extraction from afar, perpetuating inequality between cities and rural areas, and destroying natural processes. While much has been written about the need for ‘nature’ in cities, to make them more habitable, there is a greater need to understand urbanization as a coupled process with continued enclosures. Only by curbing inputs into cities will structural inequalities begin to be addressed, and natural systems able to endure.
Rebecca Leigh Rutt is a dedicated local volunteer, grassroots activist, and an Assistant Professor of European Environmental Policy, at the University of Copenhagen, Denmark.
Rebecca Rutt and Henriette Steiner
Nature for All: How can we uproot structural inequity in the provision of nature and its benefits to people?
The lens of environmental justice brings social disparities into focus but, historically, has imparted a partial view emphasizing human inequality. We do not believe we will ever ease the great disparities across the human species if we do not also deconstruct the artificial separation of humans from the rest of nature.
As we reread the prompt for this blog post, we stumbled over the last words ‘benefits to people’. Why this? The provision of nature for human benefit is deeply subject to structural inequalities, affecting physical and psychological access and decision-making spaces. These are classic dilemmas of environmental justice, and extremely urgent to redress ― if we care about social justice. But we would also like to argue that at the heart of environmental injustices exists a profound injustice also to the wider ecosystems that surround us and the trees, grasses, birds, and insects to name a few, with whom we cohabitate and on whom we deeply depend.
The lens of environmental justice brings social disparities into focus but, historically, has imparted a partial view emphasizing human inequality. We do not believe we will ever ease the great disparities across the human species if we do not also deconstruct the artificial separation of humans from the rest of nature.
Human history is rich with kinship relations with other species[1]. Today’s dominant yet false separation of humans from, and value positioning over, the rest of nature, originates in historical circumstances and is an outcome, especially of just a few hundred years of ‘scientific revolution’ and human ‘Enlightenment’. The developments of this time entailed a narrative of domination and mastery of humans over all else. Not least, René Descartes’ ‘dualist ontology’ created the ontological building blocks by which we today can speak casually of ‘natural resources’ and ‘ecosystem services’, “as if to emphasize [Nature’s] subordination and servitude”[2].
This way of thinking enabled a rising capitalist economic order, which benefited from the mechanization, and so ‘death’ of the rest of nature, to legitimize its plunder. All of this unfolded to the general deterioration of quality of life for the majority of humans and other species. Just read Carolyn Merchant’s seminal book The Death of Nature, Women, Ecology and the Scientific Revolution from 1980 for a profound and thought-provoking account of these historical, epistemological shifts and the tolls they have taken on humans and the rest of nature. These shifts are crucial to grasp if we are to equip ourselves to act in the face of the current socio-ecological crises.
Historically, our numerous and diverse human cultures of reciprocity and interdependencies with other species and natural ecosystems have largely been pushed to the background. They have been replaced by an idea of human exceptionalism, constructed primarily in the image of the white, wealthy, male born of a capitalist and industrialized West. This divide and conquer strategy, these false dichotomies that separate and order our world, are repeated also within human societies, based upon other problematic divisions of gender, racializations, and more that enable exploitation. Not all species count, not all humans count. Such false binaries and dichotomies are the means by which social and environmental injustices have been produced and continue to be upheld.
So, how can we humans place all species in the realm of deserving benefits and broader well-being? How can we remember that ‘nature’ is not there waiting to be provided, but a web of life within which we are deeply embedded? How can we deepen awareness of our own dependency on everything else, and cultivate a sense of moral duty to reciprocate the gifts we receive from the rest of nature[3]? What work must we do in our scholarship, communities, and societies?
What we must do, we believe, is recognize the existing and imagine a host of new alternatives. Feminist degrowth scholar Stefania Barca tells us that emancipatory ecological revolution demands telling the ‘other stories’, those “excavated from the oblivion of the master’s narrative”.[4] We must acknowledge the relationships between and contributions of different actors across human and non-human worlds ― including trees, birds, grasses, reptiles, shrubs, and a site’s climatic and soil conditions ― and envision ways to equitably co-exist. We must look to contemporary efforts to displace the prominence of capitalist economies, such as ‘community’ and ‘solidarity’ economies based upon provisioning, sufficiency, care, and commoning[5]. We must look to the decolonization work of bodies, minds, and landscapes by many Black and brown feminist scholars and indigenous and local communities. And we can look to the many community gardens, commoning initiatives, and social movements for racial, gender, food, water, and housing justice.
All of this is not to say that we should disregard human equity in acts of landscape and city (and rural) planning, but it is a call to an alternative way of thinking about relationships and our ways of being in the world. By doing so, we exercise our imaginations and participate in building more equitable and compassionate modes of living and working together ― not just with other humans but with the other species and ecosystems upon which we depend. We must do this in ways that are joyful, humble, and caring, mindful of and traversing the limits to the conceptual apparatus and ways of living we have inherited and on which our present world was built.
[1] See for instance seminal work in ecofeminism such as Carolyn Merchant’s 1980 book, The Death of Nature, Women, Ecology and the Scientific Revolution, Donna Haraway’s work including the 2016 book Staying With the Trouble: Making Kin in the Chthulucene, or other recent work including Arturo Escobar’s 2017 book, Designs for the Pluriverse: Radical Interdependence, Autonomy, and the Making of Worlds, and Jason Hickel’s 2020 book, Less is More – How Degrowth Will Save the World.
[2] Hickel, J. 2020. Less is More – How Degrowth Will Save the World. Harmondsworth: Penguin.
[3] Please read Robin Wall Kimmerer’s 2013 book, Braiding Sweetgrass.
[4] Barca, S. 2020. Forces of Reproduction: Notes for a Counter-Hegemonic Anthropocene. Cambridge Press.
[5] See work by e.g. Gibson-Graham such as the 2006 book A Postcapitalist Politics, and with Dombroski, the 2020 Handbook of Diverse Economies; Bollier and Helfrich such as their 2019 book Free Fair and Alive: The Insurgent Power of the Commons; Kallis, Paulson, D’Alisa, and Demaria’s 2020 book The Case for Degrowth, and many more. J
Henriette Steiner is an Associate Professor at the Section for Landscape Architecture and Planning at the University of Copenhagen. Through her research and teaching, Henriette strives to inspire more self-reflective, diverse, equitable, and compassionate spatial practices for designing cities and landscapes. Her most recent books are Tower to Tower: Gigantism in Architectural and Digital Culture (MIT Press 2020) and Touch in the Time of Corona: Reflections of Love, Care and Vulnerability in the Pandemic (De Gruyter, 2021). Both books are co-written with Kristin Veel.
Huda's experience and training combine urban planning, sustainable development and public health. She is a chartered town planner (MRTPI) and a chartered environmentalist (CEnv) with over 15 years' experience focused on visionary master plans and city plans across the Arabian Gulf. She is passionate about influencing Arab cities towards sustainable development.
Huda Shaka
How can we uproot structural inequity in the provision of nature and its benefits to people?
I would suggest that nature provision is embedded into social infrastructure planning policies and procedures, especially since nature does provide many social services.
There are three important underlying points within this question that are important to highlight and unpack. I will work backward…
Benefits
It is critical to acknowledge that not all experiences of nature are equal. For example, research[1] shows that the mental health benefits gained from experiencing nature depend greatly on the quality of the experience. This is influenced by factors such as the level of interaction (how many senses are engaged) and the level of exposure (how much time is spent).
What this means is that we need to go beyond KPIs which focus on the quantitative aspects of nature provision (e.g., area of green space, number of trees, length of shoreline). In order to plan and assess for equal benefits, we need to investigate how nature is experienced and what benefits result from this experience.
There is also interesting research that demonstrates that “people of lower socio-economic status reap greater benefit from urban green space than more privileged groups”[2]. In other words, sometimes the people who have the least access to nature spaces (see structural inequity section below) are exactly the people who would benefit the most from these spaces. A disappointing reality and one which must change.
Provision
The word “provision” struck me because I typically think of nature as an available resource to be protected and made accessible, rather than a good or service to be provided. However, if the starting point is a fully developed/urbanised city based on 20th-century models, then provision is probably an accurate word to use.
This then begs the question: who is providing? Should nature provision be a government service/responsibility? Can it be delegated to the private sector (e.g., developers)?
The closest model we have is the provision of social infrastructure and community services. Developers of large-scale projects (full neighbourhoods and master plans) are typically required to provide social infrastructure facilities (e.g., schools, hospitals, mosques… etc.) to gain planning approval. One could think of a situation where developers (public or private) are required to provide a minimum level of ‘environmental infrastructure’ or simply nature.
Structural inequity
The question assumes that structural inequity in nature provision exists. What does the data say? There are some relevant studies from the US on the inequality of nature based on race and income[3]. There is also an interesting case made around intergenerational inequalities[4] particularly given the climate crisis.
I feel that this is still a relatively new research area, and that more investigation is required to fully understand the inequities in nature provision and access across all community groups including across race, age, and gender, and the causes (structural or otherwise). In cities specifically, access to nature will be linked not only to the provision but also to mobility options and choices (what good is a park to a child if they need to drive to it?).
Now that we’ve unpacked the three points, back to the overall question: How can we uproot structural inequity in the provision of nature and its benefits to people?
Currently, environmental planning requirements are focused on mitigating negative environmental impacts. This is a reactive mindset which is based on protection and compensation rather than provision.
I would suggest that nature provision is embedded into social infrastructure planning policies and procedures, especially since nature does provide many social services. Within this governance structure, adequate attention should be given to the level of interaction facilitated by the nature spaces. This is a function of both the physical characteristics of the spaces (e.g., is the space in a safe and accessible location?) and the programmed events and activities (e.g., are educational walks available in all spoken languages?).
Once there is a structured governance framework for nature provision, uprooting the structural inequity will require regular assessment, open dialogue, and transparent decision-making.
Ebony Walden is an urban planner, consultant and facilitator with over a decade of experience working to transform communities. Ebony is the Founder and Principal Consultant at Ebony Walden Consulting (EWC), an urban strategy firm based in Richmond, Virginia. At EWC, she works with organizations to design and facilitate meetings, training and community engagement processes that explore race, equity and the creation of more just and inclusive communities. Ebony is also an adjunct professor at Virginia Commonwealth University where she teaches Diversity, Equity and Inclusion in the City.
Ebony Walden
We Must Become Disruptors
Once we see differently, we can act differently and be disruptors. Otherwise, we will try to solve the problem with the same heart, mindset, and biases that created the problem. To be disruptors we have to uproot these things in ourselves, first and on an ongoing basis.
As a DEI consultant and urban planner, my work is at the intersection of systemic racism and place. I help leaders and organizations create more just and inclusive communities by disrupting the ways in which racism and inequality show up in themselves, their organizations, and the places they shape and inhabit in the built and natural environments. In my consultancy, I admonish clients to work on three levels in order to uproot the ways in which poor people and people of color are disproportionally impacted by climate change, pollution, health, wealth, housing, and transportation inequities in our cities. We must first address the biases within ourselves, disrupt damaging practices within institutions, and collaborate differently.
Start with yourself
I would dare to say that the inequalities we see in society are a manifestation of centuries of believing in a false hierarchy of human value, that certain people are superior and others inferior ― and thus access to resources, treatment across society, and life outcomes have become reflective of that lie. In order to disrupt this lie, we have to replace it with the truth. The place we have maximum control to do that is within ourselves. I like to encourage clients to begin to see and analyze the ways in which race, racism, and systemic inequality have impacted their lives, the places they have lived, and their perspectives (what biases and stereotypes do they hold?) as well as get a deeper understanding of the history and root causes that have gotten us here. In your city, what specific policies and practices have caused some of the inequalities you see? Can you make the connections?
Once we see differently, we can act differently and be disruptors. Otherwise, we will try to solve the problem with the same heart, mindset, and biases that created the problem. To be disruptors we have to uproot these things in ourselves, first and on an ongoing basis.
Disrupt Institutional Practices
As placemakers, we are a part of and frequent institutions within our communities. How are these organizations continuing the status quo of inequality? Are the boards and leadership representative of the community? Are the organizational cultures inclusive? Do they have policies and practices that are causing inequities in pay? hiring? advancement? Are their programs and services leading toward equitable outcomes in cities? Are they incorporating the most vulnerable and those with lived experience in their decision-making?
In order to uproot systemic inequity, we need to assess and disrupt the behaviors, practices, and processes that lead to inequitable outcomes within our institutions (using both qualitative and qualitative data) to best understand where we are and what changes to our behavior, culture, or processes will lead to more equitable outcomes.
Collaborate Differently Across Sectors
There are no single-issue communities, what happens in housing impacts education, transportation, the environment, etc., and vice versa. Therefore, we must partner more and partner differently. Horizontally, we must work across sectors ― asking ourselves who is already working on these issues, who is missing, and are there other vantage points that would be important to incorporate? Vertically, not just working with those in traditional power and leadership, but with leaders who are at the grassroots level and everywhere in between. Centering the voices of people that have been historically on the margins and compensating them for their expertise is key. Nothing about us without us is an important principle as well as lifting up, advancing, and funding people of color-led organizations.
If we want to uproot structural inequality, we must all become disruptors ― starting with ourselves, while also working institutionally and partnering vertically and horizontally for change.
It is crucial that the topic of biodiversity in the context of the built landscape is considered holistically and not only in individual aspects. Cross-thematic and cross-disciplinary cooperation is of central importance for communication and promotion.
Project study within the framework of the Swiss Biodiversity Strategy Action Plan
Increasing building density is putting pressure on green spaces and thus on the living conditions for flora, fauna, and humans. However, the sixth IPPC report and the COVID-19 pandemic clearly show green spaces that enable recreation and the experience of nature in the immediate surroundings are central to both our well-being and biodiversity. To achieve the goal in despite of, or especially, because of the densification stipulated in the Spatial Planning Act (RPG1)[i], new and additional ways are needed for high-quality open and green spaces within sustainable urban and settlement development. As a supplement to parks and gardens, the greening of buildings (facades and roofs) and measures that enable the settlement of wildlife play an important role. They make an important contribution to compensating for diminishing green spaces, providing habitats for flora and fauna, contributing to a better microclimate, having a positive influence on our quality of life and health, and, at the same time, strengthening the attractiveness of the cityscape.
Switzerland is well known for more than two decades for its extensive flat green roofs as ecological compensation surfaces. These surfaces have the purpose of promoting urban biodiversity, using local substrate mixtures and local seeds/plants to reduce the local footprint, and provide rare dry habitats for rare species and other species (generalists and specialists). However, even though there is already a long tradition of greening buildings, especially roofs, as well as legal requirements and conditions imposed by some cities and municipalities, it is not the actual case that all flat roofs in Switzerland are greened. Why is that? And why are there not more such areas? This study investigated this question and others.
On behalf of the Federal Office for the Environment (FOEN), the Urban Landscape Institute of the Department of Architecture, Design and Civil Engineering, in collaboration with the Environment and Natural Resource Sciences Institute of the Department Life Sciences and Facility Management, has produced a study that compiles the existing knowledge, researches and evaluates it based on good practice examples of buildings in Switzerland, and concretely researches and vividly documents their development processes.
In the process, the following topics were scrutinized: Description of the various available technical solutions, but also the potential and the associated challenges and their ecological impact, as well as the associated care and maintenance requirements. Furthermore, the valid regulations and legal bases on the level of public authorities and in the private sector are shown. The whole final report will be deepened with expert interviews on individual key topics or good practice examples and is intended to highlight the gaps regarding the application in planning and implementation even more.
In close cooperation with communication experts, guidelines for action will be developed that will make it easier for cantonal and municipal administrations as well as actors in the private planning and construction sector to better exploit the potential of buildings for the promotion of biodiversity and landscape quality and to communicate between the individual disciplines as well as between the professional world and the population.
Results
During the preparation of the study, it became apparent that in addition to anchoring biodiversity at the legislative level and in education, the planning and implementation process as well as communication play an important role. Communication is central in two ways: it is a success factor in the process and the vehicle for communicating and promoting biodiversity on the building. Within the process, it ensures the functioning of interdisciplinary cooperation and creates acceptance and identification thanks to participation and information. The focus of communication in communicating and promoting the topic is to raise awareness among the relevant groups of actors of the relevance, the options, the opportunities ― and the attractiveness ― of biodiversity-promoting measures in densely populated areas. In particular, planners and decision-makers should be shown, by means of good examples and “ambassadors”, that biodiversity-promoting measures can be exciting design elements and create attractive buildings and open spaces. It is crucial that the topic of biodiversity in the context of the built landscape is considered holistically and not only in individual aspects. Cross-thematic and cross-disciplinary cooperation is therefore also of central importance for the communication and promotion of the topic.
Eco-Green Building Soubeyran Geneva Photo: Alix Jornot
Outlook
The next step should be to develop concrete steps and measures based on the findings and proposed recommendations for action ― and in coordination with the results of the other, thematically related studies: So that biodiversity in densely populated areas can be established as a basic prerequisite for the sustainable further development of our living space.
Anke Domschky is a landscape architect and urban planner at the Urban Landscape Institute of the Department of Architecture, Design and Civil Engineering in Zurich (Zurich University of Applied Sciences).
Acknowledgments
The authors would like to thank Séverine Evéquoz and Claudia Moll of the FOEN for commissioning the study and for their trust. A big thank you goes to Sarah Jüstrich and Stefanie Wiesinger, the project partners Andrea Schafroth and Monique Rijks (s2r.gmbh), Ewa Renaud and Alix Jornot (HEPIA, University of Applied Sciences in Geneva) as well as the numerous experts.
The Spatial Planning Act (RPG) is a Swiss federal law that regulates spatial development in Switzerland. It was enacted on the basis of Art. 75 of the Federal Constitution and aims to ensure the economical use of land. In particular, the natural foundations are to be protected and residential settlements and the spatial conditions for the economy are to be created and maintained. In the referendum of 3 March 2013, voters approved a revision of the Spatial Planning Act with 62.9% in favour, as an indirect counter-proposal to the withdrawn federal popular initiative “Space for People and Nature (Landscape Initiative)”[i]
Are eco-urbanism and urban resilience still relevant? Yes, perhaps now more relevant than ever before. However, their potential needs to be understood from a new perspective.
Russia’s invasion of Ukraine has exacerbated existing problems in global supply chains of two fundamental commodities, namely energy and food, which in turn are leading to soaring inflation. In response, several countries are abandoning their commitments made at the COP26 conference to reduce carbon emissions and instead going back to coal and other forms of polluting energy. The global situation is further exacerbated by the increasingly frequent threats by Russia to use tactical nuclear weapons as an attempt to change the course of its failing invasion of Ukraine. This current situation is superimposed upon an social and political environment that already had all the enabling conditions for the rise of populist right-wing governments across Europe and the Americas, including globalisation, rising inequality, and declining social mobility ― all of which increases climate change skepticism and the belief in the inevitable clash of civilisations.
Against such a background it is legitimate to ask are eco urbanism and urban resilience still relevant? This article will argue that they are perhaps now more relevant than ever before. However, their potential needs to be understood from a new perspective.
Clash of Civilisations or a forward drive of modernity and prosperity on a planet for all?
The theory of the Clash of Civilisations rose to fame with the publication of Huntington’s book with the same title. In it, civilisation may be described by a series of relationships and trade-offs. Civilisation can be defined by different relationships between (1) Humans, Religious Institutions, and their respective god(s); (2) the Individual and the Group; (3) the Citizen and the State; (4) Man and Woman; and (5) Parents and Children. It is further refined and delineated through different views on the trade-offs between (1) Rights and Responsibilities; (2) Liberty and Authority; and (3) Equality and Hierarchy. These differences are the product of centuries of development. For example, western civilizations share the common experience of European history, feudalism, the Renaissance, the Reformation, the Enlightenment, the French Revolution, and the Industrial Revolution. However, particularly in the Era of the Anthropocene, the above traditional definition needs to include the relationship between man and nature, and the trade-offs between the economic growth of human societies and the protection of natural resources and ecosystems. Failing to address these additional relationships and trade-offs may lead to a case of excessive pressures on planetary boundaries that made human settlements and specialization of labour possible in the age of the Holocene.
The theory of the Clash of Civilisations argues that the collapse of communism in the USSR, and the failure of ideas of nationalism and socialism in the Middle East, leads to a wider cultural rift as people in Russia go back to Russianization and people in the Middle East go back towards Islam. Therefore, it is argued that the most important conflicts of the future will occur along the cultural fault lines separating these civilizations from one another. To what extent is this valid today, and what are the chances of increased efforts for eco-urbanism and urban resilience against such a background? Before answering this question, it is useful to see how proponents of this theory responded from a cultural and social science critique perspective.
Said contested the notion that civilizations are monolithic and homogeneous and the unchanging character of the duality between “us” and “them” ― a notion that is prevalent in the establishments of developed first-world countries as well as developing countries. While recognising that differences do exist between Islam, Confucianism, Hindu, Japanese, Slavic, Orthodox, Latin American, and African civilizations; he refused the notion that their differences will inevitably lead to conflict. First, statements about what ‘our’ culture is, what civilization is, or ought to be, necessarily involves a contest over the definition; hence it is more accurate to say we are living in an era of the clash of definitions. To emphasize the differences between cultures is completely to ignore the literally unending debate about defining the culture within civilisations ― particularly important as these debates completely undermine any idea of a fixed identity and hence relationships between fixed identities.
Second, cultures are not the same. There is an official culture, a culture of priests, academics, and the state; that speaks in the name of the whole and provides definitions of patriotism, loyalty, boundaries, and belonging. However, there are also dissenting or alternative, unorthodox, heterodox, strands that contain many antiauthoritarian themes in them that are in competition with the official culture. This “counter-culture”, consists of an ensemble of practices associated with various kinds of outsiders, the poor, immigrants, artistic Bohemians, workers, rebels, and artists.
Third, tradition can be invented, and the idea of a culture and civilization being something that’s stable and fixed is completely disproved by this notion of how traditions can be invented, manufactured for the occasion so the traditions are abstractions that can quite easily be created, destroyed, manipulated, and so on. Fourth, too much focus on the clash of cultures obliterates something else: the fact of a great and often silent exchange and dialogue between them. Indeed, the weakest part of the clash of cultures and civilizations thesis is the rigid separation assumed between them despite the overwhelming evidence that today’s world is, in fact, a world of mixtures, of migrations and of crossings over, of boundaries traversed. There are no insulated cultures or civilizations. Any attempt made to separate them into watertight compartments does damage to their variety, their diversity, their sheer complexity of elements, and their radical hybridity. The more insistent we are on the separation of cultures, the more inaccurate we are about ourselves and about others. The notion of an exclusionary civilization is an impossible one.
The more integrative but more difficult path is to try to see cultures and civilisations as making one vast hole, whose exact contours are impossible for any person to grasp, but whose certain existence can intuit, feel, and study. Such an approach will allow for a new global consciousness that sees the dangers we face from the standpoint of the whole human race including a) climate change, b) threat to biodiversity, c) rising inequality, and d) the emergence of virulent local, national, ethnic, and religious sentiment.
How do eco-urbanism and urban resilience fit in? In every way!
Focusing on the shared experiences and interactions between cultures on how to improve urban resilience and protect eco-diversity, can help the broader objective of enabling a global consciousness that focuses on the dangers we face as a human race.
The relationship between humans, religious institutions, and the associated god(s) varies across countries and religions and is rather complex. Across 800 regions of the World, research shows that people are more religious when living in regions that are more frequently razed by natural disasters. This is in line with psychological theory stressing that religious people tend to cope with adverse life events by seeking comfort in their religion or searching for a reason for the event; for instance, the event was an act of God. It is generally agreed that religious institutions can play a vital role in relief operations and funding in the immediate aftermath of disasters, while also proving to be the space for long-term healing. However, their other role in sometimes promoting disasters as an act of god often benefits authorities, particularly in third-world countries that are characterized by a more religious and less educated population and where religious authorities are under some form of control or influence of the authorities. By portraying disasters as an act of god, which was the rule rather than the exception before the Enlightenment, the discussion shifts away from an examination of the man-made decisions that led to certain development choices which resulted in an unfair and unequal distribution of exposure, vulnerability, risk and losses among different population groups. Sharing and learning from the successful experiences of scrutinizing development choices that lead to disproportionate exposure, risk, vulnerability, and losses would help reduce future disaster losses. It would also help raise awareness of how religion is often maliciously used by authoritarian regimes and greedy investors. This increased awareness, when acted upon in a communal manner, can have a ripple effect on putting an end to the malicious use of religion at large in the long term.
The relationship between the Individual and the Group ― and later on in human development, the relationship between the Citizen and the State ― varies across countries and throughout history. It is affected by trade-offs between liberty and authority, hierarchy and equality, and rights and responsibilities. When the above trade-offs are biased towards elite-captured, despotic, and undemocratic societies; we see marginalized groups being more exposed, more vulnerable, more at risk, and subject to disproportionate disaster losses as a result of decisions taken by the elites. In these circumstances, the process of the use of natural resources (mineral, land, sea, and human) disproportionately benefits the elite, while risks and losses are disproportionately concentrated amongst vulnerable groups (including class, ethnic, sectarian, and cast-vulnerable groups). As a result, social mobility declines, inequality, and marginalization increase, thereby creating the socio-economic conditions for the rise of extremism in all its forms (across the political and religious spectrum). Sharing and learning from the successful experiences of the regulatory role of the state in protecting individuals and groups from the risks associated with the actions of other individuals and groups, would help reduce disaster losses while also reducing inequality and marginalisation. It would also help raise awareness on how the populist “politics-of-fear” is often used by authoritarian regimes who are themselves perpetuating the socio-economic conditions of inequality and declining social mobility.
The relationship between parents and children differs across civilizations and affects and is impacted by DRR practices in several ways. Bronfenbrenner’s ecological systems theory views child development as a complex system of relationships affected by multiple levels of the surrounding environment, from immediate settings of family and school to broad cultural values, laws, and customs. From a DRR context, a culture affects this relationship depending on the degree to which it considers it its duty to pursue policies that (i) will create opportunities for social mobility so children of poorer backgrounds can better their life chances; and (ii) will protect the elderly and provide them with care in case they lack the financial means themselves to do so. Countries that strive to have financial, economic, and social policies that contribute to social mobility have to pay extra attention to ensure that disaster losses do not detrimentally affect social mobility. Furthermore, they need to do so most effectively through the adoption of preventative measures before a disaster strikes. In these countries, parents do support their children; however, the state also provides the conditions for social mobility. Similarly, while children support their parents the state ensures that DRR policies are not ageist.
Image created by Fadi Hamdan
On the other hand, countries characterized by elite capture, while often adopting populist policies, do not invest in long-term policies that can lead to social mobility. In fact, these countries promote and rely on a rentier culture leading to cronyism, where protection against a disaster is a gift from the authorities rather than a citizen’s right. Such countries prefer handing out compensation after a disaster, albeit in a biased manner, rather than invest in more cost-effective and sustainable preventative measures, albeit less politically appealing within a rentier culture. This leads to a culture where, even if parents support their children, social mobility is more difficult, and chronic poverty becomes more prevalent. Lack of social mobility increases the fragility of states, decreases state legitimacy, and increases the drivers of violent extremism.
A way forward for effecting change
The above discussion showed the potential of sharing DRR best practices across cultures and civilizations, while also highlighting their potential impact on reducing violent extremism and promoting multicultural understanding and cooperation. However, effecting change requires Agency to Operationalize Values formed by education, long-life learning, and shared experiences (including on best DRR practices). Furthermore, effecting change requires promoting the notion of Solidarity, in addition to the more traditional top-down concept of protection by the state and bottom-up approach of empowerment.
The notion of Solidarity can be best promoted and built upon by adopting a political economy lens that focuses on the following aspects of the problem under consideration:
Understand the dynamics of the Decision-Making Process: Develop an understanding of the existing dynamics that create certain winners and losers arising from the existing use of resources (human and natural in land, sea, and air), in particular through understanding the vertical and horizontal distribution of benefits, exposure, vulnerabilities, risks and losses arising from the development choices. In doing so, recognise and develop an understanding of governance and decision-making mechanisms encompassing a broad set of political institutions both formal and informal. While doing so, pay special attention to those represented in the decision-making forum, and the main gatekeepers of such forums that allow or prevent certain development choices from being discussed.
Multi-Faceted Role of Advocacy and Awareness Raising: Address the multifaceted role of advocacy, education, and awareness-raising campaigns targeting various stakeholders and national partners, including i) promoting an understanding of roles and responsibilities between the citizen and the state; ii) the interconnectedness of problems; iii) the relationship between rentier states, cronyism, sectarian politics and disproportionate public sector employment; iv) development, employment opportunities and basic services as rights in productive states vs. the favouritism adopted in distributing them in rentier states; and v) need to supplement technical budget solutions with political lobbying and advocacy based on political economy analysis.
Identify Leaders and Build Coalitions: Provide support for local actors to carry out political economy analysis to enhance their understanding and lobbying along the above lines. In addition, identify potential national and local partners from civil society and local development leaders, including the private sector. Employ a definition of leadership as a political process involving the skills of mobilizing people and resources in pursuit of a set of shared and negotiated goals. Support the formation of coalitions for change with leaders and stakeholders as defined above.
While the above may seem like a daunting task, perhaps now more than ever the future of humanity depends on its successful achievement.
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.
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 GarlandPhoto 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 GarlandPhoto 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.
Thank you to Dr. Mike Wells and Gary Grant for their kind feedback on the article.
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We know a lot more about how urbanization generally affects spider communities outdoors. Interestingly, in a meta-analysis of lots of arthropod studies across urbanization gradients, spiders were the only taxa that were not clearly and negatively affected by urbanization.
Spiders are among my favorite urban neighbors. They’re flashy, charismatic, and they’re everywhere. Spiders also evoke a range of emotions and thoughts from their human cohabitants. If you see one in your house do you squish it? Do you capture it gently and relocate it? Do you run away screaming? Do you get excited and acquainted with one another?
One week in 2020 I was making coffee early in the morning and noticed a small little spider on the wall of the kitchen next to me. I thought it was pretty cool looking but didn’t think much of it and went on with my day. The next morning, I came down, and there it was again! I watched in interest as it hopped around and stared at me. And then the next morning it was back. That’s when I took a photo and later discovered through iNaturalist that it was Adanson’s house jumper (Hasarius adansoni). It stayed around for a few more days, watching me make coffee. And then it disappeared.
Adanson’s house jumper (Hasarius adansoni) took residence in the author’s kitchen (Lamma Island, Hong Kong)
Interestingly, today a paper came out showing that spiders exhibit patterns of REM sleep… spiders dream! I now wonder if my companion had a particularly rough week of sleepless nights and joined me early after sunrise also badly wanting some caffeine.
This week I’ve enjoyed a rather large huntsman spider in the shower. When I turned the water on the spider ran around and I figured it was a goner. But I should not have underestimated the spider. It too stuck around for a few days… and my wife was not happy about it, nor the fact that I refused to move it.
A huntsman’s spider (Heteropoda venatoria) in the author’s bathtub (Lamma Island, Hong Kong)… and two contrasting opinions about this development. [the author also failed to take out the trash that morning]While I’m not afraid of spiders now, I was scared to death of black widows as a kid growing up in Los Angeles. Seriously, it was like rattlesnakes, sharks, and black widow spiders. While black widow spider bites can be painful and problematic they are very very rarely fatal – between 2000 and 2008 there were over 23,000 reported bites in the US with 33.5% reporting “moderate effects”, 1.4% “major effects” and no deaths. So, my fear was certainly not justified [probably don’t need to be afraid of sharks either but that’s another story]. Not surprisingly, depictions of spiders in the media are part of the problem in generating such fear.
Indoor diversity of urban spiders
There are a number of fun studies that have examined the question of indoor spider diversity in more detail. Entomologists “raided” 50 homes in North Carolina in 2012 and collected all the arthropods they could. Spiders made up about 20% of the arthropod fauna in the homes on average and they found all sorts of spider types including funnel weavers, ghost spiders (scary), orb weavers, sac spiders, ground spiders, dwarf spiders, wolf spiders, wall spiders, goblin spiders, cellar spiders, jumping spiders, spitting spiders, cobweb spiders, and crab spiders.
Other than entertaining (or frightening) their human cohabitants, what are the spiders doing? While drinking my coffee and watching my friendly H. adansoni I liked to thank them for keeping mosquito populations low. But do they actually do this? Researchers have tested this in salticid spiders (related to H. adansoni in fact) in arenas with mosquitoes and found that spiders can consume between 2 to 9 mosquitoes a day! Female spiders also fed on a greater number than males.
In truth, there is a lot we don’t know about spiders and biodiversity in our homes. But there is increasing interest in indoor biodiversity and ecosystem function relationships. I’m willing to bet that spiders are key to a lot of indoor food webs.
Urbanization impacts on spider diversity
We know a lot more about how urbanization generally affects spider communities outdoors. Interestingly, in a meta-analysis of lots of arthropod studies across urbanization gradients, spiders were the only taxa that were not clearly and negatively affected by urbanization. This is likely a consequence of habitat- and species-specific responses in spiders that lead to either negative or positive effects on spider diversity.
For example, in Córdoba, Argentina, researchers found that spider diversity was lower in urban sites relative to both suburban and exurban (non-urban) sites. On the other hand, for ground-dwelling spiders in Hungary, diversity tends to be higher in urban areas relative to rural and suburban sites. In Sydney, spider diversity was highest in remnant habitat patches but gardens were also quite high in diversity. So, patterns of spider diversity across urban gradients are rather complex.
Has urbanization caused any extinctions of spiders? This question is surprisingly difficult to answer for most arthropods. After all, if a species isn’t in a city how do you know whether it has become extinct or was simply never there? For one case, scientists have found evidence that the trapdoor spider Apomastus has become extirpated in parts of the Los Angeles basin, leading to reduced genetic diversity.
Despite the uncertainties and questions regarding urbanization effects on spiders, experts agree that urbanization is among the greatest threats to spider conservation along with agriculture, climate change, and pollution.
Behavior of urban spiders
Porchy (Nephila pilipes) was a golden orb weaver spider that lived on my porch in 2017. She grew to be quite large, about the size of an orange from foot tip to foot tip. For months my wife and I watched daily as she would munch on flies, moths, and other creatures that would come into her web. Sometimes I would forget about her presence and ruin her web in the morning. No matter, she would rebuild it quite quickly and soon get back to work. N. pilipes are particularly feared in Hong Kong by morning runners and hikers as their webs are frequently run into and the image of an orange-sized spider close-by is not comforting to some. But they’re mostly harmless. [They will catch the occasional bat or bird though!]
Anecdotally, it sure appeared that Porchy was leveraging our strong porch light to catch insects attracted to the bulb. The web was often positioned to exploit the light (or so it seemed) and she had good success during her time on the porch. And indeed, there are studies showing that spiders are attracted to light on buildings. But the story is not as simple as it might seem…
Minnie Yuen was an undergraduate in my lab in 2016 whose passion for golden orb weaver spiders led her to conduct an experiment. She went to several sites in Hong Kong, found spiders, and then did an experiment where she set up a light at several webs and compared to unlit webs. She then put up video cameras at the webs to see how effective they were in catching insect prey/moths. We were expecting to find that the spiders next to lights would catch more prey. And then, we found the opposite! Fewer prey were intercepted in the spiders’ webs… but there were roughly equal numbers of moths that approached the web. We suspect that the light may have given moths an opportunity to detect the webs and avoid capture.
Porchy (Nephila pilipes) lived on the author’s porch in 2017 and remains his favorite spider cohabitant in recent memory.
The closely related Nephila plumipes in Sydney can also thrive in urban areas. Spiders in urban areas with greater impervious area persist longer than other spiders, perhaps due to localized warming increasing survival. The species is well adapted to the urban environment and seems to be one of the “winners” of such landscape change.
In Belgium, orb weaver spiders exhibit intriguing changes in their webs with increasing urbanization. While prey capture rates are similar between high, medium, and low levels of urbanization, the architecture of the webs change significantly. Urban webs tend to be situated higher and are less inclined.
Fuzzy friends! Obviously…
Both inside your urban, suburban or rural home, you are likely to find some very cool spiders. Like us, they are going through their day trying their best to bring home the bacon. They sleep and dream. They’re just trying to make it in this big crazy world. The least we could do is not make it harder for them and fear their presence. But we should go well beyond the simple act of empathy for our fellow urban cohabitants. More attention and effort should be paid to conserving these important and unique animals. For all the Porchys out there, I hope we can create hospitable landscapes where humanity and spiderdom live together harmoniously.
And it is at this point that I ask myself, why is it that, instead of going against art, we use it as an ally to protest and raise awareness about the impact of climate change?
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