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We announced in the last issue of Land Lines that I will be stepping down next year as president of the Lincoln Institute of Land Policy. Rather than use this column to talk about the many innovative programs we have undertaken in the past, I want to offer my view of the factors that will guide the work of the Institute in the future.
Most important, the staff and board are committed to continuing the Institute’s educational focus. We hope that this work will improve the quality of information available to decision makers in the areas of land policy and land-related tax policy, and will enhance public discussion and debate by disseminating ideas, information, analysis and experience to institutions and individuals engaged in these topical areas. Our focus on land and tax policy stems from our commitment to introduce the thinking and ideas of Henry George, especially as developed in his book Progress and Poverty, into contemporary policy making in the United States and through our international programs.
To help guide particular projects at the Institute, the staff has developed and the board has approved eight objectives.
Each program and activity of the Institute is designed to serve one or more of these objectives. I believe that the conformation of our educational focus with these specific program objectives will provide valuable guidance to the Institute’s leadership to improve ongoing programs and develop new ones in the future.
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The Pawcatuck Borderlands illustrates what is fast becoming one of the major puzzles in land use policy—how to plan across boundaries. Countless examples across the country (and arguably the world) demonstrate two fundamental points (Foster 2001; Porter and Wallis 2002; McKinney et al. 2002). First, the territory of many land use problems transcends the legal and geographic reach of existing jurisdictions and institutions (public, private, and other). In the Borderlands area, the spatial dimension of the problems created by increasing population growth and demand for municipal services cuts across multiple jurisdictions.
This mismatch between the geography of the problem and the geography of existing institutions leads to the second point: the people affected by such problems have interdependent interests, which means that none of them have sufficient power or authority to adequately address the problems on their own, yet self-interest often impedes cooperation.
These observations are not new. The history of regionalism in America dates back to at least the mid-nineteenth century and the writing of John Wesley Powell (McKinney et al. 2004). As we move into the twenty-first century, there seem to be two basic responses to this planning puzzle. The first is to create new regional institutions or realign existing institutions to correspond to the territory of the problem, and the second is to start with more informal, ad hoc regional forums.
Some of the more notable examples of regional land use institutions include the Lake Tahoe Regional Planning Authority (1969), Adirondack Park Agency (1971), New Jersey Pinelands Commission (1979), and the Cape Cod Commission (1990). The impetus to establish such entities requires a significant amount of political commitment upfront, or sometimes legal pressure from influential court cases. Once the regional organizations are established, they tend to require a great deal of effort to sustain. This largely explains why there have been so few proposals to create such institutions in the past few decades (see Jensen 1965; Derthick 1974; Robbins et al. 1983; and Calthorpe and Fulton 2001).
Rather than create new institutions, leaders in more than 450 regions across the country have realigned existing institutions to form regional councils, which generally do not have the authority to make and impose decisions per se, but are designed to foster regional cooperation and the delivery of services. In New England, these organizations have evolved to fill the vacuum left by weak county government, and their boundaries often follow county boundaries, which may or may not correspond to the territory of the problem.
The second response, which is more common these days, is to bring together the “right” people with the best available information in tailor-made, ad hoc forums. This approach, which might be termed “regional network governance,” is more bottom-up than top-down, and depends largely on the ability of the participants to build and sustain informal networks to get things done. In some cases these ad hoc forums lay the groundwork to create more formal regional institutions in the future.
Obstacles to Regional Networks
Of course, building and sustaining regional networks is easier said than done. Our research and experience suggest there are four primary obstacles to planning across boundaries. First, the very nature of thinking and acting like a region raises questions about the participants and scope of the problem: Who should take the lead in organizing and convening regional conversations, and who else should be involved? What issues should be on the agenda? How should the region be defined? How can multiple parties—public, private, and nonprofit—share the responsibilities and costs to achieve identified goals? Even where regional planning councils exist, the rules governing or guiding such efforts are not clear.
Second, the value of working together is not always apparent or shared. As with other forms of multiparty negotiation, it is difficult to mobilize and engage people unless and until they believe that they are more likely to achieve their objectives through regional collaboration than by acting independently. Public officials may be reluctant to engage for fear that such efforts will undermine their authority, and business leaders and real estate developers may view collaboration as something not worth their time. Local citizens often cringe at the idea of regional planning, thinking that someone who does not live in the local area will be making decisions about their land. Other stakeholders may simply have different priorities or a better alternative to satisfy their interests.
Third, many people are unfamiliar with the process of regional collaboration, and that uncertainty makes them feel uncomfortable and reluctant. In addition, people may lack the skills to organize and represent their constituency, deal with scientifically complex issues, and negotiate effectively in a multiparty setting. Others may be uneasy with the organic nature of ad hoc regional forums, and how they should be linked to formal decision-making processes.
Even if participants can overcome these obstacles, their effectiveness at regional collaboration is often limited by a fourth factor: lack of resources. In an assessment of about 75 established regional initiatives in the West, nearly all participants said that “limited resources” was the primary obstacle to more effective collaboration (McKinney 2002). Among the resources cited were time, money, information, and knowledge. People trying to initiate and support regional land use projects in three recent projects (in the San Luis Valley in south-central Colorado, the Flathead Valley in northwestern Montana, and the Upper Delaware River Basin) reported struggling due to a lack of financial resources and staffing capabilities.
In sum, the challenge of addressing multijurisdictional land use issues is not primarily a scientific or technical challenge, nor is it simply about managing land use more effectively and efficiently. At its core, regional land use is a sociopolitical challenge. It is a question of whether we can integrate the needs, interests, and visions of multiple jurisdictions, sectors, and interests. It is also a question of how society addresses shared and competing interests—in this case, land use.
An Emerging Framework
During the past few years, the Lincoln Institute has taken a leadership role in studying and evaluating regional collaboration on land use issues through policy and research reports, educational programs, and regional land use clinics. This collective body of work suggests at least three overarching lessons.
First, regional initiatives vary greatly in terms of who leads the project, as well as its scale, purpose, issues, activities, and structure, including funding and time frame. While some initiatives augment existing government institutions, others are more ad hoc in nature, filling gaps in governance at different levels. Whether formal or ad hoc, regional initiatives create public opportunities that would not otherwise exist to address land use issues that cut across multiple jurisdictions.
Second, regional collaboration includes both a procedural element (how to plan across boundaries) and a substantive element (policies, programs, activities, and other outcomes to address a particular regional land use issue). The Lincoln Institute’s work on the procedural aspects of regional collaboration complements and builds on its land use dispute resolution program, although it is different in two fundamental ways: regional collaboration deals primarily with multiple jurisdictions, which raises the key question of convening diverse stakeholders; and it has more to do with designing new systems of governance (both formal and informal) than with resolving disputes per se.
Third, there is no single model for planning across boundaries, but rather a set of principles to guide regional collaboration (see Figure 1). This “theory of change” posits that the implementation of something like this set of principles leads to better informed, more widely supported, and more effective solutions to multijurisdictional land use issues (see www.umtpri.org).
Guiding Principles for Regional Collaboration
Some Outstanding Questions
Who should take the lead in organizing and convening regional conversations?
In many professional circles there is an ongoing debate about the role and ability of government to convene effective collaborative processes. Many people argue that government cannot successfully organize and convene such efforts given its built-in institutional resistance and lack of responsiveness. Citizens, by contrast, often can provide more effective forums through organic, grassroots initiatives. Throughout the West, there is a growing movement where citizens, frustrated by government’s lack of responsiveness, are convening place-based groups to address a variety of land use issues—ranging from growth management to endangered species to water allocation (Kemmis 2001). In the Northeast, citizens in adjacent towns and states are recognizing their shared resources, values, threats, and opportunities. They are committing to joint planning projects, regional economic development campaigns, and applications for official designation for their regions.
Recent studies indicate, however, that participation by one or more levels of government is essential to the effectiveness of the more ad hoc, citizen-driven processes (Kenney 2000; Susskind et al. 1999; Susskind et al. 2000). Governments not only provide financial and technical assistance, but also become critically important if the intent of a regional initiative is to shape or influence land use policy. Official government institutions, after all, constitute the formal public decision-making processes in our society.
Neither top-down nor bottom-up approaches are inherently superior, and in the final analysis the two ends of the spectrum need to come together to facilitate positive change. Whether a regional initiative is catalyzed and convened by citizens, nongovernmental organizations, businesses, or public officials, it is most effective when the people initiating the process exercise collaborative leadership. Such leaders facilitate development of a shared vision by crossing jurisdictional and cultural boundaries; forging coalitions among people with diverse interests and viewpoints; mobilizing the people, ideas, and resources needed to move in the desired direction; and sustaining networks of relationships. In this respect, regional collaboration is more like organizing a political campaign than preparing a regional plan.
Three vignettes—the first two based on regional clinics sponsored by the Lincoln Institute—illustrate the need to have the right convener and to employ the characteristics of collaborative leadership. In the Upper Delaware River Basin, two government agencies initiated a regional conversation, but they framed the problems and solutions prior to consulting with other stakeholders or citizens. Not surprisingly, many people who were not part of the initial process criticized both the definition of the region and the scope of the project.
In the San Luis Valley in Colorado, citizens and interest groups tried to organize a regional land use planning effort, but the local elected officials dragged their feet and characterized the participants as “rabble rousers.” This experience shows what can happen when citizens get ahead of decision makers, that is, when civic will outpaces political and institutional will.
On a more encouraging note, leaders from the public, private, and nonprofit sectors, as well as academics, the media, and others, have jointly convened Billings on the Move—a conversation on what is needed to promote and sustain the economic vitality of the region in and around Billings, Montana. One of the primary reasons for this project’s success is that all of the key stakeholders bought into the project from the beginning, and they jointly identified problems and framed solutions.
Is it possible to mobilize and engage people “upstream” in a proactive, preventive way, rather than “downstream” after a crisis, threat, or regional land use dispute has emerged?
In the San Luis Valley, citizens and leaders from all walks of life came together some years ago to fight and defeat a proposal to export precious groundwater out of the valley. This effort clearly demonstrated sufficient civic will and political capacity to organize regionally in response to a real external threat. However, the same people are now struggling to organize around land use issues when there is no immediate crisis. Some observers believe that if they do not act soon, however, the valley will eventually become another expensive tourist destination like Aspen, Sun Valley, or Jackson Hole.
In response to this concern, we are working with the Orton Foundation to determine if the use of technology—in particular the visualization and scenario-building software known as Community Viz—may provide the necessary leverage to mobilize and engage people, to help them see what is at stake, and to evaluate how regional collaboration can help to address issues of common interest. The challenge here is not only to focus on a tangible problem, but also to build the social and political capacity of the region to think and act more proactively.
How do we measure the success of regional collaboration?
The question of what criteria or metrics should be used to evaluate efforts to plan across boundaries takes us back to the distinction between the procedural and substantive aspects of regional collaboration. If one agrees with this distinction, then any framework to evaluate success should include metrics that focus on both process and outcomes.
A recent study evaluated the success of 50 community-based collaborative initiatives in the Rocky Mountain West that were regional in nature, encompassing two or more jurisdictions (McKinney and Field 2005). Twenty-seven indicators measured participants’ satisfaction with the substantive outcome of the effort, its effect on working relationships, and the quality of the process itself. The evaluation framework also allowed participants to reflect on the value of community-based collaboration relative to other alternatives.
The people who responded to the survey were generally satisfied with the use of community-based collaboration to address issues related to federal lands and resources. Seventy percent of the respondents said that all 27 indicators were important contributors to their satisfaction with both the process and its outcomes. Eighty-six percent of participants stated they would recommend a community or regional process to address a similar issue in the future.
Participants tended to rank “working relationships” and “quality of the process” as more important than “outcomes,” suggesting that people are at least as interested in opportunities for meaningful civic engagement and deliberative dialogue as in achieving a preconceived outcome. These results also support the value of community-based or regional collaboration—particularly when compared to other forums to shape land use policy and resolve land use disputes. Future evaluation research is necessary to affirm or refine these findings, and to clarify the impact of regional collaboration on various social, economic, and environmental objectives.
Conclusion
Planning across boundaries—or regional collaboration—is slowly emerging as an essential component of land policy and planning in the twenty-first century. For example, the 2005 White House Conference on Cooperative Conservation—only the fourth White House conference ever held on conservation—convened several sessions on reaching across boundaries to promote shared governance. Whether the issues to be addressed in such forums focus on rapid growth and its consequences or the need to retain and expand the local economic base, these problems are often best addressed by planning across the boundaries created by government jurisdictions, economic sectors, and academic disciplines. Indeed, in many cases, this is the only way these problems will be resolved effectively.
The Pawcatuck Borderlands
The Pawcatuck Borderlands on the Connecticut and Rhode Island state line is part of a largely undeveloped region within the megalopolis that stretches from Boston to Washington, DC. This landscape is one of the largest intact, forested areas in southern New England, and its abundant wildlife ranges from bears to songbirds. The remarkable diversity of the Borderlands includes hardwood forests, pitch-pine woodlands, wetlands, lakes, and rivers, as well as numerous small, rural communities where people have lived and worked for centuries.
Nearly 40 percent of the Borderlands is protected by the Pachaug State Forest and the Arcadia Management Area, and the relatively undisturbed natural character of the region creates a high quality of life for its residents. However, this open space in the heart of the northeastern megalopolis is also popular with visitors for its recreational opportunities and world-class tourist attractions. Located between Providence and Hartford, the Borderlands faces increasing demands for housing, roads, and shopping centers. Unlike many other rural areas, the opportunities for employment and investment are good, making this a financially attractive location for families and businesses.
Between 1960 and 2000, the population of Borderlands towns grew by more than 95 percent. Traffic is escalating on local roads and highways, and finite water resources are being overused, impacting both the quality and quantity of water in local watersheds. This increasing activity is eroding the existing infrastructure and requiring local residents to pay for additional roads, schools, and other essential services. All of these trends threaten longstanding social, historic, and environmental values.
Choices about the rate and pattern of future land conservation and development in the Borderlands must be addressed by decision makers in two states and ten towns. As in much of New England, each town retains land use authority and is governed through town meetings and the decisions of numerous local commissions and boards. Each of these jurisdictions has historically tackled land use issues independently, but the nature of existing trends and emerging challenges calls out for a different approach.
About the Authors
Matthew McKinney is director of the Public Policy Research Institute at the University of Montana, Helena. He was founding director of the Montana Consensus Council and has taught many courses for the Lincoln Institute on both regional collaboration and land use dispute resolution.
Kevin Essington is director of the Pawcatuck Borderlands Program for the The Nature Conservancy in Connecticut and Rhode Island. He works on land acquisition, land and watershed restoration, planning, and consensus building.
References
Calthorpe, Peter, and William Fulton. 2001. The regional city: Planning for the end of sprawl. Washington, DC: Island Press.
Derthick, Martha.1974. Between state and nation: Regional organizations of the United States. Washington, DC: The Brookings Institution.
Foster, Kathryn A. 2001. Regionalism on purpose. Cambridge, MA: Lincoln Institute of Land Policy.
Jensen, Merrill. 1965. Regionalism in America. Madison: The University of Wisconsin Press.
Kemmis, Daniel. 2001. This sovereign land: A new vision for governing the West. Washington, DC: Island Press.
Kenney, Doug. 2000. The new watershed sourcebook. Boulder: The University of Colorado Natural Resources Law Center.
McKinney, Matthew, et al. 2002. Regionalism in the west: An inventory and assessment. Public Land and Resources Law Review: 101–191www.ars.org.
———. 2004. Working across boundaries: A framework for regional collaboration. Land Lines 16(3): 5–8.
McKinney, Matthew, and Pat Field. 2005. Evaluating community-based collaboration. Submitted to Society and Natural Resources.
Porter, Douglas R., and Allan D. Wallis. 2002. Exploring ad hoc regionalism. Cambridge, MA: Lincoln Institute of Land Policy.
Robbins, William G., Robert J. Frank, and Richard E. Ross. 1983. Regionalism and the Pacific Northwest. Corvallis: Oregon State University Press.
Susskind, Lawrence, Ole Amundsen, and Masahiro Matsuura. 1999. Using assisted negotiation to settle land use disputes: A guidebook for public officials. Cambridge, MA: Lincoln Institute of Land Policy.
Susskind, Lawrence, Mieke van der Wansem, and Armand Ciccarelli. 2000. Mediating land use disputes: Pros and cons. Cambridge, MA: Lincoln Institute of Land Policy.
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In October 2007 Peking University Provost Lin Jianhua and I signed an agreement to establish the joint Lincoln Institute of Land Policy–Peking University Center for Urban Developmentand Land Policy. Lincoln Institute and Peking University established this joint center to provide support for education, training, and research in urban economics, land policy and management, property taxation, local government finance, and urban and regional planning. The mission of the center is to study land, urban, and fiscal policies; to disseminate results from its studies and research; and to facilitate education, training, policy analysis, and research involving scholars, policy makers, and practitioners.
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Accumulating evidence indicates that increasing concentrations of greenhouse gases, primarily carbon dioxide, are raising average temperatures, acidifying and raising the level of oceans, and accelerating natural rates of carbon dioxide emissions. Uncertainties abound, but the carbon dioxide concentration in the earth’s atmosphere has risen by 31 percent since 1850 and now exceeds levels experienced over the past 420,000 years. Recent estimates from North America (for 2003) indicate that its anthropogenic carbon dioxide emissions (mainly from burning fossil fuels) were about 1856 million metric tons per year, or about a quarter of all such global emissions.
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La infraestructura, en cuya definición se incluye el transporte, las telecomunicaciones, la energía eléctrica, el agua potable y los servicios de limpieza, es uno de los temas candentes tanto en los países industriales como en los países en vías de desarrollo. En los Estados Unidos, existen motivos de preocupación en cuanto al insuficiente mantenimiento de la infraestructura y la resultante disminución de la calidad de las instalaciones y servicios, en particular del transporte. En las propuestas para estimular la demanda, el empleo y el crecimiento económico también ha tenido un gran peso la cuestión de mayores inversiones en infraestructura. En los países en vías de desarrollo, los desafíos en cuanto a la infraestructura tienen más que ver con aumentar la capacidad de prestar servicios no sólo a los residentes urbanos ya existentes sino también a los dos mil millones de residentes nuevos que se esperan para el año 2050. En la Séptima Conferencia Anual sobre Políticas de Suelo del Instituto Lincoln, celebrada a principios de junio de 2012, se trataron varios aspectos relacionados con la infraestructura, tales como inversiones, mantenimiento y externalidades.
Aspectos económicos.
El trabajo empírico llevado a cabo en los últimos 25 años sobre el rendimiento macroeconómico derivado de las inversiones en infraestructura ha arrojado una amplia variedad de resultados, que van desde rendimientos negativos hasta rendimientos de más del 30 por ciento anual. Según una meticulosa encuesta realizada sobre estudios más recientes, la inversión en infraestructura del transporte, la energía y las telecomunicaciones probablemente obtenga efectos macroeconómicos positivos y aumente la productividad.
Al mismo tiempo, muchos países sólo asignan modestas sumas para el mantenimiento de la infraestructura, aun cuando existe un amplio consenso de opinión y pruebas empíricas que indican que el rendimiento derivado del mantenimiento (especialmente en el área del transporte) es muy alto. Un bajo nivel de mantenimiento puede ser el resultado de las preferencias de los donantes a financiar nuevas capacidades en los países en vías de desarrollo, pero los déficits en mantenimiento son muy comunes en los países desarrollados, lo que sugiere que probablemente también sean importantes otros factores institucionales.
Las redes de infraestructura dependen de las economías de escala, y algunas redes son monopolios naturales que deben sujetarse a las regulaciones económicas para evitar que las empresas monopolicen los precios. Aunque la necesidad de tener regulaciones es más evidente cuando la infraestructura es suministrada por empresas privadas, también resulta necesaria una supervisión regulatoria cuando la suministradora es una empresa pública.
Aspectos espaciales.
La infraestructura ejerce una gran influencia sobre los patrones de desarrollo espacial, por lo que puede utilizarse para dirigir el crecimiento, junto con la zonificación y otros incentivos, para lograr patrones de desarrollo más densos y compactos. No obstante, aunque sólo se dispone de unos pocos estudios, los trabajos empíricos indican que los costos de redesarrollo de lugares contaminados son mayores que los costos en lugares sin desarrollo previo, incluyendo los costos de la nueva infraestructura de servicios.
La desindustrialización de las ciudades sucede desde hace mucho tiempo; sin embargo, algunas ciudades, como San José, en California, ya no apoyan la conversión de espacios industriales o de oficinas en uso residencial o comercial. La intención de estas ciudades es mantener un espacio apropiado para el empleo cuando regrese el crecimiento económico, a fin de poder competir por nuevas empresas y fomentar la creación de nuevos puestos de trabajo.
Externalidades.
Las áreas metropolitanas producen cerca de tres cuartos de las emisiones de gas de invernadero antropogénico de todo el mundo cada año, gran porcentaje de las cuales proviene del transporte y de la energía eléctrica. La sustitución de sistemas antiguos y la instalación de otros nuevos con mejores capacidades brindan una gran oportunidad para recurrir a sistemas más eficientes en energía y emisiones en las áreas urbanas. La gestión de los sistemas también puede mejorarse utilizando peajes, cuotas de estacionamiento y expansión del tráfico; garantizando que las tarifas cubren los costos de provisión de agua potable y energía eléctrica; y promoviendo las edificaciones ecológicas.
La reubicación de las familias que viven en los sectores donde se realizará la expansión de la infraestructura implica el desplazamiento de una gran cantidad de personas para construir nuevas carreteras o ampliar las existentes, la construcción de nuevas instalaciones, como centrales eléctricas, y embalses que inundan amplias áreas detrás de los diques. Según las estimaciones realizadas, entre 10 y 23 millones de personas deben reubicarse de forma involuntaria cada año en los países en vías de desarrollo, y la mayoría de estas reubicaciones se encuentra relacionada con la infraestructura. Algunos de estos reasentamientos involuntarios cumplen con las garantías promulgadas por el Banco Mundial u otros estándares, como los Principios del Ecuador, aunque la mayor parte de los reasentamientos se encuentra sujeta únicamente a políticas nacionales o provinciales.
Estos temas y muchos otros–como el impacto que tienen sobre la infraestructura ciertos megaeventos (como los Juegos Olímpicos), la tributación de servicios públicos, los efectos locales de los peajes, la variación en la calidad de los servicios de infraestructura y el significativo impacto de la telefonía móvil en el África–figurarán en el libro de ponencias que estará disponible en formato impreso en mayo de 2013 y, más adelante, como libro electrónico.
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More than two decades have passed since a government-led megaproject set out to transform Puerto Madero, the oldest sector of the port district at the mouth of the River Plate in Buenos Aires, Argentina. Once a center of decay that was hastening decline in the adjacent downtown, Puerto Madero is now a tourist icon and hub of progress, drawing in residents and visitors alike to its park and cultural amenities, housing approximately 5,000 new inhabitants, and generating 45,000 service jobs. Home to a number of new architectural landmarks—including Santiago Calatrava’s Woman’s Bridge (Puente de la Mujer) and César Pelli’s YPF headquarters—the redeveloped port has contributed to the reactivation of the city center, influencing development trends throughout the Argentinean capital.
Encompassing 170 hectares near the downtown presidential palace (Casa Rosada), Puerto Madero was one of Latin America’s first urban brownfield renewal projects of this scale and complexity. The project was conceived as part of a wider strategy for city-center development that also included changes in land use regulations, building refurbishments, and social housing in heritage areas. This article draws on two decades’ worth of evidence and experience with the project to examine the extent to which Puerto Madero has achieved its central objectives: to contribute to the reversal of undesirable development patterns in the city, assert the downtown as the eminent center of Buenos Aires, stimulate the local economy, and improve the living conditions of all porteños.
The Port in Crisis
Puerto Madero was abandoned as a port at the beginning of the 20th century, when operations transferred to Puerto Nuevo. By the late 1980s, Puerto Madero had suffered several decades of neglect and underutilization. The federal General Administration of Ports owned the land, but the city and national governments both had jurisdiction over planning. Similarly, greater Buenos Aires—home to 35 percent of Argentina’s population and producer of 46 percent of its GDP—is governed by an overlapping set of institutions that often have trouble coordinating. To simplify this inter-jurisdictional governance, a public limited corporation, with shares divided equally between the national and city governments, was formed to manage the project. In 1989, the federal government transferred ownership of this sector of the port to the new corporation, CAPM (Corporación Antiguo Puerto Madero).
After receiving the federal land transfer, the role of CAPM was to develop the site plan, define a self-funded financial model, undertake the site improvements associated with the project, commercialize the land, and supervise the development process in accordance with the established time frames and guidelines of the master plan. Unlike similar ventures elsewhere in the world, which generally rely on substantial public financing or access to credit, CAPM by decree would receive no public resources besides the land transfer and would generate its own revenue to cover operating costs. The port redevelopment could not have happened otherwise, as the federal government was focused on fiscal recovery and job creation amidst a nationwide economic crisis.
Context and Chronology of the Megaproject
As in most Latin American cities, the displacement of activities from Buenos Aires’s traditional downtown had curtailed use of the public transit system and led to the slow decline of historical buildings, many of which had lapsed into substandard housing. The proposed redevelopment of Puerto Madero was part of the city’s broader strategy to protect heritage, promote downtown development, stimulate the local economy, and contribute to the reversal of these undesirable settlement patterns.
Development took place in four stages. During the first phase (1989–1992), CAPM sold the old docklands on the western end of the port, initiating the redevelopment process and covering initial project costs. In 1991, the city and Society of Architects signed an agreement to facilitate the Puerto Madero National Ideas Competition. In 1992, the three winning teams collaborated to create the Draft Urban Project for Puerto Madero. The redevelopment required a new subdivision geometry that would allow for construction without requiring the demolition of valuable landmark structures. Many of the historical port buildings, such as the warehouses, would be restored with new functions, thereby combining valuable historic patrimony with new development.
During the second phase (1993–1995), the winners of the Ideas Competition were awarded the master plan contract. The original proposal called for the development of 1.5 million square meters of floor area concentrated in a central location to help revive the downtown. With a 20-year horizon, the plan comprised commercial activities, cultural and recreational facilities, cafes, restaurants, amenities, professional studios, and medium-sized commercial activities (e.g. printing, packaging, and storage companies), which the 16 renovated former port warehouses could adequately accommodate. Provisions for green space, to compensate for an observed deficit in the extended city center, included a metropolitan central park, ecological reserve, and rehabilitated southern esplanade. Given the original assumption that office buildings would predominate, the number of anticipated dwelling units was to be fewer than 3,000. (Residential use experienced higher demand, however, leading to approximately 11,000 dwellings units today.)
During the third phase (1996–2000), most of the public works were built, and project expenditures peaked along with land sales. Throughout this phase, the cost per square meter of construction did not vary significantly, oscillating from around $150 to $300 per square meter up to the end of the decade. (Note: All prices are in U.S. dollars.) By this third phase, the investor profile had evolved from an initial pioneer group of small and medium firms that faced high levels of risk (1989–1993) to large firms that invested in proven products. By 2001, there was little public land left to sell, and the public corporation had enough liquid assets to complete the public works required by the project.
The fourth phase of development includes two segments, from 2001 to 2003 and from 2004 to today. Initially, the project suffered from the economic, financial, and political turmoil associated with the 2001 fiscal crisis propelled by the government’s default on its external debt payments. Throughout that period, CAPM faced high levels of governmental uncertainty, and land sales stalled. After the 2003 presidential elections, however, the country resumed international negotiations, restructured its external debt, and significantly improved economic conditions. Simultaneously, CAPM was able to resolve litigation on some parcels, which it then proceeded to sell, using the revenues to complete the public works on site.
As the land in Puerto Madero became scarce, developers looked to the surrounding downtown areas as alternative investment locations. The scale and complexity of the port redevelopment attracted investors with closer links to national and international financial markets. Many developers chose to invest downtown instead of in the suburbs. Thus the project succeeded in redirecting market trends to align with urban policy priorities—a shift that would not have happened without state intervention.
Project Achievements
Now the project is almost complete, with approximately 1.5 million square meters of floor area as planned. From start to finish, project funds were derived entirely from land sales and concessions.
By 2011, CAPM had sold approximately $257.7 million worth of property and invested $113 million in public works, with an overhead of about $92 million, including management fees and other operating expenses. Land prices escalated from $150 in the early 1990s to $1,200 per square meter today, and the project has attracted considerable private investment in addition to the state’s land transfer.
The project added four major bodies of water totaling 39 hectares and 28 hectares of green space to the city’s parks system. It also facilitated the opening of the ecological reserve and enabled renewed access to the southern esplanade, the Costanera Sur, designed at the beginning of the 20th century by Jean-Claude Nicolas Forestier, who designed Paseo de Prado in Havana, Cuba. The adjacent downtown again serves as the undisputed reference point for public office and high-level administrative, financial, and commercial activity.
Puerto Madero spurred local economic growth, which has ultimately translated into higher tax revenues. As a state initiative, it triggered more than $2.5 billion of private investment, with a present value exceeding $6 billion. Although a full accounting is not available, revenues from corporate income taxes are estimated at $158 million, and taxes paid by the public corporation are $19.86 million. The new property owners pay approximately $12.4 million per year in property taxes to the city government. Once construction is complete, property tax revenues are expected to reach $24.3 million per year.
The project also stimulated job market growth. To date, private construction in Puerto Madero involved about $450 million in labor costs—the equivalent of 900,000 months of work or 3,750 jobs per year distributed over 20 years. The project investments in public works created 313 jobs per year for 20 years plus 26,777 administrative jobs as of 2006 and 45,281 services jobs by 2010. These figures demonstrate the vital role the project has played in stimulating the local economy.
Diminished Returns
Despite the overall success of Puerto Madero, its social outcomes are considered unsatisfactory by many observers. Largely to blame was the fast sale of big land parcels during the most dynamic sales period, from 1996 to 1999. Some of these parcels were the size of an entire city block and are now occupied by towers that function in some ways like vertical gated communities. Furthermore, large, fully equipped firms were needed to perform the tremendous volume of construction, which excluded smaller and medium-sized companies. Thus, the morphology of large land parcels essentially defined the types of businesses and products being offered as well as the social profile of prospective buyers.
Moreover, the marketing strategy of private developers colored the general project discourse, diluting socially inclusive public policy objectives in favor of creating an exclusive neighborhood. Wealthy citizens and high-end entrepreneurs covet Puerto Madero’s residential and commercial spaces. CAPM has difficulty protecting the public character of even the district’s new open spaces, such as the ecological reserve, as affluent port district residents strongly discourage entertainment and sport activities that would appeal to all porteños citywide. In this regard, CAPM limited itself to articulating the interests of private entrepreneurs and current residents and ignored policies designed to benefit many inhabitants of the city. Affordable housing and other elements that would have ensured diversity in the residential demographics were not part of CAPM’s mandate. Several social programs with this objective were planned as part of the broader downtown strategy, but they did not materialize, isolating Puerto Madero as an elite development area.
The project scale of Puerto Madero, which would have been risky and unmanageable for private investors at the time, proves that the public sector can assume a leading role in developing the city. It also demonstrates, however, that socially progressive standards are difficult to maintain once a project becomes prestigious and rising land values increase the pressure from private developers. Puerto Madero’s ability to self-finance was a double-edged sword. On the one hand, it enabled a state-led development process without incurring government costs. Because the public corporation could defer the payment of dividends to shareholders, it was able to capitalize on the proceeds of land sales and reinvest in site works and public amenities. The open and accessible neighborhood, dotted with public infrastructure and open space, largely protected the public interest. Furthermore, the project stimulated economic activity and contributed to a more efficient overall development pattern citywide, fulfilling two important public policy objectives.
Outcomes would have improved if financial support from multilateral agency loans had been available, to better pace the rhythm of sales and enable long-term decisions that would enhance the public benefit of the project. Flexible bidding requirements on large plots in the second half of the 1990s increased sales but ensured that the majority of the incremental land value from the last increase in real estate prices accrued to the large investors who commited early.
In 2011, CAPM transferred the maintenance of all developed areas to the city and determined to complete the remaining public works by 2013. Today, CAPM’s income and expenditure are balanced; income is limited to rents from the piers and the parking lots. Corporate assets include several properties (offices, lots) whose proceeds constitute the company profit and whose market value is estimated at $50 million. These profits could seed new capital ventures or be transferred to shareholders when they decide to dissolve CAPM. The soundness of CAPM’s financial statements is verified, though the criticism it inspired during the development of Puerto Madero may cost it access to new ventures from the government.
The initial public investment in Puerto Madero was $120 million, including the land (originally assessed at $60 million) and a set of intangible services such as project design, expertise, and consulting. Total land sales amounted to $257.7 million with a general cost (administration, taxes) of around $92 million (excluding start-up costs, which did not involve monetary transactions), which leaves a modest rate of return. Although prices should have been promotional during the initial stage of development, sale values could have increased over time, if sales had been timed to take advantage of increased market prices. Higher rates of return would have required higher average sales value, better paced land sales, and more modest public works commitments, such as infrastructure, public space, and parks. CAPM could have saved considerably if construction of bridges and walkways had not extended beyond the project perimeter, under municipal jurisdiction.
The results of the project would have differed greatly had the land been sold unimproved or had it landed in the hands of private developers. In this regard, it is important to note that at the time of project inception the risk was generally considered high, and the scale of investment surpassed the capacity of local private investors. Similarly, international investors would have been unwilling to take on such a high level of risk without major concessions on the part of the government. Furthermore, private developers were interested in promoting large projects with access restricted almost exclusively to owners. A number of final project attributes, such as the public space contributions and holistic character of the development, were guaranteed by the control exercised by the government via the public corporation to ensure benefits for the community.
Conclusion
The original objectives of the project—to stimulate economic activity, affirm the role of the city center, contribute to the reversal of undesirable development patterns, and improve living conditions—have arguably been met. Puerto Madero created jobs, stimulated the local economy, and brought higher levels of investment and complexity downtown, contributing to its supremacy and leading to improvements in the surrounding area. It created high-quality open space, enhanced the metropolitan park system, and improved the overall development pattern in Buenos Aires.
However, the relaxation of quality controls, wide scope of the projects, and rapid pace of land sales at certain times reduced potential project revenues accruing to the public sector and reduced the initiative’s redistributive capacity. Access to credit would have strengthened CAPM’s position and allowed the careful staging of land sales and site improvements. It is encouraging that residential occupancy has greatly exceeded original projections, consolidating a trend to repopulate the city center, though the project should have included a percentage of affordable housing.
These results reveal the complexity of undertaking multiple initiatives to achieve a balanced social outcome. Puerto Madero fell short of incorporating a greater social mix, because other strategies for the downtown, including the rehabilitation of heritage buildings, were unrealized. Future urban project management initiatives should contemplate factors that would ensure the continuity of policies. Within this framework, it is important to encourage participation among the beneficiaries of specific interventions, such as affordable housing, as their involvement and commitment is the strongest guarantor of policy continuity.
Finally, Puerto Madero indicates the state’s capacity to proactively lead the urban development process. In this case, the state stepped out of a regulatory role and took charge of a significant redevelopment initiative. CAPM demonstrated a capacity to sustain a complex urban regeneration project over a long period of time and stay afloat through a turbulent political climate and severe economic crisis. The creation of the public corporation represents a creative innovation in urban management, as it offers an example of how to achieve project self-financing and interjurisdictional cooperation in urban governance. In this regard, the Puerto Madero experience serves as a convincing model for interjurisdictional urban management and reaffirms the positive role that the state can play in city planning initiatives.
About the Authors
Alfredo Garay was secretary of planning in Buenos Aires when the Puerto Madero megaproject began, and he still serves on the board of CAPM. An architect and chair professor at the University of Buenos Aires, he has received numerous national and international awards for urban management and the assembly of large interventions.
Laura Wainer is an architect and urban planner in Buenos Aires. In 2012, she received a Fulbright Scholarship, the Delta Kappa Gamma International Fellowship, and the President’s Scholarship from the New School in New York. Contact: wainer.laura@gmail.com
Hayley Henderson has worked as an urban planner in Buenos Aires and Brisbane, Australia. She is now a PhD candidate in urban planning at The University of Melbourne, Australia. Contact: hayleyhen@gmail.com
Demian Rotbart is an architect, urban planner, and assistant professor of urban planning at the University of Buenos Aires. Contact: demian.rotbart@gmail.com
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When I was a scholar at Cambridge University in the 1990s, my now-departed colleague and friend Wynne Godley would drop by on Sundays to take me to visit one of the ubiquitous medieval churches in the villages of East Anglia. Wynne frequently noted that “a church is more a process than a building. It unfolds over centuries and involves generations of families in its construction and maintenance.” He had a keen eye for architectural detail and would point out a buttress or belfry that illustrated distinct technical practices, unusual materials, or both. A single church offered a living, layered record of how successive generations of a community solved the challenge of making and keeping large, enclosed, open spaces for worship feasible and beautiful.
In this way, cities are much like medieval churches. Over time, they illustrate the collaboration of generations of residents, as well as the evolution of economic, technical, and even social tools used to build and maintain them. Rome’s marble relics stand testament to ancient values, aesthetics, and building ingenuity, while a modern city thrives around them. Manhattan’s iconic skyline, seemingly fixed, is ever in flux, and is now evolving dramatically to respond to 21st-century demands for sustainability, resilience, mixed-use development, and other concerns.
The boundaries of cities evolve, too, and tell another critically important story. The future of the planet may depend on our capacity to understand that story and to develop the tools and collective will to manage the pattern and progression of urban growth. Shlomo (Solly) Angel documents this trajectory in the Atlas of Urban Expansion (Lincoln Institute of Land Policy, 2012), which uses satellite images collected over decades to track the spatial evolution of 120 cities around the world, from Bamako and Guadalajara to Shanghai and Milan. The last half-century of urban growth has provided a cautionary tale about the seduction of sprawl—a path of least resistance that generates quick profits but unsustainable development. Our ability to manage our ecological footprint and minimize our global impact will be tied inextricably to our ability to plan and construct more dense and efficient human settlements. Given the United Nations’ prediction that the global urban population will nearly double to 6 billion by 2050, the fortunes of the planet will depend on whether we, as a species, adopt a more appropriate development paradigm over this half-century.
As we endeavor to reinvent our urban settlements, we will confront an old foe—land that is already improved and developed, but needs to be adapted to new uses. While we are not unfamiliar with this highly contentious process, it is safe to say that we have not yet cracked the code on how to manage it. This issue of Land Lines considers some of the driving needs that will require creative approaches to redevelopment in different cities and contexts: satisfying the unmet demand for housing that leads millions of workers in Beijing to subterranean habitationfinancing infrastructure to manage population pressure in Rio and other Brazilian citiesrepurposing land in the throes of a complete industrial, demographic, and fiscal overhaul in Detroit. These places are quite distinct, but all will face similar challenges as they evolve in the coming decades.
At the Lincoln Institute, we are keenly aware of the need for new ideas and new practices to facilitate sustainable redevelopment of land that is already developed or occupied. Over the next year, we will begin to build an intellectual enterprise around addressing the manifold challenges of urban regeneration—extracting the lessons learned from earlier efforts in the United States and other developed countries since World War II, finding new and creative ways to finance infrastructure that improves the land under the informal settlements that choke cities in developing countries, or rekindling the fiscal health of legacy cities like Detroit by unpacking the causes of insolvency and testing remedies for it.
The medieval churches that I visited during the 1990s offered lessons in stone. These included innovative techniques and materials that permitted medieval architects to defy gravity. Perhaps more importantly, they were monuments to the communal efforts and long-term commitment of the congregations that built and sustained them over centuries. In the end, human survival might hinge on our ability to override similarly the centripetal forces that undermine collective action, and to build and maintain the social structures and policy frameworks to develop and redevelop our cities for mutual and long-term posterity.
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Universal high-speed Internet access is a popular dream these days—everyone from the president to Google, Inc., has embraced it. And the tech press is full of testy critiques wondering why typical broadband speeds in the United States lag so far behind those in, say, South Korea.
Just five years ago, this wasn’t such a hot topic. Back then, the discussion—and action—wasn’t led by the federal government or the private sector. The first movers were a number of diverse but forward-thinking municipalities: cities and towns like Chattanooga, Tennessee; Lafayette, Louisiana; Sandy, Oregon; and Opelika, Alabama.
Motives and solutions varied, of course. But as high-speed connectivity is becoming recognized as crucial civic infrastructure, Chattanooga makes for a useful case study. Its journey to self-proclaimed “Gig City” status—referring to the availability of Internet connections with 1 gigabit-per-second data transfer speeds, up to 200 times faster than typical broadband speed for many Americans—started with visionary municipal initiative, built upon via thoughtful private and public coordination. Most recently, this effort has even begun to show tangible effects on city planning and development, particularly in the form of an in-progress reimagining of a long-sleepy downtown core. In short, Chattanooga is starting to answer a vital question: once a city has world-class Internet access, what do you actually do with it?
The story begins more than a decade ago, when Chattanooga’s city-owned electric utility, EPB, was planning a major upgrade to its power grid. Its CEO, Harold Depriest, argued for a plan that involved deploying fiber-optic cable that could also be used for Internet access. After clearing local regulatory hurdles, the new system was built out by 2010, and every EPB power customer in the Chattanooga area—meaning pretty much every home or business—had gigabit access. But you had to pay for it, just like electricity. And the early pricing for the fastest access was about $350 a month.
“They had very, very few takers,” recalls Ken Hays, president of The Enterprise Center, a nonprofit that since 2014 has focused, at the behest of local elected officials, on strategizing around what Chattanoogans call “the gig.” The head of Lamp Post Group, a successful local tech-focused venture firm, made a point of signing up immediately, Hays continues. But on a citywide level, “we didn’t have the excitement” that talk of gig-level access generates today. And in 2010, he adds, “there weren’t many good case studies out there.”
But broader change was afoot. The announcement of Google Fiber—the Internet search giant’s foray into building out high-speed online infrastructure—sparked new interest. And in 2013, Jenny Toomey, a Ford Foundation director focused on Internet rights, helped organize a summit of sorts where officials from municipalities like Chattanooga, Lafayette, and elsewhere could meet and compare notes. “It was still pretty nascent at the time,” recalls Lincoln Institute President and CEO George W. McCarthy, an economist who was then director of metropolitan opportunity at the Ford Foundation. But that summit, he continues, helped spark new conversations about how such initiatives can make cities more competitive and more equitable, and less reliant on the purely private-sector solutions we often assume are more efficient than government. “And over the course of two years since, this issue has just exploded,” he says.
In fact, that summit turned out to be the rare event that actually spawned a new organization: Next Century Cities, founded in 2014, now has more than 100 member municipalities. They share best practices around an agenda that treats high-speed Internet access as a fundamental, nonpartisan infrastructure issue that communities can and should control and shape.
Against this backdrop, Chattanooga was taking steps to demonstrate how “the gig” could be leveraged. The Lamp Post Group had moved into downtown space, and superlative Internet access was just a starting point for the young, tech-savvy workers and entrepreneurs it wanted to attract. “If we don’t have housing, if we don’t have open space, if we don’t have cool coffee shops—they’re going to go to cities that have all that,” says Kim White, president and CEO of nonprofit development organization River City Company.
Starting in 2013, a city-center plan and market study conducted by River City proposed strategies to enhance walkability, bikeability, green space, and—especially—housing options. More than 600 people participated in the subsequent planning process, which ultimately targeted 22 buildings for revitalization (or demolition). Today, half of those are being redeveloped, says White, and more than $400 million has been invested downtown; in the next year and a half, 1,500 apartments will be added to the downtown market, plus new student housing and hotel beds. The city has provided tax incentives, some of which are designed to keep a certain percentage of the new housing stock affordable. The city has also invested $2.8 million in a downtown park that’s a “key” part of the plan, White continues, to “have areas where people can come together and enjoy public space.” One of the apartment projects, the Tomorrow Building, will offer “micro-units” and a street-level restaurant. “I don’t think we would have attracted these kinds of businesses and younger people coming to look,” without the gig/tech spark, White concludes. “It put us on the map.”
The gig was also the inspiration for a city-backed initiative identifying core development strategies that led to the Enterprise Center pushing a downtown “innovation district,” says Hays. Its centerpiece involves making over a 10-story office building into The Edney Innovation Center, featuring co-working spaces as well as the headquarters of local business incubator CO.LAB. The University of Tennessee at Chattanooga has a project involving a 3D printer lab in the Innovation District, and even the downtown branch of the Chattanooga Public Library has been made over to include a tech-centric education space.
EPB, whose original fiber-optic vision set the Gig City idea in motion, has long since figured out more workable pricing schemes—gig access now starts at about $70 a month—and drawn more than 70,000 customers. More recently, it has also offered qualified low-income residents 100-megabit access, which is still much faster than most broadband in the U.S., for $27 a month. And its efforts to expand into underserved areas adjacent to Chattanooga have become an important component of broader efforts to challenge regulations in many states, from Texas to Minnesota to Washington, that effectively restrict municipalities from building their own high-speed access solutions.
In short, a lot has changed—in Chattanooga and in other cities and towns that have pushed for Internet infrastructure that the private sector wasn’t providing. “Most of this work right now is happening at the local level,” says Deb Socia, who heads Next Century Cities. “It’s mayors and city managers and CIOs taking the steps to figure out what their city needs.” The implications for crucial civic issues from education to health care to security are still playing out. And precisely because the thinking and planning is happening on a municipal level, it won’t be driven solely by market considerations that favor what’s profitable instead of what’s possible. “The beauty of it is,” McCarthy summarizes, “it’s a both/and argument.”
Rob Walker (robwalker.net) is a contributor to Design Observer and The New York Times.
