Stephanie Pollack, associate director of the Dukakis Center for Urban and Regional Policy at Northeastern University, noticed something seriously amiss when she analyzed the results of a survey on the public transportation needs of lower-income residents in Massachusetts. The survey asked respondents to indicate their main mode of transport, and there were the traditional choices like taking the train or the bus. But there was no box to check for what turned out to be the most common means of getting around: Dozens of respondents had written in “someone else’s car.”

For Pollack, the discovery underscored the difficulties of matching transportation systems to realities on the ground as well as the need for better metrics and engagement to satisfy the true needs of those who use public transportation. As part of a project called The Toll of Transportation, the Dukakis Center sought to determine how residents get where they need to go in such cities as Lynn, Worcester, Springfield, and East Boston. But “someone else’s car” was not a category recognized in standard transportation data collection. “We measure equity in education and health care, but not in transportation,” Pollack told writers and editors gathered for the Journalists Forum on Land and the Built Environment, in Cambridge, March 28 to 29, 2014. “We have no concept of how a transportation system would be ‘fair.’”

The theme of the forum was infrastructure—who it’s for, how to plan and pay for it, and why we need smarter investments for 21st-century urban environments. It was the seventh year of the annual two-day gathering for journalists, hosted by the Lincoln Institute, the Nieman Foundation for Journalism at Harvard University, and Harvard University’s Graduate School of Design (GSD).

Pollock also shared research on transit-oriented development (TOD)—a policy increasingly encouraged by cities through zoning reform and financial incentives. The data revealed some troubling outcomes in terms of equity and transit use: The higher-income residents who move into TOD areas, which rapidly become expensive places to live, don’t tend to use the transit; whereas residents who do use transit must move farther from the stations, to more affordable neighborhoods—a displacement that raises the costs and complexity of their commutes. In a third of TOD sites studied, ridership actually went down after new development went in.

In another presentation, Judith Grant Long, associate professor of urban planning at the GSD, looked at mega-events, such as the World Cup and the Olympics, which also inspire cities to invest billions in infrastructure. There is little evidence of a payoff in terms of permanent jobs, revenues, or even branding, she said. The International Olympic Committee could help cities plan better and deliver more compact, “right-sized” games, Long suggested. Barcelona, Rome, Tokyo, Munich, Montreal, and London all have had some success in transforming Olympic villages for long-term use that benefits a broader population after the games are over.

Public-private partnerships, private roadway building and operation, and tolling systems have marked recent innovations in the financing of infrastructure, said Jose A. Gomez-Ibanez, professor at the GSD and the Harvard Kennedy School. But, arguably, since the completion of the interstate highway system, the federal role has been unclear; the challenge is showing the public who benefits from projects, in order to justify how they are paid for, he said.

Governments are going to have to become smarter and more targeted in building future transportation and other types of infrastructure, especially as metropolitan areas seek to become more resilient in the face of the inevitable impacts of climate change, several presenters said.

Rich Cavallaro, president of Skanska USA Civil, Inc., cited the D+ grade in the latest “report card” on infrastructure issued by the American Society of Civil Engineers. That group estimates that the nation needs to spend $1.6 trillion more than currently planned to bring infrastructure across all sectors to an acceptable level. In contrast to hugely expensive projects, such as floodgates similar to those on the Thames River in the United Kingdom, Cavallaro spoke in favor of more achievable steps, such as equipping subway tunnels with giant inflatable plugs, raising up grates and power substations, and designing parking garages and similar facilities so they can be flooded and then cleaned up when the waters recede.

Several nations are better at coordinating disaster relief and recovery efforts, according to surveys by Robert B. Olshansky, professor of Urban and Regional Planning at the University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign, and Laurie A. Johnson, principal at Laurie Johnson Consulting|Research. Building long-term resilience as part of that process was the subject of the recent Lincoln Institute report, Lessons from Sandy.

Susannah C. Drake, principal at dlandstudio pllc, detailed creative approaches such as retooling the waterfront apron of lower Manhattan and capping sunken highway trenches through urban neighborhoods. The nation cannot simply seek to rebuild what existed before a disaster—especially now that advances in technology make infrastructure less expensive, compared to the massive investments of the New Deal. Marcus M. Quigley, principal at Geosyntec Consultants, explored how smart technology and dynamic, intelligent controls can transform major facilities. “We can change the way our infrastructure acts on our behalf,” he said. “Every time we repave a street or a sidewalk, we’re burning an opportunity.”

The dark side of smart infrastructure was also discussed. Ryan Ellis, postdoctoral research fellow at the Belfer Center for Science and International Affairs at the Harvard Kennedy School, addressed the complex challenge of security and infrastructure, revealing the cloak-and-dagger world of cyber attacks, vulnerabilities, and zero days. Hackers routinely hijack emails and can sabotage our power grid, air traffic control, and financial systems. The key, Ellis said, is to “design for security now,” because “it’s hard to bolt on after the fact.” For planners engaged in building smart cities, he said, security must be part of the conversation.

The interconnected impacts of global urbanization require a broader framework for urban infrastructure, outside the “box” of individual metropolitan areas, said Neil Brenner, professor of urban theory at the GSD. “We need to update our cognitive map of urbanization,” he said. Pierre Bélanger, associate professor of landscape architecture at the GSD, predicted that working with nature—and even allowing certain abandoned areas to return to a wild state—would eclipse the traditional approach of controlling water and putting streams in pipes.

Political leadership is the key to reinventing and designing new infrastructure in the urban environment, said landscape architect Margie Ruddick. Fortunately, mayors have become some of the most innovative leaders to take on these kinds of challenges, said David Gergen, senior analyst at CNN and director of the Center for Public Leadership at the Harvard Kennedy School. Mayors may not routinely become president, but they are practical problem solvers at center stage, said Gergen, who was the guest speaker at the forum’s traditional evening gathering at the Nieman Foundation’s Walter Lippmann House. “Cities are where the experimentation is taking place,” he said.

The political difficulties of transforming the urban landscape were also noted by Janette Sadik-Khan, former transportation commissioner of New York City and now at Bloomberg Associates. She noted that bike lanes, a bike-share program, and car-free spaces in Times Square had prompted opposition from drivers, business owners, and others who viewed the initiative as impractical and “vaguely French.” But many shopkeepers have since reported a big uptick in business because of increased foot traffic, and the moveable chairs in the car-free areas are continually occupied.

“When you expand options, people vote with their feet, their seats, and their bike share key fobs,” she said. “New Yorkers have changed in what they expect from their streets.”

The forum traditionally includes two sessions devoted to “practicing the craft.” Brian McGrory, editor of The Boston Globe, detailed efforts to integrate “searingly relevant” journalism in a digital business model that is sustainable. The Globe has more readers than ever, he said. Inga Saffron, architecture critic for The Philadelphia Inquirer, who won the Pulitzer Prize shortly after the forum, joined Chicago Tribune architecture critic Blair Kamin, Jerold Kayden from the GSD, and Gregory K. Ingram and Armando Carbonell from the Lincoln Institute in a conversation on the interaction between journalists and expert sources. Several participants among the 40 journalists and Nieman fellows filed dispatches, including Roger K. Lewis at The Washington Post, Tim Bryant at the St. Louis Post-Dispatch, Christopher Swope at Citiscope, and Josh Stephens writing for Planetizen.

Anthony Flint is a fellow and director of public affairs at the Lincoln Institute of Land Policy, and author of Wrestling with Moses: How Jane Jacobs Took on New York’s Master Builder and Transformed the American City (Random House, 2011). He was a Loeb Fellow in 2000–2001.

Dan L. Perlman teaches at Brandeis University, in Waltham, Massachusetts, where he is chair of the Environmental Studies Program and associate professor of biology. He has coauthored three textbooks on conservation biology and ecology: Practical Ecology for Planners, Developers, and Citizens (with Jeffrey C. Milder, published by Island Press in cooperation with the Lincoln Institute of Land Policy, 2005); Conserving Earth’s Biodiversity (an interactive CD-ROM with Edward O. Wilson, published by Island Press, 2000); and Biodiversity: Exploring Values and Priorities in Conservation (with Glenn Adelson, published by Blackwell Scientific, 1997).

An avid nature photographer, Perlman’s photographs have been exhibited at the American Museum of Natural History in New York and the Museum of Science in Boston, and he has been the photographer for two children’s books (one on a Costa Rican rainforest and the other on ants). He recently launched a Web site from which he freely distributes teaching materials he has developed for ecology and environmental studies, including his photographs (click here). He has received university-wide teaching awards at both Brandeis University and Harvard University, where he taught conservation biology part-time for nine years. He holds a Ph.D. from Harvard University’s Department of Organismic and Evolutionary Biology.

Land Lines: How can ecology help planners, landscape architects, and others in the planning and design community?

Dan Perlman: The study of ecology reminds us that humans are truly a part of nature, although in our highly technological society it is easy to forget how closely our lives are tied to the land and other elements. Most of us are only reminded of these close interactions when nature unleashes her fury through a hurricane, tornado, flood, or earthquake. Given that the planning and design professions aim to make humans lives as healthy and fulfilling as possible, it is critical to attend to nature when changing the landscapes where we live and work.

Once one understands some basic concepts of ecology, it is no longer possible to view humans as being divorced from the ecosystems in which they live. Like all other organisms, humans interact with the plants and animals around them, and with the nonliving aspects of ecosystems, such as rain, wind, and fire. Unfortunately, when we design human communities without considering the particulars of the ecosystems in which they are embedded, we place people in dangerous and unhealthy situations. With a little ecological knowledge, however, planning professionals can improve human lives.

Land Lines: What aspects of ecology are especially pertinent to planners and designers?

Dan Perlman: Over the past few decades, ecologists have begun paying close attention to disturbance regimes—the natural processes that randomly change ecosystems. It turns out that disturbances greatly affect humans as well as the plants and animals around us. In recent years it has become ever clearer that ecological disturbances such as hurricanes, forest fires, tsunamis, and earthquakes have the potential to devastate human communities.

By understanding the ecological histories and disturbance regimes of the specific landscapes in which they work, planning professionals can ensure that they do not place the human population in harm’s way. While homes placed along Gulf Coast beaches or deep in the pine forests of the West are desirable to many, recognition of the dangers of hurricanes and fire will lead planners to either steer development away from dangerous settings or to create protections for the people living in potentially dangerous situations.

It is critical to remember, however, that landscapes differ in their disturbance regimes and the frequency and impact of their typical disturbances. It makes sense to focus on earthquakes, landslides, and fires in the hills of southern California and on hurricanes in Florida, rather than vice versa, for example, since those types of disturbances are most likely to occur in those locations.

Land Lines: Ecologists and conservation biologists are often accused of sounding alarm bells. Do they also offer positive visions for the future?

Dan Perlman: Actually, there are many positive aspects to increased understanding of ecological processes. Intact and healthy natural landscapes perform critical ecosystem services that would be extremely expensive or impossible to replace through technological means. Water filtration, absorption of air pollutants and greenhouse gasses, and soil protection are just a few of the many services that nature provides.

Psychologists recognize the mental health benefits of being able to interact with nature, and planning professionals can help make these benefits widely available by incorporating easy access to natural areas into their designs. Many recent studies have demonstrated that proximity to natural areas is very attractive for wide cross-sections of the populace—along with being economically valuable. In addition, being able to interact with native habitats and organisms, or even just knowing that they exist, can contribute to the mental health and well-being of people of all ages. It is especially important that young people have opportunities to experience and learn about nature so they can integrate that awareness into their future decision making about where and how they live.

Land Lines: How can the conservation of biodiversity be balanced with the needs and desires of the house-buying public?

Dan Perlman: The goal of conservation biologists is to protect and restore healthy native species and ecosystems. New York City’s recent efforts to protect its water supply through a variety of land protection programs around the upstate watersheds and reservoirs in the Catskill Mountains is a great example of balancing human and ecosystem health. By sensibly guiding development to specific areas and limiting it from ecologically fragile areas or areas that are especially important for human health, planners and policy makers can obtain real benefits for both humans and ecosystems alike.

If we also consider the well-being of nonhuman organisms and creatures that share our planet, we find that attention to conservation biology during planning can pay major dividends. Biologists know that small nature reserves isolated in seas of human development are not an effective way to protect the native plants and animals of our landscapes. Instead, wherever possible, we should create large protected areas that can support populations of larger animals, many of which play especially important roles in the functioning of healthy ecosystems.

In addition, there is some evidence that intact habitat corridors, if well planned, can link smaller reserves into networks that may approximate the functions of large reserves. If planners begin their considerations with these concepts in mind, they may be able to create healthy, diverse landscapes. It is difficult to create or protect large reserves and corridors once development has begun in earnest.

Land Lines: How will global climate change affect human health and safety, and what can planning professionals do to help?

Dan Perlman: As the global climate warms, the effects will vary considerably from location to location. Some regions will receive more precipitation and others less; some areas will become much hotter, some will only become slightly warmer, and some may actually become colder. Nonetheless, the broad outlines of the changes that can be expected over the next 50 to 100 years are becoming clearer.

The global average temperature will likely rise a few degrees Fahrenheit—and may rise even more than that—as compared to the approximately one-degree change that has occurred over the past century. As the oceans warm, the water will expand, leading to a rise in sea level. With increased warmth, the Antarctic and Greenland glaciers will melt more quickly, adding to sea level rise. As a result, coastal communities will be under threat and will either have to retreat inland or build expensive retaining walls and levees. If the Antarctic ice shelves (which hang over the ocean) break off, sea level will rise still further—and catastrophically quickly. Changing precipitation and temperature regimes will alter the basics around which communities are planned and built, and designers will have to plan in different ways. It is possible that extreme weather events, such as the major hurricanes of 2005, will become more frequent.

To help reduce the speed and amplitude of climate change, the United States will probably eventually join the international community’s consensus that carbon dioxide emissions must be reduced—and our communities can help reduce emissions by developing more public transit options and more compact development patterns. As an additional benefit, this may leave extra flexibility for setting aside and protecting natural areas, if human communities take up less of the landscape.

Land Lines: How has your work with the Lincoln Institute affected your thinking about conservation biology and ecology?

Dan Perlman: Most of my teaching is with college undergraduates. While I try to keep those classes well-grounded by bringing in guest speakers and taking field trips, I have found that traditional classroom discussions can become overly rarified. My first major project with the Lincoln Institute was to write the book Practical Ecology for Planners, Developers, and Citizens, with Jeff Milder. I found it really stimulating to be put in a position of trying to adapt and explain my scientific background to make ecological concepts understandable to planners, landscape architects, and planning board members. It is one thing to distill these concepts and discuss them with undergraduates, but it is quite different to present these ideas to professionals and decision makers who want guidance that is clear and actually useful.

As an outgrowth of the book project I have been involved in teaching and sitting on panels for several Lincoln programs. I have found that the professionals and practitioners taking these programs further challenge me to create a coherent and effective message. As with any stimulating group in a classroom, I find that I come away from these sessions with a sense that I have learned as much as anyone in the room.

Land Lines: From your ecological and conservation perspectives, what advice would you give a designer or planner today?

Dan Perlman: First, I would say that you should know the ecology of the region where you work. The ecological constraints and opportunities of Springfield, Oregon, are quite different from those of Springfields in Illinois, Georgia, and Massachusetts. There are no ecological prescriptions that fit all planning and design situations. As I learned early in my career, the First Law of Ecology is: It Depends.

Second, I would recommend paying careful attention to giving local residents easy access to nature—even to small natural areas of just a few acres. Adults and children flourish when in contact with nature, and there is no substitute for having small bits of native biodiversity nearby. I once heard Dr. Madhav Gadgil, the preeminent ecologist in India, state his wish that every child in his nation should have a little bit of wilderness near at hand. While his definition of wilderness may differ from that of ecologists in Boulder or Seattle, his hope is one that I feel deeply.

Gran parte del consumo de energía del país se produce en las ciudades. En los Estados Unidos, alrededor de tres cuartas parte de la energía consumida está relacionada con las áreas urbanas. De acuerdo con esto, las ciudades ofrecen oportunidades significativas para ahorrar energía aumentando su eficiencia, pero sigue habiendo obstáculos importantes: ¿Las fuerzas del mercado bastarán para producir ganancias de eficiencia cuando corresponda, o estas soluciones de mercado se verán impedidas por fallas del mercado, tales como información imperfecta, falta de financiamiento o riesgos incomprendidos? ¿Cuánto valora la gente el ahorro de energía, y cuán sensibles son a los cambios en los precios de la energía? El Instituto Lincoln organizó una conferencia sobre la eficiencia energética y las ciudades en octubre de 2012 para tratar estos y otros temas relacionados. A continuación esbozamos algunos de ellos.

Valoración de la eficiencia energética

Los consumidores deberían estar dispuestos a pagar más por espacios de vivienda que usan menos energía. La evidencia demuestra que los usuarios de espacios comerciales valoran la eficiencia energética y están dispuestos a pagar más por ella, y muchos estudios confirman que el espacio de oficinas y comercial con certificación LEED se vende o alquila a precios superiores en comparación con el espacio tradicional. La evidencia de esta preferencia es claramente menor en lo que se refiere a las residencias, en parte porque la mayoría de los compradores de viviendas no puede determinar fácilmente la eficiencia energética de una vivienda, sobre todo si es nueva y no hay registro sobre su consumo energético.

Algunos desarrollos residenciales se están clasificando ahora mediante procedimientos similares a la certificación LEED o la clasificación Energy Star, como la utilizada en los equipos electrodomésticos. En California, las viviendas que tienen la mayor clasificación de eficiencia energética se venden por un precio de aproximadamente un 9 por ciento mayor que las unidades con eficiencia energética promedio. Similares diferencias de precios para casas certificadas con el nivel de eficiencia máximo, usando un procedimiento de certificación europeo, se han observado en los Países Bajos. Algunas de estas diferencias de precios se justifican por el mayor nivel de confort brindado por estos edificios, además del ahorro de energía. También parece probable que el aumento de precios por eficiencia energética que se observan en California sea tres veces mayor que incremento gradual del costo del aumento de eficiencia en dichas viviendas.

Cómo determinar el costo

El costo de integrar eficiencia energética en los edificios nuevos es menor que el costo de mejorar la eficiencia en edificios existentes. Una casa construida después del año 2000 usa alrededor del 25 por ciento menos de energía por metro cuadrado que una casa construida en la década de 1960 o antes. El potencial técnico para mejorar la eficiencia energética en casas más viejas parece ser obvio, pero sus propietarios enfrentan dos desafíos: determinar qué mejoras tienen el mayor beneficio por dólar invertido y obtener un contratista y financiamiento para realizar el trabajo. Si bien hay muchas herramientas de diagnóstico disponibles para evaluar las viviendas existentes, su exactitud es muy variable y depende completamente de las características detalladas tanto de la vivienda y como del estilo de vida de la unidad familiar. La obtención de un contratista y de financiamiento puede suponer altos costos de transacción para los propietarios, en términos de esfuerzo, tiempo y dinero. Muchas compañías de servicios públicos ofrecen soporte técnico y financiero para la modernización de la eficiencia energética, pero el progreso ha sido lento.

Cómo cambiar el consumo de energía

Quizá sea más fácil cambiar los estilos de vida residenciales que modernizar los edificios viejos, y muchas compañías de servicios públicos están experimentando con métodos para modificar el comportamiento de la unidad familiar. El programa más común consiste en “animar” a las familias a desarrollar hábitos más eficientes proporcionándoles informes periódicos del consumo doméstico de energía que comparan su reciente uso de energía con el de sus vecinos. Los análisis demuestran que estos informes tienen no solo un impacto a corto plazo en el consumo de energía del hogar sino también un impacto acumulativo a más largo plazo que continúa después de interrumpidos los informes. Los ahorros de energía de estos programas son pequeños, y oscilan entre medio kilovatio-hora hasta un kilovatio-hora por día para un hogar medio, pero el bajo costo del programa lo hace tan rentable como muchas otras estrategias.

Reconocimiento a John Quigley

Esta conferencia fue organizada conjuntamente con John Quigley, profesor de Economía de la Universidad de California en Berkeley, quien falleció antes de que ésta se llevara a cabo. Además de sus artículos originales sobre la energía y las ciudades, algunos de sus antiguos alumnos, colegas y coautores presentaron otros artículos sobre economía urbana. Todos estos trabajos serán publicados en una próxima edición especial de Regional Science and Urban Economics, que reconocerá las contribuciones de John Quigley a lo largo de su larga y sobresaliente carrera.

El Instituto Lincoln de Políticas de Suelo se ha asociado con un equipo de organizaciones sin fines de lucro y agencias federales para patrocinar el Taller Nacional de Conservación de Grandes Paisajes (NWLLC, por su sigla en inglés) el 23 y 24 de octubre de 2014 en el Edificio Ronald Reagan de Washington, DC. La reunión contó con la presencia de aproximadamente 700 participantes, quienes consideraron cómo, trabajando a través de los sectores públicos, privados, cívicos (ONG) y académicos; a través de disciplinas; y a través de parcelas, pueblos, condados, estados e incluso límites internacionales, los practicantes de la conservación de grandes paisajes podrían alcanzar resultados concebidos creativamente, estratégicamente significativos, mensurablemente efectivos, transferibles y duraderos en el suelo, en esta era de cambio climático.

Las políticas, prácticas y estudios de casos discutidos en el NWLLC ofrecieron un amplio espectro de soluciones y trayectorias promete-doras para mejorar los esfuerzos de conservación de la vida silvestre a nivel regional; aumentar sustancialmente la calidad y cantidad del agua a través de grandes cuencas; alcanzar una producción sostenible de alimentos, fibra y energía; y proteger los recursos culturales y recreativos significativos a nivel internacional. Los organizadores de la conferencia apreciaron enormemente las contribuciones productivas de todos los participantes, desde la Secretaria del Interior Sally Jewell, el líder iroqués Sid Jamieson y el Presidente de la Federación Nacional de Vida Silvestre Collin O’Mara, hasta los gestores del suelo sobre el terreno, científicos y coordinadores de proyectos desde el Estrecho de Bering en Alaska hasta los Cayos de Florida.

Una versión de este artículo apareció originalmente en Expanding Horizons: Highlights from the National Workshop on Large Landscape Conservation (Expansión de horizontes: Aspectos destacados del Taller Nacional sobre Conservación de Grandes Paisajes), el informe completo del NWLLC. Este informe, preparado por el Instituto Lincoln y tres socios de la conferencia –el Instituto de Administración del Servicio de Parques Nacionales, la Fundación Quebec-Labrador/Centro Atlántico para el Medio Ambiente y la Red de Practicantes de la Conservación de Grandes Paisajes–se puede leer en el sitio web de la Red de Practicantes, www.largelandscapenetwork.org.

—James N. Levitt
Lincoln Institute of Land Policy and the Harvard Forest, Harvard University

En el primer Taller Nacional sobre Conservación de Grandes Paisajes cayeron en cascada grandes ideas sobre la naturaleza y la gente, y una nueva metodología de conservación. Pasaron tantas cosas y con tanta rapidez, que las frases usuales que se usan para describir sucesos alentadores y vivificantes no tienen siquiera cabida.

¿Un parteaguas? Más bien fue como bajar en balsa por las Cataratas del Niágara o a lo largo de una inundación en la Edad de Hielo.

¿Una mayoría de edad? Quizá, si se piensa en el crecimiento vertiginoso de un pino de hoja larga: el árbol puede pasar años sin que parezca más que una mata de pasto, aunque de manera invisible haya estado enterrando su raíz principal en la profundidad; después, en una sola temporada, asciende cuatro pies hacia el cielo, quedando fuera del alcance de los incendios forestales rastreros.

¿Variedad de opiniones? El rey medieval de España Alfonso X el Sabio es recordado por haber dicho que si hubiera estado presente en la Creación, habría dado algunas indicaciones útiles. Pero en el Taller de Grandes Paisajes, cuya inscripción excedió el cupo de vacantes, se tuvieron que comprimir 117 horas de experiencia, asesoramiento y datos en siete series de sesiones simultáneas que ocuparon la mayoría de las 17 horas de la conferencia. Hubo pláticas y paneles bien pensados, e informes y presentaciones cuidadosamente preparadas por 269 presentadores de cascos urbanos, remotas cumbres rocosas, islas lejanas, y paisajes de todo tipo a lo largo de los Estados Unidos, con conexiones con Canadá y México.

¿Impulso ininterrumpido? Ben Franklin dijo el último día de la Convención Constitucional de los EE.UU., realizada en 1787 en Filadelfia, que después de haber pasado tres meses escuchando el debate de ida y vuelta, y observando diariamente el resplandor dorado del respaldo de la silla del presidente, finalmente tuvo la alegría de saber que estaba presenciando la alborada, no el crepúsculo. Pero la Secretaria del Interior Sally Jewell, uno de los dos miembros del gabinete que habló a la audiencia del NWLLC y aplaudió sus esfuerzos, dijo en una sesión plenaria a la hora del almuerzo el primer día: “Esta sala está reventada de visión. Ustedes serán los pioneros de la comprensión a nivel de paisaje, como Teddy Roosevelt fue el pionero de la conservación hace ya un siglo. ¡Hagámoslo realidad!”

Conservación a nivel de paisaje: El término es todavía reciente, y se refiere a una nueva manera de comprender el mundo, de evaluar y nutrir su salud. Supera la práctica loable pero limitada del siglo XX de designar zonas de reserva y limpiar la contaminación. Con una lente gran angular y a la distancia, observa cada paisaje, ya sea designado o no, como una red intrincadamente conectada de seres vivos, sostenida por una amplia comunidad de gente. La conservación a nivel de paisaje ha estado inyectando nueva energía y ampliando el movimiento medioambiental. Y a medida que se adopte su perspectiva, lo primero que crece no es necesariamente el tamaño de la propiedad a proteger, sino la posibilidad de tomar medidas, algunas grandes y otras pequeñas, que marcarán una diferencia perdurable en el futuro de la biósfera y sus habitantes, incluida la humanidad.

Muchos de estos proyectos inaugurales fueron mostrados en las presentaciones del taller y en los 34 posters que adornaron el vasto atrio del Edificio Reagan. A veces el taller daba la impresión de ser un enorme bazar en el que se presentaban programas, conceptos, resultados de investigación, exploraciones, acuerdos cooperativos y otros éxitos preliminares, como también preguntas sobre las que reflexionar. Joyas inesperadas, esfuerzos hasta ahora sólo conocidos por pequeños grupos, resplandecían en los rincones para que todos los pudieran ver libremente.

Yellowstone to Yukón, conocido como “Y2Y’, es quizá el abuelo de los proyectos de grandes paisajes generados por la ciudadanía: una idea para crear un corredor conectado, binacional, de suelo silvestre de 3.200 kilómetros de largo, desde el Parque Nacional Yellowstone hasta la frontera con Alaska, a lo largo del último ecosistema montañoso intacto del mundo. En el NWLLC, Y2Y estaba llegando literalmente a la mayoría de edad, ya que celebraba su vigesimoprimer cumpleaños. En 1993, sólo el 12 por ciento de este territorio de 130 millones de hectáreas había sido conservado, pero para 2013 el total ascendía al 52 por ciento.

Las Áreas de Patrimonio Nacional, que rinden homenaje a la historia y los logros de este país, están aún más establecidas: el programa abarca decenas de millones de hectáreas, entre ellas el estado completo de Tennessee. Y ha cumplido 30 años recientemente.

Y2Y ha inspirado los planes de ‘H2H’, un corredor de suelo de 80 kilómetros de longitud identificado como “paisaje resiliente”, apenas alejado de los alrededores de los suburbios del norte de la Ciudad de Nueva York, que se extiende desde el Río Housatonic en Connecticut hasta el Río Hudson en Nueva York. Una vez protegido, podría reducir drásticamente los efectos del cambio climático.

La Staying Connected Initiative (Iniciativa Permanecer Conectados), una coalición de canadienses y estadounidenses que colaboran a través de 32 millones de hectáreas de bosques y suelos forestales en cuatro provincias y cuatro estados anclados en el norte de Nueva Inglaterra (un paisaje del tamaño de Alemania), se llama a sí misma “el primo más pequeño de Y2Y al que dentro de 15 años se le llamará su equivalente del noreste”.

Poco después de haber comenzado el taller, una agencia de alcantarillado de un condado de Oregón comenzó a agregar árboles y arbustos en las orillas sinuosas del Río Tualatin, de 130 km de longitud, al oeste de Portland, para mantener frescos a los peces del río. Para el 5 de junio de 2015, Día Mundial del Medio Ambiente, habrá plantado un millón de unidades.

El efecto, según me comentaron los participantes durante los descansos (hubo algunos) fue a la vez estimulante y aleccionador. La conservación a nivel de paisaje es alimentada por la esperanza, en vez de ser acelerada por el miedo. Es un grupo que se une ante las graves amenazas medioambientales de extinción y degradación. Al expandir nuestros horizontes, el foco se desplaza de operaciones de rescate a una increíble cantidad de cosas que se pueden y deben llevar a cabo para restaurar, reponer, salvaguardar, proteger y celebrar la integridad a largo plazo del sorprendente patrimonio natural y cultural de este continente gigante.

Cuando nuestros antecesores humanos se irguieron por primera vez hace millones de años, y observaron más allá de los pastos altos de la sabana de África Oriental, su mundo pasó instantáneamente de abarcar entre 5 y 10 metros de ancho a algo así como 5 a 10 kilómetros. Esto redefinió lo que era práctico, necesario y posible pensar. Similarmente, la expansión o aceleración de nuestra propia conciencia de conservación a nivel de paisaje es una manera útil de confrontar las complejidades que proliferan en el mundo moderno de los Estados Unidos, un país de 320 millones de habitantes que dentro de medio siglo tendrá 400 millones.

Es un país donde, según los conocimientos científicos adquiridos en el último medio siglo, los métodos de conservación existentes no bastan para proteger estos lugares de manera adecuada, en parte porque las plantas y los animales atraviesan los límites delineados en el mapa y porque, a medida que estos lugares se van aislando cada vez más, los habitantes anteriores no pueden volver, ya sea para residir en forma ocasional o permanente. Incluso los chorlitos de alto vuelo de Alaska, que pasan el invierno en México o China o Nueva Zelanda, encuentran obstáculos en sus viajes debido a los derrames de petróleo en la Bahía de San Francisco y los manglares invasivos de Nueva Zelanda. Tom Tidwell, jefe del Servicio Forestal de los Estados Unidos, llama a los pájaros, murciélagos y mariposas los “mensajeros alados” de la conservación a nivel de paisaje. En años recientes también hemos visto que, si bien los mapas y designaciones de suelo se mantienen estáticas, los lugares pueden estar transformándose por completo, a medida que el cambio climático desplaza un ecosistema y atrae otro.

Quizás la cartografía propiamente dicha esté ingresando en una fase no euclidiana o posjeffersoniana. Durante casi 230 años, desde 1785, cuando Thomas Jefferson, aun antes de la Convención Constituyente, sugirió que la geometría debería primar sobre la topografía para relevar lo que en ese entonces se llamaban los “suelos vacantes” al oeste de los Apalaches, hemos heredado la “cuadrícula jeffersoniana”, visión ineludible desde las ventanillas de cualquier vuelo transcontinental por la forma en que están delineados los caminos y los campos. Esta cuadrícula usó las líneas, en este caso invisibles (y sólo recientemente calculadas), de longitud y latitud que dividían el paisaje en “secciones” de kilómetros cuadrados para delimitar las propiedades que ignoraban los ecosistemas, las cuencas y hasta las cadenas montañosas. Creó una realidad de ángulos rectos para los colonos que se desplazaban hacia el oeste a fundar pueblos, sin que les importara lo que estaban heredando: la organización natural del paisaje y las tradiciones y conocimientos de sus habitantes humanos anteriores.

Causa común. Si el trabajo en una perspectiva mayor del suelo es una consecuencia de haberse dado cuenta de que hay más en el suelo (y debajo y encima de él), la nueva ecuación de conservación pone tanto énfasis en quién hace el trabajo como en qué consiste el mismo. En desviación de las prácticas tradicionales, también crece la cantidad y tipo de gente que se alinea detrás de cualquier proyecto a escala de paisaje.Todo el proceso, dijo Dan Ashe, director del Servicio de Pesca y Vida Silvestre de los EE.UU., depende de una “colaboración épica”, que se convirtió en la frase más repetida del taller. El término “épico” tuvo resonancia porque hablaba de llegar a través de tantas barreras de separación. Otra palabra popular del taller fue “descarrilador”:

Terratenientes privados en alianza con administradores de suelos públicos. La ruta migratoria de la antilocapra americana, que atraviesa tanto suelo público como privado, ha sido protegida, pero este es el último de siete corredores que existían anteriormente; los demás fueron suprimidos. La Iniciativa del Urogallo de las Artemisas del Servicio de Conservación de Recursos Naturales, trabajando con 953 ganaderos de 11 estados del Oeste, ha movido o marcado con etiquetas blancas de plástico 537 millas de alambrado de púas, para que estos pájaros de vuelo rasante no queden clavados en ellas. “Trabajo con los que tienen esperanza, no odio”, dijo un ganadero.

Los terratenientes privados se asocian con sus próximos propietarios. Decenas de millones de hectáreas de campos agrícolas y ganaderos cambiarán de manos en los próximos 20 años, junto con más de 80 millones de hectáreas de “bosques de familia”. La edad promedio de un propietario de un bosque es 62,5 años y la “afinidad con el suelo”, como apuntó un comentarista, “puede ser más difícil de transferir que una escritura legal”.

Los administradores de suelos públicos colaboran con otros administradores de suelos públicos. Demasiadas agencias hermanas tienen el hábito arraigado de tratarse entre sí como hermanastras desdeñadas, o funcionan como las Grayas de la mitología griega, que compartían un solo ojo. En los últimos 30 años, la Oficina de Administración de Suelo (BLM) ha desarrollado un sistema de Gestión de Recursos Visuales (VRM) para evaluar intrusiones en los suelos del Oeste, que también cuenta con una lista de calidades paisajistas a varias distancias de Puntos de Observación Claves (KOP). Pero los métodos del VRM no se han propagado todavía hacia el Este, donde la Comisión Federal de Regulación de Energía tiende a aprobar sin hacer preguntas todas las propuestas para corredores de gasoductos nuevos y de transmisión eléctrica, aunque afecten las vistas de hitos históricos nacionales, como Montpelier, la hacienda de Virginia rodeada de bosques primarios donde James Madison escribió un borrador de la Constitución de los EE.UU.

Otras disparidades que aún tienen que resolverse. El ochenta y cinco por ciento de los estadounidenses vive en áreas urbanas, dando paso a una generación de jóvenes que han “caminado sólo sobre asfalto”. En este taller, la mayoría de los presentadores eran hombres, comprometidos con la “hombrexplicación”, como dijo una mujer. Otro participante quedó sorprendido de que la conferencia fuera tan “abrumadoramente blanca”. La Dra. Mamie Parker, subdirectora retirada del Servicio de Pesca y Vida Silvestre (la primera mujer afronorteamericana en ese puesto) fue oradora plenaria, y recibió una prolongada ovación, sólo igualada por la dedicada a la Secretaria Jewell. “Por muchos años”, dijo la Dra. Parker, “hemos estado atascados, frenados y asustados de hacer alianzas no tradicionales. El miedo nos ha impedido comunicarnos con otra gente que quiere sentirse respetada, quiere saber que ellos también son miembros valiosos de nuestro equipo”.

“El cambio se produce al ritmo de la confianza”, dijo uno de los participantes.”No creo que hayamos probado la confianza todavía”, dijo otro. Queda claro que, de ahora en adelante, para lograr éxito en la conservación se va a necesitar de gran éxito en los diálogos, muchos de los cuales pueden ser incómodos al principio. Va a ser una travesía plena de desafíos. Nuestros antecesores humanos se sintieron incómodos cuando se pusieron de pie por primera vez; todavía estamos trabajando para lograr un sentimiento de pertenencia a otras tribus.

City People (Gente urbana), un libro pionero del historiador Gunther Barth, demostró cómo las ciudades norteamericanas del siglo XX se convirtieron en lugares cohesivos gracias a las invenciones de finales del siglo XIX: Millones de estadounidenses de pueblos pequeños e inmigrantes de Europa Oriental aprendieron a vivir y trabajar juntos gracias a las casas de apartamentos, los grandes almacenes, los periódicos (que les proporcionaban la misma información de partida) y los campos de béisbol (que les enseñaban reglas para competir y cooperar). También podemos agregar las bibliotecas y los parques públicos a la lista.

Masonville Cove, en Baltimore, primera asociación urbana de refugio de vida silvestre del país, fundada en 2013, es quizá un nuevo tipo de biblioteca pública para la era de grandes paisajes. El Área de Conservación de Vida Silvestre Urbana de Masonville Cove, un barrio costero en la parte más meridional de la ciudad, destruido después de la Segunda Guerra Mundial para construir un túnel de paso hacia el puerto, y plagado de zonas industriales abandonadas que se han regenerado y han sido descubiertas nuevamente por 52 especies de pájaros, ahora ofrece clases dictadas por el personal del Acuario Nacional sobre la Bahía de Chesapeake y su cuenca de 165.000 km2 (18,5 veces más grande que Yellowstone). También hay excursiones, sendas peatonales, plataformas de lanzamiento de kayaks y oportunidades para ayudar a retirar los escombros carbonizados, que pueden remontarse al gran incendio de Baltimore de 1904.

A escala nacional, la conservación a nivel de paisajes tiene un comité directivo informal y extraoficial: la Red de Practicantes de Conservación de Grandes Paisajes, una alianza de administradores de suelos gubernamentales, fideicomisos de suelo, académicos, ciudadanos y organizaciones nacionales sin fines de lucro que salvan suelos y protegen las especies. Y oficialmente, como resultado de una iniciativa temprana de la administración Obama, existe ahora un apuntalamiento nacional para este trabajo: una red de investigadores y convocantes federales, organizada como 22 Cooperativas de Conservación del Paisaje (LCC). Las LCC no son propietarias de nada ni administran nada, ni tampoco promulgan normas, pero generan y compilan datos científicos confiables sobre todos los paisajes del país (y muchos paisajes adyacentes en Canadá y México), creando así una base de datos de información compartida. Por necesidad cubren mucho territorio y agua (una de las LCC abarca tanto Hawái como Samoa Americana, 6.500 kilómetros al oeste). Y reúnen a mucha gente; cada LCC tiene por lo menos 30 socios que representan agencias independientes del gobierno, organizaciones sin fines de lucro y gobiernos tribales.

¿Y ahora qué? Esa era la pregunta que todos se hacían una y otra vez, con emoción y urgencia, en los pasillos de este edificio extenso, del tamaño de un centro comercial. Estaban aquellos animados por una encuesta reciente que revelaba que los estadounidenses creen que el 50 por ciento del planeta debe ser protegido para otras especies (los brasileños creen que se debe proteger el 70 por ciento). Algunos vislumbran un sistema continental ininterrumpido de grandes paisajes interconectados, y el establecimiento de un parque internacional de la paz en la frontera entre los EE.UU. y México, para complementar el que se estableció en 1932 en la frontera entre los EE.UU. y Canadá. Por otro lado, estaban aquellos que se mostraban angustiados porque ven que los todos los esfuerzos se están quedando cortos, confinando a los norteamericanos a un continente con más desarrollo, menos biodiversidad y menos lobos, salmones y búhos manchados. Estaban aquellos que pensaban que en el próximo taller nacional las alianzas deberían formar parte oficial del programa, integradas en la planificación de sesiones, en las presentaciones y en as discusiones e iniciativas posteriores.

Realmente, ¿y ahora qué? La gente necesita tomarse un poco de tiempo para asimilar el ascenso de una nueva visión, una expansión permanente en la percepción de los paisajes. No más de “No en mi patio trasero”; hay un único patio trasero, y existe para nuestro cuidado y deleite, nuestra herencia y responsabilidad.

Cuando uno adquiere una nueva capacidad, ¿hacia dónde dirige su mirada? Si alguien le da un telescopio, ¿dónde mirará primero?

Sobre el autor

Tony Hiss fue miembro de la redacción de la revista New Yorker durante más de 30 años, y ahora es un académico visitante en la Universidad de Nueva York. Es autor de 13 libros, entre los que se incluyen The Experience of Place (La experiencia del lugar) y, recientemente, In Motion: The Experience of Travel (En movimiento: la experiencia de viajar).

Peter Pollock, FAICP, is the Ronald Smith Fellow at the Lincoln Institute of Land Policy. Since July 2006 he has been working with the Department of Planning and Urban Form to manage the Institute’s joint venture projects with the Sonoran Institute and the Public Policy Research Institute of the Universtiy of Montana.

A large share of national energy consumption takes place in cities—in the United States about three-quarters of energy use is in or related to urban areas. Accordingly, cities offer significant opportunities for energy savings from increased efficiency, but important issues remain: Will market forces produce efficiency gains when appropriate, or will market failures such as imperfect information, unavailable financing, or misunderstood risks impede market solutions? How much do people value energy savings, and how sensitive are they to changes in energy prices? The Lincoln Institute hosted a conference on energy efficiency and cities in October 2012 to address these and related issues, and a few highlights follow.

Valuing Energy Efficiency

Consumers should be willing to pay more for built space that uses less energy. Evidence indicates that users of commercial space value energy efficiency and are willing to pay more for it, and many studies indicate that LEED-certified office and commercial space sells or rents at a premium over traditional space. There is much less evidence of such preferences for residences, in part because it is difficult for most homebuyers to determine the energy efficiency of a dwelling, especially a new one with no operating record.

Some residential developments are now being classified using procedures similar to LEED certification or to the Energy Star ratings such as those used for major appliances. Dwellings in California that have the highest energy efficiency ratings sell at a premium of about 9 percent above units with average energy efficiency. Similar price premiums have been observed in the Netherlands for houses certified at the highest efficiency level using a European certification procedure. Some of these premiums may reflect the improved comfort levels that these buildings provide in addition to energy savings. It also seems likely that the energy efficiency premium observed in California is up to three times greater than the incremental cost of the higher efficiency of these dwellings.

Determining Cost

The cost of integrating energy efficiency into new buildings is less than the cost of improving the efficiency of older buildings. A home built since 2000 uses about 25 percent less energy per square foot than one built in the 1960s or earlier. The technical potential for improved energy efficiency in older homes seems evident, but homeowners face two challenges: to determine which improvements have the highest payoff per dollar spent, and to obtain a contractor and financing for the work.

While many diagnostic tools are available to assess existing dwellings, their accuracy varies widely and depends critically on detailed inputs about both the dwelling’s attributes and the household’s living style. Obtaining a contractor and financing can involve high transaction costs for households in effort, time, and money. Many utility companies are offering both technical and financial support for energy retrofitting, but progress has been slow.

Changing Energy Consumption

It may be easier to change residential living styles than to retrofit old buildings, and many utilities are experimenting with schemes to modify household behavior. The most common program involves “nudging” households toward more efficient habits by providing periodic home energy reports that compare their recent energy use with that of their neighbors. Analysis indicates that these reports have both a short-term impact on household energy consumption and a longer-term cumulative impact that continues after the reports end. The energy savings from these programs are small, ranging from a half to one kilowatt hour per day for a household, but the program’s low cost makes the results as cost-effective as many other policies.

Recognizing John Quigley

This conference was designed with John Quigley, economics professor at the University of California at Berkeley, who passed away before the conference took place. In addition to the original papers on energy and cities, papers on urban economics were presented by some of his former students, colleagues, and coauthors. All of the papers will be submitted for a forthcoming special edition of Regional Science and Urban Economics, which will recognize his contributions over a long and distinguished career.

The Lincoln Institute of Land Policy partnered with a team of nonprofit organizations and federal agencies to host the National Workshop on Large Landscape Conservation (NWLLC) on October 23 and 24, 2014, at the Ronald Reagan Building in Washington, DC. The meeting drew some 700 participants to consider how—working across the public, private, civic (NGO), and academic sectors; across disciplines; and across parcel, town, county, state, and even international boundaries—large landscape conservation practitioners could achieve creatively conceived, strategically significant, measurably effective, transferable, and enduring results on the land in this era of climate change.

The policies, practices, and case studies discussed at the NWLLC offered a broad spectrum of solutions and promising paths for enhancing wildlife conservation efforts on a regional level; substantially improving water quality and quantity across large watersheds; achieving sustainable production of food, fiber, and energy; and protecting internationally significant cultural and recreational resources. The conference organizers greatly appreciate the productive contributions of all participants—ranging from Interior Secretary Sally Jewell, Iroquois elder Sid Jamieson, and National Wildlife Federation President Collin O’Mara, to on-the-ground land managers, scientists, and project coordinators from Alaska’s Bering Strait to the Florida Keys.

A version of this article originally appeared in Expanding Horizons: Highlights from the National Workshop on Large Landscape Conservation, the complete NWLLC report. Prepared by the Lincoln Institute and three conference partners—the National Park Service Stewardship Institute, the Quebec-Labrador Foundation/Atlantic Center for the Environment, and the Practitioners’ Network for Large Landscape Conservation—the full report is available on the Practitioners’ Network website (www.largelandscapenetwork.org)

—James N. Levitt
Lincoln Institute of Land Policy and the Harvard Forest, Harvard University

Big ideas about nature and people and a new approach to conservation cascaded through the first-ever National Workshop on Large Landscape Conservation. So much happened so quickly that the usual phrases for describing heartening and enlivening events don’t fit.

A watershed event? It felt more like white-water rafting down Niagara Falls or along an Ice-Age Flood.

A coming of age? Perhaps, if what you’re thinking about is the “rocket stage” in the growth of a longleaf pine tree: the tree can spend years looking like no more than a clump of grass, although it’s been invisibly sinking a deep taproot; then, in a single season, it leaps four feet toward the sky, putting it past the reach of ground-hugging wildfires.

Variety of input? The medieval Spanish king, Alfonso the Wise, is remembered for saying that if he’d been present at the Creation, he could’ve offered some useful hints. But at the oversubscribed Large Landscape Workshop, 117 hours of experience, advice, and data had to be packed into seven sets of concurrent sessions that occupied most of the 17 hours of the conference. There were thoughtful talks and panels and carefully prepared reports and slideshows by 269 presenters from inner cities, remote rocky heights, far-flung islands, and landscapes of all types across the United States, with connections to Canada and Mexico.

Continuing momentum? Ben Franklin said on the last day of the U.S. Constitutional Convention in Philadelphia in 1787 that, after spending three months listening to back-and-forth debate and looking daily at a gilded sunburst on the back of the president’s chair, he finally had the happiness of knowing he was seeing a rising sun, not a setting one. But Secretary of the Interior Sally Jewell, one of two cabinet members to address the NWLLC audience and applaud its efforts, told a lunchtime plenary session on the very first day: “This room is bursting with vision. You will be pioneers of landscape-level understanding, as Teddy Roosevelt was of conservation a century ago. Let’s make it happen!”

Landscape-level conservation—the term is still relatively new—is a different way of making sense of the world, and of assessing and nurturing its health. It steps beyond the laudable but limited 20th-century practice of designating reserves and cleaning up pollution. Taking a wide-angle, big-picture view of things, it sees every landscape, designated or not, as an intricately connected network of living beings sustained by a wide-ranging community of people. Landscape-level conservation has been reenergizing and broadening the environmental movement. And as its perspective is adopted, the first thing that grows is not necessarily the size of the property to be protected, but the possibility for actions, some large, some small, that will make a lasting difference for the future of the biosphere and its inhabitants, including humanity.

Many of these inaugural projects were on display in the workshop presentations and in the 34 posters that adorned the vast Reagan Building atrium. At times, the workshop felt like an enormous bazaar, displaying programs, concepts, research findings, explorations, cooperative agreements, and other early successes, as well as questions to ponder. Unexpected jewels, efforts hitherto known only to small groups, gleamed brightly in corners and were freely offered to all.

Yellowstone-to-Yukon, known as “Y2Y,” is perhaps the granddaddy of citizen-generated large-landscape projects—an idea for a connected, binational wildland corridor 2,000 miles long, from Yellowstone National Park north to the Alaskan border along the world’s last intact mountain ecosystem. At the NWLLC, Y2Y was literally coming of age, celebrating its 21st birthday. In 1993, only 12 percent of this 321-million-acre landscape had been conserved, but by 2013 the total had surged to 52 percent.

National Heritage Areas, honoring this country’s history and achievements, are even more well-established: the program embraces tens of millions of acres, including the entire state of Tennessee. It has just turned 30.

Y2Y has inspired plans for “H2H”—a 50-mile corridor of land that has been identified as a “resilient landscape,” just beyond the affluent northern suburbs of New York City, stretching from the Housatonic River, in Connecticut, to the Hudson River, in New York. Once protected, it could dramatically slow the effects of climate change.

The Staying Connected Initiative—a coalition of Canadians and Americans working across 80 million acres of forested land in four provinces and four states anchored by northern New England (a landscape the size of Germany)—calls itself “the very young cousin to Y2Y that, 15 years from now, they’ll call its northeast equivalent.”

Shortly before the workshop began, an Oregon county sewerage agency began adding trees and shrubs to the meandering banks of the 80-mile-long Tualatin River west of Portland, Oregon, to keep the fish in the river cool; it will have planted a million of them by World Environment Day on June 5, 2015.

The effect, workshop participants told me during breaks (there were a few), was somehow both exhilarating and sobering. Landscape-level conservation is hope-propelled rather than fear-accelerated. It’s a banding together in the face of grave environmental threats of extinctions and degradation. By widening our horizons, the focus shifts from salvage operations to the astounding number of things that can and need to be undertaken to restore, replenish, safeguard, protect, and celebrate the long-term integrity of this gigantic continent’s astonishing natural and cultural heritage.

When human ancestors first stood upright millions of years ago and could see over the tall savanna grasses of East Africa, their world went in an instant from being about 20-to-30 feet wide to something like 20-to-30 miles wide. This redefined what was practical, necessary, and possible to think about. In a similar fashion, scaling up or accelerating our own awareness of conservation to the landscape level is a useful way of dealing with the ever-proliferating complexities of modern America, a country of 320 million people that within half a century will have 400 million.

It’s a country where, the last half-century of science tells us, existing conservation methods aren’t enough to protect these places properly—in part because plants and animals move across lines drawn on a map and because, as these places become more isolated, former inhabitants can’t move back in again, either for full-time or part-time residence. Even high-flying Alaskan shorebirds, which winter in Mexico or China or New Zealand, are finding their round-trips impeded by oil spills in San Francisco Bay and invasive mangroves in New Zealand; Tom Tidwell, chief of the United States Forest Service, calls birds, bats, and butterflies the “winged messengers” of landscape-scale conservation. In recent years, we’ve also seen that, though maps and land designations remain stationary, places may soon be on the move in their entirety, as climate change nudges one ecosystem aside and draws in another.

Perhaps mapping itself is finally entering a non-Euclidean, or post-Jeffersonian, phase. For almost 230 years—ever since 1785, when Thomas Jefferson, even before the Constitutional Convention, suggested that geometry should trump topography for surveying what were called the “vacant lands” west of the Appalachians—we’ve had the “Jeffersonian grid,” still inescapably seen from the windows of any transcontinental flight in the way roads and fields are laid out. This grid used the otherwise invisible (and only recently computed) lines of longitude and latitude to partition the landscape into square-mile “sections” for property lines that ignored ecosystems, watersheds, and even mountain chains. It created a right-angled reality for settlers moving west to set up towns, unencumbered by what they were inheriting—the natural organization of the landscape and the age-old ways and knowledge of its previous human inhabitants.

Banding together. If working across more of the land is something that follows the realization that there’s more to the land (and beneath it and above it), the new conservation equation places as much emphasis on the who part of the work as it does on the what of it. In yet another departure from traditional practices, another thing to grow is the number and kinds of people who need to get behind any landscape-scale project. The entire process, said Dan Ashe, director of the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, relies on “epic collaboration,” which became the workshop’s most frequently repeated phrase. Epic resonated because it spoke of reaching across so many divides. “De-railers” was another popular workshop word:

Private landowners partnering with public-land managers. The migration path of the pronghorn antelope, which traverses both public and private land, has been protected, but it’s the last of what were seven such corridors, and the others have all been expunged. Working with 953 ranchers across 11 Western states, the National Resources Conservation Service’s Sage Grouse Initiative has moved or marked with white plastic tags 537 miles of barbed-wire fences, so these low-flying birds won’t impale themselves. “I work with the hopefuls, not the hatefuls,” one rancher said.

Private landowners partnering with their next owners. Tens of millions of acres of farms and ranches will change hands within the next 20 years, along with more than 200 million acres of “family forests.” The average age of a forest landowner is 62½, and “affinity to the land,” one commentator pointed out, “can be harder to pass along than a legal deed.”

Public-land managers working with other public-land managers. Too many sister agencies have longstanding habits of treating each other as disdained step-sisters, or they function like the three Gray Sisters in Greek myths, sharing a single eye. Over the last 30 years, the Bureau of Land Management has developed a Visual Resource Management (VRM) system for evaluating intrusions on lands in the West that includes listing scenic qualities at various distances from Key Observation Points (KOPs). But VRM methods have not yet made it back East, where the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission tends to approve without question all proposals for new gas pipelines and electric-transmission corridors, even if they might affect views from a National Historic Landmark such as Montpelier, the Virginia estate surrounded by old-growth forest where James Madison drafted an outline for the U.S. Constitution.

Other disparities yet to be bridged. Eighty-five percent of Americans live in urban areas, leading to a generation of kids who have “walked only on asphalt.” Within the workshop, most presenters were male—engaged in “mansplaining,” as one woman said. Another participant was shocked to find the conference so “overwhelmingly white.” Dr. Mamie Parker, retired assistant director of the Fish and Wildlife Service (the first African-American woman in that position), was a plenary speaker who got a sustained ovation equaled only by Secretary Jewell’s. “For many years,” Dr. Parker said, “we’ve been stuck, stalled, and scared of nontraditional partnerships. Fear has kept us from reaching out to people who want to feel respected, to know that they’re a valued member of the team.”

“Change happens at the rate of trust,” said one workshop participant. “I don’t think we’ve tested the trust yet,” said another. It’s abundantly clear that, from here on out, successful conservation is going to need a lot of successful conversations, many of which might be awkward at first. It will be a challenging stretch—standing upright brought human ancestors out of their comfort zone; a sense of belonging to other tribes is something we’re still working on.

City People, a groundbreaking book by the historian Gunther Barth, showed how 20th-century American cities became cohesive places because of late-19th-century inventions: millions of small-town Americans and Eastern European immigrants learned how to live and work together thanks to apartment houses, department stores, newspapers (which gave them the same information base), and baseball parks (which taught them the rules of competition and cooperation). Public libraries and public parks could be added to the list.

Baltimore’s Masonville Cove, the country’s first Urban Wildlife Refuge Partnership, launched in 2013, is perhaps a new kind of public library for the large-landscape era. A waterfront neighborhood in the southernmost part of town—torn up after World War II for a harbor tunnel thruway, and littered with abandoned industrial sites that have regenerated and then been rediscovered by 52 species of birds—the Masonville Cove Urban Wilderness Conservation Area now offers classes taught by staffers from the National Aquarium about the Chesapeake Bay and its 64,000 square-mile watershed (the size of 18½ Yellowstones). There are also field trips, walking trails, a kayak launch, and opportunities to help clean up charred debris, which may date back to the Great Baltimore Fire of 1904.

Nationally, landscape-scale conservation has an informal and unofficial steering committee—the Practitioners’ Network for Large Landscape Conservation, an alliance of government land managers, land trusts, academics, citizens, and national nonprofits who save lands and protect species. And officially, as the result of an early Obama administration initiative, there’s now a nationwide underpinning to the work: a network of federal fact-finders and conveners, organized as 22 Landscape Conservation Cooperatives. The LCCs don’t own anything or run anything, nor do they issue regulations, but they generate and compile reliable scientific data about all of the country’s landscapes (and many of the adjoining landscapes in Canada and Mexico), creating a shared information base. They necessarily cover a lot of ground and water (one LCC takes in both Hawaii and American Samoa, 4,000 miles to the west). And they bring a lot of people together; each LCC has at least 30 partners who represent separate government agencies, nonprofits, and tribal governments.

What’s next? That was the question asked over and over, with excitement and urgency, in the building’s sprawling, mall-length hallways. There were those buoyed by a recent survey showing that Americans think 50 percent of the planet should be protected for other species (Brazilians say 70 percent). Some foresee a seamless continental system of interlocked large landscapes, and the establishment of an international peace park on the U.S.–Mexico border to complement the one set up in 1932 across the U.S.–Canada boundary. There were, on the other hand, those in anguish who see all efforts falling short, confining North Americans to a continent with more development, less biodiversity, and fewer wolves, salmon, and spotted owls. There were those who thought that, at the next national workshop, partnership must be made an official part of the proceedings, built into the planning of sessions, into their presentations, and into follow-up discussions and initiatives.

What is next? People may need to take some time to assimilate the ascendancy of a new insight, a permanent expansion in the perception of landscapes. No more NIMBY (“Not In My Backyard”); there’s only one backyard (OBY), and it’s our care and delight, our inheritance and responsibility.

When you gain a new capacity, where will you set your sights? If someone gives you a telescope, what will you look at first?

About the Author

Tony Hiss was a New Yorker staff writer for more than 30 years and is now a visiting scholar at New York University. He is the author of 13 books, including The Experience of Place and, most recently, In Motion: The Experience of Travel.