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).

At the train station for Bijlmermeer, in the fringe development area of Amsterdam known as Southeast, a landscape comes into view that seems very un-Dutch-a huge enclosed mall, a gleaming new sports stadium, and an oversized boulevard lined with big-box retail stores. How could this be, in a land with such a proud tradition of good design and even better planning; in a country that embraces compact development, density and mass transit; in a place where virtually no land is privately owned but rather is leased by the government and thus tightly controlled.

Welcome to the Netherlands in 2001: experimenting with market forces as never before, and increasingly conflicted about the same development patterns facing the United States. Just as postmodern architecture is all the rage in the Netherlands while a resurgence of modernism washes over the U.S., the state of planning in the two countries is in some respects moving in equally opposite directions. In the U.S., some two dozen states have established growth management plans and many have created regional governance systems to guide development. In the Netherlands, the Dutch are flirting with a kind of free-market liberation and leaving many old assumptions and methodologies behind.

There is still planning, to be sure. The guiding document, known with great reverence as the 5th memorandum (the National Policy Document on Spatial Planning), elegantly organizes relationships between the major cities of the Netherlands, including Amsterdam, Utrecht, The Hague and Rotterdam. Regional strengths among so-called “polynuclear city regions” or “urban networks” are thoughtfully mapped out to establish interconnections in transportation or housing. And the added framework of the European Union emphasizes connections in transportation and commerce, both within and between countries. Centuries-old national borders increasingly fade into the background as other geographical definitions, such as the Rhine River, take on greater significance.

But against that backdrop, other attitudes in the Netherlands are changing, allowing more experimentation with public-private partnerships, a greater sensitivity to market demands, and acceptance of development projects that have a distinctly American flavor. Scholars in university planning departments around the country are candid in their admission: sometimes we do too much planning, they say, and the results are by no means universally acclaimed.

These are some of the comments heard and observations made during a study trip to the Netherlands in May by the Loeb Fellowship Class of 2001. The Loeb Fellowship, based at Harvard University Graduate School of Design, supports mid-career professionals in the design fields to study at Harvard for one year. The year-end trip was cosponsored by the Lincoln Institute and the Loeb Fellowship Alumni Association as part of an ongoing collaboration between the two organizations.

Some of what the Loeb Fellows found was expected: a national rail system and urban tram systems that work so efficiently that climbing into a private car seemed unthinkable; a marvelous system of pedestrian walkways and bicycle paths and an elegant sensibility for sharing the street; and compact development concentrated in urban areas with a clearly defined edge, and countryside beyond.

The Southeast district of Amsterdam, however, was a somewhat surprising example of a new and different approach-and evidence of perhaps inevitable infection by the global virus. The site overall is badly in need of redevelopment. It is home, on one side the rail line, to Bijlmermeer, the Le Corbusier-inspired high-rise slabs that have been a disaster since inception in the mid-1960s. Across the tracks is the 50,000-seat Amsterdam Arena and Arena Boulevard, lined with big-box retail, a temporary music hall, a cinema complex, and a huge mall devoted to home furnishings and interior design stores. The development team is a consortium including the City of Amsterdam and private development and real estate conglomerates. The thinking behind Southeast, though not explicitly stated, is that the central core in Amsterdam is best left to tourists, and that a shopping and entertainment center will serve residents who don’t want to drive into the city anyway. Although a new metro-rail-bus station, due in 2006, can accommodate tens of thousands, 80 percent of the Southeast clientele is expected to come by car.

A similar sense of providing what people want pervades several development projects around Nijmegen, on the western edge of the country, near Germany. The Grootstal housing project on an infill site outside the city center, for example, is a curious mix of sustainable design and driveways at every unit’s front yard. Garages, wide roads, easy motorway access and abundant fast-food outlets are similarly encouraged in the Beuningen subdivision, where new suburban homes are fashioned in kitchy 1930s styles. The expansive Waalsprong development area (literally to “spring over” the river embracing the core of Nijmegen) includes plans for 11,000 housing units in a scheme vaguely reminiscent of New Urbanism, though the most notable achievement so far is the slick marketing campaign undertaken by the private-sector partners.

“This is what the Dutch middle-class people want,” said University of Nijmegen planning professor Barrie Needham. “People get wealthier and they want more space. Part of the problem with planning in the 1960s was that we didn’t ask people what they want.”

There is no question the Dutch approach continues to be far more iterative than that of the U.S. The Dutch planners choose where to intervene much more carefully, and with much more analysis. They are experimenting with lower-density development in stages, not letting it take over the landscape unrestrained. The Dutch, also, can readily admit when planned development has failed, and set out to fix the things that don’t work. Transportation remains at the heart of all planning, and the quality of design remains essential.

While none of the Loeb Fellows on the trip concluded that the Netherlands is tilting towards a wholesale retreat from planning, the challenge of striking a balance between market forces and government control struck many of us as daunting. How much are the Dutch willing to experiment? Is a balance possible or somehow illusory? Is the proud tradition of subsidized and affordable housing in danger of atrophy? In Nijmegen and the Southeast district of Amsterdam, where one official was late for a presentation because of a traffic jam on the motorway, only time will tell. The current recalibrations could result in the best of two worlds, or the worst of both.

Anthony Flint is a reporter for The Boston Globe, covering land use, planning and development. For more information about the Loeb Fellowship, see the website at www.gsd.harvard.edu/loebfell.

Loeb Fellows, Class of 2001

Marcel Acosta, senior policy advisor, National Capital Planning Commission, Washington, DC

Terrence Curry, former director of design, Detroit Collaborative Design Center

Anthony Flint, reporter, The Boston Globe

Ben Hamilton-Baillie, consultant in sustainable transportation and urban planning, Bristol, England

Anthony Irons, city architect, San Francisco.

William H. McFarland, community development consultant, Peoplestown Revitalization Corporation (PRC), Atlanta.

Paul Okamoto, architect, San Francisco

Roxanne Qualls, former mayor, Cincinnati, Ohio; graduate student, Kennedy School of Government, Harvard University

Robert Stacey, chief of staff, Office of Rep. Earl Blumenauer (D-Oregon), Washington, DC

Rebecca Talbott, consultant in private-public land management partnerships, Cambridge, MA

Katy Moss Warner, former director of horticulture and environmental initiatives, Walt Disney Resort, Orlando, Florida

Vacant land and its integration into the urban land market are topics rarely investigated in Latin America. The existing literature tends to focus only on descriptive aspects (i.e., number and size of lots). In the current context of profound economic and social transformations and changing supply and demand patterns of land in cities, the perception of vacant land is beginning to change from being a problem to offering an opportunity.

A comparative study of vacant land in six Latin American cities (Buenos Aires, Argentina; Lima, Peru; Quito, Ecuador; Rio de Janeiro, Brazil; San Salvador, El Salvador; and Santiago, Chile) was recently completed as part of an ongoing Lincoln Institute-sponsored research project. The participating researchers examined different categories of vacant land, the problems they generate and their potential uses, as well as the changing roles of both private and public agents, including governments, in the management of vacant land. They concluded that vacant land is an integral element of the complex land markets in these cities, affecting fiscal policies on land and housing. Thus, vacant land has great potential for large-scale developments that could result in improved conditions for urban areas, as well as reduced social polarization and greater equity for their populations.

The six cities in the study vary in size but share the common attributes of rapid population growth and territorial expansion. They also have comparable social indicators (high rates of poverty, unemployment and underemployment), significant deficits in housing and provision of services, and high levels of geographical social stratification and segregation. The land markets in each of the cities also have similar characteristics, although they exhibit their own dynamics in each sub-market.

Characteristics of Vacant Land

The four primary characteristics of vacant land considered in this research project are ownership, quantity, location and length of vacancy. In general, vacant land in Latin America is held by one or more of the following agents, each with their respective policies: real estate developers or sub-dividers (both legal and illegal); low-income people who have acquired land, but cannot afford to develop it; real estate speculators; farmers; state enterprises; and other institutions such as the church, the military, social security, etc.

Determining how much vacant land exists in each city depends on the definition given to the term in the respective country . Quantifying vacant land is further complicated by the numerous obstacles that exist to obtaining accurate information, thus limiting the possibility of comparing data and percentages across metropolitan areas. Finally, in several of these cities (San Salvador, Santiago and Buenos Aires) there are significant “latent” vacant areas. These are unused or marginally used buildings, often previously occupied by former state-owned companies, waiting for new investments in order to be demolished or redeveloped.

In these six cities, the percentage of vacant land ranges from under 5 percent in San Salvador to nearly 44 percent in Rio de Janeiro. If all of San Salvador’s “latent” vacant areas were included, the percentage of vacant land could increase to 40 percent of the total metropolitan area. On the whole, vacant land in the cities accounts for a significant percentage of serviced areas that could potentially house considerable numbers of people who currently have no access to serviced urban land.

The location of vacant land is relatively uniform throughout the region. Whereas in the United States vacant land tends to be centrally located (such as abandoned areas or industrial brownfield sites), in Latin America the majority of vacant sites lie in the outskirts of the cities. These areas are frequently associated with speculation and retention strategies for occupation based on the provision of services. In contrast, the length of time land has been vacant differs considerably: in Lima and Quito, vacant urban lots are relatively “new,” whereas in Buenos Aires some urban lots have remained vacant for several decades.

Policy Issues and Development Potential

An evaluation of the urban-environmental conditions of vacant land concludes that a significant number of sites could tolerate residential or productive activities. These areas currently constitute an underutilized resource and should be considered for investments in urban infrastructure to improve land use efficiency. An equally significant segment, however, has important risk factors: inadequate basic infrastructure; water polluted by industrial waste; risk of flood, erosion or earthquake; and poor accessibility. Such land is inappropriate for occupation unless significant investments are made to safeguard against these environmental problems. Some land in this category could have great potential for environmental protection, although consciousness about land conservation remains a low priority in Latin America.

The study asserts that, in general, the urban poor have little access to vacant land due to high land values, despite the fact that values do vary according to sub-market. Prices are high in areas of dynamic urban expansion that offer better accessibility and services. A large amount of vacant land in several of the cities studied is not on the market and will likely remain vacant for an indefinite period of time. It is in these areas, the researchers contend, that policies should be implemented to reduce the price of serviced vacant land to make it more accessible to the poor.

The majority of Latin American cities have no explicit policies or legal framework regarding vacant land. In those cities where some legislation does exist, such as Rio de Janeiro, it is basically limited to recommendations and lacks real initiatives. In Santiago, recent legislation has promoted increased density in urban areas, yet it is too soon to know the implications of these measures. References to the environment are also generally lacking in “urban” legislation. Vacant land could play an important role in urban sustainability. However, reaching this potential would depend on better articulation between environmental and planning actions, especially at the local level.

Another characteristic common to the areas studied, with the exception of Santiago, is that urban development policy and specific land market policies have been disconnected from tax policy. Even in those cities where there is a distinction in taxation on vacant versus built land-such as Buenos Aires or Quito-it has not translated into any real changes. Sanctions and higher taxes on vacant areas have largely been avoided through a series of loopholes and “exceptions.”

Proposals and Criteria for Implementation

Arguing for an increased government role in land markets in combination with institution-building and capacity-building among other involved actors, the study formulates a number of proposals for the use and reuse of vacant land in Latin America. An overriding proposal is that vacant land should be incorporated into the city’s overall policy framework, taking into account the diversity of vacant land situations. Land use policies to increase the number of green areas, build low-income housing and provide needed infrastructure should be implemented as part of a framework of urban planning objectives. Furthermore, vacant land should be used to promote “urban rationality” by stimulating the occupation of vacant lots in areas with existing infrastructure and repressing urban growth in areas without appropriate infrastructure.

Urban policy objectives on vacant land should also be pursued through tax policy. Some suggestions formulated in this regard are the broadening of the tax base and tax instruments; incorporating mechanisms for value capture in urban public investment; application of a progressive property tax policy (to discourage land retention by high-income owners); and greater flexibility in the municipal tax apparatus.

These policies should be linked to other mechanisms designed to deter the expansion of vacant land and the dynamic of geographical social stratification and segregation. Such related mechanisms might include the granting of low-interest credits or subsidies for the purchase of building materials; technical assistance for construction of housing; provision of infrastructure networks to reduce costs; and credits or grace periods for payment of closing costs, taxes and service fees on property.

Other proposals address the development of pilot programs for land transfers using public-private partnerships to build on government-owned land in order to promote social housing at affordable rates; reuse of some land for agricultural production; and greater attention to environmental issues, with the goal of assuring urban sustainability in the future.

The 1994 Regulatory Plan for the Santiago metropolitan area defined a goal of elevating the city’s average density by 50 percent, while 1995 reforms to the Ley de Rentas introduced a fee on non-edified land and a disincentive to land speculation.

Nora Clichevsky is a researcher with CONICET, the National Council for Scientific and Technical Research in Buenos Aires, Argentina. She is the coordinator of the six-city study of vacant land in Latin America, which met to discuss these findings in August 1998. Laura Mullahy, a research assistant with the Lincoln Institute’s Latin American Program, contributed to this article.

Other members of the research team are Julio Calderón of Lima, Peru; Diego Carrión and Andrea Carrión of CIUDAD in Quito, Ecuador; Fernanda Furtado and Fabrizio Leal de Oliveira of the University of Rio de Janeiro, Brazil; Mario Lungo and Francisco Oporto of the Central American University in El Salvador; and Patricio Larraín of the Chilean Ministry of Housing and Urbanism.

In the next phase of this project, the Lincoln Institute will sponsor a seminar on vacant land this spring in Río de Janeiro, with the participation of the original researchers as well as other experts from each of the cities involved.

Decentralization of the state and growing business and community involvement in civic affairs are posing new challenges to the development of institutions focused on land policies and their implementation throughout Latin America. Mayors and local councils are assuming new responsibilities in the areas of environmental protection, urban transportation, basic infrastructure, local financing, social services and economic development. At the same time, business and civic organizations are finding new avenues to ensure public attention to their demands through participatory planning, budgeting, co-financing and control at the local level.

Thus, decentralization and democratic participation are gradually building an environment in which public-private alliances can develop joint projects of common interest to both government and individuals. However, many government institutions have a long way to go before they are fully adjusted to their new roles in planning, regulation and evaluation.

Long-entrenched cultures of apathy and citizen distrust of government have to be transformed into mutual confidence capable of mobilizing the best community traditions of the Latin American people. Political and economic patronage and state corruption need to be superseded by political and administrative accountability. Obsolete budget, contract and municipal laws still restrict the capacity of both local governments and civil society to interact creatively through contractual and co-financing arrangements.

The institutional challenges and policy dilemmas currently confronted by the Metropolitan Area of San Salvador (MASS) illustrate the transformations occurring throughout the region. After years of civil war, the Salvadorans signed a peace agreement in 1992 that provided the framework for real competition among political parties and stimulated more active participation by business, non-governmental organizations (NGOs) and community organizations. MASS incorporates several municipalities, some of them led by mayors from opposition parties to the central government. The coordinating body of MASS is the Council of Mayors, which in turn is supported by a Metropolitan Planning Office.

With technical assistance from international NGOs, MASS has prepared a comprehensive development plan. Contemporary urban planning instruments such as macrozoning, multi-rate property tax, value capture for environmental protection, public-private consortiums and land use coefficients are being considered for the implementation of land, development and environmental policies. Indeed, the Salvadorans have the support of several research centers that are familiar with the use and impact of these and other instruments in other parts of the world. Their primary need now is to mobilize public and private metropolitan actors around common policies and to develop shared instruments for their application.

Toward that end, PRISMA, a prominent Salvadoran NGO and urban research center, invited the Lincoln Institute to develop a joint workshop on urban management tools, intergovernmental coordinating mechanisms for metropolitan areas and public-private initiatives for sustainable cities. The workshop, held in San Salvador in October, included high-ranking officers from the central government, mayors, planning officers and other authorities from MASS, and representatives from builders’ and developers’ associations and some cooperative housing institutions and community organizations.

Speakers from the Lincoln Institute presented experiences from Taiwan, The Philippines, Mexico and other Latin American countries that underlined policies and instruments capable of harmonizing the interests of different urban stakeholders and coordinating several layers of government for land use and urban development objectives. The Salvadorans explained their immediate concerns, such as the lack of intergovernmental coordination to protect the urban environment, discontinuities in policy measures, arbitrariness at all levels of government, and legal and administrative uncertainties.

The workshop participants concluded that to foster the new legal and institutional framework sought by MASS the Salvadorans need to expand discussions among other metropolitan actors. They also need to continue to work with institutions such as the Lincoln Institute that have the trust and credibility to present internationally recognized land management policies and can help build consensus among different public and private interests.

Mario Lungo is a researcher at PRISMA, the Salvadoran Program for Development and Environmental Research; Alejandra Mortarini is the Lincoln Institute’s Latin America and Caribbean programs manager; and Fernando Rojas, a lawyer from Colombia, is a visiting fellow of the Institute this year.

Water companies and the communities they serve have been grappling for years with complex issues of water treatment and provision, watershed management, public finance and control over regional land use decisionmaking. The federal Safe Drinking Water Act of 1974 prompted water providers across America to face a dilemma: “to filter or not to filter.” Some states or regions require filtration to ensure water quality, but elsewhere communities explore alternative strategies to both protect natural filtration processes in their watersheds and avoid the enormous costs of installing water treatment plants.

The hard-fought conversion of the New Haven Water Company from a private, investor-owned company to a public regional water authority provides an informative case study of a partnership strategy. In the process of hammering out agreements on difficult land use and tax issues, the city and surrounding suburbs succeeded in breaking down conventional barriers and recognized that regional solutions can meet shared needs for a safe water supply, open space protection, recreation and fiscal responsibility.

The drama unfolded in 1974, when the Water Company attempted to sell over 60 percent of its 26,000 acres of land in 17 metropolitan area towns to generate capital for filtration plant construction. The announcement of this massive land sale created vehement opposition throughout the state. Residents of the affected towns viewed the largely undeveloped land as an integral part of their community character. They feared losing control of the land as well as environmental damage and increased costs associated with potential new development.

Several New Haven area legislators recognized the critical link between the city and its watershed communities. They introduced legislation imposing a moratorium on the land sale and proposing public ownership of the water works. New Haven Mayor Frank Logue countered with an announcement that the city planned to buy the water company under a purchase option in a 1902 contract. The suburban towns responded by promoting regional ownership as the only viable alternative to city control.

After a lengthy feasibility study, and despite a gubernatorial veto, legislation enabling the creation of the South Central Connecticut Regional Water Authority (RWA) was enacted in 1977. In addition, separate legislation classified all utility-owned watershed land and severely restricted its sale. The sale restrictions combined with standards for source protection, provisions for public recreation and consideration of the financial impact on ratepayers, also diminished the land’s market value, thereby limiting the Water Company’s ability to use the land as a source of capital.

Regionalization of the Water Company also required a regional approach to taxation. This was the most difficult obstacle to overcome in passing the RWA enabling legislation. With New Haven Water Company’s projected capital investments in excess of $100 million, the region’s towns had looked ahead to vastly increased tax revenues from the private utility. However, New Haven, with the majority of consumers, was more concerned with keeping water rates low.

The conflict between city and suburbs was resolved through the principle that the regionalization of the water utility would cause no erosion of the tax base. Under the agreement, each town would receive payments in lieu of taxes (PILOTs) on all property acquired by the RWA, equivalent to the taxes that would be paid by a private owner. However, while these payments would rise and fall with future assessments, the RWA would not be required to make such tax-substitution payments for any new capital improvements.

Lessons of Regional Resource Sharing

In addition to forcing a reconsideration of the balance between suburban tax bases and urban water rates, New Haven’s Regional Water Authority has broadened its own mission. While protecting the water supply is the primary focus of all RWA land use policies, the authority also manages recreational use of the land to meet the needs of both inner city and suburban residents.

The early success of the conservation and recreational use plans depended on public participation in formulating the RWA Land Use Plan. Many types of active recreation would have been unsuitable for water supply land, but it was determined that hiking and fishing, the two most popular activities, could be conducted without threatening water quality.

The RWA’s active program for policing the watersheds was reinforced by establishing a center to educate future consumers on water supply protection. Located at the base of the dam at Lake Whitney, the Whitney Water Center annually teaches thousands of children the basics of drinking water science. It emphasizes the interdependence of source protection and safe drinking water.

Primary among the lessons to be learned from the New Haven Water Company’s ill-advised land sale proposal is that the value of a water supply watershed as a natural and human resource is far greater than its value as a market commodity. Management of the watershed’s natural resource potential must extend beyond the collection and distribution of water to include the needs of the people who live within the watershed. At the same time, limiting watershed land activities to low-risk uses minimizes the water treatment costs that are still necessary for safe drinking water.

Regional cooperation need not begin and end with water. Developing economic and ecological partnerships between cities and their suburbs for tax-sharing, recreation, and education recognizes that the economic and ecological concerns of all residents in a metropolitan region are interdependent. Successfully bucking the trend toward privatization, the RWA demonstrates that regional resource sharing is the most viable way of meeting the needs of New Haven and its suburbs.

Watershed Protection vs. Filtration in Other Regions

The public acquisition of the New Haven Water Company in the 1970s provided a preview of 1990s approaches to managing water resources. Today, water supply management is increasingly becoming watershed management, with plans reflecting the broader ecological functions of watersheds and the importance of partnerships with local residents. Conflict resolution has become an essential skill for today’s watershed managers.

Watershed land acquisition continues to be a key filtration avoidance strategy in many areas. New York City has the nation’s largest unfiltered water supply, and some experts have called on the city to develop programs to filter its drinking water. However, New York Governor George E. Pataki has taken the position he would “do whatever it takes to avoid filtration,” from working with farmers and businesses on mutually beneficial voluntary programs to buying up to 80,000 acres from willing sellers to protect the water supply.

New Jersey Governor Christine Todd Whitman has committed to a “hands across the border” $10 million contribution toward purchasing the New York portion of the two-state metropolitan watershed in Sterling Forest, which is threatened with commercial recreational and housing development. The nonprofit Trust for Public Land and the Open Space Institute are negotiating the purchase on behalf of both states, and recent congressional action has guaranteed funding for the project.

In central Massachusetts, the Metropolitan District Commission’s Quabbin Reservoir has met the Safe Drinking Water Act’s criteria as an unfiltered water supply source for the Boston area, but the MDC’s Wachusett Reservoir has not. A recently approved $399 million state open space bond includes funds for land acquisition in the Wachusett watershed.

Acknowledging the essential function that undeveloped land serves in preventing contaminants from reaching water supplies is long overdue. But is watershed source protection alone a viable alternative to filtration?

In North Carolina, where all surface water supplies are already filtered, state legislation requires local water authorities to develop watershed land use plans that must be approved by the state. Although such legislation can reduce the health risks of watershed development and the cost of water treatment, it cannot prevent future development.

Our conclusion is that the combination of watershed protection and filtration is a proven, cost effective approach to ensure safe drinking water while also building partnerships to implement regional land use policies.

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Dorothy S. McCluskey was a Connecticut State Representative from 1975 to 1982 and chaired the Environment Subcommittee on the Sale of Water Company Land. She subsequently served as director of government relations for The Nature Conservancy Connecticut Chapter. Claire C. Bennitt, secretary-treasurer of the Regional Water Authority since 1977, was a resident of North Branford when the threatened land sale galvanized the New Haven region. She worked with Rep. McCluskey as her administrative assistant in the state legislature. They have written Who Wants to Buy a Water Company: From Private to Public Control in New Haven, to be published in early 1997 by Rutledge Books, Inc., of Bethel, Connecticut.

As sprawling, low-density development patterns consume thousands of acres of natural habitat, the force of urban growth is increasingly bumping up against the need to protect biodiversity. The fastest growing states and regions in the South and West are also those with high numbers of endemic species, and species endangered or threatened with extinction.

One tool that has emerged for reconciling species-development conflicts is the habitat conservation plan (HCP). Authorized under Section 10 of the federal Endangered Species Act (ESA), HCPs allow for limited “take” of listed species in exchange for certain measures to protect and restore habitat. These plans vary in their geographical scope from a single parcel or landowner to large areas involving many landowners and multiple governmental jurisdictions.

The HCP mechanism grew out of a controversy over development plans on San Bruno Mountain in the Bay Area of California that threatened several species of butterflies, including the federally listed mission blue. A collaborative planning process generated a biological study of the butterflies’ habitat needs and a conservation plan that allowed some development in designated nodes while setting aside about 87 percent of the butterfly habitat as permanent open space. The HCP also included a funding component, procedures for carefully monitoring development and minimizing its impact, and a long-term program of habitat restoration.

The positive experience of San Bruno led to a 1982 amendment to the ESA specifically allowing HCPs. Since then, their use has grown slowly but steadily. About 40 plans have been approved by the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, and another 150 are in progress, most of them initiated in the last five years.

The Typical HCP Process

Regional habitat conservation plans usually follow a similar process. They start with the formation of a steering committee with representation from the environmental community, landowners and developers, local governments, and state and federal resource management agencies, among others. Frequently, consultants are hired to prepare background biological and land use studies as well as the actual plan and accompanying environmental documentation. The content of these plans can vary substantially depending on the species and potential threats at issue, but most create habitat preserves through fee-simple acquisition or land dedication. Plans also include provisions for habitat management, ecological restoration, and research and monitoring. Much of the deliberation in preparing a plan centers on how much habitat must be preserved, the boundaries and configuration of proposed preserves, how funds will be generated to finance the plan, and which entities or organizations will have management responsibility for the protected habitat once secured.

While the HCP process has encountered problems, the experience to date suggests it can be a viable and constructive mechanism for resolving species-development conflicts. For the development community, the stick of ESA brings them to the table and keeps them there, realizing that without a strong plan any development might be jeopardized. For the environmental community, the plan represents a way to generate funds to acquire habitat that would be difficult to raise otherwise. The HCP process, thus, provides a useful pressure valve under the ESA–a tool to provide flexibility in what is frequently criticized as being an overly rigid and inflexible law.

Successes and Concerns

From the perspective of preserving biodiversity, the plans, even those not officially adopted or approved, have lead to the acquisition of important habitat. The Coachella Valley HCP in California sets aside three preserves totaling nearly 17,000 acres of desert habitat to protect the fringe-toed lizard. Other plans preserve biologically rich hardwood hammocks in the Florida Keys, desert tortoise habitat in Nevada, and forested habitat for the northern spotted owl in California. The ambitious Balcones Canyonlands Conservation Plan in Austin, Texas, would protect more than 75,000 acres of land, including a newly created 46,000 acre national wildlife refuge. Though this plan has encountered political and financial obstacles, more than 20,000 acres have already been secured.

One of the key concerns about HCPs is the effectiveness of their conservation strategies, especially whether the amount of habitat set aside is sufficient to ensure the survival of threatened species. The long-term ecological viability of preserves is another problem, because many will become mere “postage stamps” surrounded by development. These concerns suggest that more habitat should be protected, that preserves should be configured in larger, regional blocks, and that plans should seek to protect multiple rather than single species within broad ecosystem functions. The Balcones example suggests a positive direction for future HCPs in its emphasis on a regional, multi-species approach, including endangered migratory songbirds, cave-adapted invertebrates and plant species.

Another criticism of HCPs is that they have failed to change the ways we allow development to occur because they generally accept the current pattern of low-density sprawl and wasteful land consumption. In addition, it often takes four or five years before a plan can be prepared and approved. Even given that seemingly long timeframe, plans are often based on limited biological knowledge.

One of the most difficult issues in the HCP process is funding. Habitat acquisition in fast-urbanizing areas is extremely expensive. The Coachella Valley plan cost $25 million; the Balcones plan could cost more than $200 million. Most plans are funded through a combination of federal, state and local funds, with some private funding. At the local level the plans usually impose a mitigation fee assessed on new development in habitat areas ranging from a few hundred dollars per acre to the $1950 per acre in the case of the Stephens’ kangaroo rat HCP in Southern California.

Ideas for future funding sources include the creation of habitat acquisition revolving funds (similar to state revolving funds for financing local sewage treatment plant construction) and the use of special taxing districts designed to capture land value increases of property located adjacent to habitat preserves. Greater reliance needs to be placed on less expensive alternatives than fee-simple acquisition, such as transfers of development rights, tradable conservation credits, mandatory clustering and other development controls.

The Future of HCPs

The considerable progress in habitat conservation made through this mechanism to balance development and conservation could be halted if current proposals in Congress to substantially weaken ESA prevail. Clearly it is the “teeth” of ESA that gets opposing parties to the bargaining table. Without a strong ESA, there will be little reason to expect this form of collaborative habitat conservation to occur.

The experience to date suggests that flexibility does exist under current law, and that the problems encountered with HCPs do require some fine tuning. The challenge is to make the HCP process an even more effective tool for conserving biodiversity. At the same time, if habitat conservation is incorporated into local comprehensive plans, then new development can be steered away from important habitat areas and public investment decisions can minimize potential species-development conflicts.

Timothy Beatley is chair of the Department of Urban and Environmental Planning in the School of Architecture at the University of Virginia and the author of Habitat Conservation Planning: Endangered Species and Urban Growth, University of Texas Press, 1994. He spoke at the Institute’s May 1995 meeting of the Land Conservation in New England Study Group.

Additional information in printed newletter:
Map: Balcones Canyonlands, Austin, Texas. Source: Adapted from maps by Butler/EH&A Team, City of Austin Environmental and Conservation Services, Balcones Canyonlands Conservation Plan, Preapplication Draft, Austin, 1992

Una versión más actualizada de este artículo está disponible como parte del capítulo 5 del libro Perspectivas urbanas: Temas críticos en políticas de suelo de América Latina.

Durante los últimos 50 años las ciudades han sido el escenario de grandes transformaciones con las que han podido dejar de ser principalmente centros de actividades económicas para convertirse en una combinación de funciones más especializadas de servicio, producción y comercio. Los resultados son mixtos, pero en aquellas ciudades consideradas más exitosas, la belleza y el humanismo han logrado coexistir con la eficacia y la efectividad, lo que aumenta considerablemente la generación de riqueza y el bienestar de la comunidad en su conjunto. En este contexto, las obras de desarrollo denominadas “grandes proyectos urbanos” buscan recuperar áreas deterioradas, tales como cascos históricos, antiguas zonas industriales y militares, instalaciones ferroviarias y aeropuertos en desuso y complejos de viviendas decadentes, para transformarlas en áreas residenciales pujantes que generen ingresos tributarios, empleos y beneficios públicos y sociales que eleven la calidad de vida.

La renovación de muelles crea fantásticas oportunidades para reincorporar los cascos históricos junto con sus canales adyacentes y para facilitar el crecimiento que de no ser así se trasladaría hacia las afueras de la ciudad. No obstante, hay que aclarar muchas inquietudes. ¿Qué tipo y escala de desarrollo es deseable y posible? ¿Cómo pueden establecerse relaciones bien fundadas entre lo viejo y lo nuevo? ¿Cuáles son las repercusiones para el medio ambiente y la infraestructura existente? ¿Qué políticas públicas e inversiones se necesitan? ¿Cuáles son las funciones de los sectores público y privado? ¿Cómo organizamos el proceso de planificación, incluida la búsqueda de apoyo político y de la comunidad?

Amsterdam y La Habana son casos en que los muelles plantean desafíos y oportunidades para abordar esta compleja búsqueda de un punto de equilibrio. Ambas ciudades forman parte del patrimonio mundial de la UNESCO y están sometidas a las presiones del desarrollo inmobiliario lucrativo y el deseo de proteger tanto sus cascos históricos como los intereses de sus poblaciones contemporáneas.

En diciembre de 2003 el Instituto Lincoln, junto con el Grupo para el Desarrollo Integral de la Capital (GDIC) de La Habana, la Oficina del Historiador de la Ciudad y la Dirección Portuaria del Ministerio de Transporte, copatrocinó un seminario en La Habana en el cual expertos en materia de muelles de Amsterdam, Rótterdam, Nueva York y Panamá intercambiaron experiencias con planificadores y funcionarios públicos de Cuba. Este artículo profundiza en la presentación sobre Amsterdam, en particular sobre cómo la gestión, la experimentación, la planificación y las políticas de suelo dieron lugar a una transformación impresionante que sufrieron muelles de la ciudad, los cuales tenían anteriormente uso industrial, y ofrece lecciones que muchos pueden encontrar pertinentes para La Habana.

Políticas de planificación y desarrollo en los Países Bajos

Los Países Bajos tienen una tradición bien conocida de solidez en la planificación y desarrollo nacional, producto de la escasez de viviendas después de la Segunda Guerra Mundial. La noción de espacio limitado impulsa las políticas de desarrollo del país y su compromiso de preservar las áreas verdes y agrícolas que separan las ciudades. Vivienda, infraestructura, construcción para comercio minorista y oficinas, protección ambiental, agricultura, ordenación de las aguas y espacios abiertos se encuentran entre las principales preocupaciones en la esfera nacional y local. Con dos tercios del país por debajo del nivel del mar, los neerlandeses siempre han buscado nuevas maneras de interactuar con el agua. Por ende, las políticas nacionales de planificación se concentran en facilitar el crecimiento en áreas designadas, controlando la propagación urbana y reorganizando los cascos urbanos sin descuidar las infraestructuras mayores y la gestión y control de las zonas verdes y las masas de agua.

Los neerlandeses redescubrieron la importancia de sus ciudades en la década de 1980 después de que el rápido crecimiento de zonas residenciales y pueblos nuevos provocó una congestión creciente y una carencia de espacios habitables. La idea de una “ciudad compacta”, adoptada en el Cuarto Memorando de Planificación Urbana de la Nación (1988), preconizaba la concentración de los nodos urbanos para así “redesarrollar áreas actualmente abandonadas”. Entre los emplazamientos típicos se encuentran la zona de muelles Kop van Zuid en Rótterdam y los muelles orientales de Amsterdam. El concepto de una ciudad compacta se amplió en los años 1990 con la noción de la “ciudad completa”, la cual fusionaba los conceptos de uso múltiple e intensivo del suelo con la concentración de funciones y actividades en un crisol de estilos de vida.

La reorganización de las áreas de tránsito y rutas de transporte es otra prioridad de planificación que tiene por finalidad combinar diferentes funciones de transporte y reducir el uso del automóvil. Algunos ejemplos son el plan de urbanismo de una ciudad satélite del Aeropuerto Schiphol y el área alrededor de la futura estación de trenes de alta velocidad Zuidas-WTC. El plan general de ordenamiento Zuidas crea suficiente espacio sobre el ferrocarril y la autopista para la construcción de 7 millones de pies cuadrados de oficinas, 1.500 viviendas, espacios para comercios minoristas, hoteles, museos y un nuevo parque.

Pese a los planes y las aspiraciones del gobierno nacional, los recursos financieros determinan su función en los proyectos de desarrollo. La disminución significativa de los subsidios nacionales para la vivienda y el desarrollo desde 1990 ha puesto en relieve la importancia estratégica del gobierno local en el proceso de (re)desarrollo. No obstante, el caso de Amsterdam también demuestra que para lograr el redesarrollo es determinante contar con capacidad de gestión, socios confiables e instrumentos creativos de finanzas y de urbanismo.

Políticas de viviendas y suelo en Amsterdam

Amsterdam es la capital cultural y financiera de los Países Bajos y la ciudad más grande de la llamada Conurbación Holanda o región de la Metrópoli Delta, de 6 millones de habitantes. La ciudad tiene casi 750.000 habitantes, 375.000 viviendas y 417.000 puestos de trabajo, y cuenta con uno de los cascos históricos conservados más grandes del mundo.

Las políticas de suelo de Amsterdam son instrumentos clave en las estrategias de redesarrollo de la ciudad. En 1896 la ciudad democráticamente decidió adoptar un sistema de arriendo de tierra para adquirir tierras y arrendarlas a futuros usuarios. Como razones para sustentar con solidez este sistema se arguyó que los aumentos en el valor del suelo beneficiarían a la comunidad por entero y que la ciudad determinaría el uso del suelo escaso para evitar la especulación y el desarrollo indeseable.

El sistema de arriendo de tierra funciona de esta manera: la empresa de arriendo de la ciudad adquiere la tierra y la arrienda a promotores inmobiliarios privados por períodos de 49 ó 99 años. Los arrendatarios pagan un monto ajustado anualmente por el uso de la tierra, determinado por la ubicación, pies cuadrados de desarrollo, tipo de uso (oficina, comercio minorista, viviendas asequibles o a precio de mercado, espacios abiertos, etc.), edificaciones nuevas o existentes y estacionamiento (en la calle o dentro). La ciudad estipula el precio del suelo a través de un método de valor residual que vincula el valor de mercado de la propiedad, el suelo y los costos de construcción. El valor del suelo equivale al precio de venta de la propiedad menos los costos de construcción determinados según la ubicación (los costos aumentan considerablemente en los vecindarios históricos). En 2002 el monto total de los arriendos ascendió a 59 millones de euros.

La adquisición de tierras de propiedad privada –como en el área de los muelles orientales– se financia con préstamos otorgados a la empresa de arriendo de tierra de la ciudad, cuyos pagos de intereses constituyen el 80% de sus gastos. El exceso de ingresos se usa para apoyar los esfuerzos de desarrollo y rehabilitación de la ciudad, particularmente para proyectos no rentables comercialmente, tales como parques y espacios abiertos. Este sistema también cumple objetivos políticos, tales como el abastecimiento y la distribución geográfica de viviendas asequibles. En una ciudad con alta densidad como Amsterdam, el suelo es escaso y su uso está sometido a mucha presión inmobiliaria. En su carácter de arrendador, la ciudad juega un papel estratégico en la definición del uso, calidad y proporción de suelo disponible para desarrollo.

Amsterdam recurre a sus relaciones con los grupos de desarrollo cívicos y sin fines de lucro de la ciudad para obtener apoyo e implementar sus planes, por lo que la función de las asociaciones inmobiliarias es crucial. Estas asociaciones se crearon a partir de la ley de la vivienda de 1901, la cual permitió que asociaciones afines a sindicatos y organizaciones religiosas establecieran asociaciones inmobiliarias sin fines de lucro. Con los subsidios nacionales y el sólido respaldo de los gobiernos locales, ellas han construido miles de viviendas, especialmente en los vecindarios dañados durante la guerra. En algunas de estas áreas más del 75% de las viviendas pertenece a asociaciones inmobiliarias.

La desregulación del mercado de la vivienda neerlandés a principios de los años 1990 afectó significativamente a las asociaciones inmobiliarias en su condición de propietarios y promotores. Perdieron la mayoría de los subsidios nacionales para la vivienda, pero a cambio el gobierno les otorgó mayor libertad financiera e institucional para administrar sus activos. Como resultado, el sector sin fines de lucro tuvo que profesionalizarse más y muchas asociaciones inmobiliarias se fusionaron para crear economías de escala. Hoy en día Amsterdam cuenta con 13 de estas asociaciones, cada una de las cuales administra entre 1.400 y 37.500 viviendas, para un total de más de 200.000 viviendas. Muchas asociaciones lograron ganarse la confianza de la comunidad y erigirse como promotores inmobiliarios con solidez financiera. Más aún, se convirtieron en aliados estratégicos para los promotores comerciales que buscaban expertos en viviendas asequibles y socios para crear un buen nombre para sus proyectos ante la ciudad y grupos comunitarios. Cada vez más llevan a cabo proyectos para sectores con ingresos mixtos en colaboración con urbanizadores privados usando planes creativos de financiamiento. En el año 2000, por ejemplo, la mitad de las viviendas construidas por asociaciones inmobiliarias se cotizaron a precios del mercado. Con las ganancias obtenidas se financió la otra mitad como viviendas asequibles para sectores de ingresos moderados.

Como consecuencia inesperada de la reforma de la vivienda, estas asociaciones han tomado el liderazgo en la fijación de estrictos parámetros de diseño urbano y planificación. Dado su compromiso respecto de la ciudad y del desarrollo de la comunidad se han arriesgado con diseños de bajo costo pero atractivos, y muchos de sus proyectos se han convertido en ejemplos internacionales para conceptos novedosos de viviendas asequibles.

Redesarrollo de muelles en Amsterdam

Amsterdam es una ciudad que se fundó sobre el agua y alrededor de un dique que separaba el río Amstel del río IJ. En el siglo XVII, Amsterdam era el centro comercial y marítimo más influyente del mundo. Los canales y las vías fluviales que se construyeron en aquella época todavía causan admiración a los millones de turistas que visitan la ciudad cada año. Las relaciones entre la ciudad y sus muelles no siempre han sido armónicas; se han cometido errores, como aquella decisión en 1898 de construir la estación ferroviaria central de Amsterdam en medio de la zona portuaria. La estación terminó por arruinar la relación visual y los vínculos físicos entre el IJ, el puerto y el dique, y destruyó el casco antiguo de la capital.

En los últimos 40 años, la mayoría de las funciones portuarias se han trasladado más cerca del mar a fin de atender los buques portacontenedores, mientras que las instituciones financieras se han desplazado hacia el eje sur de la ciudad debido a la falta de espacio y las limitaciones de acceso. El casco urbano de Amsterdam, adyacente a las zonas portuarias antiguas, continúa siendo el corazón de la región para el comercio minorista, la cultura y el esparcimiento y también es idóneo para peatones, ciclistas y transporte público. Aunque el puerto sigue jugando un papel importante en la economía de Amsterdam, hace muchos años que la ciudad básicamente le dio la espalda al puerto.

Actualmente hay áreas importantes de Amsterdam en proceso de conversión o rehabilitación, al tiempo que se construyen áreas totalmente nuevas en islas artificiales. La red de muelles antiguos y dársenas que se encuentran en el sur y el norte de la ciudad se está convirtiendo en un atractivo distrito residencial y de usos mixtos que comprende centros culturales, comercios minoristas, nuevas rutas de tránsito, parques y paseos, que en su mayor parte combinan el diseño contemporáneo y el carácter marítimo histórico. La construcción del IJburg, un polígono de descongestión en el Lago IJsselmeer, está concebida para acoger a 45.000 nuevos habitantes.

El debate sobre el redesarrollo de los muelles orientales y el resto de la zona portuaria del sur del IJ comenzó a principio de los años 1980. Después de años de negociaciones entre la municipalidad, promotores inmobiliarios y grupos comunitarios bien organizados, el plan –que se encuentra actualmente en la etapa final de construcción– propuso un conjunto de comunidades de alta densidad y elevación moderada sobre el agua, para restablecer el nexo histórico y cultural con ésta. Las viviendas son el principal componente de toda obra de desarrollo en la ribera del IJ y el 40% de ellas tiene precio asequible. En muchos casos han sido las asociaciones inmobiliarias profesionales sin fines de lucro de la ciudad las que han dirigido el desarrollo urbano y estimulado la inversión.

El proceso formal de planificación para la zona portuaria del IJ comenzó con un concurso de diseño en 1984. En un principio el gobierno de la ciudad respaldó el plan general de ordenamiento del Bulevar IJ creado por Rem Koolhaas para toda la extensión de 10 km del muelle del sur. El programa de redesarrollo preveía una gama de usos, pero se concentraba en la construcción de oficinas e instalaciones recreativas adicionales con la finalidad de detener el éxodo de empresas y financiar el programa de infraestructura propuesto. El plan debía implementarlo la compañía financiera del muelle de Amsterdam (AWF), una sociedad público-privada de la ciudad y un promotor/inversionista principal con autoridad sin precedentes. Debido a la polémica que surgió posteriormente sobre las dimensiones y el costo del plan, el colapso del mercado de oficinas ocurrido a finales de la década de 1980 y el creciente descontento que generaba el plan entre los mayores grupos cívicos y comunitarios de la ciudad, la sociedad quedó desintegrada en 1994.

La ciudad entonces cambió su enfoque y aprobó un memorando estratégico titulado Anchors of the IJ [Anclaje del IJ] en 1995. Este plan proponía construir sobre la estructura existente de la isla con obras de desarrollo por etapas que comenzarían en los bordes extremos y avanzarían hacia el área de la estación central. Este enfoque pragmático y orgánico concentraba los esfuerzos y recursos de la ciudad en los planes generales de ordenamiento para áreas más pequeñas y más manejables. El programa de desarrollo se abocó a la construcción de viviendas con edificios públicos y plazas (las anclas) en puntos estratégicos dentro de un marco de inversiones en infraestructuras de mayor envergadura. El gobierno nacional se comprometió a construir un nuevo túnel en las etapas iniciales del proceso de planificación y un sistema de tranvía ligero en una etapa posterior. Los programas de diseño y desarrollo urbano fueron definidos según el potencial de la ubicación y la sólida opinión de la comunidad y fueron modificados con el paso del tiempo en base a la experiencia, nuevas ideas y cambios en las condiciones del mercado. Puesto que la ciudad es propietaria del suelo y por ende controla la extensión del mismo que puede desarrollarse, alentó a los promotores privados para que se aliaran con grupos inmobiliarios sin fines de lucro para licitar por porciones del muelle. El caso de Amsterdam confirma que las estrategias, los instrumentos de planificación, el liderazgo y las alianzas son interdependientes y determinantes para el redesarrollo que beneficia a la comunidad como un todo.

Significado para La Habana

La singularidad del puerto de La Habana lo coloca como un lugar formidable para proyectos de desarrollo innovadores e integrales y para evitar los errores que han malogrado el encanto de muchas otras ciudades en el mundo. La Habana es la capital de Cuba y hogar de más de 2 millones de los 11 millones de ciudadanos que tiene el país. Antes de la revolución de 1959 Cuba era el principal destino comercial y turístico del Caribe, pero su posterior aislamiento político y su falta de desarrollo económico han dado lugar a una ciudad histórica intacta en su mayor parte que ahora tiene una apremiante necesidad de restauración. Desde el derrumbe de la antigua Unión Soviética y la subsiguiente pérdida de mercado para el 65% de las exportaciones de Cuba, La Habana ha centrado sus esfuerzos en atraer la inversión a través de empresas de bienes raíces. La mayoría de estas empresas (había 350 activas en 2001, con un valor de 2.600 millones de dólares) son compañías canadienses y europeas de la floreciente industria hotelera. El turismo y las actividades relacionadas de nuevo generan las divisas que tanto se necesitan, especialmente en La Habana donde se han hecho mejoras a los hoteles del casco histórico y se están construyendo nuevos edificios de oficinas en los cercanos barrios elegantes del oeste de la ciudad.

El gobierno reconoce el valor histórico y económico del patrimonio arquitectónico de La Habana Vieja y respalda con firmeza la renovación y rehabilitación de sus plazas y edificios históricos. El progreso y los beneficios son impresionantes, considerando la escasez de recursos públicos y el estado de la infraestructura y edificios de la ciudad. La Oficina del Historiador, organismo encargado del desarrollo de La Habana Vieja, ha estimulado los ingresos que generaron 50 millones de dólares para los programas sociales y de preservación histórica en el año 1999 solamente (Núñez, Brown y Smolka, 2000).

El puerto de La Habana es considerado un activo clave para el crecimiento en el futuro y por lo tanto constituye un área crucial de preocupación. El puerto abarca el famoso bulevar del Malecón y también los distritos de dársenas menos conocidos en el extremo oriental de La Habana Vieja. A lo largo del litoral de esta bahía se mezclan bodegas históricas y pequeñas comunidades con infraestructura en decadencia, instalaciones portuarias, industrias pesadas y astilleros. Muchos organismos municipales y estatales diferentes intervienen en la planificación de esta vasta área, aunque todavía no se han definido directrices de desarrollo claras y la mayoría de los actores carecen de la autoridad para asumir esa función. En respuesta, algunos organismos han creado planes para propiedades individuales, pero la implementación es improbable porque no se cuenta con los fondos necesarios y las refinerías petroleras ubicadas en la bahía emiten humos densos que no favorecen ciertas actividades turísticas.

Dado que el suelo en La Habana es propiedad pública, la recuperación de plusvalías pudiera servir como una fuente estratégica y sostenible de financiamiento para las inversiones que tanto se necesitan en viviendas asequibles, espacios públicos e infraestructura. El gobierno local puede dirigir el proceso de redesarrollo; no obstante, para las inversiones de mayor envergadura será importante contar con el respaldo y la colaboración de aliados públicos nacionales y regionales. Más que tener una planificación detallada, es esencial que los programas sean flexibles y que se haga énfasis en el proceso, para poder dar cabida a los cambios de las condiciones del mercado y a las nuevas oportunidades que surgen. Esto último es un factor determinante ya que el desarrollo depende en gran medida de las inversiones privadas.

Por su belleza histórica, su proximidad a los Estados Unidos y la falta de desarrollo que ha prevalecido en los últimos 40 años, La Habana despierta el interés de promotores inmobiliarios de todo el mundo. Tiene el potencial para convertirse en una ciudad habitable modélica que ha conservado la mayor parte de su legado y no está malograda por el automóvil. Por el bien de todos, y en especial del pueblo cubano, conviene garantizar que la transformación del puerto de La Habana se fundamente tanto en el redesarrollo de alta calidad como en el bienestar de la población.

Sobre el autor

Frank Uffen es director general de New Amsterdam Development Consultants, un grupo de consultores en desarrollo urbano localizado en Nueva York. Este artículo contó con la contribución de otros holandeses que también participaron en el seminario: Riek Bakker (socio de la firma BVR Consultancy for Urban Development, Landscape and Infrastructure, Rótterdam), Ad Hereijgers (socio de DE LIJN Office for Urban Development, Amsterdam), Willem van Leuven (gerente de proyecto de Amsterdam Project Management Bureau) y Rutger Sypkens (urbanista, Ballast Nedam Construction, Amsterdam).

Referencia

Núñez, Ricardo, Brown, H. James y Smolka, Martim. 2000. El suelo como recurso para promover el desarrollo en Cuba. Publicado en el volumen 12 (2) de la revista Land Lines: 1–4.

In the past decade, nearly 50 mansions have been demolished and replaced in the historic Chicago suburb of Kenilworth. Four demolition permits are currently pending review, while permits have been approved for two other historically significant houses. To slow the teardown trend, Kenilworth has enacted a nine-month waiting period between issuance of a demolition permit and initiation of the teardown process. However, the village does not have a historic preservation ordinance, and local officials generally support the rights of property owners to demolish and replace their houses. The National Trust for Historic Preservation included Kenilworth on its 2006 list of the 11 most endangered places nationwide (Black 2006).

The practice of demolishing and replacing houses in high-priced areas generates passionate controversy. The fight to save the Skiff House in Kenilworth is illustrative (Nance 2005). That property at 157 Kenilworth Avenue is one of the premier locations in one of Chicago’s most expensive suburbs, three blocks west of Lake Michigan and five blocks from the commuter train station in the village center.

The house was built in 1908 for Frederick Skiff, the first director of Chicago’s Field Museum of Natural History. This beautiful and historically significant house was designed by the architectural firm of Daniel H. Burnham, who was considered the preeminent architect in America at the turn of the twentieth century. He oversaw the construction of the 1893 World’s Columbian Exposition and helped design a series of lakefront parks as part of the 1909 Plan of Chicago.

Plans to demolish the Skiff House shortly after it was purchased in 2004 for $1.875 million created an uproar. While many neighbors supported the owner’s right to tear down the property—after all, they might want to do the same—others saw it as an assault on the community’s character. “Save 157 Kenilworth” signs began to appear in front yards throughout the village, and a neighborhood group, Citizens for Kenilworth, led a campaign to save the house. After months of controversy, and only days after an auction to sell off valuable parts of the house before demolition, a neighbor purchased the house for $2.35 million in order to save it.

Historic houses continue to be torn down in Kenilworth and elsewhere, but not all teardowns generate controversy. Residents of many Chicago suburbs have been supportive of the teardown trend. Naperville is a representative case. Founded in 1831 and incorporated in 1857, Naperville grew slowly until plans for the East-West Tollway (I-88) were announced in 1954. The population grew from 7,013 in 1950, to 21,675 in 1960, to 140,106 today.

Naperville’s downtown has undergone a renaissance over the last decade, attracting new restaurants, shops, and residences. Although the city has a historic district just to the east of the downtown area, teardown activity has been concentrated in what were formerly more humble areas. Small, older houses are being purchased for about $400,000 and replaced by much larger houses that may sell for $1 million.

The teardown trend in Naperville is illustrated by one small house being sold as a teardown, with an announcement of an upcoming public hearing posted in the yard. It is likely to be replaced by a house that is similar to the recently constructed house next door (see pages 6 and 7). Though teardown activity is not entirely without controversy in Naperville, it does not generate the same passion as the Skiff House did.

How Widespread is the Teardown Phenomenon?

Nationwide the teardown phenomenon has attracted much media and public attention. The decennial Census of Population and Housing offers a way to quantify the practice using the “net replacement method.” For example, suppose the Census lists 10,000 housing units in an area for 1990 and 10,500 units in 2000—an increase of 500 units. Now suppose the Census shows that 800 housing units were built during the decade. Then 300 of the newly built units must have simply replaced existing units. The 300 replacement units are a crude but nonetheless enlightening measure of teardown activity in that community.

Figure 1 shows counties where at least one census tract had a net replacement rate in excess of 4 percent. Teardown activity is clustered in older urban areas in the Northeast, Midwest, and California. In fact, the map does not look substantially different from a map of population density in the United States. This simple analysis shows that replacement of the preexisting housing stock is an extensive phenomenon that is national in scope.

Nevertheless, it is surprisingly difficult to track teardown activity on a case-by-case basis. The classic teardown is a house whose sale is followed by the issuance of both demolition and building permits, but timing is a key factor in tracking these permits. If a demolition permit is issued four years after a sale, was the house really sold as a teardown? Similarly, a building permit may be issued long after a dilapidated house was demolished, yet this situation is not what most people have in mind when they think of teardowns.

Some teardowns are carried out by the current owner without a sale. Other houses are so extensively remodeled that they are effectively teardowns, even though no demolition permit is issued. Even when data on sales, demolition permits, and building permits are available, it is difficult to merge the different sources of information since they frequently come from different agencies that vary in the quality of their database management.

The National Trust for Historic Preservation has described the Chicago metropolitan area as the “epicenter of teardowns.” Aside from Kenilworth, teardowns are common in both the city of Chicago and its suburbs. The Village of Skokie (2005) surveyed 20 of its neighbors in Chicago’s near north suburbs and compared the number of detached single-family housing unit demolition permits from 2000 to 2003 to the total number of such units as reported in the 2000 U.S. Census. Thirteen of the 20 communities reported demolition permits representing more than 1 percent of the housing stock over the four-year period.

Richard Dye and I (forthcoming) have used data from Chicago and six suburban communities to document the degree of teardown activity in the region. We were able to obtain data on house sales and demolition permits for Chicago; one of its suburbs to the west, Western Springs; the northwest suburb of Park Ridge; and four suburbs on the North Shore—Glencoe, Kenilworth, Wilmette, and Winnetka.

Between 1996 and 2003, the number of demolition permits ranged from 29 in Kenilworth to 273 in Winnetka and 12,236 in Chicago. Of course, Kenilworth has only 2,494 residents, whereas Winnetka’s population is 12,419, and Chicago has 2.9 million residents. Figure 2 shows the number of demolition permits as a percentage of total housing units for each community. More than 9 percent of Winnetka’s housing stock was torn down between 1996 and 2003, and teardown rates were also quite high in Winnetka and Kenilworth. Even Chicago, with more than 400,000 housing units, had a demolition rate near 3 percent.

These six suburbs were not chosen randomly. All had high median incomes in 2000, ranging from $73,154 in Park Ridge to more than $200,000 in Kenilworth. All of these suburbs have stations on commuter train lines to downtown Chicago, little or no vacant land on which to build, and good schools and other local public services. In other words, demand to live in these suburbs is high. Teardown activity in Chicago is concentrated in comparable neighborhoods within the city, such as Lincoln Park, West Town, and Lakeview on the near north side.

The Costs and Benefits of Teardowns

Teardowns can impose significant social costs. Local residents often complain that new houses destroy the character of a neighborhood. Those houses may be built to the limits of the zoning code, tower above their neighbors, and reach to the edge of the property line. Sometimes neighbors simply dislike the design of new buildings, particularly those that replace historic houses. When tall apartment buildings replace single-family houses or two-family houses in the city, neighbors complain of the loss of sunlight, lack of parking spaces, and increased traffic congestion. The construction process itself can be noisy and disruptive. New, expensive houses may cause assessments to increase in the neighborhood. And, teardowns may reduce the stock of affordable housing.

Teardowns also carry some benefits, however. In places that rely on the property tax to fund local services, the additional revenue from high-priced replacement houses is often quite welcome. Not all teardown buildings are historic, architecturally significant, or mourned when they are demolished. Some teardowns are simply eyesores.

Some of the new houses being built today will eventually be viewed as historically significant properties in their own right. Once entire blocks are rebuilt, the new housing no longer looks out of place. It is surprising to discover how stark and incompatible some properties built in the early 1900s appear in historic photographs taken before trees grew and the neighborhood filled in with similar houses.

It also is important to recognize that teardowns may help to curb sprawl. One reason people move to the urban fringe is to build a new house in a contemporary construction style. Allowing people to tear down a small, outdated house and replace it with a modern house may induce them to stay in centrally located areas. In general, encouraging housing and economic growth helps maintain the vitality of previously developed areas, which is a strategic complement to anti-sprawl policies designed to limit growth at the fringe.

Policy Responses

Local jurisdictions have been creative in responding to teardowns. Some policies are designed to the slow the amount of teardown activity by making it more costly, through demolition fees and fines for illegal demolitions. Others, such as a moratorium on new demolition permits or an enforced waiting period between permit issuance and the time when demolition can start, are simply designed to cool a potential teardown fever. Such policies also raise the cost of teardowns by making developers wait for some time after purchasing a property before being able to recoup their costs. Complementary policies include landmark designation and historic district designation, which make it more difficult or even impossible to tear down existing structures.

Policies on the other side of the balance sheet may give developers an incentive not to demolish existing structures. Communities may offer tax breaks to owners who rehabilitate existing houses rather than demolish them to build new ones. Or, owners may be granted variances from restrictive zoning provisions in order to enlarge rather than demolish an existing house.

At the same time, jurisdictions often use zoning to influence the type of new housing that is built in their community. Lot-coverage and floor-area restrictions are used to ensure that new structures do not dwarf their neighbors. Other policies include maximum building sizes; set-back and open space requirements; and restrictions on such design elements as garage and driveway locations, roof pitch, bulk limits, solar access, and the alignment of the new house with neighboring structures. Many communities have design review boards that can revoke building permits for structures that are not in compliance. These standards are not always clear beforehand, however, and they can increase the level of uncertainty for developers, delay construction, and raise costs.

Even if communities do not attempt to curb teardown activity, they often adopt policies designed to reduce the disruption caused by new construction. The builder may be required to notify neighbors when construction is about to begin, and a time window may be imposed for completion of the building. Construction activity may be limited to certain hours of day, the site may need to be fenced, and work vehicle and dumpster location requirements are often imposed. Communities also may require that contractors be bonded and certified.

How successful are these policies in slowing the rate of teardown activity? As we have seen, the Skiff House was saved because Kenilworth’s nine-month waiting period between permit issuance and the start of demolition provided enough time for a buyer to step forward before the house was razed. However, the potential for profits in such transactions make it difficult to stop teardowns completely. If a developer can purchase an existing property for $300,000, demolish it for $20,000, and spend $400,000 to build a new house according to current construction standards, then he has incurred $720,000 in costs. With new upscale houses routinely selling in excess of $1 million in communities with many teardowns, it should not be surprising that developers continue this practice.

Implications for Land Values

Assessors encounter enormous difficulties in placing a value on land in built-up areas. When few vacant lots exist, it is nearly impossible to find enough sales of vacant land to assess the value of land accurately. In the absence of direct land sales data, land values can be estimated by subtracting construction costs less depreciation from the sale price of improved properties in the area.

Statistical analysis of mass appraisal data can account for such structural characteristics as square footage in order to control for the contribution of the building to total property value. With a complete set of these characteristics, the residual from the regression reflects the contribution of location to property value—in other words, land value. Unfortunately, any unobserved structural characteristic will also be part of the residual.

Teardowns can help estimate the value of land in developed areas. Consider the earlier example of a property that is purchased for $300,000, demolished for $20,000, and replaced by a million-dollar house. If the developer could purchase a vacant lot of the identical size next door for $290,000, which property would he prefer? If there is no salvage value for parts of the existing house, it will cost the developer $320,000 before it is possible to build on the lot with the existing house. Yet the vacant lot is available in the same general location for $30,000 less. The vacant lot is preferable even though it does not include a house—in fact, it is preferable precisely because it does not include an existing structure.

If the price of the vacant lot rises to $310,000, the developer still obtains a lot that is ready to build upon for $10,000 less than the cost of building on the neighboring lot. Only at $320,000 will the developer be indifferent between the two lots. It follows that the value of land in this case is $320,000. This key insight leads to an extremely useful method of valuing land in areas experiencing teardowns. The value of land is simply the sales price of a teardown property plus any demolition cost.

An important implication of this line of reasoning is that only location determines the value of a teardown property; characteristics of the structure are irrelevant except insofar as they influence demolitions costs or salvage value. This implication is somewhat surprising to people who think that a historic house has intrinsic value. Though it is tempting to think that the Skiff House in Kenilworth is worth approximately $2 million because of its historic and architectural value, a vacant lot next door would sell for nearly the same price. Any house near Lake Michigan in Kenilworth will sell for well more than $1 million. The conclusion to be drawn is simply that land is expensive along Chicago’s North Shore.

Richard Dye and I (forthcoming) test the prediction that only location characteristics influence sales prices in our sample of seven communities in the Chicago area. Our measures of location include such variables as lot size, distance from the nearest commuter train station, and proximity to Lake Michigan. Structural characteristics include such variables as building size, age, and whether the house is built of brick and has a basement, garage, or fireplace. We identify teardowns as houses for which a demolition permit was issued within two years of a sale. As predicted, structural characteristics do not significantly influence the sales price of teardown properties. Teardowns are purchased for the land underneath.

Final Thoughts

The teardown phenomenon is not new. Houses have been demolished and replaced for as long as they have been built. American cities grew rapidly in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries and again in the years just after World War II. Tastes now appear to be changing toward larger houses with spacious rooms and high ceilings. Many people find the existing housing stock less desirable than new construction. In this situation, it is not surprising that buyers purchase, demolish, and build new houses, especially in high-demand areas. The trick for local governments is to keep the costs of teardown activity from overwhelming the less obvious benefits.

Daniel P. McMillen is professor in the Department of Economics and the Institute for Government and Public Affairs at University of Illinois at Chicago. He has published widely in urban economics, real estate, and applied econometrics. He is a visiting fellow in 2006–2007 at the Lincoln Institute.

References

Black, Lisa. 2006. Kenilworth added to list of endangered historic towns. Chicago Tribune, May 20.

Dye, Richard, and Daniel P. McMillen. Forthcoming. Teardowns and land values in the Chicago metropolitan area. Journal of Urban Economics.

Nance, Kevin. 2005. Teardown ‘madness has to stop’: Developer rescues historic Burnham house, but says it’s just a start. Chicago Sun-Times, November 6.

Village of Skokie. 2005. Comprehensive Plan Appendix C: Near north suburban housing activity study. http://www.skokie.org/comm/Appendix%20C.pdf.

The character of institutions, political settings, and social relationships is critical in determining whether nonprofit developers are effective in reusing vacant, abandoned, and contaminated properties in their communities.

The central question facing land conservationists today is how to scale up efforts to protect entire landscapes and whole natural systems. The land trust movement has been built on the individual successes of conserved private properties, but increasingly both conservationists and landowners entering into conservation agreements want to know what is being done about their neighbor, their neighborhood, and most significantly their landscape (Williams 2011).

Farmers and ranchers talk of the need to sustain a continuous network of working lands—a critical mass of agricultural activity—or risk losing the supporting businesses and community cooperation they require to survive. Firefighters say that keeping remote lands undeveloped reduces the hazards and costs of firefighting for local communities. Sportsmen are losing access to public lands and wildlife when scattered rural development fragments habitat. Conservation biologists have long suggested that protecting bigger places will sustain more species, and conversely that fragmentation of habitat is the leading cause of species decline and loss. Finally, a rapidly changing climate reinforces the need to protect large, connected ecosystems to be resilient over the long term.

With many funders and public partners seeking to focus on collaborative, landscape-scale conservation efforts, the land trust community has an excellent opportunity to leverage its good work by engaging in landscape partnerships. Land trusts, with their grassroots base and collaborative working style, are in a good position to help support local initiatives. The process of building these efforts, however, requires a commitment beyond the urgency of transactions and fundraising, and necessitates a sustained focus that is much broader than the immediate objectives of many land trusts.

What Does Success Look Like?

Montana’s Blackfoot River was made famous in Norman Maclean’s 1976 story, A River Runs Through It (Maclean 2001), but what really stands out about the Blackfoot region is how the community has worked together over many decades to sustain this special place. Building on conservation work initiated by local landowners in the 1970s, the Blackfoot Challenge was established in 1993 to bring the area’s diverse interests together around consensus-based approaches to sustaining the rural character and natural resources of the valley. Rancher Jim Stone, chairman of this landowner group, says “we were tired of complaining about what we couldn’t do, so we decided to start talking about what we could do.”

This collaborative effort has used innovative conservation approaches for the Blackfoot that have been replicated in many other places. The group’s work began with a focus on better managing increased recreational use of the river and protecting the river corridor. The first conserva-tion easement secured in Montana was on the Blackfoot in 1976 as part of this pioneering effort. From that initial success grew more ambitious initiatives with engagement from an expanding set of partners.

When landowners said they were not getting enough help to control weeds, the Challenge established one of the largest weed control districts in the West. When landowners argued there were not enough resources for conserving working ranches, the Challenge helped create an innovative U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service (USFWS) program to purchase conservation easements with the federal Land and Water Conservation Fund (LWCF), which historically has been used for public land acquisition.

When landowners were concerned about the potential sale of vast forest lands in the valley, the Challenge launched a comprehensive acquisition plan that linked protected private ranches on the valley floor with forested public lands at higher elevations. When landowners recognized the need for systemic river restoration, the Challenge and the Big Blackfoot Chapter of Trout Unlimited helped restore more than 48 tributary streams and 600 miles of fish passage for native trout and watershed health (Trout Unlimited 2011).

The Blackfoot Challenge partners with more than 160 landowners, 30 businesses, 30 nonprofits, and 20 public agencies. Clearly, the Challenge’s vision for the area is not limited to just a few ranches, but rather is focused on the long-term health of the entire river valley, from “ridge to ridge” in Jim Stone’s words (figure 1).

The wonderful aspect of the Blackfoot story is that it is no longer a rare exception but an emblem of a much larger movement of collaborative conservation efforts around the country. These landscape partnerships confirm an emerging consensus about the need to protect and sustain entire landscapes that are vital to the health of fish and wildlife, as well as to the vitality of local communities, their economy, and their quality of life.

Landowner-Driven Conservation Efforts

The Blackfoot story underscores one of the most important lessons emerging from community-based conservation initiatives—local landowners should be in front and everyone else behind. An example from the Yampa River in western Colorado illustrates this approach. In the early 1990s, conservation groups were trying to protect the area, but were met with major mistrust by the local ranchers. The valley had no shortage of community visioning exercises and groups trying to conserve the region, but none of the ideas had really taken hold in a meaningful way, precisely because local landowners were not in the lead.

That dynamic was then turned on its head by several landowner initiatives, the most significant being the Routt County Open Lands Plan. The plan’s recommendations grew out of a series of local landowner meetings held throughout the county. The plan called for eight significant measures to better manage explosive growth in the valley, ranging from a right-to-farm ordinance to a purchase of development rights program on working ranches. Routt County became one of the first rural counties in the West to raise public funds through a local ballot measure to protect working ranches.

The Malpai Borderlands is another enduring example of how landowner leadership can break through decades of gridlock. After years of conflict between ranchers and federal agencies over the management of public lands around the Animas Mountains in the boot heel of New Mexico and southeastern Arizona, Bill Macdonald and other neighboring ranchers helped spearhead a landowner collaborative called the Malpai Borderlands Group to reintroduce fire for the health of grasslands and the local ranching economy. That effort grew into an innovative partnership among ranchers, conservation groups, and public agencies to conserve and sustain this one-million-acre working wilderness through conservation easements, grass banking, and a more integrated stewardship approach to the system as a whole.

Land Trusts and Public-Private Partnerships

As significant as landowner leadership is to collaborative, landscape-scale conservation efforts, land trusts and agencies also can play a vital role in leading from behind as a reliable partner with deep local ties, knowledge of outside resources, and an ability to implement research and conservation projects. On Montana’s Rocky Mountain Front, for example, local ranchers are working together with several land trusts and the USFWS to protect working lands through conservation easements. The local landowner committee has been led by several local ranchers, but their 20-year friendship with Dave Carr of The Nature Conservancy has been pivotal in their staying engaged. Greg Neudecker of the USFWS’s Partners for Wildlife Program has played a similar role in the Blackfoot, given his 21-years of service to community collaboration there.

Many landowners and land trusts hesitate to bring public agencies into landscape partnerships because they often pride themselves on achieving conservation through private action. When engaged as part of landscape partnerships, however, state and federal agencies can be very effective allies. In the Blackfoot, the science, research, monitoring, funding, and restoration work delivered by the State of Montana and the USFWS has made a huge impact on the recovery of the river system.

On the land protection front, public acquisition of extensive timberlands in the Blackfoot has complemented private land trust work by consolidating public lands and maintaining community access to those lands for grazing, forestry, and recreation. Recognizing the problems associated with a century of fire suppression, the U.S. Forest Service has initiated experimental thinning projects of small-diameter stands to restore the structure and function of forestlands and reduce the fire threat to the valley. That work is now being expanded through a new federally funded Collaborative Forest Landscape Restoration Program (CFLRP) across the Blackfoot, Clearwater, and Swan valleys.

The larger principle is that all the major stakeholders have to be at the table, working together toward their common ground. David Mannix, another Blackfoot Challenge rancher, explains what they call the 80–20 rule: “We work on the 80 percent we can agree on and check the other 20 percent at the door with our hat.” Jim Stone claims that when people show up at a Blackfoot Challenge meeting, “We ask you to leave your organizational agenda at the door and put the landscape first,” focusing on the health of the land and the community so closely tied to it.

What’s really important is having the “right people” at the table for private-public partnerships to work—creative individuals motivated by a common vision and humble enough to recognize that they do not have all the answers. Collaboration takes time. Once common-ground approaches are developed, it is critical to have initial success, however small, that can build the kind of foundation needed for bigger solutions down the road.

The Need for Funding

The most serious barrier for local collaborative groups to achieve landscape-level goals is the lack of adequate funding. Without sufficient financial support, collaborative efforts often lose momentum, which can set back this kind of work for years.

Funding is not a static element, but it is responsive to the scale of the outcomes that can be achieved and the breadth of the constituency engaged. Neither private nor public funders want to participate in partial success unless it is a step toward a long-term, sustainable goal. And they do not want to fund places where groups are competing. Increasingly, land trusts and agencies have come to realize the potential of what can be achieved through collaboration. Donors consistently have led on this issue because they understand a resource-constrained world and the value of leveraging diverse strengths and funding.

Even when great collaborative efforts come together around common goals and achieve a heightened threshold of success, a serious funding gap often exists in achieving truly landscape-scale conservation. Mark Shaffer, former director of the Doris Duke Charitable Foundation’s Environment Program, estimated this gap to be about $5 billion per year in new funding and tax incentives needed over the next 30 years to conserve a network of important landscapes in the United States.

The land trust community is now conserving land at the rate of about 2.6 million acres per year—a cumulative total of about 37 million acres according to the last census in 2005 (Land Trust Alliance 2006). However, to sustain whole landscapes before urgent threats close the window of opportunity, that rate needs to double or triple, and efforts must be conducted in a more focused way.

Emerging Opportunities for Landscape-Scale Conservation

There are several major trends and near-term opportunities that could enhance landscape-scale conservation efforts, but their success hinges on land trust engagement and leadership. First, it is critical that Congress make permanent the enhanced deductions for conservation easements. The Land Trust Alliance (2011) points out that these deductions can protect more than 250,000 additional acres per year. Given the current congressional focus on spending cuts and tax cuts, this is one of the few conservation finance tools that may be achievable in the near term. Over the longer term, a national transferable tax credit program, similar to those in Colorado and Virginia, could create an enormous incentive for securing conservation easements.

The second trend relates to increasing the federal focus on protecting whole landscapes by empowering communities that are already working together. In 2005 the Bush administration launched a Cooperative Conservation Program that provided improved agency coordination and capacity grants for local collaborative work. In 2010, the Obama administration launched the America’s Great Outdoors Initiative to help communities better sustain their land and water resources through locally driven partnerships and to reconnect America’s youth to the natural environment (Obama 2010).

While federal resources are highly constrained in the near term, existing programs and funding could be more focused on whole landscape conservation projects. Secretary of Agriculture Tom Vilsack has announced a major policy shift for the department to an “all lands” approach to conserving and restoring the big systems of the United States. For example, the Natural Resources Conservation Service recently announced that it would reinvest $89 million of unspent Wetland Reserve Program funds to purchase conservation easements over 26,000 acres of working ranches in the Florida Everglades. The opportunity facing the land trust community is to ensure that these projects are implemented in a manner that builds broad support for this work over the long term.

The third opportunity is passing local and statewide measures to increase funding and tax incentives for conservation. Despite the weak economy and pervasive talk of less government and lower taxes, voters in the 2010 elections passed 83 percent of the ballot initiatives presented nationwide to fund land and water conservation. Overall, 41 of 49 funding measures passed, generating more than $2 billion for land, water, parks, and farmland conservation over the next 20 years (The Trust for Public Land 2010).

The final trend and opportunity for the land trust community is partnering with private capital funders on major land conservation projects. Between 1983 and 2009, more than 43 million acres of forest lands traded hands (Rinehart 2010). New private equity groups, called Timber Investment Management Organizations (TIMOs) and Real Estate Investment Trusts (REITs), picked up 27 million acres of this land in a very short period, and many of these investment groups, including Lyme Timber, Conservation Forestry, Ecosystem Investment Partners, Beartooth Capital Partners, have conservation as part of their business model.

The Question of Scale

An ongoing trend in conservation has been an expanding focus from individual properties to neighborhoods, landscapes, ecosystems, and now networks of ecosystems. For example, landowners in the Blackfoot, Swan Valley, and Rocky Mountain Front have come to realize that the health of their landscapes depends on the health of the larger Crown of the Continent (figure 2).

Surrounding the Bob Marshall Wilderness and Glacier-Waterton International Peace Park, the 10-million-acre Crown is one of the most intact ecosystems in North America. Thanks to a century of public land designations and 35 years of private land protection by local communities, this ecosystem has not lost a single species since European settlement. Landowners and other partners have been reaching across the Crown in a variety of ways to see how they can work together more closely for the good of the whole.

Even in the Crown’s large expanse, the sustainability of its wildlife populations depends on their connections to other populations throughout the Northern Rockies. That even larger network of natural systems can only be realized, however, if critical linkage areas can be sustained. For this reason, land trusts in Wyoming, Idaho, Montana, and Canada have been collaborating through a framework called the Heart of the Rockies to identify common priorities and conservation needs. This level of regional collaboration has resulted in both a new level of conservation and more attention from funders. It has also been pivotal for land trust collaboration around common policy priorities.

Organizing at these larger scales is truly imperative if we are to sustain well-connected natural systems, but it is also important to understand what can be achieved at each scale. Large regional initiatives are important for creating a broad, compelling vision, but not for implementing conservation on the ground. Such large-scale approaches are good at applying science at nature’s scale, creating regional collaboration around common priorities and a forum for exchange on innovative ideas, and bringing greater attention to the area. They also provide an important context for why local work is so significant.

Melanie Parker, a local leader for collaborative conservation efforts in the Swan Valley, cautions: “We need to aggregate our efforts across the larger region to influence policy and to access resources, but anyone who thinks that conservation work can or should be done at the scale of 10 million acres is seriously misguided. This kind of work has to be done at the scale at which people live, work, and understand their landscapes.”

Local people are moved to act by the power of their own place and in their own way. Designing strategies at a large scale is often too abstract for landowners at best, or outright alienating at worse. As in politics, all conservation is local. Likewise, politicians are most responsive to homegrown projects devised and backed by local residents. How large place-based efforts really can be and still hold community cohesion is an important question, but certainly the Blackfoot, Rocky Mountain Front, and Swan Valley are pushing the outer limits. Each is addressing lands at the scale of 0.5 million to 1.5 million acres.

Land trusts can add value to local efforts through regional collaboration. While landowners and local residents often do not have the additional time to participate in these larger initiatives, they want their place and specific issues to be well-represented. Land trusts and conservation organizations can play the very important role of connecting local, place-based groups, but they need to coordinate with those groups and not get out in front of them. In the end, the land trust community could be well served by strengthening its collaborative work, by deepening its engagement in landscape partnerships, and by working at larger scales to achieve conservation success.

Conclusion

After many decades of outstanding work, the more than 1,700 land trusts across the country can use their momentum to conserve the large systems that matter for people and nature. Indeed, this is what communities are asking for and what nature needs to survive. Moving beyond isolated victories to a more interconnected conservation vision is just as important for local sustainable economies and recreational access as it is for wildlife corridors and healthy watersheds. To be successful at this scale requires real collaboration and a reorientation for everyone involved. With the many opportunities currently rising for whole-landscape conservation, the moment is ours to seize.

References

Land Trust Alliance. 2006. 2005 national land trust census. Washington, DC. 30 November.

———. 2011. Accelerating the pace of conservation. www.landtrustalliance.org/policy

Maclean, Norman. 2001 [1976]. A river runs through it and other stories. 25th anniversary edition. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press.

Obama, Barack. 2010. Presidential Memorandum: America’s Great Outdoors, April 16. http://www.whitehouse.gov/the-press-office/presidential-memorandum-americas-great-outdoors

Rinehart, Jim. 2010. U.S. timberland post-recession: Is it the same asset? San Francisco, CA: R&A Investment Forestry. April. www.investmentforestry.com

The Trust for Public Land. 2010. www.landvote.org

Trout Unlimited. 2011. Working together to restore the Blackfoot Watershed. February. www.tu.org

Williams, Jamie. 2011. Large landscape conservation: A view from the field. Working Paper. Cambridge, MA: Lincoln Institute of Land Policy.

About the Author

Jamie Williamsis The Nature Conservancy’s director of landscape conservation for North America, based in Boulder, Colorado. He focuses on programs to protect large landscapes through innovative public and private partnerships. He was a Kingsbury Browne Fellow at the Lincoln Institute in 2010–2011. He holds a Master in Environmental Studies from the Yale School of Forestry and Environmental Studies and a B.A. from Yale University.