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Boulder, Colorado, has developed a national reputation for having dealt creatively with growth management issues. The city has developed a 27,000-acre greenbelt, a system for controlling the rate of population growth by limiting building permits, and a defined urban growth boundary managed in cooperation with Boulder County. Boulder’s approach to urban growth boundaries, called the service area concept, offers important lessons for controlling sprawl, preserving rural land uses outside the city, and extending urban services in a rational manner.
Located 27 miles northwest of Denver at the base of the Rocky Mountains, Boulder is a home-rule city of approximately 96,000 people. It is the Boulder County seat, the home of the University of Colorado, and a regional employment center with approximately 86,000 jobs. Its strong economy is founded on the university, federal laboratories, regional and local retail, and a dynamic industrial sector concentrated in the high tech industry and business services.
Colorado has no statewide, mandated planning program. Statutory and home-rule cities and counties are granted land use planning and regulatory powers directly by the state. The Denver Regional Council of Governments engages in general planning, clearinghouse, and federal funding allocation activities, but there is no real, effective regional planning effort. As a result, sprawling development, undifferentiated between cities and unincorporated areas of counties, is typical along most of Colorado’s Front Range.
In the decade of the 1950s, Boulder’s population grew from 25,000 to 37,000 and during the 1960s it grew by a whopping 29,000 to reach 66,000. Some initial efforts to manage this growth included the “Blue Line,” a citizen-initiated amendment to Boulder’s charter in 1959 that restricted the extension of city water service above an elevation of 5,750 feet. It was later extended by ordinance to sewer service. While a few exceptions have been granted at the ballot box, the effect of this measure was to limit the city from extending water service to properties along the mountain backdrop. Property owners can still develop in the county, but at much lower densities than is typical in the city and only with individual water and septic systems.
Another important growth management program began in 1967, when Boulder became the first city in the United States to pass a tax specifically dedicated to preserve open space. This open space system forms the outer extent of the Boulder Valley, a joint planning area between the city and county.
Boulder’s Service Area Concept
A concern that unwanted development was continuing to take place outside city limits in the county, sometimes with city water and sewer service, led to the implementation of Boulder’s urban growth boundary. In 1970 the city and county adopted a joint comprehensive plan that defined the intended geographic extent of city expansion into the plains. This plan was further refined in 1978 to limit the city from extending water and sewer services outside city service area boundaries and to limit the county from approving new subdivisions that would need “urban” levels of services and facilities.
What specifically does the service area boundary do? It defines that part of the Boulder Valley planning area where the City of Boulder either already provides a full range of urban services to annexed properties or will provide services upon annexation. Land outside the service area boundary remains in the county at rural densities until the city and county jointly agree to bring the property into the service area. Land can also be “moved” out of the service area.
The 1978 plan, thus, protected the city against development just outside its boundaries that would put demands on city services without the ability to collect taxes to finance those services. It was also aimed at controlling sprawl, protecting sensitive environmental areas and rural land uses, and planning, financing and providing urban services in a more rational way. By adopting the plan through an intergovernmental agreement, both the city and county gained better control over urban development and service provision, while accomplishing many other conservation objectives. This approach owes much to the phased growth control ordinance pioneered in 1969 by the Township of Ramapo, New York.
What Are the Benefits?
What Are the Pitfalls?
Is that good or bad? On the good side, it has allowed Boulder to determine its own ideal city size, with consideration of how much congestion is tolerable, what sized city leads to a high quality of life, and what is sustainable over time. On the bad size, it holds Boulder back from capturing some of the benefits that additional development could bring, such as more affordable housing and less dependence on the automobile by building mixed use, transit-oriented neighborhood centers.
There is no real ending to this story. Land use planning is a major fixation for Boulder, and these issues are continuously analyzed, discussed, and often hotly debated. Nevertheless, Boulder has maintained a central vision of a compact city with a clear identity in the midst of a rural area. The growth management techniques used in Boulder may vary from those used by other cities, and they may be changed from time to time to meet local conditions, but the vision has remained intact.
Peter Pollock, AICP, is the director of the Community Planning Division for the City of Boulder, Colorado. This year he is a Loeb Fellow at the Harvard University Graduate School of Design and a visiting fellow at the Lincoln Institute. This article is based in part on his presentation of the Fourth Annual David R. Fullmer Lecture, “Tools and Techniques for Managing Growth in the Boulder Region,” at the Institute in October 1997.
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A TDR Parable: It’s simple. You just go to the farmer whose land you’re trying to preserve and tell him that he can’t develop his land because it is a “sending area” for your new Transfer of Developments Rights (TDR) program. At first, he’s a bit upset. But as town planner you assure him that everything is OK because you’ve found a developer who will pay him for the development potential of his property in order to build a block of new houses on small lots in the quaint village center nearby. Everybody wins! It’s easy, isn’t it?
Well, not really. The farmer has been offered a lot more money by another developer who wants to build the kind of low-density gated community that professional refugees from the city really want. The farmer decides to sue you and the town, claiming that by depriving him of the right to develop his land there has been a “taking.” Also, the villagers have decided that their community is dense enough and they would like you to find a different “receiving area.”
Meanwhile, the original developer has figured out that he can use his development rights to build a new strip mall on a greenfield site outside of town. This was a site you had hoped he would not use, although you had to include it as a receiving area in order to be sure the farmer’s development rights had somewhere to go.
This parable is clearly an oversimplification, but it illustrates many of the challenges that TDR programs face. The allure of the TDR model is its seemingly simple ability to accomplish in one transaction two complementary goals: open space preservation and compact, centered development. However, the promise of TDR has been stalled by a variety of political, economic and administrative obstacles.
The Lincoln Institute and Regional Plan Association (RPA) cosponsored a two-day conference in October 1997 to explore the potential and the limitations of using TDR programs. While the conference addressed a number of legal and planning issues, one of the central questions asked by the group was, “How can TDR programs be used to influence settlement patterns, not only to protect open space, but also to promote compact development?”
A presentation of research by the American Farmland Trust revealed that the use of TDR has expanded tremendously, and many programs are considered successful even though the overall picture is ambiguous. The list of success stories is still dominated by such well-known programs as Montgomery County, Maryland (1980) and the New Jersey Pinelands (1981). A number of more recent programs showing early potential are the Long Island Central Pine Barrens, New York (1995), Bucks County, Pennsylvania (1994) and Dade County, Florida, where TDRs are helping to preserve more than 100,000 acres of everglades ecosystems outside of the Everglades National Park.
Obstacles and Opportunities
Regardless of how many programs may be considered successful, the conference revealed that there are still many obstacles to establishing a working TDR program. Among them are:
Impacts on Receiving Areas
The first half of the TDR equation (agreement on the resource to be protected) is generally not difficult. However, the second half (agreement on where the transferred development is to go and how it should be configured) has been extremely problematic.
Conference participants acknowledged that while the goal of transferring density away from preservation areas and into growth areas was being accomplished by a number of TDR programs, the programs have not been effective in influencing the design and character of development in the receiving areas. Local municipalities are, or at least should be, obligated to identify sites for increased density, but the use of that density may not be constrained beyond the existing town zoning bylaws. The unfortunate result is that the increased density is as likely to be used for a suburban strip development as for compact, centered development, thus creating localized sprawl within the receiving area.
In the case of the Long Island Pine Barrens, some towns intentionally spread out their receiving areas to avoid the political fallout of higher-density development. When the TDR program was being developed, the Pine Barrens Commission was working on design guidelines meant to promote compact town planning. However, this layer of complexity and restriction was too burdensome to be incorporated into each of the local town plans.
While there is broad agreement that controlling the character of development in receiving areas is a desirable idea, it also raises a number of questions. First, the administrating agency may not be able to deal with the additional complexity that design controls would bring. Second, the market for new development in the receiving areas may not be strong enough to support the additional burden of cluster design. The need to guarantee a market for the transfer rights also works against the creation of controls that would concentrate development. An advantageous ratio of receiving areas to sending areas (as high as 2.5:1) tends to create large receiving areas.
Conference participants from around the country also confirmed what they perceive as a knee-jerk reaction against higher density. Despite the influences of New Urbanism and neo-traditional planning, the general public and the marketplace do not value centered development. Residents of fast-growing communities might be more receptive to clustered residential designs if they could understand what different types of development would look like by reviewing three-dimensional representations in drawings and models.
Land use attorney Charles Siemon suggested that many town planners seem to want compact, centered development, but are not willing to acknowledge that it can be more expensive to private developers. Perhaps another approach, one that is outside of the TDR marketplace, is needed, such as a fund that buys the development rights and agrees to sell them to developers at a discount if they build in town centers. Lexington, Kentucky, is experimenting with this kind of arrangement.
Evaluating TDR
How do you measure the success of a TDR program? By the amount of open space preserved? The number of acres kept in farming? The number of transactions? The quality of development in the receiving areas? And, over what time period? Charles Siemon suggested that a TDR program might be considered a success even if no transactions take place. How? Because, in the context of a larger land use plan, the TDR program can make a preservation program more palatable by providing the landowner with additional options.
It became clear during the conference that the perceived success or failure of TDR programs was colored by excessive expectations. The notion that a TDR program would, by itself, protect open space, preserve activities such as farming, help create appealing village centers, and do all of this simply by offering a mechanism for moving development around is simply not realistic. Some participants asked, “Why should a TDR program be expected to accomplish more than any other single land use tool, such as zoning?”
This question reflected the most fundamental conclusion of the conference: TDR programs work only when they are part of a larger, long-term land use plan that has the commitment and political will of the community behind it. This commitment to the larger goals of the plan and to the particular resource being protected is the real answer to legal and other challenges. A comprehensive plan is more likely to accommodate multiple avenues of relief for landowners who feel unfairly treated. TDR programs that are created within the context of a comprehensive plan are much more likely to be tailored to the specific political, economic and geographic circumstances of their location. Finally, in terms of creating balanced and centered development, it is within a land use plan that the design guidelines and other controls that result in the best town planning principles may reside.
Robert Lane is director of the Regional Design Program at the Regional Plan Association in New York.
Notes:
1. James Tripp and Daniel J. Dudek, “Institutional Guidelines for Designing Successful Transferable Rights Programs,” Yale Journal on Regulation (Summer 1989).
2. In the summer of 1997, the U.S. Supreme Court heard Suitum v Tahoe, a challenge to a TDR program. Although some of the justices took the opportunity to talk about various legal dimensions of TDR, the case did not address the fundamental legality of TDR. Instead, it focused on the “ripeness issue.” Did Mrs. Suitum have to try to sell her rights through the program before challenging its legitimacy? The Court ruled that she did not. The conference participants felt that in the short term the case may create pressure for TDR programs to assign real dollar values to the rights or credits that are being transferred. This is consistent with the finding that a TDR bank, capable of assigning such values, can play an important role in the success of a TDR program.
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Spatial segregation is a feature of metropolises from San Diego to Boston, from Santiago to Cape Town, from Belfast to Bangalore. In some places the segregation is associated primarily with racial groups, in other places, ethnicity or religion, while in still other places, income status. In our experiences with the Americas, we find that international comparative research allows researchers and policy analysts to see both unique and shared characteristics in sharp relief. For example, in Latin America, the public debate around urban spatial segregation typically focuses on socioeconomic issues, whereas in the U.S. and many developed countries the debate centers more on racial or ethnic disparities.
Residential segregation also has different meanings and consequences depending on the specific form and structure of the metropolis, as well as the cultural and historical context. In North America, social and ethnic minorities tend to be segregated in less desirable inner-city locales while the upper- and middle-class majority disperses into small, socially homogeneous urban neighborhoods or suburbs across the metropolis. By contrast, in Latin American cities it is the elite minority that tends to concentrate in one area of the city.
The Forces
The forces that contribute to spatial segregation are many and varied. The apartheid laws of South Africa were one extreme case of large-scale, government-sanctioned spatial segregation. Other cases have garnered less international attention, such as the Brazilian government’s destruction of favelas in the 1960s, when the poor inhabitants were removed to other segregated locations. On a smaller scale, in Santiago, Chile, between 1979 and 1985 during the Pinochet regime, more than 2,000 low-income families were evicted from high- and middle-income residential areas with the stated objective of creating neighborhoods that were uniform by socioeconomic group.
While government evictions and legal frameworks are explicit mechanisms for creating urban spatial segregation, more subtle mechanisms also have been used to create or enforce spatial segregation. In Colombia, the contribución de valorización (a kind of betterment charge) was imposed on inhabitants of an informal settlement in Bogotá located on the edge of a new circumferential highway. Officials knew the charge was higher than most inhabitants could afford to pay and would likely lead them to “choose” relocation. By setting land use standards that the poor could not meet, the government virtually forced them toward the informal, peripheral areas. The U.S. is no stranger to such mechanisms to create segregated housing markets. For example, some real estate agents shun racial and ethnic minorities or persons from lower social classes who do not fit their target markets, and many small landlords rely on informal networks to find the kinds of tenants they prefer.
Voluntary segregation has become a new force, with the proliferation of gated communities in both northern and southern hemispheres. This trend seems to have several motivations, including both supply and demand factors. On the demand side, residents might be attracted to the perception of security or a new lifestyle. On the supply side, builders and developers find tremendous profitability with the large-scale internalization of externalities in these highly controlled developments.
The complexity that stems from the combination of coercive and voluntary segregation leads us to a deeper question: What is the relationship between social differences and spatial segregation? It is commonly assumed that the former are “reflected” in the latter. Social groups sometimes resort to segregation in order to fortify their weak or blurred identity, as in the case of emerging middle-income groups or immigrant communities in search of social recognition. To a great extent, the post-war suburbanization process in U.S. cities can be interpreted as a means of homogeneous sorting to strengthen social identity.
The Consequences
In the U.S., spatial segregation is a serious policy issue because of the complex interactions between land and housing markets on the one hand, and their connection to local revenues and the distribution and quality of local services on the other hand. Disparities in school quality may be one of the more dramatic examples of the variations in public services between places.
The combination of residential segregation by class and by racial or ethnic groups and the systematically uneven spatial distribution of quality schools results in poor inner-city enclaves where children attend substandard schools, which in turn limits their life chances. Other services, such as access to transportation and health care, also vary spatially, as do such measurable factors as air quality and neighborhood infrastructure.
In other countries, spatial segregation of the poor often occurs within informal settlements. These areas once were viewed as aberrations, but scholars increasingly understand informality as a result of the normal functioning of land and housing markets, not as part of a duality of formal versus informal economies. In this view, illegal, irregular, informal, or clandestine activities to access and occupy urban land are the way that the market provides housing for poor people. Nevertheless, these arrangements are not always “chosen” for their low price or relative conveniences, but rather because they are one of an extremely limited set of choices available to the poor.
Traditional segregation patterns in Latin American cities are changing due to the proliferation of new gated communities for expanding high- and middle-income groups and the emergence of shopping centers and office complexes in more “modern” areas beyond the former urban enclaves. In São Paulo, Santiago, Buenos Aires and Mexico City, to name a few of the biggest and most dynamic cities, these developments are appearing even next to lower-income areas. Segregation of uses and access is becoming more intense, making the growing social inequalities of the last decades more apparent. Yet, at the same time, these changes in the patterns of segregation are reducing physical distances among socioeconomic groups, and are bringing “modern” commercial facilities and improved public spaces closer to the poor.
The consequences of segregation are probably changing due to this reduction in its geographical scale. Some of the negative effects of large-scale segregation of the poor (i.e., their agglomeration in the periphery of the cities) could be fading in this new, more diverse urban landscape. Recent empirical studies carried out in Santiago support this contention.
Policy Responses
Spatial segregation is both a reflection of the existing social structure and a mechanism to enforce that structure, thus raising the question of how and when segregation should be addressed. Is the problem in the U.S. context that poor minority children live among others of the same income and racial group, or is it that by living in poor, segregated areas the children’s life opportunities are limited because of their inaccessibility to good schools? Is the answer to improve the schools, to integrate the neighborhood, or to initiate a combination of these and other responses? In the context of developing countries, is the problem of informal settlements that they are often dangerous (due to risky environmental conditions or street violence) or that the residents are isolated from good jobs, transit and other services? Is the answer to reduce or eliminate the danger, to improve transit, to bring jobs to the neighborhood, or to try all of these programs?
We need to improve our understanding of the social problems in these segregated areas in order to adequately design and implement appropriate policy responses that are necessarily multidimensional. Should change come in the form of corrective programs (e.g., regularization or upgrading of informal settlements) or more fundamental policies that would involve the massive provision of serviced land at affordable prices? One “corrective” option contrasts the informalization of formal arrangements (e.g., deregulation) with the formalization of the informal (e.g., the redefinition of zoning codes or the regularization of alternative tenure systems).
A more fundamental solution would be either piecemeal implementation or mandatory designation of social housing developments in high-income areas. A different sort of tool is to open up decision making around the allocation of public investment, as in the successful orçamento participativo process used in the municipality of Porto Alegre, Brazil, where the budget is determined with extensive public participation. Other responses could address the radical upgrading of existing low-income peripheral settlements, more extensive use of linkage fees, or the elimination of land markets altogether, as was done in Cuba. However, we need more information regarding the efficacy of these varied programs and tools, and careful analysis of the necessary conditions to increase the chances of success.
Globalization has fostered the movement of labor and capital, bringing both the positive and negative experiences of developed and developing countries closer together. Immigrants to the U.S., particularly undocumented ones, tend to settle in urban enclaves, but their lack of legal status reverberates beyond those settlements. Access to jobs and credit is limited, which in turn restricts the immigrants’ mobility and reinforces existing spatial segregation.
On the other hand, as U.S. financial and real estate corporations extend their operations overseas, they introduce U.S. protocols, conventions, expectations and ways of operating. The exportation of such U.S. norms to developing countries may lead to new patterns of geographic discrimination (e.g., redlining) by race and/or ethnic group, where such practices previously were less explicit.
We know from past research and experience that segregation can increase land revenues for developers and landowners. We also know that the profitability of housing development is dependent upon public investments in roads, facilities and services. At the same time, we acknowledge that segregation has both negative and positive impacts on city life, ranging from social exclusion that makes life harder for the poor to strengthened social and cultural identities that contribute to the city’s diversity and vitality.
The face of segregation varies both within and between metropolises. However, comparative international work has demonstrated that there are important trends of convergence between U.S. and Latin American cities. We have much more to understand regarding the effect of interacting land and housing markets and the regulatory structure on spatial segregation and the life chances of urban residents.
Rosalind Greenstein is senior fellow and director of the Lincoln Institute’s Program on Land Markets. Francisco Sabatini is assistant professor in the Institute of Urban Studies at the Catholic University of Chile in Santiago. Martim Smolka is senior fellow and director of the Lincoln Institute’s Program in Latin America and the Caribbean.
