En el corazón de Shenzhen, China, se eleva entre una abrumadora panoplia de rascacielos futuristas el enorme centro cívico de la ciudad, que tiene forma de ola. Hace cuarenta años, esta zona albergaba apenas unas pocas aldeas pesqueras en el delta del río de las Perlas. Hoy, unos 24 millones de personas viven en la zona urbana periférica de Shenzhen. En China, Shenzhen terminó por representar algo mucho más grande que sí misma.

En el centro de una colina, una estatua que representa al venerado exlíder chino Deng Xiaoping dando zancadas deliberadas hacia el centro cívico ayuda a explicar los motivos. Deng tomó control de China en 1978, tras la muerte de Mao Zedong. La transición marcó un final a décadas de aislamiento del mundo exterior, dominadas por una planificación autoritaria. Deng viró al país en una dirección radicalmente nueva: lanzó el programa Reforma y Apertura para suavizar las restricciones que habían regido en el país durante tanto tiempo. Y Shenzhen abrió el camino hacia el futuro.

Deng otorgó a la ciudad recién creada una licencia para operar como un superlaboratorio económico, un lugar donde explorar la promesa de la economía de libre mercado. Fue una propuesta a todo o nada, y desde entonces Shenzhen triunfó ampliamente.

Sin embargo, su crecimiento espectacular tuvo un costo. A medida que la zona sobrepasaba el entorno, pantanoso por naturaleza, y pasaba de ser un páramo literal a un centro económico neurálgico, gran parte del terreno cubierto sucumbió al asfalto y el concreto. Durante las tormentas, la abundancia de terreno pavimentado provocó inundaciones generalizadas, así como emisión de contaminación urbana a gran escala sobre la bahía de Shenzhen y el delta del río de las Perlas, que están cerca.

Shenzhen no es la única que enfrenta estos problemas. Pero, embarcada en su función de foco nacional de innovación, se convirtió en un laboratorio único donde se piensa cómo construir ciudades habitables en toda China y más allá.

Diez kilómetros al noreste de la estatua de Deng, el profesor Huapeng Qin está parado en un techo, rodeado de sensores que miden la velocidad del viento, la temperatura y la evaporación. Busca soluciones. Qin trabaja en el campus satelital local de la Universidad de Pekín, y está al frente de una labor para convertir a Shenzhen en una “ciudad esponja”. Mediante el uso de técnicas que imitan la naturaleza, estas ciudades pueden captar, limpiar y almacenar lluvia, lo cual reduce el riesgo de inundaciones y evita que los sistemas locales de drenaje y tratamiento de aguas se saturen.

Si bien parte de ideas seculares, el concepto moderno de ciudad esponja comenzó a formarse en Europa, Australia y Estados Unidos a principios y mediados de la década de 1990. El movimiento fue una reacción a dos fenómenos comunes en el desarrollo urbano. Primero, tal como ocurrió en Shenzhen, las ciudades con desarrollo más acelerado cubren de pavimento grandes extensiones de suelo, y así eliminan una cantidad importante de manto boscoso natural, rellenan lagos y humedales, y alteran gravemente el ciclo hidrológico natural. Segundo, el enfoque tradicional para gestionar el agua pluvial en ciudades se centró en alejar del suelo la mayor cantidad posible de lluvia, tan rápido como sea posible, no en capturarla para reutilizarla.

La idea de ciudad esponja marca un cambio significativo, que se aleja de la “infraestructura gris” tradicional (como tuberías y represas de concreto) y va hacia la infraestructura “verde” o natural, como jardines pluviales y bosques. El enfoque de ciudad esponja pretende restaurar algunas de esas funciones naturales porque permite que las zonas urbanas transformen la amenaza del agua pluvial en un beneficio: agua adicional para momentos de sequía. Por lo tanto, las técnicas de ciudad esponja tienen múltiples beneficios. Pueden ayudar a disminuir el impacto de las inundaciones, mejorar la calidad y el suministro del agua, y solucionar problemas medioambientales.

El concepto de ciudad esponja llegó hace relativamente poco a China, pero ganó ímpetu enseguida. Esto se debe, en parte, al tremendo crecimiento del país en las últimas décadas, lo que cambió el entorno de forma drástica.

También, se debe a una nueva mentalidad sobre los riesgos de buscar la prosperidad a toda costa. En julio de 2012, en Pekín, una tormenta inmensa provocó una inundación que causó 79 muertes y un gasto de alrededor de US$ 1.700 millones en daños. El incidente motivó a los líderes nacionales.

A fines de 2013, el presidente Xi Jinping promocionó oficialmente el concepto de ciudad esponja, y al año siguiente el Ministerio de Vivienda y Desarrollo Urbano y Rural emitió un conjunto de pautas técnicas orientadas a asegurar que el 70 por ciento de la escorrentía de la superficie se capte en el lugar. Además, el gobierno central lanzó lo que terminaría por ser un programa piloto de 30 ciudades para probar el concepto.

Shenzhen es solo una de las ciudades piloto, y no es una coincidencia que el concepto de ciudad esponja haya avanzado más allí que en cualquier otra parte de China. Desde políticas financieras hasta el sector tecnológico, “Shenzhen siempre estuvo muy dispuesta a tomar ideas prestadas de fuera de China, y probarlas”, dice Qin. La idea de ciudad esponja es coherente con esto. “Primero, fueron apenas proyectos piloto desperdigados, pero ahora el concepto se está incorporando al plan de reordenamiento territorial de Shenzhen”.

En este caso, Qin y sus estudiantes intentan aprender más sobre técnicas para crear techos verdes, con el uso de plantas sembradas en suelo diseñado con poco peso para absorber la lluvia donde cae y luego distribuirla de a poco. Dichas técnicas son “muy similares a los sistemas naturales”, dice Qin. “Los sistemas naturales parecen muy sencillos, pero los procesos son muy complejos. Entonces, intentamos comprender esos procesos”.

Una ciudad esponja tiene varios bloques de edificios intercambiables. A gran escala, al proteger o restaurar bosques y suelo con cobertura natural, el agua tiene más oportunidad de decantar. En escalas menores, hay varias opciones. Se puede usar pavimento permeable en calzadas, veredas y senderos para permitir que el agua se filtre hacia el suelo, en vez de escurrirse al sistema local de agua pluvial. Los estanques de captura y los humedales construidos ayudan a captar y filtrar el agua, y permiten que esta se propague de a poco hacia el nivel freático local. Los llamados jardines pluviales cumplen una función similar a escala más pequeña, y se pueden incorporar con facilidad a los espacios verdes de los vecindarios o incluso a los hogares. Los techos verdes capturan y filtran la lluvia, y además riegan las plantas que, según dice Qin, reducen la temperatura de la superficie hasta en nueve grados Celsius.

La aceptación en Shenzhen del concepto de ciudad esponja fue impulsada por el espíritu de innovación, pero también por el hecho de que allí los efectos de un ciclo hidrológico desequilibrado no suelen pasar desapercibidos. Las lluvias fuertes pueden saturar las plantas locales de depuración, lo cual envía aguas residuales cargadas de nutrientes directo a la bahía de Shenzhen y el delta del río de las Perlas, y esto a su vez produce gran cantidad de algas.

Además, la gente está preocupada por el impacto del cambio climático. En 2018, en lo que podría ser un anticipo de lo que vendrá, el supertifón Mangkhut azotó la ciudad y derribó la mitad de los árboles. Según Qin, los modelos informáticos predicen que, con el cambio climático, la precipitación anual total será comparable a los niveles actuales, pero mucho más “súbita”: serán mucho más frecuentes los eventos extremos como tormentas breves de alta intensidad.

En las últimas décadas, esta zona absorbió una afluencia de millones de personas, y en gran parte le dio la espalda al agua, que antes era una de sus características determinantes. Hoy, Qin y otras personas de toda la ciudad se dedican a hallar nuevas formas de avanzar. Las lecciones que aprenden y aplican allí son los primeros pasos de lo que pronto podría ser una transformación generalizada, no solo en la ciudad que los rodea, sino en toda China.

“Las ciudades esponja son apenas un ejemplo de cómo China aborda la agenda de la sustentabilidad”, dice Zhi Liu, director del Centro de Desarrollo Urbano y Políticas de Suelo de la Universidad de Pekín y el Instituto Lincoln. Al reconocer la urgencia de construir para la resiliencia ante eventos climáticos extremos y otros problemas, dice: “Esto no es algo que China quiere hacer para quedar bien. Surge de una necesidad”.

Hasta hace dos años, el lote de 42,5 hectáreas de espacio verde que hoy se conoce como parque del Lago de Miel era una estación abandonada de experimentos agrícolas. Los atractivos dominantes del parque, no muy lejano del centro de Shenzhen, eran una descuidada arboleda de lichis y dos estanques con peces. Hoy, cuando se accede al parque a pie, uno siente que está caminando por un renderizado arquitectónico. Pero si nos acompaña un experto, enseguida resulta evidente que el parque no solo es agradable por su estética, sino que también es decididamente funcional.

Yaqi Shi, directora técnica de la empresa Techand Ecology & Environment, con base en Shenzhen, ayudó a diseñar el parque. Los senderos por los que caminamos, me explica, se construyeron con pavimento permeable, y los contornos ondulantes del parque están acogidos por paulares que ayudan a detener y captar escorrentía. Techand cultivó en su propio vivero juncáceas nativas que tejen una serie de estanques en medio del parque. En todo el parque hay carteles que indican varios elementos de una ciudad esponja y explican cómo funcionan.

Shi, cuyo enfoque profesional es la restauración ecológica, se expresa con la economía abrupta de una ingeniera. Pero el placer se evidencia en su voz cuando habla de la evolución de este proyecto. “El parque resultó tener un concepto que apela mucho al usuario”, dice.

Mientras caminamos, Shi señala una biblioteca, un centro de juegos para niños y el registro civil local, todo dentro de los límites del parque. Al borde de un estanque, hay un pabellón que ofrece un fondo ideal donde los flamantes recién casados pueden posar para un retrato.

Al caminar con Shi también se hace evidente que gran parte de la tecnología detrás de las ciudades esponja, en realidad, no es muy tecnológica, lo cual sorprende. El verdadero arte del enfoque no se basa tanto en tener ingenio técnico, sino simplemente en aplicar la reflexión. Ella explica, por ejemplo, que bajo gran parte de Shenzhen subyace una capa de arcilla que impide que el agua penetre muy profundo en el suelo. Para que los pavimentos permeables funcionen, hay que contratar constructores que excaven la arcilla, a veces hasta casi dos metros, y la reemplacen con gravilla y suelo más permeable.

Sin embargo, cuando se tiene una idea de dónde mirar, Shenzhen empieza a parecer una ciudad totalmente distinta. En el extremo noroeste, un suburbio relativamente nuevo llamado Guangming adaptó el concepto de ciudad esponja en su totalidad. El parque Nueva Ciudad, construido hace poco en el suburbio, es un modelo de retención de agua pluvial en el lugar, que incluye desde celosías que absorben agua en el estacionamiento hasta pavimento permeable en los senderos, paulares y minihumedales artificiales diseñados para detener y absorber agua. El enorme centro deportivo público adyacente tiene un techo verde y una gran extensión de ladrillos y pavimento permeables. Los tanques de digestión de la planta Guangming de tratamiento de aguas están cubiertos con un techo verde muy grande, y lo mismo ocurre en la escuela de idiomas extranjeros. Las calles frente a la estación del tren de alta velocidad, a donde llegan los trenes bala desde Hong Kong, están hechas de pavimento permeable.

Después de un rato en este lugar, es difícil resistir la tentación de vaciar la botella de agua poco a poco en las veredas y las calles de Shenzhen, solo para experimentar la novedosa sensación de ver el agua desaparecer en lo que uno creería que es asfalto o concreto normal.

De regreso en el centro, Xin Yu, de Nature Conservancy, me muestra otra faceta de la revolución de la ciudad esponja. Nos encontramos en el lobby del hotel Hilton, a poco menos de dos kilómetros del centro cívico y la estatua de Deng Xiaoping sobre la colina, que está cerca. Luego de unas rápidas cortesías, Yu me lleva por una puerta trasera de servicio. En comparación con la elegancia espaciosa del lobby, parece que pasamos por un portal a otra dimensión.

Nos hallamos en los estrechos callejones de una zona conocida como Gangxia, una antigua aldea agrícola que Shenzhen se tragó de a poco, y que luego metamorfoseó en un laberinto atestado de edificios de departamentos de cinco y seis pisos. Gangxia y las llamadas aldeas urbanas son un fenómeno que se encuentra en casi todas las ciudades de China, y atestiguan el ritmo frenético con que el país se urbanizó en los últimos 40 años. Suelen ser desagradables, pero son un refugio importante para migrantes de bajos ingresos que, de otro modo, no podrían costear los alquileres altos de casi todas las zonas urbanas. En general, llegan para formar comunidades más bien autónomas con pequeños negocios que atienden todas las necesidades de los residentes, desde vendedores de verduras hasta salas modestas de karaoke.

Yu me lleva ágilmente entre los callejones estrechos, y pronto se evidencia que la palabra “aldea” no le queda bien a esta región. A los edificios, atestados y de alta densidad, se los llama “departamentos con apretón de manos”: se construyeron tan cerca unos de otros que los residentes vecinos pueden asomarse por la ventana y darse la mano. Los restaurantes se preparan para la avalancha del almuerzo, y los cuchillos que pican verduras marcan el ritmo staccato del ambiente. Yu cuenta que allí los negocios son animados y competitivos en extremo: “Estos callejones están vivos de verdad”.

Los residentes originales de Gangxia técnicamente no poseían el suelo sobre el cual se construyeron sus casas, pero sí tenían derecho a usarlo. Cuando Shenzhen creció, en los 80 y los 90, reemplazaron sus propias casas por edificios de departamentos; en general, se quedaban con un piso y alquilaban los demás, para aprovechar el aumento de los alquileres.

The Nature Conservancy (TNC) tuvo un papel importante en demostrar que se puede incorporar un pensamiento esponja incluso en el corazón de la selva urbana. “Hay muchas ideas, pero el gobierno o las empresas no necesariamente pueden probar cosas”, dice Yu. “Las ONG sí. Podemos descifrar qué ideas funcionan y llevarlas al gobierno para promoverlas de forma más amplia“ (debido al clima político de China, los funcionarios de Shenzhen no estaban disponibles para reunirse para esta historia).

Yu abre la puerta de un edificio de departamentos que parece insulso, sube varios tramos de escaleras hasta el techo y llega a un rincón inverosímil de verde frondoso. Un marco entramado con múltiples niveles cruje con toda variedad de plantas. Este techo verde, cuenta Yu, absorbe más del 65 por ciento de la lluvia que lo toca.

No siempre fue fácil mostrar qué es posible. Cuando TNC comenzó con este proyecto de techo verde, Yu y sus colegas tuvieron que enfrentarse a vecinos furiosos que creían que iban a agregar un piso al edificio de forma ilegal.

“La gente llamaba a distintos departamentos gubernamentales: la policía, el buró de construcción o la administración de la ciudad”, dice Yu. Eso llevó a que vinieran varios equipos de control del código local, quienes usaron escaleras para acceder al edificio y un soplete cortador para intentar desmantelar el marco que sostiene el jardín. “Nos pedían siempre los documentos de aprobación”, dice Yu, y se ríe. “Pero en realidad no existen. No podíamos obtenerlos en ningún lugar”.

Sin embargo, con el tiempo, las labores como esta generaron más conciencia sobre el concepto de ciudad esponja. “La consulta pública, el modo que tenemos de que el público entienda de qué se trata, son muy importantes”, dice Liu, del Instituto Lincoln. “Creo que las ONG pueden tener un gran papel en esta área, y TNC es una ONG internacional de confianza en China”.

El trabajo de TNC también se ganó el apoyo de funcionarios y líderes comerciales. Yu recibió una invitación para ser miembro del comité técnico en el programa municipal de ciudad esponja en Shenzhen. Cuando el gigante corporativo tecnológico Tencent decidió incorporar técnicas de ciudad esponja a su nueva y emblemática sede central en Shenzhen, acudió a TNC para pedir ideas. Y Pony Ma, fundador, presidente y director ejecutivo de Tencent, no solo es miembro de la junta de directores de TNC en China, sino también delegado de la poderosa Asamblea Popular Nacional. Allí, logró que las ciudades esponja sean parte de una plataforma personal más amplia que defiende las soluciones basadas en la naturaleza. Ma también inspiró a otros líderes comerciales a involucrarse (e invertir) en garantizar que sus empresas cumplan los estándares de ciudad esponja de Shenzhen.

Unos 2.000 kilómetros al norte de Shenzhen, en Pekín, en la oficina de Kongjian Yu parece brotar una planta en cada rincón donde no logró encajar un libro. Esa sensación parecida al libro Donde viven los monstruos tiene total coherencia con la personalidad de Yu, impulsada por una especie de energía inquieta. Es difícil imaginar que se quede sentado en un lugar por más de cinco minutos.

Yu nació en una pequeña aldea agrícola en la provincia costera de Zhejiang, emigró y obtuvo un doctorado en Diseño en Harvard en 1995. Al regresar a China, se sintió profundamente descorazonado por el camino que había seguido el desarrollo. “Cuando volví, me impactó la escala de la urbanización”, dice. “No podía creer cómo el proceso ignoró todo nuestro patrimonio natural y cultural, rellenó humedales, destruyó ríos, taló árboles y liquidó tantos edificios antiguos”.

La Universidad de Pekín contrató a Yu como profesor de planeamiento urbano y arquitectura paisajística. En el mundo serio de la teoría china del desarrollo, se hizo fama de una especie de hippie, y de tábano molesto. Se convirtió en escritor prodigioso y orador incansable, y presentó una serie de cartas abiertas a los principales líderes de China. Apeló a que el país abandonara la manía de construir plazas públicas monumentales; abogó por un resurgimiento de los enfoques tradicionales chinos de agricultura, gestión hidrológica y asentamientos; y sugirió que sería mejor gastar el dinero asignado a los desfiles anuales del Día Nacional para construir parques buenos.

Por sobre todas las cosas, reprochaba la obsesión del país con el concreto, un repudio a décadas de mentalidad. “En la era de Mao, la filosofía china era que los humanos pueden vencer a la naturaleza”, dice Yu. “Y eso provocó muchos desastres”.

Esa actitud no hizo más que acelerarse en los años posteriores a la muerte de Mao, y hacia principios del s. XXI, China rompía récords de cantidad de concreto volcado al año. Vaclav Smil, gurú de desmitificación de los sistemas globales, estimó que China usó más cemento en apenas tres años, de 2011 a 2013, del que Estados Unidos usó en todo el s. XX.

Si bien Yu halló oposición a su franqueza, también accedió a una demanda cada vez mayor de esta nueva forma de pensar en los sistemas. Hoy, además de ser decano de la Escuela de Arquitectura y Paisajismo de la Universidad de Pekín, lidera una oficina de consultoría de arquitectura y urbanismo paisajista de 600 personas llamada Turenscape. Los gobiernos municipales de todo el país acuden a la ayuda de la empresa de forma habitual. Yu también escribió la guía definitiva para profesionales sobre ciudades esponja en China, que consta de dos volúmenes, y contribuyó en el libro Nature and Cities (Naturaleza y ciudades) del Instituto Lincoln de Políticas de Suelo. Su trabajo también aparece en Design with Nature Now (Proyectar con la naturaleza hoy).

Un principio fundamental de su enfoque general es un concepto que llama fan guihua. Este suele traducirse como “planificación negativa”, pero sería más preciso denominarlo “planificación inversa”. En esencia, es una réplica al tipo de desarrollo que dio forma al crecimiento de China durante tanto tiempo.

“Se planifica lo que no está construido”, explica Yu. “Se planifica lo que debería protegerse”. Por supuesto, esta es una idea bastante radical en la China contemporánea. Aun así, durante su trabajo, Yu se dio cuenta de algo sorprendente: la idea de vivir con el agua, en vez de luchar contra ella, era un concepto muy conocido históricamente.

En el centro y sur de la costa de China, que incluye la zona donde hoy está Shenzhen, con los siglos había evolucionado un método característico para captar agua de lluvia y gestionarla con cuidado en acequias de barro para cultivar moras, gusanos de seda y peces, una especie de sistema de acuaponía a escala del entorno. Y cuando Yu y sus alumnos investigaron con mayor profundidad, descubrieron que ciertos conceptos parecidos a los de la ciudad esponja habían sido principio fundamental de la planificación de ciudades en China durante siglos. Dice que, tradicionalmente, muchas ciudades tenían la capacidad de absorber dos tercios de las precipitaciones en su territorio.

Con este hallazgo, la idea de gestionar el agua de otra forma (y los peligros de las alteraciones drásticas en el ciclo hidrológico) se convirtieron en un tema principal del trabajo de Yu.

Por su parte, la naturaleza empezó a enfatizar cada vez más el problema.

En la inundación de 2012 de Pekín “murieron 79 personas. Ahogadas. En la calle”, dice Yu. “En la capital, ahogamos a 79 personas. ¿Cómo puede ser? Vergonzoso. Eso se convirtió en un asunto político de inmediato”.

Yu escribió otra carta a los altos líderes; en ella dijo que, si se adoptaba el enfoque de ciudad esponja y se creaba un entorno resiliente, podría haber esperanza. Da la casualidad que Xi Jinping había asumido hacía poco como secretario general del Partido Comunista y presidente de China.

Luego de décadas en que el país luchó contra la notable contaminación y otros problemas ambientales, Xi se jugó la reputación al crear una “civilización ecológica” en China. A veces resulta difícil discernir los contornos exactos de dicho concepto, pero, a grandes rasgos, se trata de un empuje nacional hacia la sostenibilidad ecológica y la creación de un modelo ecológico alternativo de desarrollo exclusivamente chino para el resto del mundo. Tanto la idea de ciudad esponja como una aceptación más amplia del desarrollo de bajo impacto encajan a la perfección con las aspiraciones más amplias de Xi.

“China está atravesando una crisis ambiental. Tenemos que hacerlo”, dice Yu. “Cuando la gente no puede respirar, cuando el agua está contaminada, creo que él es muy susceptible a estos temas. Creo que de verdad quiere construir su legado al hacer esto”.

El mayor desafío de lograr que las ciudades esponja funcionen a gran escala no tiene nada que ver con construir jardines pluviales, instalar pavimento permeable ni apaciguar a los vecinos. “El mayor problema son las finanzas”, dice Liu.

Liu llegó al Instituto Lincoln luego de 18 años en el Banco Mundial, y se centra más que nada en la gobernación y los problemas financieros asociados con el uso del suelo en China. No será fácil escalar el concepto de ciudad esponja, y él cita los desafíos de Shenzhen como ejemplo. Las mejoras de ciudad esponja en Shenzhen, que comenzaron oficialmente en 2017, hoy cubren el 24 por ciento de la superficie total de la ciudad. El gobierno tiene el objetivo de aumentarlo al 80 por ciento hacia 2030. Pero alcanzar ese objetivo será un reto importante.

El gobierno central garantizó un total de US$ 5.800 millones (40.000 millones de yuanes chinos) para incentivar a Shenzhen y las otras 29 ciudades piloto a invertir y ejecutar labores de ciudad esponja. Pero quiere que en cada uno de esos lugares al menos un 20 por ciento del área desarrollada alcance el estándar de ciudad esponja hacia fines de este año.

Liu dice que alcanzar ese estándar en un kilómetro cuadrado de suelo urbano desarrollado suele costar entre US$ 22 millones y US$ 29 millones (entre CNY 150 y CNY 200 millones). Las 30 ciudades piloto pueden recibir del gobierno entre 400 y 600 millones de yuanes chinos al año durante tres años. Eso alcanza para actualizar hasta cuatro kilómetros cuadrados al año.

Para alcanzar (e incluso superar) el objetivo del gobierno central del 20 por ciento para 2020, Shenzhen llevó unos 235 kilómetros cuadrados al estándar, con un costo que podría estimarse entre US$ 5.000 millones y US$ 7.000 millones.

“No es fácil pedir al gobierno municipal que consiga esa cantidad de dinero”, dice Liu. Shenzhen lo logró debido a su poderoso presupuesto municipal y a las inversiones privadas de los gigantes tecnológicos e industriales de la ciudad. Pero Liu agrega: “si vas a las ciudades del interior, donde el financiamiento municipal es débil, esto es muy difícil” (en la página siguiente se explora el papel potencial de los bonos verdes en la mezcla de financiamiento de ciudades esponja).

Liu destaca que, en el caso de los desarrollos nuevos, las ciudades pueden implementar estándares que exigirán a los desarrolladores pagar las mejoras, un costo que en general recae sobre los residentes y los estudios. “Si se observan los costos para desarrollo por adelantado, no es muy costoso hacer ciudades esponja”, dice Liu. Sin embargo, modernizar desarrollos existentes es un desafío mucho más grande.

“El problema más difícil es que el financiamiento público se usa para el bien público, con muy poca posibilidad de que se recupere el costo”, continúa. “Esa es la peor parte de la historia en China. Es un tema de prioridades. Las ciudades tienen demasiado entre manos. Así, a fin de cuentas, son muy pocas las que pueden conseguir el dinero suficiente”.

La infraestructura para ciudades esponja es “igual que el alumbrado”, dice Liu. “Es un bien público compartido, pero nadie quiere pagarlo”.

En verdad, el mayor desafío de llevar la ciudad esponja a la realidad puede ser desenmarañar la mecánica de financiamiento. Aun así, el costo de no enfrentar el desafío podría ser mayor de lo que todos consideran.

“En realidad, es como pensar en adquirir un seguro”, dice Liu. “Todos nos enfrentamos a incertidumbres, pero la tendencia de tormentas más intensas es bien evidente . . . El costo de no actuar podría no parecer tan alto hoy, pero cuando nos enfrentemos a un resultado catastrófico en 10 o 20 años, nos arrepentiremos de no haber gastado el dinero antes”.

Incluso con tanto en juego, la idea de las ciudades esponja podría implicar mucho más que eso. De vuelta en Shenzhen, parado sobre el techo del edificio de departamentos de Gangxia, Yu, de TNC, dice que las ciudades esponja hacen mucho más que domar las inundaciones y guardar agua para las épocas de sequía. “Si solo se habla de gestión de agua pluvial o de controlar la escorrentía, la persona promedio no necesariamente lo va a aceptar, porque no se sentirá conectada con eso”, dice. “Pero las características como los techos verdes son otra cosa. Pueden tener un efecto sinérgico. Ayudan a absorber la lluvia, pero también mejoran la vista del vecindario, contribuyen a la biodiversidad urbana y crean un espacio verde que pueden usar todos”.

Matt Jenkins, que se desempeñó como editor de la revista Nature Conservancy, es un escritor autónomo que trabajó para The New York Times, Smithsonian, Men’s Journal y muchas otras publicaciones.

Fotografía: Shenzhen, China, es una de las 30 “ciudades esponja” piloto que está invirtiendo en soluciones de gestión de agua pluvial basadas en la naturaleza. Crédito: Wang Jian Xiong a través de Flickr CC BY 2.0.  

Over the past 25 years, the western edge of Missoula, Montana, has been a hotbed of growth. Thousands of residents have moved into new neighborhoods built on former agricultural land, with big box stores like Costco and Home Depot cropping up nearby. The city and county are now considering multi-use development of the 2,000 or so undeveloped acres remaining in the area—a tract surrounded on two sides by housing and adjacent to a main thoroughfare and the regional airport—and public input is key to shaping the direction of the project. But with the COVID-19 crisis halting all in-person planning meetings and approvals in the region, including a scheduled community charrette, the planning process went online.

During a multi-day virtual charrette in April, participants watched presentations and videos on the current plan, whose elements include affordable housing, community-supported agriculture, walkable urban centers, and the restoration of a local creek. They submitted questions and answered daily online polls, and those who couldn’t attend could access videos and submit comments after the fact. All told, more than 280 people participated in the charrette or later visited the “virtual studio.” The videos—on topics including historical and environmental preservation, traffic planning, and stormwater management—have gotten thousands of views.

“The event was attended by far more people and a wider variety of people than a live event,” said Jason King, a principal at Florida-based project consultant Dover, Kohl & Partners. “Landowners called in from Seattle, and a member of the Confederated Salish and Kootenai Tribes of the Flathead Reservation called in from the Flathead Reservation. These are people who it is difficult to get to an on-site charrette but who we talked to specifically because they could call in from their homes and offices.” At this virtual charrette and others the firm has held, King says, “we see more than just ‘the usual suspects’ from city council night.”

Amy Cotter of the Lincoln Institute, who previously directed regional planning initiatives for the Metropolitan Area Planning Council in Boston, says casting that broader net can make planning processes more representative and more robust. “Using technology could open the doors to people who have barriers to attending public meetings in person,” said Cotter. “Maybe they have to look after kids in the evening, or they don’t feel comfortable entering a public building, or have night class. By giving people more ways to access meetings, you’re going to get more participation and, I’d argue, better decisions.”

But shifting to virtual convenings isn’t always simple. Many localities have had to wait for state leaders to remove legal barriers preventing them from going forward. Florida, Delaware, Massachusetts, Michigan, New York, Rhode Island, and Utah are among states with executive action seeking to suspend, amend, or clarify open meeting laws to allow for remote meetings. Some legislatures are taking up the issue as well, with states including Oklahoma, Ohio, Tennessee, and Pennsylvania considering legislation that addresses open meeting laws and virtual engagement.

In New York City, the epicenter of the COVID-19 crisis in the United States, Mayor Bill de Blasio temporarily suspended the city’s land-use decision making processes even as the city received state permission to hold online meetings. Anita Laremont, executive director of the city’s planning department, expects that planning meetings will restart shortly. But she also said that COVID-19, the economic crisis it has created, and its disruption to daily life means that planning departments need to be realistic about what needs to move forward and what can wait.

“We will look at everything we put forward through the lens of whether it helps with the recovery,” Laremont said. “If we have neighborhood rezonings designed to develop additional affordable housing, we might choose to go forward because that remains an issue in the city.”

When it comes to executing the meetings themselves, planners must consider access and equity. How can online meetings conducted in English provide translation for speakers of other languages? How can cities best reach those without internet access or technical know-how?

Many platforms do offer language interpretation services for meetings and webinars, and options such as a call-in number can give attendees without internet access the opportunity to listen and participate in a meaningful way. But whether planners use general videoconferencing tools such as Zoom or GoToMeeting or planning-specific tools such as coUrbanize and Polco, figuring out which platform’s services work best for a city’s needs requires legwork. 

“It means speaking to all of these platforms and trying to understand what they can accommodate,” said Laremont. “That’s the only way we’ve really been able to do it, is to go and talk to them.”

Comparing notes with fellow planners is also vital, said Milwaukee Long Range Planning Manager Sam Leichtling. His department has been exploring the methods peers across the country are employing and collecting examples of approaches that capture different audiences. 

“I applaud the private vendors trying to adapt their technology to COVID-19, and with the right scenario, those tools have amazing uses,” Leichtling said. “But as a profession, we have to acknowledge that’s not going to be the solution to every case. Phone trees, dropping literature off at neighborhood facilities, these analog methods are still vital.”

It may well be that future planning processes use some combination of methods to reach as many people as possible. King confirmed that Dover, Kohl intends to combine virtual and on-site sessions going forward, pointing out that online convenings offer additional benefits including a lower carbon footprint and reduced travel time and costs for consultants and other experts. Cotter also noted that the Lincoln Institute advances more effective and inclusive public engagement strategies through its Consortium for Scenario Planning, which involves stakeholders beyond the planning office by introducing diverse voices into the process.

“Will we return to a situation where we rely only on traditional public meetings?” Cotter asked. “I doubt it. I think this will be a component of the way cities conduct business going forward.”

Liz Farmer is a fiscal policy expert and journalist whose areas of expertise include budgets, fiscal distress, and tax policy. She is currently a research fellow at the Rockefeller Institute’s Future of Labor Research Center.

Photograph: A virtual charrette allowed planners and the public to exchange information and ideas related to a potential development in Missoula, Montana. Credit: Courtesy of Dover, Kohl & Partners.

This article is reprinted with permission from CityLab, where it originally appeared.

As U.S. states move into the next phase of the coronavirus crisis, they may not be getting all the help they want from the federal government, but they won’t be alone. In at least three parts of the country, states have banded together to coordinate changing public health measures and recovery efforts as they consider timelines for lifting lockdowns, knowing that neither the outbreak nor modern-day regional economies adhere to jurisdictional boundaries set long ago.

The foundation of these three multistate compacts—seven Northeast states, from Delaware to Massachusetts; the West Coast including California, Oregon, and Washington; and seven Midwestern states radiating around Chicago—is a once little-known planning framework, known as megaregions, that shows just how much big chunks of the country are interlinked.

The pandemic, it turns out, is exactly the kind of massive but geographically clotted crisis that reveals what Europeans have called “territorial cohesion.” Some parts of the country are taking it slow, while others—such as Georgia, Tennessee, and South Carolina—are moving faster to reopen.

Most may think of three basic levels of government—federal, state, and local—but planners have long recognized that much activity actually occurs at the regional scale, across geographically proximate clusters of settlement. People live in one state and commute to a city in another, or live in the city and travel to a second home many miles away if they can.

The megaregion framework has been useful for all kinds of initiatives, whether protecting wilderness and watersheds that similarly cross political jurisdictions, designing transportation policy including inter-city high-speed rail networks, agreeing on carbon emissions reductions, or building more affordable housing across a larger catchment of labor markets (though that last one is very much a work in progress).

States have been working together in some modest ways for years, forming some 200 cross-border compacts or alliances covering everything from infrastructure to regulatory regimes, says Jonathan Barnett, author of Designing the Megaregion: Meeting Urban Challenges at a New Scale. The better-together arrangements can be found at the National Center for Interstate Compacts, part of the Council of State Governments, which provides technical assistance to keep them working. New reasons to collaborate have been steadily emerging, such as the Missouri-Kansas pact limiting tax subsidies as incentives for business relocation.

And now, others who have studied megaregions say, the approach will be well-suited to coordinating reopenings, or continuing closures, as states manage the next phases of the Covid-19 pandemic. If that’s successful, states may use megaregions to make future improvements in housing, transportation, and the environment.

“It’s clear that actions to manage and recover from the pandemic will require regional action, since the virus doesn’t respect arbitrary political boundaries,” says Robert Yaro, former head of the Regional Plan Association and now a professor at the University of Pennsylvania, who is co-authoring a new book on megaregions to be published by the Lincoln Institute of Land Policy (where I am a senior fellow).

“We can only hope this kind of collaboration will extend to the longer-term steps needed to rebuild the economy—and build the mobility systems and settlement patterns needed to mitigate against future events of this kind,” Yaro says.

The first clue that megaregions might be a useful way of confronting the pandemic emerged as early maps chronicling outbreak patterns mirrored the 11 U.S. megaregions outlined in 2008 by the Regional Plan Association initiative America 2050.

Just as the patterns of contagion mapped mostly along the megaregion categorization, fighting the disease intuitively seemed to require action and coordination across a broader geography than individual cities or states. New York Governor Andrew Cuomo was among the first to propose working together with other states in the Northeast. In the early days of the crisis, there was inter-state tension, as when Rhode Island stopped New Yorkers traveling to summer communities, near the Connecticut border.

In any gradual reopening, it makes all kinds of sense for neighboring states to acknowledge their interconnectedness, says Frederick “Fritz” Steiner, dean of the UPenn Stuart Weitzman School of Design. The closing and reopening of beaches, for example, would benefit from coordination, so there isn’t a patchwork of policies on either side of any state’s borders. Megaregions, which inherently recognize the interconnections in the movement of people emerging from lockdowns, “provide an ideal scale for cooperation in this crisis,” he says.

States in the newly formed alliances have also been sharing protective equipment and other vital supplies. California plans to distribute protective equipment from a ramped-up manufacturing effort throughout the U.S. West, wherever the need is greatest; Montana got more masks from North Dakota than from the national stockpile. Cuomo has proposed a purchasing consortium to avoid a repeat of the “chaos” of 50 states competing for supplies.

It’s important to note that regional interdependency and cooperation does not mean that cities and states don’t need help from the federal government; they clearly do, on such fronts as massive testing and contact-tracing, procuring medical equipment, providing financial relief to people and businesses, keeping beleaguered transit systems financially solvent, and many more pressing needs.

For many it has been gratifying to see how a planning construct could become so useful in this desperate time of need. Planners have been trying to illustrate the advantages of a regional approach for many years, though it has been an uphill battle. Historically, states have often resisted working together—Yaro quips that coordinating efforts of any kind haven’t really been seen since the days of Alexander Hamilton, and even then it was halting. In the 20th century, landscape architect Ian McHarg demonstrated how energy and ecological systems better function across boundaries. For a while, multistate climate pacts, such as the Northeast Regional Greenhouse Gas Initiative, were de rigeur.

Researchers at America 2050 showed that rather than thinking about a national high-speed rail network, it made more sense to focus on more self-contained chunks of the country—Florida, the Pacific Northwest (or Cascadia), Northern and Southern California, the Texas Triangle, and the Boston-to-Washington corridor. The Federal Railroad Administration has also proposed similar networks for the Midwest, Southeast, and Southwest states, roughly corresponding to the America 2050 map.

In the near-term response to the Covid-19 crisis, any megaregion-scale coordination will initially have a focus on nuts-and-bolts logistics. But the real challenge is what comes after that. Can multiple states continue to think regionally while socioeconomic structures, with all of the built-in inequities that the pandemic has revealed, are refashioned into something more resilient?

Looking ahead, megaregions could become the policy vessel for new realities, including more people working remotely, allowing them to spread out across agglomerated labor and housing markets. “It might actually help mitigate the overconcentration of jobs and population in our largest urban regions—and alleviate the extreme congestion and run-up in housing prices that has undercut the livability and functionality of America’s densest urban places,” Yaro says.

The key to that transformation, he says, will be regional transportation networks that shorten travel times across larger landscapes. That means going back to the notion of better multistate commuter and high-speed rail, at the megaregional scale, like the Regional Plan Association’s T-REX proposal for the tri-state region around New York, the Transit Matters vision for expanded transit all around metro Boston, and an envisioned North Atlantic rail network, including a rerouted Acela through Hartford, for the six New England states and downstate New York. The U.K. is advancing similar strategies with its decision to build HS2 and Northern Powerhouse Rail, underpinning a broader economic development initiative for the north of England.

In a post-pandemic world, better rail networks could speed the economic recovery by providing access to major urban centers by residents of even distant, midsize and legacy cities, bringing in areas across a larger landscape that have been left to decline economically in recent decades.

The deadly coronavirus has laid waste to so much and taken tens of thousands of American lives so far. The rebuilding process, which stands to be a national project not seen since the Great Depression or the aftermath of World War II, might well be more effective if it is structured on a more regional basis. A more megaregional future awaits.

Anthony Flint is a senior fellow at the Lincoln Institute of Land Policy and a contributing editor to Land Lines.

Image credit: America 2050/Lincoln Institute of Land Policy.

As Greece emerges from a decade-long financial crisis, the city of Athens is grappling with major challenges: E.U.-imposed austerity measures, a real estate collapse, ongoing security and migration issues, climate change, and now COVID-19. Kostas Bakoyannis, 41, was elected mayor in 2019, promising stability and reinvention. The son of two prominent Greek politicians, Bakoyannis is the city’s youngest elected chief executive but has had considerable experience. Holding undergraduate and graduate degrees from Brown University, Harvard University, and the University of Oxford, he was governor of Central Greece, mayor of Karpenissi, and served at the Greek Ministry of Foreign Affairs, the European Parliament, and the World Bank. He also holds positions with the Hellenic Agency for Local Development and Local Government, European Council on Foreign Relations, and United Nations Sustainable Development Solutions Network. On a recent visit to Cambridge, he spent time with Lincoln Institute Senior Fellow Anthony Flint.

Anthony Flint: You have said that you are focused not on grand projects, but on day-to-day quality of life in a city trying to make a comeback in a more incremental fashion. What are your reflections on your successful campaign and the experience thus far of being at the helm of local government?

Kostas Bakoyannis: I think in any campaign, it’s always about the message and not the messenger. Elections in the past in Greece have been about candidates higher up, talking down to the people. I took a different approach and started walking out in the neighborhoods. I listened with care and found that the people want a city to build its self-confidence and be optimistic again. Now we are reinventing city services and reinventing the city. Athens has three records: the least urban green per capita in Europe, the most asphalt, and our houses have the most square meters. We want to reclaim public space and especially reclaim space from the automobile. We have been studying traffic circulation, and are planning to close parts of the city center to cars. We will also create an archeological walkway around the city.

All in all, I’m living my dream. I’m giving it my all. I’ve been in local government for 10 years; higher office doesn’t compare. One day, when I first began my journey in local government, I was depressed and thinking we are a failure, and then I walked out and saw a playground we had just opened. It’s not about resolving the conflict between North and South Korea. It’s real, tangible, incremental change, improving the quality of life.

AF: Athens has been vexed over the years by the problem of vacant buildings and storefronts, graffiti, homelessness, and a general image of being dark and dirty. Can you tell us about your plans to clean things up?

KB: There was a very good article in an international magazine about the Greek economy, but at the top there was a photo of Athens, with two homeless people sleeping in front of closed stores that were full of graffiti. This is our challenge. Don’t forget that we are in a global race to attract talent, technology, and investment. And Athens is changing day by day. To mention a few examples: We have adopted the “broken windows” theory of social behavior [which suggests that visible signs of crime and decay invite more of the same] and are coordinating with the police. We have special equipment and run campaigns to clean up graffiti. We have a program called Adopt Your City, and public-private partnerships that are already bearing fruit. We are asking people who care and love the city to come help us. Regarding drugs, reforms have been made. The parliament recently passed a measure on supervised spaces for drug use—we haven’t operated one yet, but we are preparing to make it mobile, so it doesn’t stay too long in any one neighborhood. Local government will be able to operate such spaces. We are reclaiming public space, like Omonia Square, a city landmark—I think that’s going to be a symbol. There are elevated expectations about public space . . . it’s not just public works. We are producing more of a product, an experience.

AF: As part of that effort, you attracted controversy for clearing out squatters in the neighborhood of Exarchia, an effort that included dawn raids and relocating refugees and undocumented immigrants. How do you fulfill your campaign promise to restore law and order and curtail illegal immigration, while still being sensitive to the human lives at stake?

KB: Here is an example: An individual calling himself Fidel was running a hostel in a school, occupying it, and charging money. We securely moved the children to take advantage of social service provisions. Greek media have a thing about Exarchia. It becomes a political weapon for one side or the other. I don’t look at it that way. We have 129 neighborhoods, and Exarchia is a neighborhood with its own issues. Much of what we do has to do with persisting and insisting—it’s a question of who will get tired first. We will not get tired first.

On the subject of pluralism, we’re the canary in the coal mine. We survived the economic crisis, and we’re stronger today than in the past 10 years. We have more depth to our democracy, stronger institutions. We isolated extremists. We confronted the Fascist Nazi party Golden Dawn—we went to neighborhoods where they were doing well. We didn’t wag our fingers and tell people they were bad for voting for Golden Dawn. We said: we can provide better solutions to the problems you face.

Athens is a Greek city, a capital city, and a center for Greeks around the world. Having said that, Athens is changing and evolving. I remember seeing a young woman who was black in a parade, and she was proudly holding the flag—I think what she was saying was, ‘I’m as Greek as you are.’ We want to make sure everyone living in the city has the same rights and obligations.

AF: What are the most important elements of your plans to help Athens combat climate change—and prepare for its inevitable impacts in the years ahead?

KB: Think different! It is all about working bottom up. What’s happening that is most interesting in terms of public policy is in the cities, which are true laboratories of innovation. Nation-states are failing—there’s so much partisanship, and a toxic environment, and bureaucracies that cannot handle real problems; cities are closer to the citizen. We are proud to be a part of C40. Athens has developed a policy for sustainability and resilience. Among other things, we are working on ambitious but realistic interventions to liberate public space, multiplying green space, and creating car-free zones. For us, climate change is not a theory or an abstraction. It is a real and present danger that we can’t just sweep under the rug. It demands concrete responses.

AF: You recently had the opportunity to return to Cambridge and Harvard. What level of interest did you find in the future of Athens? Are there things you have learned from American cities, and what can the United States learn from you?

KB: I was enthused and heartened by the level of interest and am thankful for the engagement. I must admit that I was very proud to represent a city with a long and glorious past and a promising, bright future. We may live on different sides of the Atlantic, and in very different cities, but it is interesting that we face similar challenges as urban centers evolve and are transformed. And it is always great to share experiences and learning moments. Policies to further resilience are the most obvious example. And of course, battling social inequalities is at the top of all of our agendas. I am glad to have begun promising and fruitful conversations which will continue in the months and years to come.

Photograph: Athens Mayor Kostas Bakoyannis. Credit: City of Athens.

With the interstate highway system in its seventh decade, the condition of many urban highways in the United States has deteriorated. Crumbling viaducts and other unsafe conditions call for an urgent fix. But rebuilding is complicated by rising construction costs, higher engineering and safety standards, scant funding, and other factors. While the federal government underwrote most of the cost of building the interstate system in the 1950s and 1960s, state and local governments now provide about 80 percent of public infrastructure funding. With perspectives on land use, transit, and equity also evolving, many cities are finding themselves at a crossroads when it comes to highways: remove or rebuild?

Some cities are opting for reconstruction. In Orlando, Florida, a 21-mile stretch of interstate jammed with 200,000 vehicles a day is being upgraded in the $2.3 billion “I-4 Ultimate” project, which includes building or rebuilding 140 bridges, redesigning 15 interchanges, moving exits, and adding toll lanes. But other cities have removed their highways entirely or relocated them underground, which repairs divided neighborhoods and opens new vistas. San Francisco’s Octavia Boulevard, completed in 2003, replaced the former Central Freeway, damaged in the 1989 Loma Prieta earthquake. Boston’s “Big Dig” moved an elevated section of the Central Artery underground, making way for the Rose Kennedy Greenway and reconnecting downtown districts to the harborfront.

Following these and other successful projects in places from Portland to Chattanooga, some of the biggest urban highway infrastructure efforts now involve deconstruction. Cities and states are trading highways for boulevards and connected streets that create space for public transit, walking, and cycling.

The Michigan Department of Transportation is planning to convert a one-mile stretch of I-375 in Detroit into a surface street; its construction in the 1960s paved over black neighborhoods in the city’s core. The Texas DOT is exploring ways to remove or reduce the footprint of the two major interstates that cut through Dallas, I-345 and I-30.

While government plays a key role, the highway removal movement often is built “from a grassroots base, by people in the neighborhood who have a vision for what it could be without the highway,” says Ben Crowther, manager of the Highways to Boulevards program of the Congress for the New Urbanism (CNU). The organization advocates for replacing freeways with streets networks that can contribute to urban vitality and livability. But this is no high-speed process, Crowther says. These efforts “don’t take years—they take decades.”

An Accelerating Trend

“Urban highway removal has been happening in the United States for the last 30 years,” says Ian Lockwood, a livable transportation engineer with Toole Design Group in Orlando. “During the past few years, interest has accelerated.”

Lockwood has served multiple times on the National Advisory Committee for CNU’s Freeways Without Futures report, which identifies and studies roadways that are ripe for removal (see sidebar). Since 1987, more than 20 highway segments have been removed from downtowns and urban neighborhoods and waterfronts, mostly in North America, says CNU. Lockwood says the movement has gained a national focus as more cities recognize “how costly and incompatible building highways was in cities.”

According to federal lore, President Eisenhower didn’t intend for interstates to blast through cities when he signed the Federal Aid Highway Act in 1956. But during previous congressional hearings, mayors and municipal associations had testified in favor of the interstate system because of the benefits cities expected to receive from urban highway segments, and the idea soon became unstoppable. The interstate system would eventually span 47,000 miles, many of them routed through cities experiencing what would turn out to be peak mid-century population growth.

Lockwood, who has worked on many highway removal projects, says bringing highways up to code can heavily impact neighborhoods, due to requirements such as adding lanes or bridges and realigning ramps. Removal, however, has positive impacts. “As we slow things down, value gets added” to cities through more mobility choices, better urban design, and greater investments, which draw new people and businesses, he says.

“This trend is part of an evolution in how we think about who cities are designed to serve,” says Lincoln Institute of Land Policy Associate Program Director Jessie Grogan, who leads the organization’s work in the area of reducing poverty and spatial inequality. “No longer are cities being planned for cars and commuters from the suburbs; instead, their multiple roles as commerce centers, homes, and places of recreation and tourism are being acknowledged and encouraged.”

This trend also has economic benefits. Milwaukee replaced the 0.8-mile elevated Park East Freeway spur with McKinley Boulevard and restored the street grid to enhance access to downtown, surrounding neighborhoods, and the Milwaukee Riverwalk. A master urban design plan and form-based code were prepared to shape pedestrian-scaled development and reinforce the area’s original form and character. Removing the spur cost $25 million in federal and state funds, as well as local tax increment financing (TIF) funds, says Peter Park, former Milwaukee planning director. The project transformed 24 underutilized acres into prime downtown real estate. Ongoing development in the area has helped generate more than $1 billion in new downtown investments, Park says. Between 2001 and 2006, the average assessed land values per acre in the freeway footprint grew by over 180 percent, and the average assessed land values in the TIF district grew by 45 percent, compared to a citywide increase of 25 percent.

Freeways Without Futures

For over a decade, the Congress for the New Urbanism (CNU) has campaigned for removing highways to improve cities. CNU published its first biannual Freeways Without Futures report in 2008, charting the benefits of highway removal, including knitting neighborhoods and communities together; revitalizing downtown cores; supporting active transportation; freeing up land for redevelopment for affordable housing, new businesses, and open space; and increasing tax revenues. The latest Freeways Without Futures report (CNU 2019) provides highway removal case studies for: I-10 (Claiborne Expressway, New Orleans, LA); I-275 (Tampa, FL); I-345 (Dallas, TX); I-35 (Austin, TX); I-5 (Portland, OR); I-64 (Louisville, KY); I-70 (Denver, CO); I-81 (Syracuse, NY); I-980 (Oakland, CA); and Kensington and Scajaquada Expressways (Buffalo, NY).

“We’ve shown that when you take the highway out of the city, it gets better,” says Park. “It’s that simple.” The most valuable real estate in any city is downtown, adds Park, who is a consultant to cities, a repeat member of CNU’s National Advisory Committee for the Freeways Without Futures report, and a former Lincoln/Loeb Fellow. By removing a highway, a city can develop more valuable assets, he says. An aging highway might attract matching dollars from the federal government for repairs, but if the city removes it and frees up land for redevelopment, that’s a much better long-term option for producing jobs, housing, tax revenues, and other benefits: “Building a city is the long play. There are no examples of a neighborhood that improved when a highway was cut through or over it. But every in-city highway removal has improved economic, environmental, and social opportunities for the local community.”

Overcoming a Dubious Legacy

While Eisenhower-era advocates promoted urban highways as expedient for shipping companies and suburban commuters, time has revealed a different story. Demographic and health data, photos, and maps confirm a fact known all too well by those living adjacent to highways: these roads cause serious health, economic, social, and environmental damage. Inserting highways often occurred in conjunction with “urban renewal” efforts, which targeted predominantly low-income and black communities with the least political purchase and least likelihood of resistance. Freeway construction in many U.S. cities caused homes and businesses to be demolished; limited access to housing, services, jobs, and open space; and polluted air, soil, and water.

Research on the short- and long-term impacts of living, working, and attending school near highways has documented many environmental and health risks, including elevated rates of asthma, cardiovascular disease, preterm birth, immune damage, and cancer. Tailpipe exhaust contains particulate matter, carbon monoxide, nitrogen oxides, and volatile organic compounds (VOCs) such as benzene. VOCs can react with nitrogen oxides to produce ozone, the most widespread outdoor air pollutant. Children, older adults, and people with preexisting conditions, especially in low-income urban areas, are at greater risk for air pollution-related health impacts, according to the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA). These environmental and health risks persist despite today’s more stringent emission and fuel standards, which have reduced harmful emissions by 90 percent compared to 30 years ago (EPA 2014).

“It’s important to understand the impact of the highway on the local community,” says Chris Schildt, senior associate at Oakland-based PolicyLink, a national research and action institute for advancing economic and social equity. Schildt managed the All-In Cities Anti-Displacement Policy Network in 2018 and 2019, which was composed of elected officials, senior staff, and representatives of local organizations in 11 cities impacted by displacement. The network focused on antidisplacement strategies cities can use when planning new public infrastructure investments.

“This is a chance for cities to start to repair the harm they created by bringing highways” through neighborhoods, Schildt says. One way to do that is for cities to secure land produced by highway removals for the community through land trusts or nonprofit organizations. If the city gains ownership of the land with the intent to redevelop, Schildt says, it should make sure that what gets built reflects actual needs expressed by the community.

In Minneapolis, the city’s newly adopted comprehensive plan includes a Freeway Remediation Recovery policy, which states the city will “repurpose space taken by construction of the interstate highway system and use it to reconnect neighborhoods and provide needed housing, employment, green space, clean energy, and other amenities consistent with city goals.” The city estimates the impacts on land value and tax revenue for property taken for freeway construction at $655 million.

Reclaiming a Roadway in Rochester

On a one-mile stretch of road in Rochester, New York, a neighborhood is growing, with new housing, restaurants, and retail. It’s the kind of development that might seem promising in any rebounding legacy city—but it’s especially remarkable for its location atop a former section of highway.

In the 1950s and early 1960s, a growing population of 332,000 and an increasingly traffic-clogged downtown led Rochester to construct the Inner Loop, a sunken beltway around the city core that spanned up to 12 lanes with travel lanes, ramps, and frontage roads. Officials demolished nearly 1,300 homes and businesses to make way for the 2.7-mile expressway, which connects to I-490. At least two similar projects didn’t get built because of local opposition. Before the loop’s eastern segment was built, the corridor was home to a working-class neighborhood with dense, tenement-style apartment buildings that was connected to more affluent East End neighborhoods. In the five decades that followed, as population declined by a third, many sites adjacent to the loop remained or became vacant.

The idea of eliminating the loop’s eastern segment and replacing it with a boulevard first appeared in 1990 in the city’s Vision 2000 plan, says Erik Frisch, a transportation planner and manager of special projects for the Rochester Department of Environmental Services: “From that point forward, every city plan created by or on behalf of the city contained the idea of removing this section, saying it had been overbuilt and created a moat-like barrier to downtown.” Traffic on this section of highway, which Frisch said never met its potential, had declined to only 7,000 vehicles per day, a volume that could be accommodated by a boulevard.

Federally funded planning and scoping began in 2008, says Frisch, but it wasn’t until 2013, when the city secured a TIGER (Transportation Investment Generating Economic Recovery) grant, that the project began to take shape. The city adjusted its plans, mobilized public engagement, and moved quickly to complete design and begin construction. The $22 million planning and construction costs were covered with $17.7 million in federal TIGER funds, $3.8 million in state matching funds, and $414,000 in city matching funds.

“It took so long to go from idea to reality that we had many planning layers,” notes Frisch. The city worked with small businesses, developers, and property owners in the corridor and on adjacent streets. “The goal of this effort was consistent: to serve transportation needs and encourage investment in a walkable and bikeable neighborhood.”

In 2014, the city began the work of burying the segment and building an at-grade, two-way street with cross-street connections to downtown. It demolished retaining walls and three bridges that had spanned the expressway and filled the roadbed with 120,000 cubic yards of earth. Stantec engineers and urban designers helped plan the streets, addressing challenges such as design for the north and south ends of the boulevard to ensure safe transitions from expressway to city streets. Getting land uses and character right was a big part of the redevelopment success, says Frisch. The city extended the existing center-city zoning, which is a form-based code, to these properties.

Completed in 2017, the new Union Street features two to four vehicle lanes, parking lanes, sidewalks, two-way protected bike lanes, signaled crosswalks, bike racks, benches, trees, and landscaping. The city maintains the new street infrastructure. Between 2014 and 2019, walking increased 50 percent and biking 60 percent in the project area, and the city anticipates more pedestrian and bike traffic as development around Union Street increases, says Frisch.

Charlotte Square on the Loop, with 50 affordable apartments, eight of which are reserved for ex-offenders reentering the workforce, was the first development in Rochester’s Inner Loop East Transformation Project. In the fast-growing area, Rochester-based Home Leasing also developed 10 market-rate townhomes and recently began construction on Union Square at the East End for Trillium Health, with 66 affordable apartments, including homes for people living with HIV and seniors requiring assistance. The project also will have a pharmacy, a service that downtown had lacked.

In all, the new neighborhood on and around the former expressway will include 534 housing units, more than half subsidized or below market rate, and 152,000 square feet of new commercial space, including services and amenities such as a day care center and restaurants, reflecting the city’s priority for an inclusive neighborhood with affordable homes and needed services. The largest project located on the new parcels will be the Neighborhood of Play, an expansion of the city’s popular Strong National Museum of Play that will include 236 apartments, a 120-suite hotel, retail, and a parking garage.

Seeing “$229 million in economic development from $22 million in public investment is a real coup,” said Anne DaSilva Tella, Rochester’s assistant commissioner of the Department of Neighborhood and Business Development, in a CNU webinar (CNU 2020). She noted that the project had also created 170 permanent jobs and over 2,000 construction jobs.

“The value created on the 6.5 acres is an incredible return on investment,” says Frisch. With only one project so far completed within the seven parcels created by burying the expressway, the city doesn’t have property tax revenues yet. But Frisch says private investment that otherwise would not have happened has extended beyond the site to increase property values and tax revenues and encourage new development, including residential and mixed-use structures on both sides of the boulevard, and redevelopment of nearby brownfield sites. Within blocks, a former hospital campus and an underused office building are being redeveloped, and a brewpub is expanding.

Removing the highway segment “has lifted the whole downtown area,” says Frisch. “We’ve seen it come back strong, because we’re making places of value where people want to invest.” The city also saved taxpayers $34 million by avoiding the future costs of federally required highway lifecycle repairs and maintenance. “That alone was greater than the project cost,” he says. The city recently began a Phase 2 planning study for the potential removal of the northern segment of the Inner Loop, which could help an area with more concentrated poverty connect to economic opportunities downtown.

“When federal or state funds are available for this kind of major investment in infrastructure, examples like Rochester show how these investments are repaid in multiples,” says Grogan of the Lincoln Institute. “Not only is this good for the short-term bottom line of cities, it can also increase access to opportunity for residents, which can lead to an improvement in their long-term financial and other life outcomes.”

I-10 in New Orleans

“My early memories of Claiborne Avenue were of being able to walk to the butcher, the grocery store, the dance supply shop,” says Amy Stelly, an urban planner and designer. “Those kinds of businesses don’t exist now. Some people lost land, some lost their businesses. We had a median with grass and trees and a grand traffic circle. Everyone misses that, because it made the area beautiful.”

Stelly is cofounder and creative director of the Claiborne Avenue Alliance, a coalition of local residents and property and business owners lobbying to “reclaim, restore, and rebuild” the Claiborne Corridor in New Orleans, which for over half a century has existed in the shadows of the elevated I-10 expressway. As a kid, she says, “I knew intuitively this was not right, and promised myself to work to change this situation.”

One of CNU’s Freeways Without Futures, the I-10 Claiborne Expressway slices through the neighborhood of Tremé (tre-MAY). Located next to the French Quarter, Tremé historically was the city’s main community of free people of color, and is renowned for its African-American and Creole-influenced food, music, and culture. Claiborne Avenue, which stretches for seven blocks through Tremé, was its main boulevard and commercial corridor, distinguished by a wide, tree-lined median park that served as the community’s main gathering place, including for Mardi Gras parades. Today, Mardi Gras revelers gather within sight of looming overpasses.

Construction on the Claiborne Expressway finished in 1968, around the time that a decades-long preservation battle resulted in the defeat of a proposed expressway along the Mississippi River in the French Quarter. The Claiborne Avenue community had little political clout. Hundreds of businesses, homes, and trees in the thriving corridor had been destroyed.

In 2012, Stelly returned to Tremé and her childhood home less than two blocks from the interstate after working for years in other cities, including with New Urbanist planners Andrés Duany and Elizabeth Plater-Zyberk. She began researching the history of the I-10 and became an advocate, like others before her, for taking down what many call “the monster.” Few thriving businesses line the corridor now, and the paving beneath the expressway is used as “a two-mile free parking lot,” Stelly says, with some areas occupied with drug sales, prostitution, and encampments for homeless people.

Demographic data point to impacts on the area’s population, racial composition, and economic level at least partially due to the arrival of the interstate. Over the past few decades, Tremé’s population has declined along with that of the city at large; the population of New Orleans shrank from 628,000 in 1960 to an estimated 391,000 by 2018. Between 2000 and 2017, the population of Tremé declined from 8,853 to 4,682, according to the Data Center, an independent nonprofit data analysis resource for Southeast Louisiana (The Data Center 2019). Both declines were partly the result of Hurricane Katrina, which caused significant flooding and damage in 2005. Tremé saw a post-Katrina influx of more affluent white residents, amplified by outside investors who renovated or built homes for short-term rentals, displacing long-term residents. In 2000, over 92 percent of households were black, and 57 percent lived below the poverty line; by 2017, 63 percent of households were black, 28 percent were white, and 39 percent of residents were living in poverty, compared to a citywide rate of 25 percent.

The notion of removing I-10 has been the subject of multiple studies, the first dating to the 1970s. In 2010, CNU’s Highways to Boulevards program brought planners to Tremé to create a vision for restoring the commercial corridor. A subsequent report and preliminary design advocated for the restoration of North Claiborne Avenue as a vibrant boulevard, with new street connections and multimodal infrastructure, a landscaped median park and grand traffic circle, and new homes and businesses (Smart Mobility and Waggonner & Ball 2010).

These planning efforts helped the city obtain a $2 million federal TIGER planning grant, which funded the Livable Claiborne Communities Study (Kittelson & Associates and Goody Clancy 2014). That study presented three options: maintain the expressway ($300 million for repair and maintenance over 20 years), remove ramps and develop street infrastructure in residential areas ($100 million to $452 million over the same time period), or remove the expressway entirely and develop a street-level urban boulevard, new street connections, and alternative transportation infrastructure ($1 billion to $4 billion). The third option would reclaim nearly 50 acres of land for open space and redevelopment.

While CNU’s vision of removing the highway and restoring the corridor “really resonates with people,” says Stelly, the city pursued another path. In 2017, city leaders partnered with the Foundation for Louisiana to launch an effort to develop the Claiborne Cultural Innovation District (CID) under I-10. With support from city, state, and regional agencies and the Greater New Orleans Funders Network, composed of 10 national and local foundations, a master plan for a 19-block innovation district was developed that would include micro-businesses, a marketplace, a youth activity area, performance space, and green infrastructure elements including bioswales, trees, and freeway drainage systems. The district would be phased in over 15 years, at a cost of $10 million to $45 million. Though some areas beneath the expressway have drawn artists, pop-up retail, and food vendors, revitalization has not been widespread or consistent, says Stelly, illustrating her point with a photo of an abandoned shipping-container kiosk that now provides a place for homeless people to gather.

The Alliance has objected to the plan and called for freeway removal, as well as for funds to improve the avenue’s existing building stock, for infill development on vacant land, and for restoration of the median as public open space. The group faces political opposition, however, from heavyhitters including the Port of New Orleans, which generates $100 million in revenue annually. In 2013, Port officials publicly supported the retention of I-10 as an important corridor between industrial real estate properties on the Inner Harbor and its riverfront facilities. The irony, says Stelly, is that “the avenue beneath the interstate is often empty while the interstate is backed up. People don’t think of other options.”

The Alliance has been gathering data to convince the community and city officials that the CNU vision will provide economic, social, and health benefits. The group commissioned a study by the Louisiana State University Health Sciences Center School of Public Health, located just south of Tremé, that analyzed decibel levels, air quality, and other indicators. The study found concerns including traffic-related air contaminants, lead in the soil, noise pollution, and fine-particulate emissions. It said vulnerable populations included children, seniors, pregnant women, those with compromised immune systems, and homeless populations living under I-10, and that policies encouraging use of the land beneath the interstate posed additional threats to health. The study also noted “the removal and paving over of historic green spaces along the corridor have exacerbated the impacts of local flooding, with consequences for water quality, ease of local transportation, [and] use of outdoor spaces.”

In summary, the LSU researchers noted that the interstate’s “physical division of previously connected neighborhoods and the removal of businesses along what used to be a commercial artery have fragmented the community socially, culturally, and economically. Today, poverty and crime are disproportionately experienced by residents of the Claiborne Corridor, and reliable access to jobs, housing, and transportation remains a challenge” (LSU 2019).

In January 2020, the Alliance launched a data-gathering “tactical urbanism” project on I-10 structural columns called “Paradise Lost, Paradise Found” to seek community responses to its vision for a restored Claiborne Avenue. It also presented its vision to the New Orleans City Council’s Transportation Committee.

“Very clear environmental racism led to the destruction of businesses and homes along that corridor,” notes Kristin Gisleson Palmer, the city council member who represents Tremé and chairs the Transportation Committee. As a city council member in 2010, Palmer advocated for taking down the expressway and wrote a grant that led to the Livable Claiborne Communities Study.

Given the increasing impacts of climate change, including storms that repeatedly flood Tremé and other parts of the city, she says, the city council has priorities other than removing the viaduct. Short-term, the city’s focus in the Claiborne Corridor should be on an incremental plan for new green infrastructure and housing, Palmer suggests. Bike and walking paths, alternative transportation, and flexible open space with trees and other stormwater management elements under and adjacent to the expressway would mitigate flood risks, enhance the corridor’s business environment, and still be useful if the expressway eventually were taken down.

Palmer still advocates for removal, as do most people in the community, she says, though some fear that taking it down will lead to further gentrification and displacement.

The Way Forward

In July 2019, the U.S. Senate’s Environment and Public Works Committee advanced the America’s Transportation Infrastructure Act of 2019, which includes funding for the study and removal of highways in cities. The five-year program would allocate grants of up to $2 million for planning, $15 million for technical assistance, and $5 million up to half the total cost of capital construction, with total federal assistance capped at 80 percent. Priority would be given to disadvantaged communities whose highway removal projects could be covered completely. Unlike past federal block grants, this funding is targeted specifically for removing highways, and focuses on economic development. Grants would be available to cities, states, metropolitan planning organizations, and, for the first time, community and nonprofit organizations.

To prepare for a potential infusion of federal highway removal funds, CNU is assembling a best practices manual and tool kit that could be adopted by municipalities. “Cities have been working from scratch,” says Larry Gould, a principal and transit planner with NelsonNygaard in New York City and a CNU board member. Decisions about highway removals are “context-sensitive,” he says, and determining factors include physical and policy contexts, as well as funding and community vision. The manual will likely include design standards, transportation network concepts, engineering specifications, and metrics to measure success.

Some planners have already been sharing lessons learned. In a webinar for the global Institute for Transportation and Development Policy on the unintended consequences and solutions for urban highways, Peter Park outlined several requirements for successful highway removal and redevelopment (ITDP 2019):

1. strong community support, leadership, and political will;
2. an urban vision for the city that is not dominated by automobiles and favors short trips by different modes, such as walking and biking, along routes that are part of the city fabric, like well-connected streets and multiuse path networks;
3. decisions driven by a long-term community investment strategy rather than by the short-term pressure of spending federal allocations;
4. control of land by local government and clear regulations, such as form-based codes that create walkable urban places and shape new development that supports priorities like affordable housing and job creation.

PolicyLink’s Schildt says public officials and staff should consider key questions: Has the city discussed highway removal with the neighborhoods affected before seeking funding or beginning planning? How will the city reduce the impacts of deconstruction? How will the city ensure that investments don’t signal to the private market that this is an up-and-coming neighborhood, which could catalyze higher land costs, rent increases, and destabilization? What kinds of affordable housing, tenant protections, and job-generation policies and programs are in place? Be transparent about the realities on the ground and present them to the community early in the planning process, says Schildt. “If you receive a $2 million grant for planning a highway teardown that took 10 years to get, but the community doesn’t want to remove the highway, are you willing to reject it and start over with a planning process that identifies and responds to what the community wants?”

As urban highway removal becomes a viable option, the costs and benefits are increasingly clear. New Orleans City Council member Palmer notes the city now has “concrete examples of other cities that have taken down expressways” resulting in success and economic development. “The reality is that something has to be done with the expressway, and at some point the feds are going to have to reconstruct it or take it down,” she says. “Taking it down is expensive, but reconstructing it could cost even more.”

Kathleen McCormick, principal of Fountainhead Communications in Boulder, Colorado, writes frequently about healthy, sustainable, and resilient communities. As a board member for CNU Colorado in 2012–2014, she advocated for removing I-70 through Denver.

Photograph: Milwaukee tore down the 0.8-mile Park East Freeway spur, replacing it with McKinley Boulevard and freeing up 24 acres of land for redevelopment. Credit: Courtesy of Congress for the New Urbanism.

References

City of Minneapolis. 2019. “Freeway Remediation Policy.” Minneapolis 2040 (website). https://minneapolis2040.com/policies/freeway-remediation.

CNU (Congress for the New Urbanism). 2019. Freeways Without Futures. Washington, DC: CNU. https://www.cnu.org/highways-boulevards/freeways-without-futures/2019.

CNU (Congress for the New Urbanism), Maryland Department of Planning, and Smart Growth Network. 2020. “American Highways Are Being Removed. What’s Next?” Webinar. February 4. https://smartgrowth.org/american-highways-are-being-removed-whats-next.

ITDP (Institute for Transportation and Development Policy). 2019. “Urban Highways: Unintended Consequences and Possible Solutions.” Webinar. December 16. https://www.itdp.org/event/urban-highways/.

ITDP (Institute of Transportation and Development Policy) and EMBARQ. 2012. The Life and Death of Urban Highways. New York, NY: ITDP (March). https://www.itdp.org/2012/03/13/the-life-and-death-of-urban-highways/.

Kittelson & Associates and Goody Clancy. 2014. “Livable Claiborne Communities Final Report.” https://s3.amazonaws.com/networkneworleans/9-LCC-Study-Final-Report-web.pdf.

LSU (Louisiana State University Health-New Orleans School of Public Health). 2019. “Traffic-Related Pollutants and Human Health Within the I-10 Claiborne Corridor, New Orleans, LA: Land Use Implications.” April 4. https://www.cnu.org/sites/default/files/Claiborne%20Corridor%20Report_KATNER_05042019.pdf.

Plyer, Allison, and Lamar Gardere. 2018. “The New Orleans Prosperity Index: Tricentennial Edition: Measuring New Orleans’ Progress toward Prosperity.” New Orleans, LA: The Data Center (April). https://s3.amazonaws.com/gnocdc/reports/ProsperityIndex.pdf.

Smart Mobility and Waggonner & Ball. 2010. “Restoring Claiborne Avenue: Alternatives for the Future of Claiborne Avenue.” July. https://www.cnu.org/sites/default/files/Claiborne_Alternatives_071510.pdf.

The Data Center. 2019. “Tremé/Lafitte Statistical Area.” Data Resources (website). Last updated April 19, 2019. https://www.datacenterresearch.org/data-resources/neighborhood-data/district-4/treme-lafitte/.

EPA (U.S. Environmental Protection Agency). 2014. “Near Roadway Air Pollution and Health: Frequently Asked Questions.” Washington, DC: U.S. Environmental Protection Agency, Office of Transportation and Air Quality (August). https://www.epa.gov/sites/production/files/2015-11/documents/420f14044_0.pdf.