During one of my rough days as a substitute teacher, I got
the idea of having the class look up their favorite city on Google-Earth,
hoping to kill time until the bell rang. One of them picked Los Angeles, and
inquired about the “gray thing” running through the city. “That’s the Los
Angeles river” I told him. More questions followed about why it was that color,
and I explained that he was looking at concrete. The river runs through a man-made
concrete bank, designed to conserve the water and prevent flooding. The next
questions was “how come there’s no water in it?” and I replied “LA is arid, so
the river’s usually dry.” More questions, this time on how they can fill all
those swimming pools.
The fact of the
matter is, throughout the USA, we have cities that are not naturally
sustainable. LA was nothing until the dams and aqueducts came in, and even
today you’d think they’d have a water shortage. Same thing with Las Vegas,
Phoenix, El Paso, and just about every other city in the Southwest. So many of
our cities grew up from unnatural beginnings, with no plan for how they’d get
food, water, or building materials, nor any plan for bringing them in.
One of the first
essays is Aldo Leopold’s Land Ethic,
written in the 1940’s. The conservationist discusses communities setting rules
for land use, agreeing on the best way to save water, dispose of waste, and
take care of all the environmental issues that will effect the people.
Unfortunately, his essay stresses “community” which doesn’t always suffice. If
an industrialist wants to put a factory in a community, he can bypass their
laws by applying to the state for eminent domain. The same holds true for water
use; it is usually up to the state, not the community. Take for instance the
recent controversy with the village of Kiryas Joel in upstate New York. The
village wants to drill wells into the aqueduct, and the surrounding residents
claim this will deplete the aquifer which all of them are using. One community’s
needs may trump the other’s.
Fast forward to
1993 with Peter Calthorpe’s The Next
American Metropolis. He argues that car use has increased, leading to
greater sprawl (or vice versa.) His argument is that while Americans were
car-dependent back in the 70’s (OPEC embargo as proof) we were driving a lot
less than we are now. Commutes were shorter, and houses were smaller, but as
Americans desired bigger homes, the builders took their blueprints out into the
sticks. He cites “traditional” neighborhoods, with tightly packed townhouses,
where everyone gets along and you can walk to the store, school, and library, but
this did not work in post WWII USA. According to him, Americans liked the
feeling of privacy, so a private backyard made sense. A swimming pool in the
backyard would definitely ice the cake of suburbia, along with a nice big
private driveway, and a front yard to seclude the house from the street. But
when you add those things together, you get increased auto traffic, water use,
and lack of sociability. In New Jersey there’s a beautiful town of wooden homes
called Ocean Grove, and it’s definitely a sociable community. But it would not
work everywhere. A lot of people still want private houses.
The Sustainable Urban Development Reader
is a collection of writings on this topic. One of the greatest things about it
is that it doesn’t draw any conclusions, that’s left to the scholar. There’s no
sense in arguing that the desert is infertile or that New Orleans has poor
drainage, those are facts. What the book does is it collects articles on
sustainability going back decades, all the way to the days when some of our
greatest cities barely existed.
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