All posts by Tim De Chant

Mr. Darwin goes to the city

Sarah Goodyear, writing for the Atlantic Cities:

Seeing the salamanders there, with the subway rumbling past just a few hundred yards away, makes me feel a simple happiness. We have built a city up around them, but the salamanders persist. Now I’ve learned that these tiny, sensitive creatures are even more intriguing than I had realized. According to Jason Munshi-South, an assistant professor of environmental science at New York’s Baruch College, my beloved northern dusky salamanders actually illustrate how evolutionary biology is at work in an urban setting.

Ecologists aren’t the only natural scientists turning their eyes on the city.

The high cost of losing urban trees

Nate Berg, writing for the Atlantic Cities:

Through energy savings, air and water filtering and carbon storage, the urban trees of Tennessee account for more than $638 million in benefits, according to a report conducted by the Forest Service of the U.S. Department of Agriculture and released earlier this year.

Planting trees is probably one of the most cost-effective investments a city could make.

It wasn't your imagination

John Timmer, writing for Ars Technica:

With 15,000 record high temperatures set in the US, it was far and away the warmest March in the nation’s history, and only a single month—January of 2006—was as far off from the monthly average.

The greatest challenge of our species

Thomas Lovejoy:

The greatest violation by far of planetary boundaries is in biological diversity. This is because, by definition, all environmental problems affect living systems; biological diversity integrates them all. Running down our biological capital is pure folly.

Living things are—to borrow a related phrase—the keystone that holds it all together.

Smart sand

Another from Geoff Manaugh:

Imagine whole deserts of this stuff, magnetically self-assembling into temporary sandstone cities, walls, and hills, a landscape of shifting urban forms you have to travel through, map, or settle. Like a deleted scene from Invisible Cities as rewritten by Magnus Larsson.

Hong Kong's underground

Geoff Manaugh:

Civil engineers in Hong Kong are exploring the possibility of developing large-scale underground spaces—artificial caves—for incorporation into the city’s existing infrastructure.

End of the exurbs?

Sabrina Tavernise, reporting on the 2010 Census for the New York Times:

“The exurbs were the cutting edge of growth in the United States in the boom period,” Mr. Frey said. “That growth has really come to a standstill, and is maybe being given up for dead at this point.”

Given how closely the recession was tied to the housing bust, I’m curious to see what will happen when the market recovers.

The wilds of New Orleans

Nathaniel Rich, reporting from the Ninth Ward:

Katrina was not merely destructive; it brought about a “catastrophic reimagining of the landscape.” As in Japan, a surge of water destroyed most human structures. In much of the neighborhood, nothing remained — neither man, plants nor animals. The ecological term for this is simplification. “In 2007, before rebuilding started, when you went down there, it was like going to an agricultural field,” Blum says. “Literally it was wiped clean.”

What happened over the intervening years has made the Lower Ninth one of the richest ecological case studies in the world.

Urban ecology at its finest.

American elm trees cloned

Yale environment360:

From those clones, they are now working to isolate germplasm with desired traits — including resistance to Dutch elm disease, which impedes water transport and nutrient flow in the infected trees — for future elm breeding and biotechnology programs, which could lead to a revival of the species in its former habitat.

Between this and continuing efforts to breed blight-resistant American chestnut trees, we’re on the cusp of a new phase of anthropogenic succession. Not that anthropogenic succession is anything new—we’ve been changing the composition of landscapes on this continent for thousands of years. American Indians first brought fire, settlers later suppressed it, and the rise in global trade has introduced thousands of alien species and pathogens. Climate change and breeding programs are only the latest addition. The future of the forest is—as always—in flux.

The Midwest's big economic miscalculation

Micheline Maynard, writing for the Atlantic Cities:

All over the Midwest, cities and towns are embracing new growth in their traditional industries with relief and delight. In northern Minnesota, iron ore has made a comeback. In Youngstown, Ohio, a new $650 million steel plant is under construction. The Detroit Regional Chamber of Commerce has launched a new effort called MICHauto, devoted to “promoting, retaining and growing” Michigan’s auto industry. But I’m concerned that this “renaissance” may ultimately do more harm than good to the future of our industrial cities and states.

Maynard wants cities to look forward to the next big thing, not the big thing that was. But for cities and states devastated by deindustrialization, that’s not easy. Take my hometown of West Bend, Wisconsin. Since the mid-1990s, three major employers—some would say the three major employers—have left or been dismantled. All were manufacturing companies, much like in Michigan and Ohio.

Many people who probably would have worked in those factories have started small businesses. And good for them. They specialize in things like retail, construction, landscaping, or small manufacturing. And they did well—until the economy tanked. As small businesses in volatile industries, they didn’t have the resources to weather a years-long economic downturn.

So I can understand why places like Michigan would want to woo the car companies, or Ohio the steel mills. Cars and steel may not be the most stable industries, but they’re certainly more reliable than construction or landscaping. If you have a workforce that’s already trained for those kinds of jobs, why pass up the opportunity?

Which brings up a point that Maynard mentions, but doesn’t dwell on—education.

The reliance on industry as a career is still so psychologically strong that fewer than one in five of Michigan’s young people have the preparation they need to go to college, according to its governor, Rick Snyder.

For regions to move beyond their old, stand-by industries, they need a flexible workforce. And that requires training and education. Cities and states can dream all they want, but it’ll be for nothing if they don’t invest in education. That would be a big economic miscalculation.

The imposturbs

Palm Springs, Hong Kong.

Orange County, Turkey.

Beverly Hills, Egypt.

Nate Berg finds imposturbs everywhere.

In Star Wars, cities are evil

mos-eisley

George Lucas hates cities. At least that’s what I gather from decades of watching and rewatching the original Star Wars movies.

The Star Wars movies are famous for hewing to archetypal stories—hero sets out to save galaxy from evil warlords, hero confronts his (familial) past, hero grapples with his role as a savior. And the movies’ portrayal of urban agglomerations is similarly archetypal, drawing on a long tradition of damning the city while praising the countryside.

Let’s start from the beginning. When we meet our hero, Luke Skywalker, he’s lamenting how isolated life is on his aunt and uncle’s moisture farm on Tatooine. But it’s that same upbringing—away from the corrupting influence of a big city—that frames his character. Luke may be brooding and somewhat annoying on the surface, but deep down we understand him as innocent and inherently good.

A few scenes later, that isolation is shattered. His aunt and uncle are ruthlessly slaughtered by Imperial storm troopers—interlopers from the city—searching for R2-D2 and C-3PO. With few other options available, he joins Obi-Wan Kenobi, a philosophical hermit living out his days in the wilderness, on a journey to find Princess Leia. That journey starts in Mos Eisley, what Obi-Wan calls a “wretched hive of scum and villainy.” The characters in Mos Eisley live up to that description, providing a stark contrast to Luke and Obi-Wan. The cantina patrons are rude, incendiary, and violent. It’s quickly apparent that Mos Eisley has no redeeming qualities. The best thing to do in Mos Eisley is to leave—which with the help of Han Solo, they do.

The problem is, the next place they end up is even more treacherous. They drop out of hyperspace where they had expected to find Leia’s home planet of Alderaan, but instead are captured by the Death Star. The moon-sized space station is the city at its most extreme. The Death Star is not just a moon-sized spaceship with a city covering its surface—the whole thing is a city, straight through to the power station at its core. And until it’s destroyed at the end of A New Hope, it is the embodiment of the evil Empire.

But Lucas’s critique of the city doesn’t stop there. Darth Vader’s flagship, the Super Star Destroyer Executor, paints a silhouette that resembles a city skyline. Cloud City on Bespin—where our protagonists hope to find refuge—is anything but safe. Mayor Lando Calrissian betrays Han and his companions, turning them over to Vader. Granted, Lando later struggles to undo his betrayal by helping Luke, Leia, and Chewbacca escape, but it’s too little, too late. In the bowels of Cloud City, Han is frozen in carbonite and handed over to Boba Fett while Luke battles Vader, losing a hand in the process and discovering the grim truth about his father. Cloud City is like Mos Eisley—you can’t leave soon enough.

Contrast Mos Eisley, the Death Star, and Cloud City with the Rebel strongholds. The Rebel base on Yavin Four is an ancient temple nearly overrun by a jungle teeming and screeching with life. And the Rebel Alliance’s headquarters in The Empire Strikes Back are dug into the snowy surface of Hoth, a wasteland even more desolate than Tatooine.

Luke and Obi-Wan aren’t the only protagonists closely associated with the wilderness, either. We meet Yoda in the swamps of Dagoba. The little green fellow is seemingly the only sentient being on the entire planet. It’s also there on Dagoba that Luke trains to become a Jedi and where Obi-Wan shares with Luke his last bits of wisdom.

The entire trilogy comes to a climactic finish on and above the forest moon of Endor. The moon itself isn’t necessarily representative of anything, but its inhabitants are. Ewoks are introduced as primitive and superstitious, but they quickly become our heroes’ key allies. It seems improbable that their help was what sealed the deal, but really the Imperials were doomed from the start. Their base and shield generator stood out like sore thumbs in the forest. The Ewoks and their villages, on the other hand, blended right in. The Ewoks also used their superior knowledge of the forest to turn the tide of battle in their favor. Finally, Return of the Jedi ends with our heroes celebrating their victory in a tiny Ewok village, not on a massive battleship or in a city.

▪ ▪ ▪ ▪

But what about Coruscant¹? you might be thinking. Its residents cheered when the Empire was defeated in Return of the Jedi. That would seem to imply that Coruscant had some redeeming quality, that not all cities in Star Wars are evil. Technically, Coruscant wasn’t in the original trilogy prior to Lucas’s tinkering, and my analysis here has been limited to the original, unadulterated trilogy. But Coruscant is hard to ignore for two reasons: One, it’s a world that’s almost entirely urbanized, and two, even if it wasn’t portrayed in the original trilogy, it plays an undeniably central role in Star Wars mythology.

Coruscant’s portrayal is more complicated than other cities in the Star Wars universe. That’s in part because it wasn’t included in the original trilogy. Lucas’s vision for the first three movies was unsubtle—there’s good and there’s evil and there’s very little overlap between the two. Even the central characters that are the most conflicted—Han and Lando—end up so unambiguously good that they spearhead the two-pronged attack on the second Death Star. Coruscant doesn’t carry the same dichotomous baggage. Its later introduction means it’s wreathed in subtleties that are missing in the original movies. But ultimately, it’s still depicted as a bad place.

Long before we meet Luke, Coruscant was the seat of the Old Republic. For thousands of years, it was a force for good in the universe. It hosted the Imperial Senate. The Jedi Order was headquartered there, too. But over time, the Old Republic rotted like a tree—from the inside out—implying that the capital was at the center of that decay. Indeed, Palpatine plotted his takeover from a penthouse office on Coruscant and later made the planet-city capital of his Empire. On balance, Coruscant is more evil than good.

▪ ▪ ▪ ▪

George Lucas isn’t the only one who has juxtaposed virtuous rural folk with vile city dwellers. People have been doing that for centuries. In the late 1700s and early 1800s, the Romantic and Transcendentalist movements were intellectual reactions to the ascendancy of cities. For example, Ralph Waldo Emerson saw cities impersonal and anonymizing, their inhabitants despondent and listless. Romantics like Percy Bysshe Shelly often brooded over ancient ruins, remarking on how such constructs of society were often overwhelmed by nature, implying a sort of justice for the wrongs cities exact on humanity. Both groups built their reputations by extolling the virtues of the countryside while decrying the debasing influence of cities.

Star Wars is just another footnote in a bulging tome of intellectual criticism on cities. It may seem surprising that such commentary would come in the form of a sci-fi film littered with energy weapons and faster-than-light travel. But if you pause to consider George Lucas himself, it shouldn’t be. Just look at where he lives—on 4,700 acres of rolling oak woodlands, secluded from the chaos of the San Francisco Bay Area.


  1. For the unfamiliar, Coruscant is a world almost entirely covered by a city, reminiscent of Trantor in Isaac Asimov’s Foundation series. Though artist Ralph McQuarrie sketched concepts of a capital city for the original trilogy, Coruscant was never officially named or seen before Lucas tinkered with the films.

Thanks to Maura Chhun for her invaluable feedback.

Real-time wind map

Real-time wind map

You have to see this for yourself—the image above doesn’t do this map justice. The real-time patterns of wind across the lower 48 are mesmerizingly beautiful.

(What does this have to do with density? Wind is just air moving from high to low pressure, or in other words areas of high density to areas of low density.)

Via Samuel Arbesman.

Interview: Jon Christensen on California’s cities

Gold L.A.

The U.S. Census released a report on urban population on Monday, and in it was a perhaps-unexpected fact: Of the ten most densely populated cities, seven of them are in California. Indeed, California’s showing was so strong that the great bastion of urbanism in the United States — the New York-Newark metro area — just barely made the top five.

John King, the San Francisco Chronicle’s urban design critic, interviewed a number of experts about California’s unique status. Among them was Jon Christensen, executive director of the Bill Lane Center for the American West at Stanford University. One of Christensen’s quotes caught my attention, so I followed up with him via email to explore why California is such a hotbed of urbanism. Our correspondence follows:

Tim De Chant: What’s special about California that it has so many dense urban areas?

Jon Christensen: The American West, in general, and California, in particular, is really a metropolitan region and has been for a long time. California, Nevada, Utah, and Arizona are among the 10 most urbanized states. The settlement pattern in the West is one of concentrated cities surrounded by wide open spaces — often substantially made up of public lands. This is true of California as well.

So it’s really the interplay of the history of cities and their hinterlands in the American West that explains why California has such dense urban areas. The fact that they are among the most dense urban areas in the country is also a result of population growth in California. The state has been and still is a great place for many people to live.

De Chant: In your chat with John King, you said, “It’s a legacy of how in our minds’ eye we have always separated California into ‘urban’ land and ‘productive’ land and then wilderness, the cathedrals of nature.” Do you think that mental dichotomy has played a role in how California urbanized?

Christensen: I actually think that the way we have urbanized and the creation of that mental division, which is really a legacy of John Muir’s vision of California, have both played crucial roles in how we think about cities in California. This, in turn, shapes the way that density is measured, of course. Take the San Francisco-Oakland urban area, which as it is measured by the Census includes the populated areas of Marin but not the open lands of the Golden Gate National Recreation Area just to the west.

If those lands were included in the San Francisco-Oakland area, the denominator for the equation of people per square mile would be bigger, and the measure of density would be lower. That wouldn’t change the fact that the city is still one of the most densely populated in the country. But it does miss the fact that we live in a very densely populated metropolitan region that also has ready access to conserved public lands practically at our doorsteps, or a short drive or bus or bike ride away.

De Chant: In other parts of the country, that distinction isn’t so clear. Has that played a role in sprawl?

Christensen: I’m not sure that the mental distinction has played as important a role as the existence of public lands. Of course, public lands are, in some ways and particularly in some cases, the products of intentional human agency, political organizing, and conservation movements. This is true of the Golden Gate National Recreation Area and much of the rest of the lands protected around the Bay Area, for example.

A strong conservation vision runs deeply through the history of the Bay Area as Richard Walker shows in his great book The Country in the City. That explains a lot, here. But it doesn’t necessarily explain Los Angeles, Phoenix, or Las Vegas. For that, we have to look at public lands that were never homesteaded and thus have, to varying degrees, constrained cities. We also have to look at geography and topography. The San Gabriel Mountains constrain Los Angeles even more than the coastal mountains constrain the Bay Area.

De Chant: In a tweet you said you think of California as “quite a mixed up rather than clearly divided landscape.” Why the divide between the California of our imaginations and the California of reality?

Christensen: I think we still live in John Muir’s California in our minds, a state divided between the cities, the productive landscapes of farming, ranching, and mining, and the wilderness cathedrals of the Sierra Nevada. I think that’s changing as we recognize that people have played a role in constructing, shaping, and changing nature from the city out through the countryside and even to the wilderness, and that nature runs through it all as well.

The focus on hybrid human and natural landscapes, novel ecosystems, and ecosystem services all point to the ways that our thinking about nature is changing. But it’s changing slowly. John Muir’s California is still a powerful vision. It’s just too simple to be very useful in thinking about the present, let alone the future.

De Chant: In much of California, nature never feels far away. Why is that?

Christensen: Because it never is far away. Because of geography, topography, the history of settlement, and a long history of conservation efforts, wild nature is close in to the city in much of California, sometimes right in the middle of the city. We’re also bringing nature back to the city, daylighting creeks, restoring the L.A. River, planting urban gardens. And we’re increasingly realizing that nature is in the city already. It never went away. And we need to be more cognizant of the processes of nature that flow through the city and of which the city is made if we are going to fashion more sustainable urban living here in California and around the world.

De Chant: There’s on old saying, “As goes California, so goes the nation.” Do you think that’s the case with urban development?

Christensen: I do think that we have many useful things to share with the nation and the world from our history and experience. And from our current efforts to understand and shape nature in our metropolitan regions—in San Francisco, but even more so in Los Angeles, which is truly a global city in so many ways and the most densely populated city in the United States, as it happens.

But I don’t think it’s a simple matter of “as goes California, so goes the nation” or the world. Differences are important, whether they are historical, geographic, political, economic, cultural, or other differences. I think there are many similarities between cities in the United States and around the world, which makes me think that vocabularies, rules of thumb, lessons even, could be transferable. But they will have to be adapted to different cities, by the people making those cities.

De Chant: How do we transfer those lessons learned in California to other places?

Christensen: Your saying that “as goes California, so goes the nation” does get at a historical reality that California has been a site of innovations in ideas, technologies, policies that have influenced the nation and the world. And our dense cities in the San Francisco Bay Area and Los Angeles have also been key nodes in global networks of ideas, commerce, technology, and even species. The eucalyptus and palm are iconic examples. So I think the lessons will spread. But I also think it’s imperative that we speed up the process.

Over roughly the next two generations the urban population on the planet will double, and the urban built environment will have to double. How that happens will dramatically shape the future of how human beings live together and live with nature on Earth.

I don’t have answers, and I’m eager to learn, but I think we can start by mining our rich, diverse history and experience of thinking about and doing conservation and development together, in relationship to each other, over time in our cities, to come up with some common vocabularies, ways of speaking about this relationship, and rules of thumb, basic guides to planning and constructing hybrid human and natural cities, that can be adapted to different circumstances in different places. Then we need to figure out how to share these conceptual tools with the people who are actually going to build the cities of the future soon.

Photo by Neil Kremer.

When a parking lot is so much more

Eran Ben-Joseph:

Few of us spend much time thinking about parking beyond availability and convenience. But parking lots are, in fact, much more than spots to temporarily store cars: they are public spaces that have major impacts on the design of our cities and suburbs, on the natural environment and on the rhythms of daily life. We need to redefine what we mean by “parking lot” to include something that not only allows a driver to park his car, but also offers a variety of other public uses, mitigates its effect on the environment and gives greater consideration to aesthetics and architectural context.

Swelling cities threaten humanity, experts say

LiveScience:

While there were fewer than 20 cities of 1 million or more people a century ago, 450 such cities exist today, the researchers note. And even though such cities cover less than 5 percent of Earth’s land surface, they have a significant environmental footprint. “The way cities have grown since World War II is neither socially or environmentally sustainable, and the environmental cost of ongoing urban sprawl is too great to continue,” Karen Seto of Yale University said in a statement.

It doesn’t have to be this way. Curtailing sprawl and bolstering urban ecosystems will go a long way toward addressing those issues. And as Jon Christensen points out, cities are “humanity’s and nature’s only hope.”

Both coasts watch closely as San Francisco faces erosion

Felicity Barringer, reporting for the New York Times:

“Communities will be forced to respond in one way or another to the increased erosion and coastal storm damage,” economists at San Francisco State University concluded in a recent study. Communities can either plan for the long term or improvise, storm by storm, until ad hoc solutions are inadequate, they warned.

Officials in cities across the United States and Canada are staying in close touch with San Francisco planners. “People often wait to see what California does” about environmental hazards, said Gary B. Griggs, a professor of earth and planetary sciences at the University of California, Santa Cruz. “So we have a chance to have a big impact.”

JohnnyO’s bit of hydrofiction may not be so fictional after all.

California cities most densely populated in U.S.

John King, the San Francisco Chronicle’s urban design critic:

Of the 486 “urbanized areas,” only three of the 10 most densely populated are not in California: New York-Newark comes in fifth, “Urban Honolulu” eighth and Las Vegas-Henderson, Nev., 10th.