Lock the doors! Call the H.O.A.! It’s Halloween, the one night each year when we face the most terrifying objects of our imagination:
Youth on the street.
There is indeed a certain, almost unnerving aptness to Halloween as the “scary” holiday. If you tossed just about every stereotypical suburban fear into a bubbling cauldron, you would probably end up with a potion that smelled an awful lot like trick-or-treating.
Imagine it: young people, often strangers, out late at night, in strange garb, sometimes without formal supervision, taking over the street – the mind boggles at every clause!
And yet, despite the goblins and ghouls, Halloween is probably the single night of the year when most of us feel most safe on the street.
We feel safer from cars, because there are different norms about where pedestrians are expected and allowed. And we feel safer from people, because there’s enough nightlife to enforce (and reinforce) social behavior – consider Jane Jacobs’s eyes on the street.
And, in most neighborhoods, it’s all done without formal measures. There are no traffic-calming structures, no police; it’s a self-governed system of liveliness. It’s almost, dare I say, an act of guerilla urbanism – for one night each year, we get together to show off what our streets could be.
And then everything goes back to normal.
We return the streets to cars (or to emptiness), we go back to being afraid of strangers, and we forget that anything else is possible.
November 1. Photo: iStock
In fairness, regular nightlife probably isn’t possible in a typical suburban neighborhood, but we might ask ourselves whether it’s really so bad to knock on a neighbor’s door, to let kids off the sidewalk, to hear (or participate in) a little raucousness now and then.
And it bears considering whether even our idyllic image of Halloween is truly one to emulate. The classic setting is proud rows of well-spaced houses (bonus points if they’re in New England). Is it a picture that’s inclusive of other housing types? Is it classist? From Peanuts to Stranger Things, the most prominent representations of trick-or-treating are undeniably white- and middle-class-coded. Would I be as accepting of children at my door if they spoke differently than I do?
Ultimately, the point should not be to replicate our archetypical Halloween but to learn from it. What makes a good trick-or-treat street is not just streetlights or sidewalks but also social behavior. It’s a street that’s physically accessible, but it’s also a street where drivers expect and accept humans in the roadway. It’s a street where strangers can walk without judgement, where neighbors can ask each other for candy freely, where we can make noise and make a mess and have fun once in a while.
And while that might seem scary, I’d say it’s worth the thrill.
Joe Wilson is a second year master’s student in the Department of City and Regional Planning at UNC Chapel Hill, and the managing editor of Angles.
Feature image: still from It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown!; IMDB
The Supreme Court of the United States (SCOTUS) recently overturned a decades old ruling known colloquially as the Chevron Deference. This decision resulted from a challenge by the organization Loper Bright Enterprises Inc., a group of commercial fishing interests. The case, Loper Bright Enterprises, et al. v. Gina Raimondo Secretary of Commerce et al., brought two questions: Does the Magnuson-Stevens Act authorize the National Marine Fisheries Service to promulgate a rule that would require industry to pay for at-sea monitoring programs? Should the Court overrule Chevron v. Natural Resources Defense Council or at least clarify whether statutory silence on controversial powers creates an ambiguity requiring deference to the agency?
Specifically, the ruling’s consideration of the latter question led to overturning of precedent whereby ambiguous statutory language in federal legislation was addressed by outside intelligence agencies such as the EPA, HUD, or any other agency. Plainly, this means courts must resolve gaps in understandings related to any federal level legislation. The consequence of this is increasingly partisan interpretations of laws, the possibility of inconsistent rulings on challenges brought before the court system, and a potential overwhelming of the court system by increased litigation loads.
Photo: NOAA/Unsplash
At present, the ruling does not overturn previous matters of deference from the policy’s inception in 1984 until this year, though this may change as challenges are brought to varying precedents. Moving forward, impacts of this will be felt broadly. Those federal agencies serving in the role as interpreters of statutory language are now severely limited in their ability to provide impactful decision making for protection of public welfare since this role now shifts to judges within the court system. Consequently, assuming a worst-case scenario, it may be possible to form a business whose motives disfavor certain regulations. Said business may then bring challenges to those regulations. The manufacturing of these challenges, along with the slowing of interpretations from administrative agencies, and potentially inconsistent rulings may mean negative outcomes as a general statement.
Tying everything together, this represents a grave misstep by, what is increasingly clear, a partisan Supreme Court. As it relates to concerns of city planners, what is immediately apparent is what may happen with the Department of Housing and Urban Development, as an example. Since the agency regulates a host of issues including eviction procedures, tenant selection, prepayment of Section 515 mortgages, and design and construction standards held in the Fair Housing Act, among others, these issues are now in jeopardy on the basis of interpretation by individual judges.
Thus, planning for housing becomes considerably more difficult in some aspects as applicability has been called into doubt. For now, the decision effects only those agencies on the federal level. This may change over time as states, and even locales, find compelling arguments in new precedents that will surely come as a result of overturning established precedent through the Chevron Doctrine. Things to look out for may include challenges to zoning regulations and local entitlements by developers, which would effectively usurp the work of current and previous planners.
In any event, this case should only underscore the importance of professional planners to continue on and fight inane decisions of monied interests. This might mean working to increase specificity or reducing complexity in legislative language, depending on the issue. It also underscores the importance of being vigilant where bad faith actors may benefit in some way despite clear detriment toward others. Community input, particularly from marginalized populations, on issues of day-to-day significance will also be more critical than ever as we start to navigate this new landscape.
Nicholas Stover is a recent graduate of the master of city and regional planning program at UNC. His interests intersect with land use, environmental planning, and equitable development.
About the series: Welcome to our ongoing travel series. These are all posts written by planning students and professionals about what to do in a given city when looking for Brunch, a Brew, or a good idea on a Budget. To cap it all off, we include a fun planning fact!
By Jo Kwon
About the visit: At the beginning of this fall, I visited Dublin for the 35th International Geographical Congress conference. I got to present my work and hear about so many different research projects. On top of that, I got to visit new places!
Brunch
Irish Seafood Chowder & Brown bread. Photo: Jo Kwon
Irish brown bread is a traditional staple. The bread is dense and slightly sweet. It pairs with every meal. While in Dublin, don’t miss the opportunity to try the classic combination of Irish brown bread and seafood chowder. This creamy and flavorful soup, typically made with a variety of seafood, is a comforting choice, especially on Dublin’s frequent rainy days.
Brew
Bewley’sGraftonStreet. Photo: Jo Kwon.
While Guinness Brewery might be the top destination for beer lovers, tea is another essential part of the Dublin experience. During my visit, I couldn’t resist trying a traditional Irish tea. I went for the Cream for Two, which came with scones, small cakes, clotted cream, jam, and two kinds of tea. The black tea options, ranging from Irish Breakfast to Afternoon tea, offered a variety of flavors. The warm scones and jam together are a great combination! The warm scones and jam were a great match! The cafe even offers tours on Saturdays because of their art and stained glass.
Budget
Cliffsof Moher. Photo: Jo Kwon.
The Cliffs of Moher are another must-see in Ireland, located about 3.5 hours from Dublin, near the village of Liscannor. This scenic area frequently appears in films that showcase Ireland’s beauty. O’Brien’s Tower offers a chance to go a little higher to enjoy the breathtaking views and experience the strong winds. However, it’s crucial to take photos only in designated areas, as many people have risked their lives or even died while wandering off the trails. It was so windy that I even bumped into a stranger!
Fun Planning Fact
Spire of Dublin (City Center of Dublin). Photo: Jo Kwon
While I was in Dublin, my Uber driver mentioned that traffic was very bad due to a new transportation policy banning private vehicles in the city center, effective August 26, 2024. This policy aims to reduce traffic congestion and improve safety for pedestrians and cyclists. However, certain vehicles, such as taxis and emergency vehicles, may be exempt from the ban.
It’s been a month since the new transportation policy was implemented in Dublin, and the results from this past month have been published. There has been a 60% decrease in private car use on the quays, while public transport usage has increased by 11%. Moreover, foot traffic in the city center has risen compared to last year. However, the impact on retailers has been mixed, as some have experienced increased footfall while others report decreased sales. Retailers and disability groups have expressed concerns about the policy’s effects on business and accessibility.
Featured Image: Dublin’s skyline. Photo: Jo Kwon.
Jo (Joungwon) Kwon is a Ph.D. candidate in the Department of City and Regional Planning, driven by a deep interest in exploring the applications of visualizations in planning. Since joining CPJ in 2019, she has worked actively as an editor. With a diverse academic background in Statistics and English Literature, she holds an M.A. in Computational Media from Duke University. In her free time, she enjoys watching indie films, attending live performances, pursuing climbing adventures, and drinking a good cup of coffee.
This week in Chapel Hill a new year began. Thousands of students converged upon UNC’s campus (a select few upon New East, home of Carolina Planning) to begin the annual academic cycle, just as they have in innumerable seasons past. For Angles, though, this year is a special one. It is the blog’s tenth anniversary, an occasion which we believe merits celebration and contemplation.
Throughout the year, we will be publishing a series called “Angles of Reflection,” in which writers will engage in conversation with posts from the blog’s archive and explore how the field has changed — and how it has not — over the years. To kick things off, we’re going back to one of its earliest posts, Planning for the Phone Age.
Originally written in 2013 for Changing Media’s The Good Plan, this piece, by DCRP alum Lindsay Davis, took a look at the increasing distractions that smartphones were proving to be. Even at that time, Davis noted how they took people out of their physical surroundings, often to the detriment of interpersonal connection. “This,” she wrote, “leaves a new task up to cities — integrating the self and the cellphone into the public realm.”
A decade later, Davis’s words feel prescient. The self and the cellphone are by now intimately integrated, and devices guide our movement through the public realm almost like another sense. Beyond their use as tools — restaurant menus, bus passes — their influence extends into the very way we perceive ourselves and our places. GPS maps distort our sense of space and direction even as they increase our ability to get from one point to another. Group messages, digital classrooms and online forums take on many of the characteristics of social spaces. At a deep level, we relate ourselves to our screens, to our digital representations as dots on a map and text on a page. And, at times, this new sense of identity comes at the expense of our surroundings; our locations and our social interactions become more rooted in information than experience.
Photo credit: Robin Worrall, Unsplash
Often, and understandably, the focus has been on the disorienting effects of these changes. GPS navigation and social media physically alter our brains. In recent years, with the rise of AI-generated text and images, the links between digital and physical reality have become tenuous. It’s enough to rattle the nerves of even the staunchest techie.
Fundamentally, the challenge remains the same today as it did in 2013. How can we — individuals, communities, organizations, cities — use devices to connect to our environments, instead of bypassing them? How can we use them to expand our consciousness, rather than restricting it?
The solutions, undoubtedly, will require deep reflection.
Joe Wilson is a second year master’s student in the Department of City and Regional Planning at UNC Chapel Hill, and the managing editor of Angles.
Revitalizing Midwest Cities: Turning Riverfronts into Catalysts for Urban Renewal
Midwestern cities, often lacking the natural allure of coastal landscapes like those in Seattle or Miami, face unique challenges in urban planning and revitalization. Without an ice-age on the calendar or a mass flooding event, Midwest cities are left to make do with the natural environments they have. So, what can they do? One effective strategy for overcoming this lack of coastline is the transformation of neglected urban riverfronts into vibrant community assets. This approach leverages the natural scenic and recreational potential of riverfronts and stimulates economic growth and civic engagement, as shown by the successful revitalizations in Chattanooga, Tennessee, and Cincinnati, Ohio.
Chattanooga, Tennessee:
Chattanooga’s approach to revitalizing its downtown through its riverfront is a compelling story of urban renewal, leveraging both its historical assets and modern capabilities. Before its transformation, the downtown area was notably industrial, characterized by factories and disconnected from the Tennessee River that flowed beside it. The riverfront itself was underutilized, serving mainly as a barrier from the industrial buildings rather than a beneficial feature of the urban landscape. This all changed with the election of Mayor Bob Corker, who directed the city’s focus towards revitalizing the downtown waterfront, transforming it into a central hub for community and economic activity.
The Chattanooga Riverfront, January 1940.
Corker’s administration initiated significant changes by rerouting the Riverfront Parkway, a 4-lane highway that prevented any development within a half mile of the riverfront, to better connect the city to its river. The plan included expanding pedestrian access to the riverfront, creating park spaces, and developing attractions such as boat docks and concert venues. More specifically, this included such things as narrowing the previously expansive roadway to make it more pedestrian-friendly and integrating significant cultural institutions, like the Hunter Museum of American Art and the Creative Discovery Museum, into the riverfront’s landscape.
This transformation was aimed not only at beautifying the area, but also at making it a vibrant, accessible public space that could attract tourists and residents. When the area was finally pedestrian friendly, it was eventually time to commercialize. These restoration efforts culminated in the 21st Century Waterfront Plan, which transformed 129 acres of riverfront land into a mixed-use development.
Chattanooga Riverfront Parkway, before and after highway removal in 2004.
This comprehensive redevelopment dramatically increased the liveliness and interest of Chattanooga’s downtown, spurring economic growth by enhancing tourism and local business investments. The riverfront, once a neglected aspect of the city, became a central feature of Chattanooga’s identity, contributing to its recognition as a top place to visit and live.
Rendering of River City Company’s ONE Riverfront Plan.
Statistically, Chattanooga’s transformation has been marked by positive trends in property values, business growth, and demographic shifts. The population of downtown Chattanooga has grown by 11%, reversing decades of decline. This revival has not only increased the density of economic activities in the area but has also enhanced the city’s cultural and social fabric.
Chattanooga’s strategic focus on inclusive planning and community participation has led to it being widely regarded as one of the greatest urban transformations in recent years. This holistic approach to revitalizing the riverfront has not only improved the quality of life for residents but has also positioned Chattanooga as a model for other mid-sized cities aiming to leverage their riverfront assets for economic and social revitalization.
Cincinnati, Ohio:
Cincinnati, a city previously grappling with urban decay and a declining population, is witnessing a dramatic turnaround, largely due to the transformation of its riverfront. The city’s center right on the waterfront, once a bustling industrial center, days, was now filled with empty storefronts and abandoned warehouses. The urban core was starved of the vibrancy that once defined it, leading to economic stagnation, and massive out-migration of residents.
Historically, Cincinnati’s downtown on the Ohio River served as a bustling trade and transportation hub during the 19th century, seeing more than 30 steamboat visits a day. However, by the 20th century, as industrial activities declined, so did the riverfront area, with businesses moving inland due to pollution and decay.
Arial View of Downtown Cincinnati, 2007.
In 2007, the city launched a significant project known as The Banks. The Banks development transformed 18 acres of underused riverfront into a lively mixed-use area, featuring luxury apartments, restaurants, retail spaces, and sport venues. The project included crucial infrastructural enhancements like new parking garages and street grid improvements, essential for supporting the new developments.
The Banks Development Plan Rendering
This revitalization of the river has triggered significant residential and commercial growth. The mixed-use developments and public spaces, such as Smale Riverfront Park, have not only enhanced the aesthetic and functional appeal of the riverfront, but have also become a magnet for economic activity. Moreover, this redevelopment has been instrumental in attracting both new residents and tourists, reversing the trend of population decline and significantly boosting tax revenues, providing the city with resources to fund further improvements. Economically, the revitalization has attracted new businesses and investments, including a General Electric facility that promises 1,400 jobs. Socially, it has turned the riverfront into a desirable residential area, blending natural beauty with urban living.
Downtown Cincinnati in 2017, Post Construction of The Banks
The Cincinnati experience shows how deliberate land use planning and targeted urban development can effectively leverage natural assets like riverfronts to revitalize city centers. The transformation has turned the riverfront into a hub of activity that draws both residents and tourists, creating a lively, engaging space that contributes significantly to the city’s economic health and social vibrancy.
Improving The Midwest:
Both Chattanooga and Cincinnati exemplify the potential for Midwestern cities to breathe new life into their urban cores by reimagining and revitalizing their riverfronts. These case studies demonstrate not just the transformation of neglected zones into thriving spaces, but also underscore the broader theme of urban regeneration through strategic use of natural assets. This approach not only beautifies these cities, but also serves as a catalyst for economic and social revitalization.
Looking ahead, cities like St. Louis and Indianapolis have similar opportunities to transform their underutilized riverfronts into vibrant areas that could significantly impact their urban vitality. St. Louis, with the Mississippi River, and Indianapolis, with the White River, possess untapped potential that, if developed thoughtfully, could replicate the successes seen in Chattanooga and Cincinnati. By integrating mixed-use developments, enhancing connectivity, and promoting accessibility, these cities can foster environments that attract residents, businesses, and tourists alike.
The transformations in Chattanooga and Cincinnati are not just about adding parks or apartments; they are about rethinking how a city can interact with its natural environment to create spaces that offer economic opportunities and enhance quality of life. As more cities recognize the value of their riverfronts not just as borders or barriers but as frontiers for development, the Midwestern urban landscape can look forward to a future where riverfront downtowns are not just places to work but places to live, play, and thrive.
Sawyer Husain is a second-year undergraduate from Indianapolis, IN studying public policy and geography with a minor in urban planning. At Chapel Hill, he is actively involved in local historic preservation and affordable housing projects, with a specific interest in the ways arts and culture can enhance urban landscapes. Outside of school he enjoys running, videography, and travelling.
In these turmoil times, we need to hold the things we love close to us. And we also need to hold them accountable. I love Weaver Street Market – its colorful chairs, proximity to good food and fun drinks, and overall mission. I am not alone in this feeling: Weaver Street Market’s lawn is a beloved gathering space in Carrboro.
It is because of this love and appreciation for the space that we must hold a critical lens toward it. Weaver Street Market, despite its community-owned business model, is located on private property. This creates inherent restrictions to engagement and access, and tensions in its use and function.
This digital zine aims to inform Carrboro residents of these restrictions and tensions by highlighting the space’s Open Space Policy. It discusses both the origin of these policies and their consequences. Being aware of this history helps us better understand our rights in the space and support advocacy for a true public space going forward.
Kathryn Cunningham is a second-year master’s student with the Department of City and Regional Planning whose interests include climate change adaptation, community development, and public space. She studied Environmental Studies at Williams College and before coming to graduate school, she was in the San Francisco Bay Area managing sustainability projects for a law school. When not in class, she enjoys reading, running, and checking out all of the many concert venues the Research Triangle has to offer.
Does landscape form generate society? This is the question posed by Anthropologist Anna Tsing, whose fieldwork in Sorong, Indonesia tracks how rampant mining and construction of impervious concrete infrastructure transforms the city into a ‘pinball machine’ where mud and water interact, ricochet, and respond to this human development, causing the local landscape to flood.[1] The question is applicable in many contexts, none more fitting than in the floodplains of New Jersey.
Instances of hurricanes are attributed a great deal of importance, and rightly so, but so often the dialogue in the aftermath seems to mirror one another. The common conversation topics post-hurricane includes the following: a critique of the federal government’s response, analogies of negative health outcomes that cannot be quantified, and metrics of the subsequent flooding indicative of the worsening consequences of climate change.
Climate events should be taken seriously, and sea level rise is undoubtedly a reality that coastal communities like Fire Island, a barrier island off Long Island, New York, are wrestling with already.[2] But what is lost in this echo chamber is a discussion around how the human imposed landscape interacts with rather than reactsto these climate events. Often the dialogue around climate change is future-focused, geared towards generating new technologies and infrastructures. The consequences and answers to climate change are situated in the language of tomorrow but weight should also be placed on the history of the infrastructure in place and what could be recreated with the footprint we’ve already constructed.
I propose two entry points from which to interrogate the issue of flooding in NJ: the concept of the basement and the ‘unbuilding’ of a structure’s footprint.
Historically, the basement has been a common feature of residential buildings in New Jersey. Internet research quickly reveals a vague history explaining its use to deal with freezing pipes, supposedly critical to the infrastructure of the home. A review of FEMA flood claims filed in New Jersey revealed that 78% of claims filed by residential owners were for buildings with a basement.[3] A finding indicative not of causality but rather of how commonplace basements have become.
Figure 1: ArcGIS 3D model of basement square footage per residential building in Princeton, NJ (Source: Ivan Melchor)
Last year, the VizE Lab for Ethnographic Data Visualization at Princeton University obtained tax and property value data from the town of Princeton, NJ in order to visualize their widespread use. Figure 1 illustrates basement square footage per residential home to represent the below ground impact of development.
Constructing a basement in an area with a high water table can lead to recurring flood problems, making homes susceptible to ankle deep waters after a heavy rainstorm never mind a hurricane. The displacement of soil in order to accommodate these structures can further concentrate stormwater runoff, worsening flooding effects in areas with already high impervious coverage.
Conversations with local zoning officials regarding the issue often contain a cynical undertone. They suggest that new houses are being developed and old houses redeveloped with increasingly large basements despite warnings because they increase property value. And while there may be truth in that claim, it is stated that below-grade living spaces recoup up to 70-80% of the construction cost but do not often result in a gain on investment. [4]
A plausible alternative is that the idea of ‘livable space’ is an expression of our cultural behavior; the increased isolation of single-family zoning in towns such as Princeton reinforce the notion of “private property” and make us less likely to interrogate the issues occurring within our “homes.” Figure 2 highlights how widespread low-density housing has become in Princeton, NJ for example.
Figure 2: Dasymetric map of Princeton, NJ highlights the spread of low-density housing (Source: Ivan Melchor)
There is also the question of what materiality our infrastructure takes on. Susan Bristol, a policy director at the Watershed Institute in New Jersey, proposes the concept of ‘unbuilding’ as a design practice to lighten our footprint on both the environment and the ground.
Unbuilding would mean returning some of the understory of buildings to pervious surface area rather than only resorting to concrete pours at grade irrespective of environment. This would allow for water to flow horizontally through the building’s footprint rather than creating combative infrastructure.[5]
Both the discussion of basements and the concept of ‘unbuilding’ invite us to think about space, not only how much of it we use but also what materials sustain its life force. The message of resiliency is commonplace, but our infrastructure must not only withstand climate events, but also be ready to interact with external forces such as stormwater.
What the ‘pinball machine’ effect reveals is that communities (and more explicitly property owners) continuously act upon their environment, changing its expression. Zoning laws and development serve as an archive of what a community has become, yes, but also generate a new interpretation of society, obfuscating issues that are ‘out of sight’ but that should be interrogated by urban planners and policymakers alike.
Citations
[1] Anna Tsing, “Stop Blaming Global Warming: A Pinball Model of Chronic Flooding in Sorong, West Papua” (Clifford Geertz Commemorative Lecture, Princeton University, Princeton NJ, March 30, 2023).
[2] Liam Stack. “Millions were Spent to Fix Fire Island’s Beaches. Some Have Completely Eroded.” New York Times, August 11, 2023.
[4] Remodeling.com, “Basement Remodel,” accessed on August 19, 2023.
[5] Susan Bristol (2022). “‘Unbuilding’: Out of sight/Out of mind.” AIA New Jersey.
Ivan Melchor is a Data & Research Assistant with the VizE Lab for Ethnographic Data Visualization at Princeton University. He is interested in how the language of climate change generates possibilities for current and future human development. He is part of a team of academic researchers hoping to produce a documentary on NJ flooding in 2024.
It is time to realize our parks are not free and Oakland residents already pay for them in one form or another. Lake Merritt is no exception. In 2020, the city spent $25,000 week of taxpayer money to maintain Lake Merritt (Devries 2021). It turns out littering has a cost and residents are already picking up the tab. Understandably, there was strong public resistance to installing paid parking along the eastern side of Lake Merritt. No one likes paying for what used to be free. Even though 70% of respondents disapproved of the policy, it is the best compromise for Oakland.
With the current cost of maintaining Lake Merritt at over $1 million annually, the potential value of existing free parking spaces along the lake is too high an opportunity cost. Under the new policy, parking prices will match demand. Weekends will be more expensive to park than weekdays. In the first year, projected revenue from the meters will provide nearly $1.5 million. Paying for parking is an apparent cost for drivers, but the cost of free parking is more nuanced and important to spell out.
Donald Shoup, a professor of urban planning at UCLA, has been railing against the high cost of free parking for decades. Essentially, Shoup points out, cities are arbitrarily giving away valuable real estate in the form of parking with traffic and congestion as a return on investment (Steiner 2013). Since we live in a car-dominated society, Oakland residents see free parking as a mobility right rather than wasted opportunity. Opposition to paid parking is understandable, but the revenue is necessary to use the already scarce parking in a more effective manner.
Intersection adjacent to Lake Merritt, Source: Creative Commons
The Lake Merritt Parking Management plan will change transportation behavior through the framework of Travel Demand Management (TDM). TDM is a set of policies designed to expand the functionality of existing transportation infrastructure rather than relying on increasing the supply of infrastructure to meet changing needs of the community. Multiple commercial centers surrounding Lake Merritt draw large amounts of travel, so it is incredibly ineffective to have a single car carrying a single person occupy a spot for hours on end. For residents wary of the new parking policy, they only need look across the bay at San Francisco for a success story.
In 2017, San Francisco used federal funding to pilot SFpark. The program proved the efficacy of the same variable demand-based parking Oakland recently implemented. In some cases, the cost of parking decreased, and more importantly, parking availability increased (SFMTA). San Francisco is not known for its affordability, so the results are encouraging.
I recommend that Oakland take additional measures for protection against gentrification. For low-income residents, there should be a permitting process to guarantee a discounted parking cost. Additionally, residents with existing parking permits local to Lake Merritt should receive free-parking one weekend per month during the first year of the policy.
Despite the practicality of the policy, not everyone is happy with the results. A comment from a months-long community engagement campaign reads: “To put meters around the lakeshore side of the lake would be a direct act against working class people like myself who would be unable to continue to enjoy our beautiful lake if it meant paying every time that I wanted to walk or hang out there.” (Attachment B: Lake Merritt Parking Management Plan May 17, 2022) This resident has a right to be concerned. A prohibitively high cost for parking limits access to the lake and parking priced too low also limits access by not encouraging enough turnover. Market-based pricing is critical to reach enough turnover so one or two spots are open for each block.
Parking alongside Lake Merritt, Source: Creative Commons
So, it is important to reiterate the new parking policy will increase access to Lake Merritt in the long-term rather than be a barrier. It is also worth noting that there is already an extensive network of paid parking surrounding the lake. Driving is not the only option. Lake Merritt is transit-rich with bus and train stops connecting the park to surrounding neighborhoods. And even walking is an option.
I do think residents are right to hold Oakland accountable. There city needs to be transparent about how it spends revenue from the new parking meters. Oakland should create an easily accessible digital dashboard to show how each dollar is spent. The dashboard would also show the cost of maintenance for Lake Merritt and hopefully dissuade residents from littering. Making spending data public will create a sense of trust in the community. Even though this parking policy is the best compromise for Oakland, there is an inherent cost of political good will for moving ahead with a publicly unpopular policy.
At the end of the day, the maintenance costs of Lake Merritt alone justify the new parking policy. Though the benefits will be indirect, residents will also appreciate less time spent circling the block looking for a spot. Instead, they can pull up and enjoy Lake Merritt.
Works Cited
Joe DeVries. Agenda Report: Lake Merritt Working Group. City of Oakland Memorandum. Mar 11, 2021.
Oakland Department of Transportation. Attachment B: Lake Merritt Parking Management Plan May 17, 2022. p. 9.
Ruth L. Steiner (2013) A Review of “The High Cost of Free Parking, Updated Edition”, Journal of the American Planning Association, 79:2, 174-175, DOI: 10.1080/01944363.2013.772038
SFMTA. SFpark Pilot Project Evaluation Summary. Project Evaluation, June 2014, p. 11.
Ryan Ford is a Master’s student in the Department of City and Regional Planning at UNC Chapel Hill. He is interested in the intersection of urban design and transportation, specifically around active mobility. Outside of classes, you can find Ryan playing tennis or catching a movie at Varsity Theater.
This spring, I traveled to southwest Florida where my namesake hurricane had made its explosive landfall the previous October. In June, I navigated life along with millions of others under the heavy haze of forest fire smoke blown over New England from Canada. Most recently, violent floods washed through several towns in southern Vermont, where I’ve lived for several months cumulatively since graduating from college in 2018. I am now training as a climate planner in graduate school, where my work seeks to develop resilience at a public transit agency. Yet even treading repeatedly within the direct footprint of climate change, I cannot shake a nagging sense of incompleteness—that I have somehow come no closer to comprehending the full forces at play.
Extreme weather may serve as evidence of climate change, but it is only a snapshot of a larger process. Climate change is as much an undermining of the way we make sense of the world as it is a self-contained object as such—more epoch than event. Climate change is a sunburn, an acid ocean, an expanse of algae, a burn scar, a mutated pathogen. It is the afterlife of acts committed generations ago and it never seems to arrive. Its essence can never be grasped directly. Strange weather is only the shadow cast by this phantom.
Attempting to squeeze a treatment of climate change into the bounds of ordinary discussion only obscures its true nature. Instead, I suggest we dim the lights and dream…
Pan has always been an old god, even when the ancient Greeks learned of him from the Arcadian mountain tribes. Secluded from view, he preferred to roam the woodland hills, tending livestock and hunting game. Unlike his more refined relatives Artemis or Hermes, Pan presented a distinctly bestial figure, pursuing his favored nymphs and sowing panic in foes. Offensive and alluring, powerful and marginalized, he brought together associations of fertility, replenishment, music, vengeance, chaos, violation, and mortality. Pan continues to embody these painful contradictions of the natural world.
Much as Pan could multiply into a swarm, his image has taken many forms in different settings since antiquity. A quick survey includes the Wiccan horned god as well as the faun from Guillermo Del Toro’s Pan’s Labyrinth, leering at the borderlands of the underworld. In Hayao Miyazaki’s Princess Mononoke, a deer god with a human face silently patrols the forest depths, taking and restoring life in equal measure with each stride. Pan’s offspring remain a penetrating reminder of a tangled rift lurking beyond the scope of civilized life.
One feature separating Pan from the rest of the Greek Pantheon is his mortality, documented first under the reign of the Roman emperor Tiberius following the birth of Christ. More recent authors associate Pan’s death with the triumph of modernity:
Then keep the tomb of Helice, Thine olive-woods, thy vine-clad wold, And what remains to us of thee?
Though many an unsung elegy Sleeps in the reeds our rivers hold, O goat-foot God of Arcady! Ah, what remains to us of thee?
My contribution here is to suggest that the terror and humility we know as a result of the turmoil of climate change reveal the continued presence of larger-than-life demigods. When we spot wayward migrations, upend our routines, abandon our homes, or savor an unseasonably warm winter evening: this is Pan’s work. To know this is to restore the generative agency of natural forces that were thought to be extinguished long ago. This time, though, Pan is back in ghost form—an existence denied by most, unimpressed by our attempts to appease. The question becomes: what would it mean to organize ourselves in space holding closely to this understanding?
One answer comes to us from ecological systems theory. As introduced by ecologists C.S. Holling and Lance Gunderson, Panarchy is a concept that invokes both an antidote to hierarchy and a nod to Pan’s power, in which the cycles of a system are tied together across spatial and temporal scales to describe the system’s response to stimuli. This approach honors the changes that naturally occur across such assemblages while suggesting interventions that uphold beneficial forms of resilience.
It may be worth grounding this theory in the case of a lake. Over the course of a year, this lake’s surface area, depth, temperature, nutrient composition and biomass content will all vary. However, these relatively rapid cycles, such as freeze dates in the winter, higher flow rates in the spring, or phytoplankton blooms in the summer, occur in such a way as to maintain the water body’s capacity for certain essential functions. This lake also depends on larger resource flows, such as tributary inflow volumes and the spread of species from other sources. These are in turn governed by even larger economic and climatic processes, like mass fertilizer application, anthropogenic demand for water, and planetary temperature trends. While periods of expansion, stability, collapse, and renewal are to be expected, Panarchy theory suggests that a resilient system will trend back towards its “domain of attraction” until conditions dictate otherwise; a lake will remain a lake, rather than an anoxic puddle or golf course.[2]
Given these constant exchanges, resilience is not equivalent to stability. Instead, resilience implies that local adaptive cycles are able to integrate information from the slower cycles surrounding them. When conditions change abruptly, ecosystem functions will initially degrade before adapting in such a way that the external changes become internalized. A lake may dry up entirely if enough feedback pushes it in that direction, but it may still retain its status as a productive system, albeit in a new state. What matters is that larger grounding conditions do not shift so fast as to undermine the ability of smaller, more local systems to maintain their adaptive capacity.
With Ghost Pan running loose, this is exactly what we see. Supercharged with two hundred years of fossil fuel energy and the global connectivity of capitalism, changes that might otherwise have taken thousands or millions of years can now proliferate in a matter of decades, if not faster. Circulating at such speed and altitude, these shifts fail to impart a coherent message on the systems they contain. Our lake, industry, or city of cannot meet these new demands by surrounding their existing structure in new fortifications. Their internal logic must move from preservation to pliability.
Multiple transportation modes overlay a shored-up seawall atop the tidal Mystic River in Somerville, MA. These projects bring together many forms of resilience, from the health of the river to public waterfront access and the integrity of engineered infrastructure.
In my efforts to embed climate resilience across a large urban transportation system, this clash of priorities is readily apparent. After decades of divestment, public transit remains an economic lifeline for tens of millions in North America and is understood as increasingly crucial to weaning cities of their dependence on fossil fuels. Simultaneously, its operations tend to be welded in place by predetermined land use and governance regimes. More specific challenges to the climate resilience of transit include:
Limited oversight of land, often along narrow Rights-of-Way. In the Northeastern United States, these Rights-of-Way are commonly laid in former streambeds or reclaimed wetlands.
Dependence on volatile supply chains for specialized equipment.
Few formal coordination avenues to plan with surrounding landowners and policymakers, like municipalities or residents.
Specialized labor practices that delay responses to emergent needs, such as maintaining drainage infrastructure vs. clearing roads or repairing transit vehicles.
Unionized labor may be paired with short-term private contracts in which institutional knowledge is lost from year to year.
Project management processes that prioritize condition or political expedience over climate vulnerability.
Nested networks of aging communications, electrical, and mechanical infrastructure in which small disruptions set off cascading effects across the rest of the system.
Lagging federal and state requirements that promote but do not require climate resilience standards.
Transit authorities have few examples to guide how to successfully climate-proof tens of billions of dollars of assets. Adaptation strategies mostly involve selective elevation, installing flood walls, substituting rapid transit for buses, and reducing service during high-risk weather events. Even pursued to their fullest extent, these resilience measures correspond to a vision of the future in which people continue to use transit infrastructure much as they do now, albeit with critical elements elevated or clad in corrosion-resistant materials.
A “panarchic” approach to this issue recognizes the inseparability of transportation from its larger setting. Even as transit moves to meet the inevitability of direct climate change exposures such as extreme heat or stormwater flooding, the surrounding city will also be transforming. Economic changes may induce new demand away from traditional commuting destinations, while new residential patterns may bolster or undercut the existing labor force. Newly widespread forms of data will likely make climate modeling more accurate, even as the weather itself becomes more erratic. Longstanding political assumptions baked into the American planning context may begin to unravel, opening or foreclosing instruments by which local government rises to meet the challenges of environmental change.
Far from spaces of disembodied circulation, transit exerts a visceral influence on its physical surroundings. The pressures of climate change reconfigure the ways in which these spaces are demarcated, contested, and made ready for new uses. As planners, we occupy a unique position that both bears witness to the continued influence of historical actors and formulates new models by which future generations may carry out their own lives. Pan’s presence signals a warning to that tradition of planners who understand themselves as technicians erecting monumental cities in defiance of the surrounding environment. Let’s hope we are able to listen.
[1] Oscar Wilde, “Pan,” in Poems by Oscar Wilde, edited by Robert Ross. Retrieved at Project Gutenberg, https://www.gutenberg.org/files/1057/1057-h/1057-h.htm.
[2] Holling, Crawford Stanley, and Lance H. Gunderson. Panarchy: Understanding Transformations in Human and Natural Systems. Washington, DC: Island Press, 2002.
About the Author: Ian Concannon is an aspiring climate planner and master’s student at Tufts University’s Department of Urban and Environmental Policy and Planning, with a B.A. in History from Williams College. His recent projects have involved performing outreach in support of disaster preparedness, evaluating road network resilience for an environmental engineering firm, and assessing public transit performance when exposed to coastal storms. He is especially interested in finding ways to coordinate across local policymaking bodies in support of resilient systems change. When he’s not tinkering with maps, Ian can be found on trail runs or backpacking loops throughout New England.
About the series: Welcome to our ongoing travel series. These are all posts written by planning students and professionals about what to do in a given city when looking for Brunch, a Brew, or a good idea on a Budget. To cap it all off, we include a fun planning fact!
By Rachel Auerbach
About the visit: Minneapolis holds a special place in my heart. I first experienced the magic of the Twin Cities while attending Macalester College in St. Paul, and briefly lived across the river in Minneapolis after graduating. Although I haven’t lived there in several years, visiting friends in Minneapolis this summer felt like coming home. Minneapolis’s unique food, lively arts scene, and accessible multimodal transit system make it well worth a visit, especially since APA’s National Planning Conference will be held there this spring. It was tough to choose, but here are some of my favorite places to visit in Minneapolis (with a few St. Paul spots sprinkled in for fun!).
Brunch
Delicious pastries at Savory Bakehouse (Photo Credit: Rachel Auerbach)
On my most recent visit to Minneapolis, I tried out Savory Bakehouse, a tiny bakery entirely owned and operated by a local couple. The bakery has limited hours and is only open Friday through Sunday, but if you can squeeze in a visit it will be worth it. With a menu that changes weekly based on what produce is in season, Savory Bakehouse offers an impressive selection of both sweet and savory baked goods. Since there is no seating available at the bakery, I recommend walking, biking, or taking the bus less than a mile east and enjoying your treats on a bench overlooking the Mississippi River.
If you’re craving something other than baked goods, you can’t go wrong with a visit to the Midtown Global Market, a lively food hall with a variety of food from around the world. Celebrating the Twin Cities’ diverse and global community, Midtown Global Market boasts many unique flavors and dishes. If you’re lucky, you might even catch a music or dance performance in the market during your visit.
Brew
Squeaky cheese curds at the Groveland Tap (Photo Credit: Rachel Auerbach)
This was a tough decision, because there are so many fun bars and breweries in the Twin Cities (see the ”Land of 10,000 Drinks” map). After much deliberation, I decided that I would be remiss if I didn’t recommend the Groveland Tap, a homey neighborhood dive bar across the river in St. Paul. The Tap, as locals lovingly call it, is known for its crispy, salty, and perfectly squeaky fried cheese curds– once you’ve tried them you can never go back. They also have an excellent selection of burgers and beer, and great happy hour deals almost every day of the week.
Alternatively, if you’re feeling extra adventurous and want a truly unique experience, rent a kayak using the Mississippi River Paddle Share program (think bike share, but for kayaks) and grab a drink at one of the bars accessible via the river.
Budget
Bde Maka Ska, meaning “Lake White Earth” in the Dakota language (Photo Credit: Meet Minneapolis)
One of my favorite (free!) summertime activities in the Twin Cities is spending a day at the lake. Bde Maka Ska, the largest of Minneapolis’s lakes, is part of the Minneapolis Chain of Lakes Regional Park and has several swimming beaches as well as trails for walking, running, or biking. In 2018, after a long legal battle, the Department of Natural Resources changed the lake’s official name to Bde Maka Ska to honor the area’s indigenous Dakota residents who originally named the lake. Wear lots of sunscreen, bring a good book, and get ready for a day of swimming, people-watching, and sunshine. Kayaks, canoes, bikes, and paddleboards are available to rent, and if you need a bite to eat, there are several cafes and restaurants nearby.
Fun Planning Fact
Minneapolis is home to miles of skyways connecting buildings from above (Photo Credit: Ben Ganje)
If you find yourself visiting the Twin Cities during the frigid winter months, you may experience the vast network of skyways running throughout the city. Minneapolis has the largest contiguous skyway system in the world, with skyways connecting 80 city blocks using 9.5 miles of climate-controlled covered bridges. The skyways connect restaurants, offices, apartment buildings, entertainment venues, sports stadiums, and other destinations, allowing residents and visitors to move throughout the city without having to deal with harsh weather.
Featured Image: The Stone Arch Bridge, a historic railroad (now pedestrian) bridge crossing the Mississippi River in Minneapolis (Photo Credit: East Isles Neighborhood Association)
About the Author: Rachel is a third-year master’s student in the dual degree City and Regional Planning and Public Health programs at the University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill. At UNC, she studies the intersections of health equity and the built environment. In her free time, she enjoys exploring new places by bike, attempting to keep her sourdough starter alive, and hanging out with other people’s dogs.
