Would you like to experience the results of dedicated city and regional planning achieved with the cooperation and participation of the citizenry? Then you might consider Chattanooga.

Participants in the recent Lincoln Institute conference, “Land Use in the Southeast: Reflections and Directions,” experienced Chattanooga’s renaissance first hand. The conference was the third in a series of programs related to the book, Land Use in America, coauthored by Henry Diamond and Patrick Noonan (Island Press/Lincoln Institute, 1996).

The agenda focused on the challenges facing residents of the Southeast as they work to develop sustainable communities. In his keynote address, the Honorable Zach Wamp, a member of the House of Representatives representing eastern Tennessee, stressed the need to balance the sometimes competing interests of transportation, the environment, research and educational institutions, and the private sector.

Several speakers commented on the national land use scene. Henry Richmond, chairman of the National Growth Management Leadership Project, stated that land use and sustainable development were forgotten issues for many years but are now coming to the forefront again. Why? Because the goals of many powerful interests are being undermined by land use regulations. In addition, more people are interested in alternative patterns of land use that benefit society at large.

Attorney Henry Diamond observed that, despite the centrality of land, land use issues have failed to capture national attention for several reasons. It is difficult to regulate land, and the land pollution/land quality spectrum is hard to measure. Whereas the regulation of air and water falls on the community as a shared resource, the regulation of land falls on individuals. Finally, major environmental groups, until recently, have not given land much attention.

Patrick Noonan, chairman and CEO of the Conservation Fund, noted four emerging national trends:

• from federal to local governance: people are questioning centralization and in some cases demanding local control;
• from public action to private enterprise: the mantle of environmental leadership is passing from the nonprofit sector to industry;
• from a regulatory to a non-regulatory arena, with emphasis on economic incentives, voluntary initiatives and education; and
• from piecemeal conservation to a focus on whole systems, which may seem at odds with the previous three trends.

Norman Christensen, dean of Duke University’s School of the Environment, noted that by the middle of the next century the earth’s population should “level off” at between 10 and 12 billion, nearly twice what it is today. He outlined the basic tenets of ecosystem management: complexity and diversity are crucial; the world has never been the same twice; human use and ecological change represent an endless cycle; connections of all types are important; and, it is never simple.

Juxtaposed with these national views were success stories from the region. Officials from Chattanooga were joined by speakers from Florida, South Carolina, Georgia, Kentucky and North Carolina, who outlined the techniques they are using to gather a constituency for sustainable development. All of them stressed the importance of grassroots community involvement. To be successful in implementing radical changes in land use and density, broad-based agreement among parties is critical. In addition, research and education are needed for well-informed policy making, and certain legislative and regulatory changes, unique to each jurisdiction, must be implemented to permit better, smarter growth.

Norm Christensen’s closing thoughts sum up the conference: “The land we possess is less an inheritance than something we borrow from our grandchildren.”

Kathryn J. Lincoln is chairman of the Lincoln Institute.

Land use planning involves intertemporal decisionmaking—the consideration of a subsequent decision before a first decision is made. Decisions in the urban development process include the purchase, assembly or subdivision of land; the provision of transportation, electric, water and wastewater services; the application for and approval of building permits; and the sale of improved property to final users.

The ability to analyze this process has been limited by the lack of dynamic models of development stages, time-series data on land use decisionmaking, and empirical approaches to analyzing multiple events in time and space. In part for these reasons, there has been almost no empirical evidence on the process of planning or the effects of plans on subsequent development.

To gain new insights into the effects of planning on the urban development process, we have developed theoretical models of urban planning, constructed a dynamic geographic information system, and developed computer algorithms for interpreting and displaying urban development events. The information system is characterized by a high degree of spatial and temporal resolution and the ability to observe development activity over time.

As a result, the information system facilitates the observation of spatial and dynamic processes that characterize urban development, the formation and testing of hypotheses about such processes, and the exercise of high-resolution simulations based on statistically confirmed relationships.

Study Site on Portland’s Westside Corridor

The information system is built upon the Regional Land Information System (RLIS) developed by Metro, the regional government of Portland, Oregon. RLIS is a comprehensive Geographic Information System (GIS) containing layers that depict tax lots and their attributes; planning designations and zoning regulations; soil, water and environmental resources; infrastructure facilities and capacities; government boundaries, tax districts and transportation zones; and census data for the entire Portland metropolitan area.

RLIS has been enhanced to include attributes of development events, such as land sales, subdivisions, and changes in plan designations and zoning. Although the system currently includes only the years 1991 to 1995, it is an unusually comprehensive, high-resolution, and dynamic research and planning tool.

To test the utility of the information system, we examined the urban development process in Portland’s Westside corridor, where a new light rail system is scheduled to begin service in 1998. Construction of the Westside segment began in 1992, and the far western station locations were finalized on July 28, 1993. When complete, the Westside line will connect the western suburbs of Hillsboro and Beaverton to downtown Portland and to the eastern sections of the light rail system.

Ambitious plans for the metropolitan area call for high-density development along Portland’s light rail corridors to contain growth within the urban growth boundary. By focusing on the Westside corridor, it is possible to evaluate whether the development decisions and transactions of land owners and local governments are influenced by anticipated light rail infrastructure investments and consistent with regional development plans.

Mapping the Development Process

The development process can be examined using dynamic geographic visualization—that is, the observation of urban development events at varying temporal and geographic scales. Using a tax-lot base map, for example, and by illuminating tax lots when certain events occur in a sequence of frames, it is possible to watch the urban development process much like a movie. The sequence of frames printed in this issue of Land Lines illustrates selected development activities from 1991 to 1995 in an approximately one-square-mile area around the proposed Orenco light rail station. Since it is difficult to reproduce the frames here, please go directly to the authors’ web page for mapping details at http://www.urban.uiuc.edu/projects/portland/lincoln.html

The first frame shows the sale of several large industrial properties in 1991, when the route of the rail line was known, but not the station location. In 1992, a demolition and construction permit was issued on a large industrial parcel. The third frame shows the station location, with development on industrial land near the station and increasing sales activity in the subdivision in the northwest corner of the study area.

The fourth frame shows that a station overlay zone was adopted in 1994. It subjected building permits in the station area to a special review process to assure that proposed developments are transit supportive. The frame also shows a marked increase in residential sales in the northwest subdivision and in the old town of Orenco in the inner southeast corner of the study area. The fifth frame shows a continuation of sales and development activity in both residential and industrial parts of the study area.

This series of frames captures an intriguing pattern of development events. First, the number of sales and permits in the study area before the announcement of the station location suggests that the station was sited in an area of active industrial development. Second, the activity in both the conventional subdivision in the northwest corner and in the township of Orenco indicates that the announcement of the station location accelerated nearby residential development activity.

Third, the demolitions approved just before and the building permits approved just after the station location was announced suggest that redevelopment of industrial land near the station is concurrent with the building of the light rail system. Such concurrency of private and public development activity is a fundamental objective of land use planning. Finally, the imposition of the interim development restrictions does not appear to have slowed the rate of development activity. In fact, the increased certainty about the regulatory environment may have increased activity.

This five-year display of development events may be unique to the Orenco station area. Certainly, previous land use plans, sewer system investments and industrial expansion patterns have influenced development in the area. Nevertheless, the ability to track parcel-by-parcel activity in the county-wide database will enable in-depth examination of the extent to which dynamic and spatial relationships between development events and land use plans are significant and pervasive.

The regional and local governments of metropolitan Portland are engaged in an extensive planning endeavor to shape the extent, location and nature of urban development over the next four decades. As implementation proceeds, the information system will enable us to monitor the planning, regulation and development process and, for at least this metropolitan area, assess whether and how planning matters.

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The authors are affiliated with the Department of Urban and Regional Planning at the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign. Chengri Ding is a post-doctoral fellow specializing in the use of geographical information systems for urban economic analysis. Lewis Hopkins is professor and head of the department. Gerrit Knaap is associate professor, currently on sabbatical as a visiting fellow at the Center for Urban Policy and the Environment at Indiana University and a senior research fellow at the American Planning Association. Support for their research has been provided by the Lincoln Institute of Land Policy; the University of Illinois Research Board; the Metro of Portland, Oregon; Washington County, Oregon; the Tri-county Transportation District of Portland, Oregon; and the National Science Foundation.

As a part of the educational activities of the Lincoln Institute’s Latin America Program, a course on “Large Urban Projects,” held in Cambridge last June, focused on the most important and challenging aspects of this land planning issue. Academics, public officials and representatives from private enterprises in 17 cities participated in the presentations and discussions. This article presents a synthesis of the principal points, questions and challenges raised in carrying out these complex projects.

Large urban redevelopment projects have become an important issue in many Latin American countries recently, due in part to changes motivated by the processes of globalization, deregulation and the introduction of new approaches in urban planning. These projects include varied types of interventions, but they are characterized primarily by their large size and scale, which challenge traditional instruments of urban management and financing.

Urban projects on a grand scale are not considered a novelty in Latin America. The diverse elements of existing developments include the revitalization of historic centers; conversion of abandoned industrial facilities, military areas, airports or train stations; large slum rehabilitation projects; and construction of innovative public transportation models. However, at least four important features characterize this new type of intervention:

• An urban management structure that implies the association of various public and private, national and international actors;
• Significant financing needs that require complex forms of interconnections among these actors;
• The conception and introduction of new urban processes that are intended to transform the city;
• The questioning of traditional urban planning perspectives, since these projects tend to exceed the scope of prevailing norms and policies.

The last feature is reinforced by the influence of different planning strategies and the impacts of large urban projects in various cities around the world (Powell 2000). One project that has influenced many city planners and officials in Latin America was the transformation of Barcelona in preparation for the Olympic Games in 1992 (Borja 1995). Several projects in Latin America have been inspired by, if not directly emulated, this approach (Carmona and Burgess 2001), but it also has faced serious criticism (Arantes, Vainer and Maricato 2000). It has been seen as a convenient process through which a group of decision makers or private interest stakeholders manage to bypass official planning and policy channels that are seen to be too dependent on the public (democratic) debate. As a result most such projects tend to be either elitist, because they displace low-income neighborhoods with gentrified and segregated upper-class land uses, or are socially exclusionary, because they develop single-class projects, either low-income settlements or high-income enclaves, in peripheral locations.

Large-scale projects raise new questions, make inherent contradictions more transparent, and challenge those responsible for urban land analysis and policy formulation. Of special importance are the new forms of management, regulation, financing and taxation that are required for or result from the execution of these projects, and in general the consequences for the functioning of land markets.

Size, Scale and Timeframe

The first issue that emerges from a discussion of large-scale projects has to do with the ambiguity of the term and the necessity of defining its validity. Size is a quantitative dimension, but scale suggests complex interrelations involving socioeconomic and political impacts. The wide variety of feelings evoked by large projects shows the limitations in being able to restore a vision of the urban whole and at the same time its global character (Ingallina 2001). This issue has just begun to be discussed in Latin America, and it is framed in the transition to a new approach in urban planning, which is related to the possibility and even the necessity of constructing a typology and indicators for its analysis. Issues such as the emblematic character of these projects, their role in stimulating other urban processes, the involvement of many actors, and the significance of the impacts on the life and development of the city are all part of the discussions. Nevertheless, it is the scale, understood as being more than just simple physical dimensions, that is the central core of this theme.

Since the scale of these projects is associated with complex urban processes that combine continuity and changes over the medium and long terms, the timeframe of their execution must be conceived accordingly. Many of the failures in the implementation of such projects have to do with the lack of a managing authority that would be free or protected from the political volatility of local administrations over time.

The cases of Puerto Madero in Buenos Aires and Fenix in Montevideo, the first completed and the second in process, offer examples of the difficulties in managing the scale and timing of development in the context of economic situations and policies that can change drastically. Twelve years after its construction, Puerto Madero has not yet stimulated other large-scale projects, such as the renovation of nearby Avenida de Mayo, nor appreciable transformations in urban norms.

The scale and timeframe are particularly important for the project in Montevideo, raising doubts about the feasibility of executing a project of this scale in relation to the character of the city, its economy, and other priorities and policies of the country. Its goal was to generate a “work of urban impact,” in this case promotion of public, private and mixed investments in a neighborhood that lost 18.4 percent of its population between 1985 and 1996, and focusing on an emblematic building, the old General Artigas train station. Most of this work has been executed, with a loan of $28 million from the Inter-American Development Bank, however the percentage of public and private investments are minimal and the Fenix project is having to compete with another large-scale corporate-commercial development located east of the city that is already attracting important firms and enterprises.

Land Policy Issues

The issue of scale relates intrinsically to the role of urban land, which makes one ask if land (including its value, uses, ownership and other factors) should be considered a key variable in the design and management of large-scale urban operations, since the feasibility and success of these projects are often associated with the internalization of formidable externalities often reflected in the cost and management of the land.

Projects to restore historic centers offer important lessons to be considered here. We can compare the cases of Old Havana, where land ownership is completely in the hands of the state, which has permitted certain activities to expand, and Lima, where land ownership is divided among many private owners and public sector agencies, adding to the difficulties in completing an ongoing restoration project. Even though Old Havana has received important financial cooperation from Europe and Lima has a $37 million loan from the Inter-American Development Bank, the main challenge is to promote private investment while also maintaining programs of social and economic assistance for the local residents. Both cities have created special units for the management of these projects, which constitutes an interesting commentary on institutional modernization.

The Role of the State

The scale, the time dimension and the role of land in large urban projects lead us to consider the role of the state and public investment. While urban operations on a large scale are not new in Latin American cities, their present conditions have been affected radically by economic changes, political crises and substantial modifications in the role of the state in general. These conditions make the execution of urban projects, as part of the process of long-term urban development, a source of contradictions with the generally short tenure of municipal governments and the limits of their territorial claims. We must also consider the differences in regulatory competencies between central governments and local municipalities, and the differences between public entities and private institutions or local community organizations, which often reflect conflicting interests due the decentralization and privatization processes being promoted simultaneously in many countries.

Two large projects related to transportation infrastructure are examples of local situations that led to very different results. One was the transformation of the old abandoned Cerrillos airport in Santiago, Chile, and the other was a project for a new airport for Mexico City in Texcoco, an area known as ejido land occupied by peasants and their descendants. In the first case, the active participation of interested groups is expanding the recuperation process of a zone of the city that does not have quality urban facilities. A total investment of $36 million from the public sector and $975 million from the private sector is supporting the construction of malls, facilities for education, health and recreation, and housing for the neighborhood. In Mexico serious conflicts between state interests and community rights to the land had caused social unrest and even the kidnapping of public officials. As a result, the federal government has recently withdrawn from the Texcoco project, assuming huge political and economic costs for this decision.

Segregation and Exclusion

Many planners and practitioners have doubts about the feasibility of large projects in poor countries and cities because of the distortions that their execution could cause on future development, in particular the reinforcing tendencies of segregation and social exclusiveness. The diminishing capacity of the state to look for new alternatives for financing socially beneficial projects through private capital, principally from international sources, adds to the doubts about their success. Many large-scale projects are seen as the only alternative or the unavoidable cost that the city or society has to pay to generate an attractive environment in a context of growing competition among cities for a limited number of external investors.

A key matter with respect to the use of public space generated by these projects is to avoid segregation of space and people. Special attention must be given to protect the inhabitants of the zones where the large urban projects are developed from the negative consequences of gentrification. This is without a doubt one of the most difficult aspects of large urban projects. Table 1 shows the most important aspects and the principal challenges that arise from an analysis of the large urban projects. Effectively, the integration of projects of this scope calls for a vision of the city that avoids the creation of islands of modernity isolated in the middle of poor areas, which would contribute to the process called the dualism of the city, or the generation of new exclusive urban centers.

Table 1: Aspects and Challenges of Large Urban Projects

Two cases in different political-economic contexts help us reflect about this matter. One is the El Recreo project, planned by Metrovivienda, in Bogotá. Although presenting innovative proposals about the use and management of the land in a large project for popular housing, the project has not been able to guarantee the integration of social groups with different income levels. In the Corredor Sur area of Panama City large zones are being planned for the construction of residences, but the result again serves primarily medium- and high-income sectors. Thus in both a decentralized and a centralized country the general norms that provoke residential segregation cannot seem to prevent negative consequences for the poorest sectors of society.

In view of all this, large urban projects should not be seen as an alternative approach to obsolete plans or rigid norms like zoning. They could instead be presented as a kind of intermediate-scale planning, as an integrated approach that addresses the needs of the whole city and avoids physical and social separations and the creation of norms that permit exclusive privileges. Only in this way can large-scale projects take their place as new instruments for urban planning. The positive effects of specific elements such as the quality of architecture and urban design are valuable in these projects if they operate as a benchmark and are distributed with equity throughout the city.

Public Benefits

Large-scale projects are public projects by the nature of their importance and impact, but that does not mean they are the total property of the state. Nevertheless, the complexity of the participant networks involved directly or indirectly, the variety of interests and the innumerable contradictions inherent in large projects require a leading management role by the public sector. The territorial scale of these operations especially depends on the support of the municipal governments, which in Latin America often lack the technical resources to manage such projects. Local support can guarantee a reduction of negative externalities and the involvement of weaker participants, generally local actors, through a more just distribution of the benefits, where the regulation of the use and taxation of the land is a key issue. Such is the intention of the Municipality of Santo Andre in Sao Paulo in the design of the extraordinarily complex Tamanduatehy project. It involves the reuse of an enormous tract of land previously occupied by railroad facilities and neighboring industrial plants that fled this once vigorous industrial belt of Sao Paulo to relocate in the hinterland. The project involves establishing a viable locus of new activities, mostly services and high-tech industries, capable of replacing the economic base of that region.

Beyond creating and marketing the image of the project, it is important to achieve social legitimacy through a combination of public and private partners engaged in joint ventures, the sale or renting of urban land, compensation for direct private investment, regulation, or even public recovery (or recapture) of costs and/or of unearned land value increments. Active public management is also necessary, since the development of the city implies common properties and benefits, not only economic interests. Analysis of economic and financial costs, and opportunity costs, are also important to avoid the failure of these projects.

Conclusions

The basic components in the pre-operational stage of executing large urban projects can be summarized as follows:

• Establish a development/management company independent from the state and municipal administration
• Formulate the comprehensive project plan
• Elaborate on the marketing plan
• Design the program of buildings and infrastructure
• Define adequate fiscal and regulatory instruments
• Formulate the financing plan (cash flow)
• Design a monitoring system

An adequate analysis of the trade-offs (economic, political, social, environmental, and others) is indispensable, even if it is clear that the complex problems of the contemporary city cannot be solved with large interventions alone. It is important to reiterate that more importance must be given to the institutionalization and legitimacy of the final plans and agreements than simply the application of legal norms.

The presentations and discussions at the course on “Large Urban Projects” show that the matter of urban land strongly underlies all the aspects and challenges described above. Land in this type of project presents a huge complexity and offers a great opportunity; the challenge is how to navigate between the interests and conflicts when there are many owners and stakeholders of the land. It is necessary to combat the temptation to believe that modern urban planning is the sum of large projects. Nevertheless, these projects can contribute to building a shared image of the city between the inhabitants and the users. This topic clearly has facets that have not been completely explored yet and that need continued collaborative analysis and by academics, policy makers and citizens.

Mario Lungo is executive director of the Office of Planning of the Metropolitan Area of San Salvador (OPAMSS) in El Salvador. He is also a professor and researcher at the Central American University José Simeón Cañas.

References

Borja, Jordi. 1995. Un modelo de transformación urbana. Quito, Peru: Programa de Gestion Urbana.

Carmona, Marisa and Rod Burgess. 2001. Strategic Planning and Urban Projects. Delft: Delft University Press.

Ingallina, Patrizia. 2001. Le Projet Urbain. Paris: Presses Universitaires de France.

Powell, Kenneth. 2000. La transformación de la ciudad. Barcelona: Ediciones Blume.

Arantes, Otilia, Carlos Vainer e Erminia Maricato. 2000. A cidade do pensamento unico. Petrópolis: Editora Vozes.

Over the last 50 years cities have been the scene of major transformations that have allowed them to evolve from being centers primarily for economic activities to a combination of more specialized productive, commercial and service functions. The results are mixed, but in those cities considered most successful, beauty and humanism have managed to coexist with economic efficiency and effectiveness, significantly increasing the creation of wealth and the well-being of the community at large. In this context, developments known as “large urban projects” seek to rescue dilapidated areas such as historic centers, former industrial and military zones, vacant railroads and airports, and decaying housing settlements and transform them into vibrant residential areas able to generate tax revenues, employment, and public and social benefits to enhance quality of life.

The redevelopment of waterfronts creates tremendous opportunities to reintegrate historic city centers with their adjacent waterways and to facilitate growth that would otherwise move to the outskirts of the city. Many concerns have to be addressed, however. What type and scale of development are desirable and possible? How can meaningful relationships be established between the old and the new? What are the impacts on the environment and the existing infrastructure? What public policies and investments are needed? What are the roles of the public and private sectors? How do we organize the planning process, including building political and community support?

Amsterdam and Havana are cases where waterfronts provide challenges and opportunities to address this complex balancing act. Both are UNESCO World Heritage Cities dealing with the pressures of profit-driven real estate development and the desire to protect both their historic centers and the interests of their contemporary populations.

In December 2003 the Lincoln Institute, with Havana’s Group for the Development of the Capital (GDIC), the Office of the Historian and the Port Authority of the Ministry of Transportation, cosponsored a seminar in Havana at which waterfront experts from Amsterdam, Rotterdam, New York and Panama shared their experiences with Cuban planners and public officials. This article elaborates on the Amsterdam presentation, in particular how management, experiments, planning and land policies enabled an impressive transformation of that city’s former industrial waterfronts, and offers lessons that may be applicable for Havana.

Planning and Development Policies in the Netherlands

The Netherlands has a well-known tradition of strong national planning and development, precipitated by the housing shortage since World War II. The notion of limited space drives the country’s development policies and its commitment to preserving green and agricultural areas between cities. Housing, infrastructure, retail and office development, environmental protection, agriculture, water management and open space are major concerns at both the national and local levels. With two-thirds of their country below sea level, the Dutch have always pursued new ways of relating to water. National planning policies thus concentrate on facilitating growth in designated areas, controlling urban sprawl and reorganizing inner cities without neglecting major infrastructure and the management and control of green spaces and water bodies.

The Dutch rediscovered the importance of their cities in the 1980s after the rapid growth of suburbs and new towns caused increasing congestion and a lack of livable spaces. The idea of a “compact city” was adopted in the nation’s Fourth Memorandum of Urban Planning (1988), advocating concentration on the urban nexus in order to “redevelop currently abandoned areas.” Typical sites include Rotterdam’s Kop van Zuid and Amsterdam’s Eastern Docklands. The compact city concept was broadened in the 1990s with the notion of the “complete city,” marrying concepts of multiple and intensive land use with the concentration of functions and activities in a melting pot of lifestyles.

The reorganization of transit areas and transport routes is another planning priority that aims to combine different transport functions and discourage the use of cars. Examples include the Airport City plan for the Amsterdam Schiphol Airport and the area around the future high-speed train station Zuidas-WTC. The Zuidas master plan creates enough space over the railway and highway for the construction of 7 million square feet of offices, 1,500 dwellings, retail space, hotels, museums and a new park.

Despite the national government’s plans and ambitions, financial resources determine its role in development projects. The significant decrease in national housing and development subsidies since 1990 has highlighted the strategic importance of the local government in the (re)development process. However, the Amsterdam case also shows that management capacity, reliable development partners and creative financial and development tools are instrumental for redevelopment.

Amsterdam’s Land and Housing Policies

Amsterdam is the cultural and financial capital of the Netherlands and the largest city in the Randstad-Holland or Deltametropolis region of 6 million people. The city has close to 750,000 inhabitants, 375,000 housing units and 417,000 jobs, and has one of the world’s largest conserved historic city centers.

Amsterdam’s land policies are strategic tools in the city’s redevelopment strategies. In 1896 the city democratically decided on a land-lease system to acquire land and lease it to future users. Important arguments for leasing were that increases in land value should benefit the entire community and the city should determine the use of scarce land to prevent speculation and undesirable development.

The land-lease system works as follows. The city’s land corporation acquires land and leases it to private developers for periods of 49 or 99 years. Leaseholders pay an annually adjusted amount for use of the land, determined by location, square feet of development, type of use (office, retail, affordable or market rate housing, open space, etc.), new or existing buildings, and parking (on the street or inside). The city determines the price of land through a residual land value method that links the market value of the property, the land and the construction costs. The value of land equals the sales value of the property minus the construction costs determined by the location (costs are considerably higher in the historic neighborhoods). In 2002 leases totaled 59 million euros.

Acquisition of privately owned land—as in the Eastern Docklands area—is financed through loans to the city’s land corporation, whose interest payments account for 80 percent of its expenses. Excess revenues are used to support the city’s development and rehabilitation efforts, particularly for commercially unprofitable projects such as parks and open space. This system also serves political objectives such as the provision and geographic distribution of affordable housing. In a high-density city like Amsterdam, land is scarce and its use is subject to much real estate pressure. As the landowner the city maintains a strategic role in determining the use, quality and amount of land available for development.

Amsterdam relies on its relationships with the city’s civic and nonprofit development groups for support and implementation of its plans, and the role of housing associations is critical. These associations were created as a result of the housing law of 1901, which allowed for union-related associations and religious organizations to establish nonprofit housing associations. With national subsidies and strong support from local governments, they have built thousands of units, especially in the neighborhoods damaged during the war. In some of these areas over 75 percent of the units is owned by housing associations.

The deregulation of the Dutch housing market in the early 1990s strongly affected the housing associations’ position as both owners and developers. They lost most of the national housing subsidies, but in exchange the government granted them more financial and institutional freedom to manage their assets. As a result, the nonprofit sector had to become more professionalized, and many of the housing associations merged to create economies of scale. Today, Amsterdam counts 13 housing associations that manage over 200,000 units, ranging from 1,400 to 37,500 units each. Many associations successfully positioned themselves as trustworthy and financially stable developers. Moreover, they became strategic partners for commercial developers looking for experts on affordable housing and partners for creating goodwill for their projects with the city and community groups. More and more, they develop mixed-income projects in collaboration with private developers using creative financial packages. In 2000, for example, half of the units built by housing associations were market rate. The resulting profits financed the other half as affordable and moderate-income units.

In an unexpected side effect of the housing reform, these associations have become leaders in setting high standards for urban design and planning. With their commitment to the city and to community development they have been willing to take risks with low-cost but provocative designs, and many of their projects have become international examples for innovative affordable housing concepts.

Waterfront Redevelopment in Amsterdam

Amsterdam is a city founded on water and around a dam that separated the Amstel River from the IJ River. In the seventeenth century, Amsterdam was the world’s most prominent commercial and maritime center. The canals and waterways built in that era still marvel the millions of tourists who visit the city every year. The relationship between the city and its waterfront has not always been organic; mistakes have been made, such as the 1898 decision to build Amsterdam’s central railway station in the middle of the port area. The station effectively ruined the visual relationship and physical connections between the IJ, the port and the dam, destroying the ancient heart of the capital.

In the past 40 years, most port functions have moved closer to the sea to handle container ships, while the large financial institutions moved to the south axis of the city due to a lack of space and poor accessibility. The inner city of Amsterdam, which is adjacent to the old port areas, remains the region’s largest center for retail, culture and entertainment and is well suited for pedestrians, bicyclists and public transportation. Although the port continues to play an important economic role for Amsterdam, the city essentially turned its back to the harbor for many years.

Major areas of Amsterdam are now being converted and rehabilitated, while entirely new areas are being built on artificial islands. The city’s southern and northern waterfront system of old piers and wet docks is becoming an attractive residential and mixed-use district with retail and cultural centers, new transit, parks and waterfront promenades, most of which mix contemporary design with the historic maritime character. The construction of IJburg, an overspill area in the IJsselmeer Lake, is designed to accommodate 45,000 new inhabitants.

Discussion about the redevelopment of the Eastern Docklands and the rest of the southern IJ waterfront began in the early 1980s. Following years of negotiations between the municipality, developers and well-organized community groups, the plan, currently in the final phases of construction, proposed a series of high-density, moderate-rise communities on the water, thus remaking a historic and cultural bond with the water. Housing is the major component of all development on the IJ bank, and 40 percent of it is affordable. In many cases the city’s professional nonprofit housing associations have led the development and encouraged private investment.

The formal planning process for the IJ-waterfront started with a design competition in 1984. Initially the city government endorsed the IJ Boulevard master plan by Rem Koolhaas for the entire 10 km southern waterfront. The redevelopment program incorporated a range of uses, but focused on office development and supporting amenities to stop the exodus of corporations and to finance the proposed infrastructure program. The plan was to be implemented by the Amsterdam Waterfront Finance Company (AWF), a public-private partnership of the city and one master developer/investor with unprecedented authority. Subsequent controversy over the size and cost of the plan, the collapse of the office market in the late 1980s, and growing discontent with the plan among the city’s prominent civic and community groups led to the dismantling of the partnership in 1994.

The city then changed its approach and passed a strategic memorandum titled “Anchors of the IJ” in 1995. This plan proposed to build on the existing island structure with a phased development starting at the outer edges and working toward the Central Station area. This pragmatic and organic approach concentrated the city’s efforts and resources on master plans for smaller and more manageable areas. The development program shifted toward housing with public buildings and squares (the anchors) at strategic locations within a framework of larger infrastructure investments. The national government committed to building a new tunnel in the early phases of the planning process and a light-rail system at a later phase. Urban design and development programs were determined by site potential and strong community input and were modified over time based on experience, new ideas and changing market conditions. Since the city owns the land and thus controls how much land is available for development, it encouraged private developers to team up with nonprofit housing groups to bid for portions of the waterfront. The Amsterdam case underscores the fact that strategy, planning tools, leadership and partners are interdependent and instrumental for redevelopment that benefits the community at large.

Implications for Havana

The uniqueness of Havana’s waterfront makes it a formidable site for innovative and comprehensive redevelopment and for avoiding the mistakes that have spoiled the charm of many other cities around the world. Havana is Cuba’s capital city, home to more than 2 million of the country’s 11 million citizens. Prior to the 1959 revolution Cuba was the leading business and tourist destination in the Caribbean, but its subsequent political isolation and lack of economic development have resulted in a mostly unspoiled historic city now in desperate need of repair. Since the collapse of the former Soviet Union and the subsequent loss of a market for 65 percent of Cuban exports, Havana has focused on attracting investment through real estate ventures. Most joint ventures (350 were active in 2001, worth $2.6 billion) are with Canadian and European companies in the booming hospitality industry. Tourism and related activities again generate much-needed foreign currency, especially in Havana where historic downtown hotels have been upgraded and new office buildings are being built in nearby elegant neighborhoods to the west.

The government recognizes the historic and economic value of Old Havana’s architectural heritage and strongly supports renovation and rehabilitation of its historic buildings and squares. The progress and benefits are impressive, considering the limited public resources and the state of the city’s infrastructure and buildings. The Office of the Historian, the development authority for Old Havana, has stimulated revenues that generated $50 million for social and historic preservation programs in 1999 alone (Nunez, Brown and Smolka 2000).

Havana’s waterfront is considered a key asset for future growth and therefore a key area of concern. The waterfront includes the famous Malecon Boulevard as well as the lesser-known inner-harbor districts on the east side of Old Havana. Along the shores of this bay, historic warehouses and small communities are mixed with decaying infrastructure, port facilities, heavy industry and shipyards. Many different city and state agencies are involved in planning for this vast area, yet no clear development directive has been defined and most players lack the authority to take that role. In response, some agencies have developed plans for individual properties, but implementation is unlikely because there is no funding in place and the oil refineries across the bay produce heavy fumes, which discourage some tourist-oriented activities.

Since land in Havana is publicly owned, capturing the increase of land values could create a strategic and sustainable source for financing much-needed public investments in affordable housing, public space and infrastructure. The local government can lead the redevelopment process; however, support and collaboration with regional and national public partners will be important for larger investments. Flexibility in program and a focus on process instead of blueprint planning is essential to accommodate changing market conditions and emerging opportunities. The latter is especially evident as development depends significantly on private investments.

With its historic beauty, proximity to the United States and lack of development for more than 40 years, Havana draws the attention of developers from throughout the world. It has the potential to become a model livable city that has preserved most of its heritage and is not spoiled by the automobile. It is in the interest of all of us, but especially the Cuban people, to ensure that attention to both high-quality redevelopment and the public interest determines the transformation of Havana’s waterfront.

Frank Uffen is managing director of New Amsterdam Development Consultants in New York. Other Dutch participants in the seminar who contributed to this article are Riek Bakker (partner, BVR Consultancy for Urban Development, Landscape and Infrastructure, Rotterdam), Ad Hereijgers (partner, DE LIJN Office for Urban Development, Amsterdam), Willem van Leuven (project manager, Amsterdam Project Management Bureau) and Rutger Sypkens (project developer, Ballast Nedam Construction, Amsterdam).

Reference

Nunez, Ricardo, H. James Brown, and Martim Smolka. 2000. Using land value to promote development in Cuba. Land Lines 12(2):1–4.

In the nearly 35 years since Bosselman and Callies (1972) published The Quiet Revolution in Land Use Control, land use policies in states across the nation have continued to change and evolve. The state of Maryland offers a good example. The history of land use policy in Maryland records a variety of conservation, development, and growth management acts, but in 1997 the state burst into the national spotlight with its innovative Smart Growth and Neighborhood Conservation package of land use reforms.

Today, some 10 years later, a new initiative is aiming to take the reform process in Maryland even further. Named Reality Check Plus: Imagine Maryland, this effort is supported in part by the Lincoln Institute, along with other nonprofit organizations, foundations, corporations, and individuals. It remains to be seen how far this effort will go and in what ways it may produce significant policy change, but regardless of the outcome it represents an interesting test of whether a privately led reform initiative can foster land use change at state and local levels.

A Rich Planning History

Maryland has a longstanding reputation as a national leader in land use policy and planning. The historical roots of Maryland’s smart growth program date to 1933, when Maryland established the nation’s first state planning commission. Recent planning history begins with the formation of the Chesapeake Bay Commission in 1980. Although the commission has no explicit land use authority in the signatory states (Maryland, Pennsylvania, and Virginia), its recommendations have been instrumental in shaping land use policy in Maryland. The state’s Critical Area Act of 1984, for example, required local governments to adopt special development regulations within a 1,000-foot buffer of the Bay shoreline, and the Economic Growth, Resource Protection, and Planning Act of 1992 required local governments to address six visions originally outlined in a report prepared for the Chesapeake Executive Council (DeGrove 2005, 254–256).

Although the 1992 Planning Act provided a framework for local comprehensive plans, it failed to stem the tide of urban sprawl, according to the Growth Commission, established by the act as a new state advisory body. Following an extensive listening campaign, many meetings, and frequent forums, Governor Parris Glendening (1995–2003) proposed and the 1997 legislature passed the initiatives that have led to Maryland’s recognition as a leader in the promotion of smart growth. The original 1997 package of smart growth legislation included five separate measures; the first two captured the primary focus of the program (see Figure 1), and three others supported the overall concept.

• The Priority Funding Areas (PFAs) Act: This act launched a program in which state subsidies for new roads, water, and other infrastructure are available only for projects that are either within municipalities, inside the beltways around Baltimore and Washington, or in other areas designated by counties that meet certain criteria set by the state. This landmark legislation marked the first time the state restricted its expenditures on infrastructure or other growth-related expenses to specific geographic areas of the state.
• The Rural Legacy Act: Under this program the state provides funds for local governments and/or land trusts to purchase development rights on properties (and, in rare instances, purchase the property itself) in rural areas threatened by development, in order to preserve agriculture, forest, and natural resource lands in contiguous blocks, corridors, or greenways. This program recognized that efforts to concentrate new development within existing communities would not be completely successful and that the best remaining farms and natural areas of the state should be identified and protected.
• Brownfield Voluntary Cleanup and Redevelopment Act: This act launched a program that provides financial incentives, technical assistance, and liability protection to eligible participants in the cleanup and redevelopment of underutilized or abandoned industrial properties that are, or are perceived to be, contaminated.
• Live Near Your Work: This program promoted linkages between employers and nearby communities by offering incentives to enable employees to buy homes in proximity to their workplace. This small but popular program subsequently lost state funding due to budget constraints faced by the administration that followed Glendening.
• Job Creation Tax Credit Act: This act launched a program designed to boost employment within the newly established PFAs by providing state income tax credits to employers who created 25 or more new, full-time jobs in those areas.

Incentive-based Programs

Maryland’s smart growth programs are interesting in a number of ways, but the most distinctive feature is their reliance on spatially specific incentives instead of land use regulations (Cohen 2002). For example:

• Local governments can grow wherever they want, but state funds for accommodating development are available only within PFAs.
• Property owners need not clean up and redevelop their properties, but grants are available for doing so.
• Residents can live anywhere, but grants may be available if they purchase homes near their work.
• Farm and forest lands can be developed, but development rights can also be sold and extinguished or, in some counties, transferred to more desirable locations.
• Business can expand anywhere, but tax credits are available for expansion only in certain locations.

This reliance on incentives is what enabled these programs to pass the Maryland legislature, and what makes them so attractive to other states. After nearly 10 years, Maryland remains a national model for state efforts to promote smart growth, although many within the state believe the program has not gone far enough. According to John W. Frece, a former aide to Glendening, the smart growth program was “unquestionably a move in the right direction,” but it also represented only as much change as was politically possible at the time (Frece 2005). He concludes that the Maryland program might have been more effective if it had set specific goals and benchmarks when it was created, and that it failed to conduct any statewide visioning or other exercises to determine what the public thought their region or state should look like in the future. He also notes that the basic planning blocks of smart growth, the priority funding areas, proved to be too weak and porous to slow sprawl, much less stop it.

Because Maryland’s smart growth policies relied extensively on state incentives, their efficacy waned when those incentives were not maintained after Glendening left office. In some cases the policies were simply insufficient to counteract the economic factors that drive sprawl development. Moreover, if a development project was approved by the local government but did not need or rely on financial incentives from the state, the smart growth initiative had no effect on it. Finally, the smart growth program skirted the politically sensitive issue of whether the state should have more authority over local land use decisions. If local decisions were contrary to the state’s smart growth policies, the state had little recourse (Frece 2005).

Several recent studies support these assertions.

• A pair of studies by 1000 Friends of Maryland that focused on the Baltimore area (1999) and the Eastern Shore (2001) found great variation in county land use policies. Whereas some counties had strong policies designed to protect natural resources, encourage infill, and promote mixed land uses, others did little to support any of these goals.
• An examination of land conversion to urban uses from 1992 to 2002 found that urban development after 1997 was more likely inside PFAs than outside them, but only in those counties that had strong urban containment programs before 1997 (Shen and Zhang forthcoming).
• In an examination of investments in wastewater infrastructure, Howland and Sohn (forthcoming) found that a large share of wastewater investments—even investments funded by the state—continued to occur outside of PFAs after 1997.
• Research on brownfield redevelopment in Maryland by Howland (2000; 2003) found that those sites take no longer to sell than greenfield properties, as long as their asking prices are appropriately discounted. Further she found that the most significant impediments to brownfield redevelopment are inadequate infrastructure, incompatible surrounding land uses, and poor truck accessibility.
• In an analysis of Maryland’s Job Creation Tax Credit Program, Sohn and Knaap (2005) found that the effects of the tax credits on the location of job growth are small and sector specific, and perhaps cause more job redistribution than actual job growth.
• In a series of studies on local land use policies in Maryland, the National Center (2003; 2006) found that zoning policies and adequate public facilities ordinances can serve as impediments to development in PFAs and can deflect growth to rural areas and neighboring states.
• A comprehensive analysis of the Rural Legacy Program by the Maryland Department of Planning (Tassone et al. 2004) found that the efficacy of the program depends critically on support from local zoning ordinances. In counties where local zoning is not supportive, land fragmentation in rural legacy areas is high, residential development remains common, and conservation easements become prohibitively expensive.

These reports suggest that although Maryland has adopted some of the most innovative land use policies in the country, there is limited evidence that these policies have significantly altered urban development trends. The reasons are complex, but the available research suggests that state incentives are either too small or are poorly suited to the situation to have major impacts on land development trends, especially without supportive regulatory policies at the local level.

Reality Check Plus: Imagine Maryland

To rekindle interest in urban development trends and land use policy in Maryland, and to advance progress in land use reform, a new initiative was launched in 2005. Reality Check Plus: Imagine Maryland is a broad-based, long-term effort led by the Baltimore District Council of the Urban Land Institute (ULI), the National Center for Smart Growth Research and Education at the University of Maryland, and 1000 Friends of Maryland. It is also supported by more than 130 organizations throughout the state.

The first component of the effort involved four public participatory visioning exercises based on similar exercises in Washington, DC, and Fredericksburg, Virginia, led by ULI and the National Center for Smart Growth. In these exercises citizens representing civic, government, and business interests, including elected officials, were literally brought to the table to confront the issues of urban growth and express a desired vision for their region’s future. The Maryland exercises were held in May and June in four regions: the Eastern Shore, Southern Maryland, Western Maryland, and the Baltimore-Washington Corridor. Participants expressed their vision for where future growth should go by placing plastic Lego® blocks representing projected job and housing growth through 2030 on large, table-top regional maps.

The final results of the four Maryland exercises will not be fully integrated and analyzed until September, but preliminary results presented at each event reveal similar but distinct results (see Figure 2). The consensus visioning principles expressed public desires to (1) protect open spaces and natural resources; (2) utilize existing infrastructure; (3) concentrate growth near transit stations in existing urban areas; and (4) balance the location of jobs and households. And at all four events, the placement of Legos was consistent with these principles. Specifically, when compared with current development patterns, participants placed larger proportions of growth inside PFAs and near transit stations and highway corridors, and placed more jobs in job-poor areas.

Notable support was given in all regions for new and expanded transit service and for more regional cooperation or even regional authorities to plan for future growth. There were also some important regional differences: participants from the Eastern Shore focused on protecting the region’s small town and agrarian way of life; in Western Maryland there was concern about uneven economic growth; the primary concern in Central Maryland was traffic congestion; and in Southern Maryland there was apprehension about the impacts of growth in military jobs.

Although these exercises represent one of the largest forums on growth ever conducted in a single state, it is important not to overstate what these events can produce. A pile of Legos placed on a table for a few hours cannot be confused with a thorough analysis of alternative development patterns, a careful consideration of consequences, and a true statewide consensus about the results. These events, however, do represent an important beginning to what must be a continuing dialogue on growth in the state.

In September, during the state’s quadrennial election cycle, a synthesis of the four regional events will be presented at a statewide forum. Candidates for state and local office, including candidates for governor, will be invited to attend and pledge their support for implementing the results. In the meantime, each of the three lead organizations is developing work plans for the implementation phase. The Baltimore District Council of ULI will offer a series of education and outreach programs designed to disseminate the results of the four events throughout each region, especially to elected officials. 1000 Friends of Maryland will sponsor a series of candidate forums and regional caucuses to encourage the implementation of the results, especially through state and local policy reform. The National Center, with support from the Lincoln Institute, will conduct more extensive analyses of alternative statewide development scenarios and existing land use policies in Maryland and other states.

For Maryland, these four regional exercises, and whatever changes in land use policies may follow, represent just the latest chapter in the state’s closely watched history of land use planning and policy. For other states, these exercises represent a rare natural experiment. Can a privately led visioning exercise precipitate significant change in the substance of state and/or local land use policy, local development decisions, and development trends? Stay tuned.

The Visioning Experience

At each Reality Check Plus event, up to 10 participants at each table were asked to think about how their region should accommodate the growth projected over the next 25 years. A six-foot by eight-foot map of the region was shaded in various colors to represent the existing population and employment density. The maps also depicted major highways; subway and commuter rail lines and stations; parkland or other protected conservation areas; airports, military bases, and other government installations; and rivers, floodplains, and other bodies of water.

To encourage participants to think regionally rather than locally, all jurisdictional boundaries were intentionally omitted, although place names of cities and towns helped with orientation. Each table was staffed by a scribe/computer operator and a trained facilitator to lead the three-hour exercise. Before considering where to accommodate growth, participants were asked to reach consensus on a set of principles to guide their decisions about where to place the new development, such as protecting open space, making use of existing infrastructure, and maintaining jobs-housing balance.

The exercise used Lego® blocks of four different colors: white blocks represented the top 80 percent of new housing units in the region based on price, or essentially market-rate housing; yellow blocks represented the bottom 20 percent of housing based on price, essentially a stand-in for nonsubsidized affordable housing; black blocks represented lower density housing development that could be exchanged for higher density white blocks at a ratio of 4:1; and blue blocks represented jobs.

The maps were overlaid with a checkered grid and scaled so a single block fit on each grid. Participants who wanted to add more than one housing or employment block to a single grid simply stacked the blocks. Those who proposed a mixed-use development pattern could stack various types of blocks together. Once all the Legos were placed on the map, the result yields a three-dimensional representation of where future growth in the region is or is not desired.

After all the Legos were placed, the participants were asked to assess their work. Have they allocated jobs and households across the region in a manner consistent with their vision for what the future should hold? Does the quantity of growth seem appropriate for a 25–30 year timeframe, or would they prefer more or less growth? Finally, if they are comfortable with the consensus vision, what policies or land development tools do they favor for assuring that the preferred vision is the one that is actually realized? What new infrastructure will be necessary to accommodate the projected level of growth? What might be the environmental impacts and tax implications? The participants’ considered responses to these questions are perhaps the most important products of the exercise.

During the lunch break a team of students from the University of Maryland counted the numbers of Legos at each table, entered the information into a computer, and then converted the results into two– and three-dimensional maps for each table. The data were also analyzed and inserted into a formatted PowerPoint presentation. The slides identified results for each table in a quantitative analysis of urban development indicators, such as percentages of jobs and households within one-quarter mile of a transit station; inside metropolitan beltways; inside existing urban areas; and in existing greenfields and farmland. Other indicators measured location of affordable housing and the degree to which it is integrated with market-rate housing; and the extent of jobs-housing balance.

After lunch the participants gathered in a large auditorium to hear a presentation of the results, which included a summary of the consensus principles, selected results from various tables, and a synthesis of the results from all the tables. Subsequent events included a town hall-type panel discussion focused on how to implement the pattern of development envisioned by the participants at each regional event.

Gerrit-Jan Knaap, an economist and professor of urban studies and planning, is executive director of the National Center for Smart Growth Research and Education at the University of Maryland. He is one of three co-chairs of the Reality Check Plus visioning exercise.

Dru Schmidt-Perkins is executive director of 1000 Friends of Maryland, a statewide citizens’ coalition that supports protection of natural resources, revitalization of existing communities, preservation of historic resources, efficient and effective transportation choices, and development that takes into account the public’s interest. She is also one of three co-chairs of the Reality Check Plus project.

References

Bosselman, Fred, and David Callies. 1972. The quiet revolution in land use control. Washington, DC: Council on Environmental Quality.

Cohen, J. R. 2002. Maryland’s “smart growth”: Using incentives to combat sprawl. In Urban sprawl: Causes, consequences and policy response, G. Squires, ed. Washington, DC: Urban Institute Press.

DeGrove, John M. 2005. Planning policy and politics: Smart growth and the states. Cambridge, MA: Lincoln Institute of Land Policy.

Frece, John W. 2005. Twenty lessons from Maryland’s smart growth initiative. Vermont Journal of Environmental Law 6: 106–132.

Howland, Marie. 2000. The impact of contamination on the Canton/Southeast Baltimore land market. Journal of the American Planning Association 66 (4): 411–420.

———. 2003. Private initiatives and public responsibility for the redevelopment of industrial brownfields: Three Baltimore case studies. Economic Development Quarterly 17 (4): 367–381.

Howland, Marie, and Jungyul Sohn. Forthcoming. Has Maryland’s priority funding areas initiative constrained the expansion of water and sewer investments? Land Use Policy.

National Center for Smart Growth. 2003. Smart growth, housing markets, and development trends in the Baltimore-Washington Corridor. http://www.smartgrowth.umd.edu/research/pdf/KnaapSohnFreceEtAl_SGHousingMarketsBalWash_DateNA.pdf.

———. 2006. Adequate public facilities ordinances in Maryland: Inappropriate use, inconsistent standards, unintended consequences. http://www.smartgrowth.umd.edu/research/pdf/NCSG_APFOMaryland_041906.pdf.

1000 Friends of Maryland. 1999. Smart growth: How is your county doing—Baltimore Region. http://www.friendsofmd.org.

———. 2001. Smart growth: How is your county doing—Eastern Shore. http://www.friendsofmd.org.

Shen, Qing and Feng Zhang. Forthcoming, Land-use changes in a pro–smart growth state: Maryland, USA. Environment and Planning A.

Sohn, Jungyul, and Gerrit-Jan Knaap. 2005. Does the job creation tax credit program in Maryland help concentrate employment growth? Economic Development Quarterly 19: 313–326.

Tassone, Joseph, Erik Balsley, Lynda Eisenberg, Stephanie Martins, and Rich Hall. 2004. Maximizing return on public investment in Maryland’s rural land preservation programs. Annapolis, MD: Maryland Department of Planning.

Faculty Profile of Paulo Sandroni

As a city grows in size and building density, improvements to the land supporting the new development are usually part of the growth process. However, the combination of demand for additional construction sites and the limited amount of physical land available for development often results in land price increases.

This land scarcity is caused by three primary factors: the ability of landowners to retain serviced land from the market (attributed to a concentration of land ownership and legal and other institutional constraints); difficulties in accessing areas not yet prepared for occupation due to a lack of infrastructure; and restrictions imposed by zoning. Each of these factors has its own dynamics, but they are not necessarily present at the same time. Such is the case in Brazilian cities, particularly São Paulo, where these restrictive factors do not always operate in the same way with regard to land price.

For example, building regulations may reduce the land price of individual plots, but increase the overall price when the regulations affect all plots and thus restrict housing supply. A large stock of vacant land controlled by a few owners can cause price increases, while the lack of accessibility can result in lower prices. Land price also depends on the nature of the land regulation. As the city grows, the greater demand for buildable urban land generally results in added values if the existing infrastructure supports a more intense occupation of land and the zoning regulations (or changes thereto) also permit higher building density.

To examine these issues, we must consider first how the investment in infrastructure that provides or intensifies the means of access and use of land is financed; and second how the benefits and costs from the land improvements are distributed. Generally the cost of public services (e.g., streets, bridges, sewers, lighting, water) is paid with public funds, whereas the improvement or added value to the land created by the public investment in infrastructure, with few exceptions, is reaped by the owners of the improved property entirely free of charge.

Increases in property value also may result from simple changes in the use of land that is already accessible, for example when land previously considered rural is redefined as urban. Changes in potential densities due to new zoning regulations can create great benefits for the affected properties, although in this case as in the previous one future pressure on the infrastructure will require substantial public investment.

The Legal Framework

Owners of improved property in Brazil, as in most countries, traditionally appropriated the added value generated by public sector investment and zoning changes. The notion that owners should not be the only beneficiaries of such improvements was introduced in Brazil gradually during the 1970s, and this principle was incorporated in articles 182 and 183 of the 1988 Federal Constitution. These articles were subsequently regulated by Federal Law No. 10,257 of 2001, also known as the Urban Development Act or City Statute (Estatuto da Cidade).

Since 1988 urban development has been a matter of federal law. In practice, the federal legis-lation ratified the principle of the social function of urban land ownership and the separation of the right to own land from the right to build. Based on the 2001 act, the City of São Paulo approved its Strategic Master Plan in 2002 and Land Use Law 13,885 in 2004. These laws introduced the mechanism of Charges for Additional Building Rights (Outoga Onerosa do Direito de Construir–OODC), established minimum, basic, and maximum coefficients of land use (or floor area ratios), and limited the supply of buildable area. These tools, utilized together, enabled the municipality to improve land management efficiency, promote socially desirable outcomes, and increase revenues.

The minimum coefficient or floor area ratio (FAR) refers to the minimum use expected from a plot to comply with its social function; the basic FAR refers to the buildable area that any owner has the right to develop by virtue of ownership; and the maximum FAR is the amount of development that could be supported by the existing in-frastructure and zoning regulations. The charges associated with the OODC are imposed on the difference between the maximum FAR and the basic FAR of a plot.

The Administration of Building Rights

The OODC is the monetary compensation paid by those who receive new building rights (buildable area) from the government. This development con-cession (provided by articles 28, 29, 30, and 31 of Federal Law 10,257 of 2001 and defined in articles 209 to 216 of the 2002 Strategic Master Plan) is one of the regulatory instruments used to administer building rights in the city, except in areas designated for large-scale urban operations that use a special legal instrument to encourage public-private interventions (Biderman, Sandroni, and Smolka 2006).

The basic FAR of land use established in 2004 varies between 1 and 2, depending on the area of the city considered. The maximum FAR can be 1, 2, 2.5, or 4, also depending on the area. In some urban areas these new regulations reduced building rights by establishing a basic FAR of 1 for land that had been designated 2 or more under prior legislation. In parallel, the municipality of São Paulo used the OODC to extend the building potential or the maximum FAR up to 4 on land that previously could be developed up to only 1 or 2.

As a result, in certain areas where the FAR was reduced from 2 to 1, developers could submit projects using the former FAR 2, or even the maximum FAR 3 or 4, as long as they paid the government for the additional buildable area corresponding to the difference between the basic FAR and the FAR used in the project. This instrument favors developers, assuming they find the charges cost-effective, because it allows them to build up to FAR 4 in areas where formerly the maximum was FAR 2. Typical landowners do not always find this tool advantageous, however, since the building potential of their land may be reduced and a charge may be imposed on what they previously perceived as a right to build, free of any charges.

Landowners of small lots and low-density housing may not notice what they could be losing when the FAR is changed because they typically view their property as combining the land, building, and other improvements. It is difficult to separate the value of land from that of improvements, so an eventual land value decrease is not perceived immediately. Furthermore, the expansion of the real estate market in São Paulo coincided with the approval of this new legislation in 2004, and the overall increase in land prices may have compensated the eventual price decline associated with changes in FAR. It is also necessary to note that the expansion of government credit for house financing since 2006 contributed to an increase in demand for land and consequently the rise of land prices.

For the developers, the increase in FAR to 4 in areas where the maximum had been 1 or 2 constituted a favorable situation. They could invest more capital in land and make more profitable undertakings, thus compensating for the extra payment they made for the difference between the basic and the maximum FAR. Gradually, developers were convinced that it was better to pay this land value increment to the government than to private owners because the government converted the payments into improvements that frequently benefited the developers’ projects.

The 2002 Strategic Master Plan and Law 13,885 of 2004 also limited the supply of residential and nonresidential building potential in all city districts by establishing a total additional buildable area of 9,769 million square meters (m2): 6,919 million m2 for residential use and 2,850 million m2 for nonresidential use (table 1). This potential did not include the buildable areas inside the perimeter of São Paulo’s 13 urban operations. The additional areas were distributed among the 91 out of 96 city districts, excluding five environmentally protected areas. This definition and demarcation of the potential building stock introduced a new element to the real estate market.

Once the maximum building area was known, developers anticipated land scarcity in those districts where the supply was low and the real estate dynamic high, thus unleashing a trend in higher land prices. The lack of buildable area, in turn, lead to pressures from real estate developers for the government to increase the supply—that is, to change the building area limits in some districts during the 2007 revision of the master plan—but their efforts were not successful. By October 2010 the land supply had been exhausted, or was very close to it, for residential use in 17 districts and for nonresidential uses in 5 districts (figure 1).

Planning and Social Interest Factors

The formula to calculate the OODC charge adopted in São Paulo’s 2002 Strategic Master Plan takes into account planning and social interest factors in addition to the characteristics of the parcel and the actual economic benefit allocated to the property as a result of the OODC.

The planning factor is an instrument that seeks to encourage or discourage higher densities in certain areas, depending on the existing infrastructure, especially public transport and mass transit. The planning factor is also used to obtain greater financial compensation from the sale of building rights for businesses in improved areas of the city, as the coefficient varies according to whether the land use is residential or nonresidential.

The social interest factor establishes exemptions or reductions in the financial charge, depending on the type of activity to be developed on the parcel. The coefficient ranges from zero to one and is applicable to a variety of activities. For example, the coefficient for affordable or social housing is zero, which means that developers of this type of housing do not pay compensation for additional building rights. Similarly, nonprofit hospitals, schools, health and infant care clinics, cultural facilities, sports and leisure institutions, and houses of worship have a coefficient of zero.

These factors act as incentives for desirable social outcomes, since the smaller the planning and social interest factor coefficients applicable to a given area, the smaller the charge to be paid, and the greater the incentive for projects to be developed in the area.

Revenue Impact and Allocation of Funds

Total revenues from OODC payments reached R$650 million (US$325 million) in approximately five years, in spite of the global financial crisis that constricted credit by end of the period (table 2). These funds are deposited into the Urban Development Fund (FUNDURB), which was created to implement plans and projects in urban and environmental areas, or other interventions contemplated in the 2002 master plan.

As of September 2008, the number of projects approved to be financed by FUNDURB included 15 linear parks (R$42.5 million), sidewalk and street improvements (R$21.2 million), drainage and sanitation (R$108 million), community facilities (R$ 21.1 million), regularization of informal settlements (R$50 million), and restoration of culture heritage buildings (R$37 million).

Concluding Remarks

After the City of São Paulo approved the 2002 Strategic Master Plan, the principle of development concessions and buildable land was applied throughout its territory. When a real estate project exceeds the basic FAR and the developer wants to build up to a maximum of 4, payment of financial charges to the government is required. Since the OODC was introduced, revenues have increased annually. One should keep in mind that these revenues are net of the more than US$1 billion generated from 2 of the city’s 13 Urban Operations (Faria Lima and Agua Espraiada) where major zoning and density changes are occurring (Biderman, Sandroni, and Smolka 2006). In those areas the new building rights are priced through the auction of CEPACs, and the revenues must be invested in the area corresponding to the urban operation instead of going to the FUNDURB fund to benefit the city as a whole (Sandroni 2010).

The charge for building rights in São Paulo does not seem to have affected the profitability of developers. On the contrary, increasing the maximum FAR to 4 in some areas of the city contributed to enhancing the developers’ rates of return. However, setting a maximum reserve for building rights seems to have caused an upward trend in land prices, especially in districts where the supply of buildable area is low. In some districts developers proceeded to deplete the supply of residential building rights quickly. This type of response will probably intensify in the future, thus putting pressure on the city government to raise the maximum stock of buildable area and/or the maximum FAR. If this happens, there is a risk that the motivation to increase municipal revenue may outweigh urban planning criteria and the limitations of infrastructure, especially public transportation and mass transit.

Moreover, the flow of financial compensation will not be continuous. Unlike property tax revenues that recur annually, revenues from the sale of building rights will fade in time as the additional building potential is exhausted. In some sectors of the city the supply of buildable area has already been depleted, and the city has achieved its defined goal for building density. However, future changes in the master plan may provide greater building potential for these areas, depending on technical recommendations and the political conditions for the change to take place.

In sum, the application of the principle of the social function of property, embedded in the 2002 Strategic Master Plan for São Paulo, enabled the enactment of municipal legislation that clearly separates the right of ownership from the right to build. As a result, the traditional notion of all-encompassing property rights is no longer sustained, and land ownership cannot override the public interest or take precedence over the social function of property. Consequently, existing building rights can be reduced without landowners being entitled to monetary compensation simply because their hopes have been dashed.

About the Author

Paulo Henrique Sandroni is an economist who served as director of urban planning and public transportation for the City of São Paulo from 1988 to 1993, and for a short period he served the federal government as vice-minister of administration. He has published articles and books on economics, including a dictionary considered a primary reference on economics in Brazil. Sandroni is also a professor at the Economics and Business School at the Getulio Vargas Foundation in São Paulo, a private consultant on urban development and transportation issues, and a lecturer in programs sponsored by the Lincoln Institute of Land Policy.

References

Biderman, Ciro, Paulo Sandroni, and Martim O. Smolka. 2006. Large-scale urban interventions: The case of Faria Lima in São Paulo. Land Lines 18(2): 8–13.

Prefeitura Municipal de São Paulo, Secretaria de Financas. www.prefeitura.sp.gov.br/cidade/secretarias/financas

Sandroni, Paulo. 2010. A new financial instrument of value capture in São Paulo: Certificates of additional construction potential. In Municipal revenues and land policies, Gregory K. Ingram and Yu-Hung Hong, eds., 218–236. Cambridge, MA: Lincoln Institute of Land Policy.

Latin American cities have been leaders in the implementation of bus rapid transit (BRT) systems—a transportation mode often characterized by infrastructure improvements that prioritize transit over other vehicles, provide off-vehicle fare payment, and allow quick vehicle access. More than 45 cities in Latin America have invested in BRT, accounting for 63.6 percent of BRT ridership worldwide.

In Curitiba, Brazil, BRT has been used as a tool to spur development that supports and reinforces the overall transit system. The city introduced exclusive bus lanes in 1972 and encouraged mixed-use, high-density development along the five main corridors that converge in the downtown center and have guided urban growth for decades. Curitiba’s new green line is predicated on similar principles: to encourage urban development that enhances and facilitates transit use. The case of Curitiba suggests that the success of BRT can increase with the presence of concentrated land development along the transit corridor. Other studies have examined whether BRT can actually stimulate land development.

Transit-oriented development (TOD) is the term used to describe development that is compact and has a mixture of land uses, often including residential, commercial, and office uses, as well as high-quality pedestrian environments that effectively connect with transit. Development is considered transit-friendly or transit-supportive because it can concentrate demand along corridors, balance passenger flows, and create opportunities for multimodal travel. U.S. evidence suggests that residents of TODs do use public transportation more than other commuters. Although the majority of TODs are built around rail systems, TOD can be a strategy to complement and build on the strengths of BRT as well.

TOD Typologies

Researchers and practitioners have developed a variety of TOD typologies, but none have focused specifically on BRT. The type of development that could happen around BRT stops is critical for planning development around them, for understanding how TOD fits within a regional growth strategy, for raising awareness and engaging the public, and, ultimately, for increasing the success of the system.

The literature on TOD suggests important potential differences in the characteristics and types of such development. One approach relies on the expertise and experience of planners, architects, and urban designers. Peter Calthorpe (1993) used urbanity to identify urban and neighborhood TODs with such distinguishing features as the quality of transit service, land uses, development intensity, and urban design. The geography of these TODs could vary from greenfield development to infill and redevelopment. A similar typology developed for the state of Florida in 2011 focused on center size (regional, community, neighborhood), but also included another dimension that was specific to the transit mode (Renaissance Planning Group 2011).

Dittmar and Poticha (2004) blended geography and urbanity in their TOD typology that includes urban downtown, urban neighborhood, suburban town center, suburban neighborhood, neighborhood transit zone, and commuter town. The same approach has taken hold in most recent applications of TOD typologies. For example, Sacramento, California, defined TOD as urban core/downtown, urban center, employment center, residential center, commuter center, and enhanced bus corridor (Steer Davies Gleave 2009). Reconnecting America developed a typology for the San Francisco Bay Area that included regional center, city center, suburban center, transit town center, urban neighborhood, transit neighborhood, and mixed use corridor (Metropolitan Planning Commission 2007). In Denver, Colorado, the Center for Transit Oriented Development (CTOD 2008) developed a guide for station area planning that included the addition of a special use/employment district type.

An alternative approach to developing typologies a priori is to use data-grouping techniques to examine existing evidence. For example, a typology of development around 25 rail stations that had integrated development in Hong Kong revealed five types: high-rise office, high-rise residential, large-scale residential, large mixed use, and mid-rise residential (Cervero and Murakami 2009). Another study used cluster analysis to develop a spatial-functional definition of station area types around Phoenix’s light rail lines (Atkinson-Palombo and Kuby 2011). Employment centers, middle-income mixed-use areas, park and ride nodes, high population/rental areas, and areas of urban poverty were the types identified.

A final set of emerging typologies led by CTOD embodies the built environment with an implementation or performance dimension. These typologies often become a two-dimensional matrix, with built environment types in one axis and measures of implementation readiness in the other. Such typologies developed for Portland, Oregon, and Baltimore, Maryland, are used to guide investments and promote policy change and are particularly helpful in raising awareness about the travel benefits of TOD (Deng and Nelson 2012).

Study Cities and Data Collection

To understand the status of BRT-oriented development in Latin America we examined the built environment around BRT stops in seven cities (table 1). We looked for large cities that had BRTs in operation for five years or more and identified the following places: Bogotá (Colombia); Curitiba (Brazil); Goiânia (Brazil); Guatemala City (Guatemala); Guayaquil (Ecuador); Quito (Ecuador); and the São Paulo (Brazil) metro region (ABD Corridor). Together, these cities represent 16 percent of the world’s BRT ridership and 31 percent of Latin America’s BRT ridership. We considered two types of stops: regular stops, which refer to common BRT stops; and terminals, which refer to stops at the end of the line or where significant transfers occur from one BRT line to another. With the help of local planners we identified particular stops that were representative of the entire system, regardless of the development orientation towards BRT. In the end, we identified 51 regular stops and 31 terminals for further examination.

The absence of common data at a high spatial resolution required that we collect data in the field with an environmental audit tool designed for use at the road segment and block levels. A segment was defined as the street between two intersections. The data collection form contained the following fields about the environment:

• pedestrians (pedestrian-only paths, pedestrian bridges, bicycle paths);
• land uses (industrial, commercial, residential multifamily, commercial-industrial, commercialresidential, institutional);
• development intensity (low, medium, high);
• the presence of public or quasi-public spaces (big-box developments, schools, hospitals, churches, libraries, markets, sports and recreational facilities);
• the presence of open spaces (green areas, parks, squares, pocket squares);
• mix of housing;
• the degree to which the area has been built out; and
• maintenance condition of the built environment and green spaces (low, medium, high).

For regular stops, we examined road segments within 250 meters (m) of the stop. For terminals, we examined the area within 500m. In some instances (seven cases in Guatemala City and one in Goiânia) we examined two stops (instead of one) because of one-way streets that influenced the location of stops along parallel streets. In these cases the area analyzed was slightly larger than 250m. In addition to the audit data, we used some secondary data obtained from local authorities, such as population within each stop area.

Overall, we audited 10,632 segments and 2,963 blocks around 82 BRT stops and terminals. Because the surface area audited among stops was similar, comparisons of segments and blocks per stop provide information about compactness and connectivity in those areas of each city. One stop in Guayaquil had the most segments (102.1), while stops in São Paulo (ABD) had the fewest (43.1). A similar pattern was detected when examining segments per block.

All data were aggregated at the stop level. Data collected at the segment level were aggregated to develop measures of the percentage of segments around a stop with or without a given feature. Data collected at the block level were aggregated to develop measures of the raw number or the density of features around a stop. In the end, we calculated 38 variables characterizing the built environment around each stop.

BRT Stop Typologies

With such a large number of variables (38) and a relatively low number of observations (82), we used exploratory factor analysis to develop a subset of variables and to estimate their factor scores. Factor analysis relies on the correlation of the data to identify groups of variables that are most alike. The 38 variables were reduced into nine factors for further study:

• pedestrian-friendly, with connected green and public spaces;
• single-family attached residential uses not centrally located;
• high-density residential multifamily;
• undeveloped land;
• well-maintained mixed-use areas;
• well-maintained green spaces;
• BRT-oriented public facilities for institutional uses;
• large-scale commercial development; and
• consolidated nonindustrial urban fabric.

Several observations emerged from examining the factors and their descriptive statistics. First, development intensity around stops seems to be relatively low. For example, only 8 percent of segments have developments of high density, but 31 percent of segments contain low-density development. Second, in the cities studied redevelopment as a strategy to encourage BRT-oriented development seems critical. Only 8 percent of segments had low levels of consolidation and 11 percent of them had vacant lots. By contrast, almost half of the segments had development that was highly consolidated. This result suggests limited opportunities for BRT-oriented development in undeveloped greenfield sites. Third, in terms of parking, it is remarkable that 26 percent of segments had on-street parking and 30 percent had commercial and retail activity with off-street parking. This highlights the challenge of managing parking supply (and demand) and may indicate that the environment around BRT stops often is not as friendly to pedestrians and BRT users as it should.

The performance of each stop on the nine factors was combined with population density and three additional variables that did not correlate with any other variables in an agglomerative cluster analysis to determine which stops could be grouped. The resulting cluster analysis was the basis for the typology, which identified 10 development types around BRT stops (table 2).

When examining the typology by city we find that two stop types capture city-specific factors: Quito’s city center and several stops unique to Guatemala City, which has the newest system among those studied. Its newness and the fact that it serves fairly consolidated parts of the city might explain why the stops cluster together. The other eight stop types represent a broad cross-section of stops across several cities.

Five attributes appear to discriminate among stops: (1) multifamily developments with and without BRT orientation; (2) single-family attached housing, in some cases built informally, and with access to some commercial activity, often away from activity nodes; (3) high population density, supportive pedestrian infrastructure, and access to parks and green spaces, often away from activity nodes; (4) institutional stops with green spaces, not necessarily open to the public; and (5) stops that are saddled with physical barriers set by the convergence of multiple high-volume roads.

The types identified embody a wide range of possible built environments around BRT. The BRT-oriented Satellite Center type, illustrated by Bogotá, contains significant commercial activities, public facilities, parks, and pedestrian amenities while mixing in multifamily residential and single-family attached housing (figure 1). Together, these characteristics come close to the ideal of an urban TOD. Similarly, the type represented by the downtown, city center Quito stop also has many attributes of urban TOD. Whether the presence of these types translates into higher transit ridership remains an empirical question to be tested.

Community Center and Neighborhood Center stops seem to align well with Calthorpe’s (1993) definition of community and neighborhood TODs. Among the cases analyzed, the former type exhibits some single-family attached housing and mixed uses that include institutional uses often aimed to serve proximate areas of the city. Neighborhood centers have a higher intensity of residential development, mostly focused around single-family attached housing. Our Corridor type stops seem consistent with the concept developed for enhanced bus services in Sacramento and San Francisco, although our data can clearly distinguish between corridors that are dominated by institutional uses and others that simply have a broad mix of uses.

Our typology also identified challenges and opportunities to improve the BRT orientation of development. Only the Downtown City Center and the BRT-oriented Satellite Center types provided adequate integration between the pedestrian environment and transit. The Urban Center type, such as in Curitiba, is ripe for improved integration with the BRT because it has the densities and mix of uses to support it (figure 2). The Nexus stop type, as shown in Goiânia, embodies a frequent challenge for local planners (figure 3). Such stops and terminals should be located to facilitate intermodal transfers, but this often sacrifices access by local users and the transit orientation of the stop.

Compared to other typologies, we did not find strong evidence for employment and commuter-based stops. This may be due to the relatively muted role played by mixed land uses among stops, since land uses played a significant role in other typologies. One explanation could be the typically high degree of mixed uses already present in Latin American cities, which contributes to a low degree of variation across stop areas.

In terms of housing policy, the Neighborhood Center and Green Area types contain an interesting combination of distance to centers of activity and low-income housing. Because the stops are far from activity nodes, they are more likely to contain green spaces, affordable housing, and sometimes informal housing. Latin American cities tend to have a fairly strong land price gradient, with areas with privileged access to activity nodes having higher prices than peripheral areas. These two types raise questions over the possible consequences of BRT on exacerbating the segregation of housing and the financial burden of mobility on low-income residents.

Analysis of Stop Types and Planning Visions

Our examination of 82 BRT stops in seven Latin American cities revealed a variety of development patterns. Some types have attributes that are consistent with the principles of TOD. Others are burdened by land uses, road infrastructure, and development characteristics that do not support BRT. Still other types appear to be works in progress, with significant vacant land and development that has not been fully consolidated. Finally, some stops seem to capture urban conditions that arise in many Latin American cities: informal housing distant from activity nodes; large commercial developments, frequently of the big-box type, providing private spaces for public use and commerce; and a relative absence of green spaces open to the public. This information is helpful in facilitating planning for BRT-oriented development given the rapid growth of BRT over the last two decades. Some 146 cities worldwide now have some form of a bus-based priority transit system.

Understanding the type of development that could happen around BRT stops is critical for planning station areas and for identifying how TOD fits within a regional growth strategy. Robert Cervero (1998) argues that a successful urban development vision must precede and guide transportation investments, and that planning is necessary if subcenters around transit stops are to take place. He buttresses his argument with the impressive evidence of Copenhagen, Stockholm, and Singapore, suggesting that efforts to develop regional and station-area visions are critical for the future success of TOD. In fact, the burgeoning TOD typologies in the United States are predicated in part on their ability to support long-term TOD planning. For example, the Denver typology was critical to create a land use vision for its existing and forthcoming light rail station areas.

Visions of what potential future development could take place and where it would occur are central to planning, and are frequently embodied in potential future scenarios that decision makers, the public, and planners must consider. Visionary planning is often a precondition for effective TOD station area planning. The CTOD calls for planning for the plan, involving the public, marketing the project, and creating a regional TOD strategy, all of which necessitate a vision of what development can occur. Visions are particularly powerful to engage the public because they materialize potential outcomes of the planning process and enable a better understanding of the impact of their decisions about density, the mix of uses, and access to station areas.

The next step in our research is to determine the causes of the different development patterns we have identified. In some cases, the environment has changed dramatically with BRT investments, whereas in other cases there has been little change. At play are market and regulatory forces that determine the outcome of development and revitalization. Changing land use regulations, relaxing density caps, or reducing parking requirements are ways to further leverage the development potential of parcels close to BRT or other mass transit stops. This coordinated strategy between land use and transportation is the cornerstone of TOD.

About the Authors

Daniel A. Rodríguez is professor of city and regional planning, adjunct associate professor of epidemiology, and director of the Carolina Transportation Program at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. His research focuses on the reciprocal relationship between the built environment, including bus rapid transit, and the behavior of travelers.

Erik Vergel tovar is a Fulbright scholar and doctoral student in city and regional planning at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. Trained as an architect, he received a master’s degree in urban management and development with distinction at the Institute for Housing and Urban Development Studies (IHS) at Erasmus University in Rotterdam, The Netherlands. He researches the relationships of urban transportation (especially bus rapid transit) with affordable housing and land policies.

References

Atkinson-Palombo, C., and M. J. Kuby. 2011. The geography of advance transit-oriented development in metropolitan Phoenix, Arizona, 2000–2007. Journal of Transport Geography 19(2): 189–199.

Calthorpe, P. 1993. The new American metropolis: Ecology, community, and the American dream. New York: Princeton Architectural Press.

Cervero, R., 1998. The transit metropolis: A global inquiry. Washington, DC: Island Press.

Cervero, R., and J. Murakami. 2009. Rail and property development in Hong Kong: Experiences and extensions. Urban Studies 46(10): 2019–2043.

CTOD. 2008. Station area planning: How to make great transit-oriented places. Washington, DC: Reconnecting America.

Deng, T., and J. D. Nelson. 2013. Bus rapid transit implementation in Beijing: An evaluation of performance and impacts. Research in Transportation Economics 39(1): 108–113.

Dittmar, H., and S. Poticha. 2004. Defining transit-oriented development: The new regional building block. In The new transit town: Best practices in transit-oriented development, eds. H. Dittmar and G. Ohland, xiii and 253. Washington, DC: Island Press.

Metropolitan Planning Commission. 2007. Station area planning manual. Oakland, CA. http://ctod.org/pdfs/2007MTCStationAreaPlanningManual.pdf

Renaissance Planning Group. 2011. A framework for transit oriented development in Florida. Orlando, FL. http://www.fltod.com/renaissance/docs/Products/FrameworkTOD_0715.pdf

Steer Davies Gleave. 2009. Sacramento regional transit: A transit action plan. Sacramento, CA: Sacramento Regional Transit.

El exceso de derechos de desarrollo y las subdivisiones sujetas a ejecución hipotecaria actualmente reducen la calidad de vida, sesgan los patrones de desarrollo y los mercados inmobiliarios, dañan los ecosistemas y reducen la salud fiscal en muchas comunidades de la región intermontañosa del oeste de los Estados Unidos. Con posterioridad a la caída inmobiliaria de 2007, que golpeó fuertemente en muchos lugares de la región, los caminos erosionados presentes en las subdivisiones atraviesan actualmente las tierras de cultivo y muchos paisajes rurales y suburbanos continúan viéndose salpicados por solitarias viviendas “modelo”. Algunas de estas subdivisiones están desocupadas, pero otras se encuentran parcialmente ocupadas y requieren la prestación de servicios públicos a vecindarios lejanos que generan muy pocos ingresos fiscales. En aquellas jurisdicciones en donde podían venderse lotes antes de que se completara la infraestructura, muchas personas terminaron siendo propietarias de una parcela en la que se suponía que existiría un desarrollo de alto nivel y actualmente sólo existe poco más que un plano catastral.

Estos desarrollos interrumpidos, conocidos coloquialmente como subdivisiones “zombies”, son los muertos vivientes del mercado inmobiliario. Acorralados por problemas financieros o legales, los proyectos que una vez fueran muy prometedores actualmente están afectando a sus entornos con riesgos para la salud y seguridad de los habitantes, deterioro, disminución del valor de las propiedades, amenazas a las finanzas municipales, recursos naturales sobreexplotados, patrones de desarrollo fragmentados y otras distorsiones en los mercados inmobiliarios municipales.

Este artículo presenta un panorama general del contexto económico que promovió tal exceso de derechos en la región oeste, y de las medidas de planificación y control del desarrollo a nivel municipal que influyen en la forma en que dichas fuerzas del mercado actúan en una comunidad determinada. Además se describe de qué manera tres comunidades de la región intermontañosa del oeste rediseñaron las subdivisiones sujetas a ejecución hipotecaria que existían en sus jurisdicciones, y la forma en que dichas medidas están facilitando la recuperación, generando entornos de crecimiento más sustentables, mejorando el valor de las propiedades, y conservando el suelo y el hábitat de vida silvestre.

El trasfondo económico que fomentó el desarrollo excesivo en la región oeste

En la región intermontañosa del oeste, donde abundan los terrenos y el crecimiento rápido es algo común, no es raro que los gobiernos municipales otorguen derechos de desarrollo con una gran anticipación a la demanda de viviendas por parte del mercado. Los ciclos de auge y caída tampoco son una rareza en esta región. Sin embargo, la magnitud de la Gran Recesión amplificó la frecuencia del exceso de derechos y exacerbó el daño que provocaban en las comunidades adyacentes. Sólo en la región intermontañosa del oeste, existen millones de lotes vacantes con derechos de desarrollo. A lo largo de muchos condados en esta región, el índice de parcelas desocupadas en las subdivisiones representa aproximadamente del 15 por ciento a dos tercios de la totalidad de los lotes (ver tablas 1 y 2).

A medida que la economía se va recuperando, ¿corregirá el mercado este exceso de derechos de desarrollo, incentivando así a los promotores inmobiliarios a construir en subdivisiones sujetas a ejecución hipotecaria o a rediseñar aquellas que no reflejan la demanda del mercado? En algunos lugares, sí; en otros, no es muy probable. Las subdivisiones están diseñadas para ser divisiones semipermanentes del suelo. Aunque muchas áreas en la región intermontañosa del oeste están recuperándose con vigor, muchas subdivisiones todavía permanecen sujetas a ejecución hipotecaria, con derechos de desarrollo vencidos, con pocos o ningún residente, derechos de propiedad fragmentados, mejoras en la infraestructura realizadas en forma parcial o deterioradas, y mecanismos débiles o inexistentes para mantener los nuevos servicios. Si no se hace algo al respecto, estos desarrollos interrumpidos continuarán debilitando la salud fiscal y la calidad de vida de las áreas afectadas.

La complejidad de revisar los derechos de desarrollo

Las jurisdicciones municipales forjan el futuro de sus comunidades mediante el otorgamiento de derechos sobre el suelo, la aprobación de subdivisiones y la concesión de subsecuentes permisos de desarrollo. Estas medidas dan como resultado compromisos del uso del suelo que resultan difíciles de cambiar en el futuro, establecen estándares de desarrollo y, por lo general, comprometen a la comunidad a soportar importantes costos a largo plazo en los servicios.

La figura 1 demuestra que resulta mucho más fácil abordar el tema del exceso de derechos cuando se trata simplemente de subdivisiones catastrales sobre papel, con un solo propietario, sin mejoras, sin lotes vendidos y sin viviendas construidas. A medida que el estado de la subdivisión va avanzando desde un plano catastral a un desarrollo parcialmente construido, al tiempo que se involucran en el proyecto varios propietarios, o el encargado de la subdivisión ya ha comenzado a instalar mejoras, o varios propietarios han construido viviendas, los problemas se van haciendo cada vez más complejos y las opciones para resolverlos son cada vez más reducidas.

La revisión o revocación de un plano catastral requiere la aceptación de sólo un propietario que no haya realizado ninguna inversión importante que pudiera limitar la posibilidad de modificar los planes de diseño, permitiendo así las resoluciones más simples (aunque la situación se complica más si una entidad crediticia también debe aprobar los cambios). La venta de un simple lote a un propietario en particular genera más dificultades a la hora de resolver cualquier problema de derechos que tenga la subdivisión, debido a tres cuestiones legales importantes: (1) la necesidad de proteger los derechos de propiedad de los propietarios de lotes; (2) la necesidad de preservar el acceso a los lotes vendidos; y (3) la presión para que se trate de igual manera tanto a los propietarios actuales como a los posibles propietarios en el futuro. Algunos de estos problemas pueden dar lugar a demandas legales, lo que, a su vez, puede generar un posible pasivo para la ciudad o el condado. La revisión o revocación de un plano catastral con lotes vendidos requiere que muchos propietarios se pongan de acuerdo, con la consecuente posibilidad de que cada uno de ellos decida iniciar una demanda con base en uno o varios de los mencionados fundamentos legales.

Una vez que el promotor realiza inversiones significativas en infraestructura y otras mejoras, las complicaciones se multiplican. Aunque la compra de terrenos no crea en sí misma un “derecho adquirido” para completar el desarrollo, una vez que el propietario invierte en mejoras para las futuras viviendas, resulta difícil detener la construcción de dichas viviendas sin tener que reembolsar al promotor los costos de dicha infraestructura.

Las viviendas terminadas (en particular, si varias de ellas ya están ocupadas) suman una dificultad más a la complejidad de resolver las subdivisiones sujetas a ejecución hipotecaria. Los caminos de acceso deben conservarse y mantenerse, aun cuando las viviendas estén muy lejos unas de otras, formando patrones ineficientes. Si el promotor se comprometió a construir un campo de golf, un parque u otras atracciones para la comunidad, cada uno de los propietarios de los lotes podría reclamar el derecho a utilizar dichas atracciones, ya sea que se hayan construido o no, e independientemente de que las asociaciones para conservar dichas atracciones existan o posean la suficiente cantidad de miembros como para llevar a cabo dicha conservación. Aun cuando el promotor sea claramente responsable de construir las atracciones, el gobierno municipal podría llegar a ser responsable de las mismas si no le permite al desarrollador construir las atracciones por haber declarado desocupadas ciertas partes del plano catastral en donde se deberían haber construido dichas atracciones.

Las subdivisiones de mayor extensión que se van dividiendo en diferentes fases a lo largo de las distintas etapas de la construcción son las que generan los problemas más intrincados y de mayor alcance. Las primeras fases de la construcción pueden, en su mayoría, consistir en la venta de lotes con la mayor parte de la estructura en pie, pero las fases posteriores tal vez consistan en meros planos catastrales, sin construcciones, sin lotes vendidos y sin mejoras realizadas. De esta manera, una sola subdivisión sujeta a ejecución hipotecaria puede generar distintos tipos de problemas legales en cuanto a los derechos y, en consecuencia, puede presentar distintos niveles de riesgo y de posible responsabilidad, en diferentes zonas del desarrollo.

Cómo tres comunidades rediseñaron con éxito el exceso de derechos

Los gobiernos municipales que desean solucionar los posibles impactos negativos derivados del exceso de derechos de desarrollo y de las subdivisiones sujetas a ejecución hipotecaria, tienen a su disposición diferentes medidas sobre el uso y la zonificación del suelo. Como resultado de nuestra investigación, hemos identificado 48 herramientas y 12 buenas prácticas, que hemos extraído de casos de estudio, lecciones impartidas por diferentes expertos en varios talleres, análisis de datos y una encuesta realizada a planificadores, promotores y propietarios en la región intermontañosa del oeste (para obtener el listado de las estrategias de prevención y tratamiento, consultar el informe completo sobre enfoque en políticas de suelo titulado Arrested Developments: Combating Zombie Subdivisions and Other Excess Entitlements). En general, estas estrategias pueden clasificarse en cuatro categorías: incentivos económicos, compra de derechos sobre el suelo o derechos de desarrollo, programas de gestión del crecimiento, y normativas sobre el desarrollo:

1. Los incentivos económicos, tales como inversiones específicas en infraestructura, exención de tarifas y racionalización de las normas, con el fin de evitar las normas regulatorias controvertidas.

2. La compra de derechos sobre el suelo o derechos de desarrollo es la forma más directa de eliminar los derechos de desarrollo indeseados, pero puede resultar muy costosa para algunas comunidades.

3. La gestión del crecimiento implica hacer uso de los límites de las áreas de servicios urbanos o adaptar los requisitos adecuados de servicios públicos con el fin de limitar nuevos derechos de desarrollo.

4. Las normativas de desarrollo, que implican llevar a cabo una rezonificación, realizar cambios en las ordenanzas sobre subdivisiones y garantías de desarrollo, iniciar procesos de desocupación de planos catastrales, y revisar los modelos de acuerdo de desarrollo.

Las tres comunidades siguientes que conforman nuestros casos de estudio utilizaron principalmente normas sobre el desarrollo. El condado de Mesa, en Colorado, y el condado de Teton, en Idaho, revisaron sus acuerdos sobre el desarrollo a fin de rediseñar las subdivisiones municipales sujetas a ejecución hipotecaria. Las tres jurisdicciones, incluyendo a la ciudad de Maricopa, en Arizona, también facilitaron las medidas de realización de nuevos planos catastrales en forma voluntaria.

De qué manera el condado de Mesa, Colorado, revisó su procedimiento para aprobación de desarrollos y abandonó los planos catastrales

Durante el período de auge y caída del petróleo en la década de 1980, el condado de Mesa, Colorado, fue una de las regiones que sufrió los peores efectos. Cuando ExxonMobil abandonó sus operaciones en el área, la población de Grand Junction (la sede del condado) disminuyó bruscamente en unos 15.000 habitantes de la noche a la mañana. Todos los desarrollos se detuvieron. Después de la caída, quedaron abandonadas más de 400 subdivisiones que comprendían cerca de 4.000 lotes en todo el condado. Aproximadamente el 20 por ciento de las subdivisiones en el condado de Mesa quedaron con acuerdos sobre mejoras en el desarrollo sin cumplir.

Cuando la clasificación crediticia de bonos del condado cayó en el año 1988, se tomaron varias medidas a fin de eliminar el exceso de derechos. El condado negoció con bancos locales y con la comunidad dedicada a los desarrollos a fin de establecer formas y procedimientos para celebrar acuerdos sobre mejoras al desarrollo. También se estableció una nueva garantía financiera, denominada “Acuerdo de desembolso para subdivisiones”, entre las entidades crediticias de la construcción y el condado. Este acuerdo permite al condado asociarse directamente con las instituciones financieras para garantizar: (1) un presupuesto para la construcción firmado de mutuo acuerdo; (2) un plazo establecido para la construcción de las mejoras; (3) un procedimiento elaborado de mutuo acuerdo, que implica inspecciones en el lugar durante la construcción, para el otorgamiento de fondos de préstamo a los promotores; y (4) el compromiso del condado de aceptar las mejoras del promotor (una vez reunidas ciertas condiciones) y de liberar al promotor de la garantía financiera.

Al condado de Mesa le llevó 15 años resolver completamente el exceso de derechos derivados de la caída de la década de 1980, pero la tarea dio sus frutos: durante la Gran Recesión, el condado tuvo el menor índice de parcelas desocupadas en las subdivisiones en relación con la totalidad de lotes subdivididos, comparado con cerca de 50 condados examinados en la región intermontañosa del oeste. Ningún promotor se echó atrás en los acuerdos de desarrollo cuando sólo se realizaron mejoras parciales. Aunque algunas subdivisiones permanecen desocupadas, todas las mejoras se han completado hasta el punto de que las parcelas estarán listas para las obras de construcción una vez que sean vendidas.

A modo de ejemplo, River Canyon (figura 2) se planificó como una subdivisión de 38 lotes sobre una superficie de 77 hectáreas. Cuando explotó la burbuja inmobiliaria en el año 2008, todo el sitio había sido ligeramente nivelado con carreteras construidas a través de las montañas, aunque no se habían completado otras mejoras ni se había vendido ninguna parcela. Al caer en cuenta de que los lotes no serían viables a corto plazo, el promotor trabajó junto con el condado para realizar nuevos planos catastrales de la subdivisión con el fin de lograr un solo lote matriz hasta que el propietario estuviera listo para solicitar una nueva revisión de la subdivisión.

Esta solución permitió que todos salieran beneficiados: el condado escapa de un contrato con el desarrollador en mora y evita la venta de lotes a muchos propietarios con los que le resultaría muy difícil coordinar la construcción de mejoras en las subdivisiones. El desarrollador, por su parte, evita el costo de instalar servicios y pagar impuestos en propiedades desocupadas zonificadas para desarrollos residenciales.

Ahora, las entidades crediticias en el condado de Mesa por lo general alientan la consolidación de lotes registrados en el catastro, ya que muchos bancos no otorgan créditos ni prorrogan el plazo de los préstamos para construcción sin un porcentaje cierto de preventas que validen la propiedad como una inversión sólida. Por lo general, el propietario también cumple, a fin de evitar el pago de impuestos sobre propiedades residenciales desocupadas, que representan la segunda tasa de impuesto más alta en Colorado. Si la demanda de mercado repunta, el propietario puede entonces presentar los mismos planos de subdivisión para que los revise el condado, para cumplir con las normas vigentes. Si los planos todavía cumplen con las normas, el promotor puede entonces iniciar allí el proceso de subdivisión. El condado de Mesa consolidó parcelas de esta forma unas siete veces en total desde 2008 hasta 2012 para eliminar lotes en los que no se preveía ninguna construcción residencial en un futuro cercano.

De qué manera la ciudad de Maricopa, Arizona, se asoció con el sector privado para convertir parcelas sujetas a ejecución hipotecaria en lotes con fines no residenciales

Maricopa fue declarada municipio en 2003, en los primeros años del auge inmobiliario de Arizona. Esta ciudad es una más de las típicas entre muchas comunidades exurbanas nuevas dentro de las regiones metropolitanas en crecimiento. Al enfrentar una afluencia de nuevos residentes (que debían viajar a sus empleos hasta que pudieran comprar una vivienda cerca de su trabajo), la comunidad destinó rápidamente la mayor parte del suelo disponible a derechos de subdivisión residencial. En el punto álgido del auge inmobiliario, esta pequeña ciudad, ubicada a 60 km del centro de Phoenix y a 32 km del límite urbanizado del área metropolitana de Phoenix, emitía unos 600 permisos de construcción residencial por mes.

El condado de Pinal había aprobado muchas de las subdivisiones residenciales de Maricopa antes de que la ciudad se convirtiera en un municipio, de acuerdo con el código de zonificación de 1967 del condado. De hecho, cumpliendo con la práctica estándar relativa a las nuevas ciudades convertidas en municipios, la ciudad, al principio, adoptó la ordenanza de zonificación del condado de Pinal. Durante un tiempo, la comisión de planificación y zonificación del condado siguió funcionando como el organismo de supervisión de planificación de la ciudad. Sin embargo, este antiguo código de condado rural no tenía en cuenta ni posibilitaba la creación de incentivos para los desarrollos de uso mixto, áreas con un carácter de centro de ciudad, un equilibrio entre empleos y viviendas, usos institucionales o servicios sociales. Esta falta de diversidad dio como resultado una escasez de áreas destinadas a servicios y comercios minoristas, así como también una falta de áreas destinadas a organizaciones sin fines de lucro, tales como iglesias, escuelas privadas, guarderías de niños, centros terapéuticos y servicios de salud. A medida que los nuevos residentes buscaban servicios públicos y empleos locales, esta carencia de terrenos para empleos y servicios públicos se volvió cada vez más problemática.

Cuando la Gran Recesión golpeó al país y ocurrió la caída del mercado inmobiliario, la oferta de lotes residenciales superó ampliamente la demanda, por lo que muchos de estos lotes quedaron sujetos a ejecución hipotecaria. Maricopa enfrentó este desafío y aprovechó la oportunidad para reexaminar sus patrones de crecimiento y, así, abordar el problema de la gran cantidad de subdivisiones sujetas a ejecución hipotecaria que plagaban la comunidad.

La ciudad decidió asociarse con el sector privado (promotores, bancos, agencias afianzadoras y otras agencias gubernamentales) a fin de solucionar el problema de las subdivisiones sujetas a ejecución hipotecaria y la falta de uso del suelo a los fines institucionales y públicos. La primera prueba a este nuevo enfoque se dio cuando una congregación católica estaba buscando un sitio donde construir su iglesia en una zona urbana que ya tuviera la infraestructura para los servicios de agua potable, alcantarillado, etc. La ciudad de Maricopa actuó como facilitadora para poner en contacto a la iglesia con los promotores de Glennwilde, un desarrollo sujeto a ejecución hipotecaria parcialmente construido. La iglesia escogió un lugar que se encontraba en la última fase de la subdivisión y que, en ese momento, era todavía un mero plano catastral. La ciudad desocupó el plano catastral para dicho sitio y luego lo devolvió a una gran parcela que el desarrollador de Glennwilde, a su vez, vendió a la iglesia.

La construcción aún no ha comenzado, pero el proyecto ha servido como modelo para otros desarrollos interrumpidos. Las medidas tomadas en colaboración entre la ciudad, los propietarios de subdivisiones actualmente sujetas a ejecución hipotecaria y otras partes interesadas también ha inspirado la aprobación de propuestas para un centro de la Iglesia de los Santos de los Últimos Días, un centro cívico, un parque regional y una instalación multigeneracional en toda la ciudad.

De qué manera el condado de Teton, Idaho, demandó el rediseño de planos catastrales, la desocupación de lotes o la realización de nuevos catastros

El condado de Teton en Idaho, un condado rural no municipal con una población anual estimada de 10.170 habitantes, tiene un total de 9.031 lotes registrados, de los cuales 6.778 están vacantes. Aunque el índice de crecimiento anual del condado volviera al 6 por ciento al que había llegado entre los años 2000 y 2008, este inventario de lotes refleja una acumulación tal que podría adaptarse al crecimiento en los próximos 70 años. Este exceso extremo de derechos, a razón de tres lotes vacantes con derechos por cada lote desarrollado en el condado, es el resultado de tres malas decisiones tomadas por el consejo de administración entre 2003 y 2005.

En primer lugar, el condado adoptó un procedimiento fácil y rápido para que los propietarios solicitaran el derecho de modificar la categoría zonal de sus propiedades de lotes de 8 hectáreas a lotes de 1 hectárea. Ninguna de estas modificaciones zonales se otorgó junto con una propuesta de desarrollo concurrente: prácticamente todas las modificaciones se otorgaron con el fin de un desarrollo especulativo en el futuro. Era práctica normal del condado modificar las categorías zonales de cientos de hectáreas en una sola noche de audiencias públicas, ya que el orden del día de una de estas audiencias podía incluir hasta diez solicitudes de subdivisión.

En segundo lugar, la Guía de Desarrollo 2004–2010 del condado establecía un crecimiento dinámico enfocado a la construcción residencial a fin de impulsar el desarrollo económico. Sin embargo, las metas y objetivos eran vagos y el plan no especificaba el tipo y ubicación de los proyectos. Debido al rechazo de la comunidad, el documento finalmente se ignoró durante el proceso de aprobaciones y fomentó un desarrollo explosivo y sin patrones, lo que dio como resultado que, durante seis años, se tomaran decisiones sobre el uso del suelo sin ninguna estrategia coherente.

En tercer lugar, el consejo de administración del condado adoptó, en el año 2005, una ordenanza sobre Desarrollo Planificado de Unidades (PUD, por sus siglas en inglés) que establecía bonificaciones por densidad. Según las disposiciones sobre desarrollos en conjunto del PUD, los desarrolladores podían exceder los derechos zonales subyacentes hasta un 1.900 por ciento. Las típicas bonificaciones por densidad para el buen diseño establecidas en el PUD oscilan entre el 10 por ciento y el 20 por ciento. Ahora, aquellas áreas con un sistema central de agua potable clasificadas en una zonificación de 8 hectáreas (con 5 unidades cada 83 hectáreas) podían tener derecho a recibir hasta 100 unidades. Además, las normas sobre subdivisión y PUD del condado de Teton permitieron la venta de lotes antes de la instalación de la infraestructura, lo que proporcionó un gran incentivo para el desarrollo especulativo.

Con posterioridad a la caída del mercado en 2008, algunos propietarios de desarrollos incompletos comenzaron a buscar maneras de reestructurar sus subdivisiones sujetas a ejecución hipotecaria. En 2010, Targhee Hill Estates presentó ante el condado una propuesta para realizar un nuevo plano catastral del centro de recreación que se había construido parcialmente (ver figura 3). No obstante, en ese momento no existía ninguna ordenanza municipal, ley estatal o procedimiento legal que permitiera la realización de un nuevo plano catastral para un desarrollo ya vencido.

La Asociación de Defensores del Desarrollo Responsable del Valle del Condado de Teton (VARD, por sus siglas en inglés) intervino solicitando al condado la creación de un procedimiento que fomentara el rediseño de las subdivisiones sujetas a ejecución hipotecaria y facilitara la realización de nuevos planos catastrales. La VARD comprendió que un rediseño del plano catastral podría reducir la intrusión en áreas naturales delicadas del condado, reducir los costos gubernamentales asociados con el desarrollo disperso y, posiblemente, reducir la cantidad de lotes vacantes mediante la colaboración con los propietarios y los promotores, a fin de agilizar los cambios en los planos catastrales existentes.

El 22 de noviembre de 2010, el consejo de administradores del condado adoptó por unanimidad una ordenanza sobre nuevos planos catastrales, que permitiría realizar de forma rápida y sin grandes costos nuevos planos catastrales de las subdivisiones, los PUD y los acuerdos de desarrollo existentes. Mediante esta ordenanza se creó un procedimiento orientado a las soluciones que permite al condado de Teton trabajar junto con los promotores, los propietarios, las entidades crediticias y otras partes interesadas a fin de resolver los proyectos complicados en los que intervienen muchos intereses de propiedad y, por lo general, implican millones de dólares en infraestructura.

La ordenanza, en primer lugar, establece cuatro categorías de cambios que puede proponer toda solicitud de nuevo plano catastral: (1) un aumento de grandes proporciones en cuanto a la escala y el impacto; (2) un aumento de menor envergadura en cuanto a la escala y el impacto; (3) una reducción de grandes proporciones en cuanto a la escala y el impacto; y (4) una reducción de menor envergadura en cuanto a la escala y el impacto. Todo aumento en el impacto podría requerir audiencias públicas y estudios adicionales, mientras que para las reducciones en el impacto, no son necesarios (en la medida de lo posible) dichos requisitos ni la revisión por parte de la agencia. Además, la ordenanza elimina la innecesaria duplicación de estudios y análisis que hubieran sido requeridos como parte de la solicitud y aprobación inicial del plano catastral. El condado de Teton también eliminó las tarifas que debían pagarse para procesar las solicitudes de nuevos planos catastrales.

El primer caso que obtuvo resultados positivos fue la realización de los nuevos planos catastrales del PUD de Canyon Creek Ranch, completado en junio de 2013. Ubicado a más de 37 km de los servicios urbanos, el proyecto Canyon Creek Ranch se aprobó originalmente en el año 2009 como un centro recreativo de estilo estancia de 350 lotes sobre aproximadamente 1.100 hectáreas, que incluía aproximadamente 25 lotes comerciales, un hipódromo y una cabaña. Después de largas negociaciones entre el equipo de promotores de Canyon Creek y el personal de la comisión de planificación del condado de Teton, el promotor propuso un nuevo plano catastral que reducía drásticamente el impacto y los efectos de este proyecto, ya que sólo incluía 21 lotes sobre la propiedad de 1.100 hectáreas. Para el promotor, este nuevo diseño reduce el precio de la infraestructura en un 97 por ciento: de US$24 millones a aproximadamente US$800.000, lo que permite que la propiedad permanezca dentro del programa de reservas de conservación y genere una fuente de ingresos, a la vez que se reducen las deudas por el impuesto sobre la propiedad. La reducción en la escala y el impacto de este nuevo diseño permitirá preservar este hábitat tan importante y mantener el paisaje rural, lo que representa un beneficio público para toda la comunidad.

Conclusión

Mientras que la recuperación del último ciclo de auge y caída es casi total en algunas áreas del país, otras comunidades seguirán sufriendo el impacto de los lotes vacantes y las subdivisiones sujetas a ejecución hipotecaria por un largo tiempo. Los auges inmobiliarios que se den en el futuro también darán como resultado, inevitablemente, nuevas caídas, por lo que las comunidades vulnerables pueden ahora construir fundamentos sólidos con políticas, leyes y programas para minimizar los nuevos problemas que surjan del exceso de derechos sobre los terrenos. Las comunidades y otras partes interesadas involucradas en el desarrollo inmobiliario harían bien en asegurarse de tener mecanismos que sirvan para adaptarse y ajustarse a las condiciones de mercado en constante evolución. En cuanto a las jurisdicciones que ya están teniendo problemas con las subdivisiones sujetas a ejecución hipotecaria, un ingrediente esencial para lograr el éxito será la disposición a reconsiderar las aprobaciones y proyectos pasados y reconocer los problemas derivados de los mismos. Aquellas comunidades que sean capaces de actuar eficazmente como facilitadoras además de entes reguladores, según lo demostrado en los casos de estudio presentados en este artículo, estarán mejor preparadas para prevenir, responder y solucionar los problemas que pudieran surgir como resultado del exceso de derechos de desarrollo.

Herramientas y recomendaciones adicionales

El presente artículo es una adaptación de un nuevo informe sobre enfoque en políticas de suelo del Instituto Lincoln, titulado Arrested Developments: Combating Zombie Subdivisions and Other Excess Entitlements, de Jim Holway con Don Elliott y Anna Trentadue. Para mayor información (incluidas buenas prácticas, recomendaciones sobre políticas, y una guía paso a paso destinada a las comunidades que enfrentan un exceso de derechos), puede descargar este informe sobre enfoque en políticas de suelo completo o solicitar una copia impresa del mismo (www.lincolninst.edu/pubs). También se encuentra disponible información adicional en el sitio web que acompaña el informe (www.ReshapingDevelopment.org).

Sobre los autores

Jim Holway, Ph.D., FAICP, dirige el proyecto Western Lands and Communities en el Sonoran Institute de Phoenix, Arizona. Holway se desempeña además como funcionario municipal electo en representación del condado de Maricopa en el Distrito de Conservación del Agua de Arizona Central.

Don Elliott, FAICP, es abogado especializado en el uso del suelo, planificador de ciudades y director de Clarion Associates en Denver, Colorado.

Anna Trentadue es abogada de planta de Valley Advocates for Responsible Development en Driggs, Idaho.

Recursos

Burger, Bruce y Randy Carpenter. 2010. Rural Real Estate Markets and Conservation Development in the Intermountain West. Working paper. Cambridge, MA: Lincoln Institute of Land Policy.

Elliott, Don. 2010. Premature Subdivisions and What to Do About Them. Working paper. Cambridge, MA: Lincoln Institute of Land Policy.

Preston, Gabe. 2010. The Fiscal Impacts of Development on Vacant Rural Subdivision Lots in Teton County, Idaho. Fiscal impact study. Teton County, ID: Sonoran Institute.

Sonoran Institute. Reshaping Development Patterns. PFR companion website www.ReshapingDevelopment.org.

Sonoran Institute. Successful Communities On-Line Toolkit information exchange. www.SCOTie.org.

Trentadue, Anna. 2012. Addressing Excess Development Entitlements: Lessons Learned In Teton County, ID. Working paper. Cambridge, MA: Lincoln Institute of Land Policy.

Trentadue, Anna y Chris Lundberg. 2011. Subdivision in the Intermountain West: A Review and Analysis of State Enabling Authority, Case Law, and Potential Tools for Dealing with Zombie Subdivisions and Obsolete Development Entitlements in Arizona, Colorado, Idaho, Montana, New Mexico, Nevada, Utah, and Wyoming. Working paper. Cambridge, MA: Lincoln Institute of Land Policy.

Valley Advocates for Responsible Development. www.tetonvalleyadvocates.org.

Growing the International Land Conservation Network

Laura Johnson is an attorney and lifelong conservationist with more than 30 years of experience in nonprofit management. She is currently director of the new International Land Conservation Network (ILCN), a visiting fellow at the Lincoln Institute of Land Policy, and chair of the Land Trust Alliance board of directors.

Laura was the president of Mass Audubon from 1999 to 2012. Prior, she worked for 16 years at The Nature Conservancy as a lawyer, Massachusetts state director, and vice president of the northeast region.

Laura received a B.A. in history from Harvard University and a J.D. from New York University Law School. From 2013 to 2014, she was a Bullard Fellow at the Harvard Forest, Harvard University, where she completed a study on private land conservation efforts around the world.

LAND LINES: Your program, the International Land Conservation Network (ILCN), is new this year, but it has some antecedents at the Lincoln Institute. Can you tell us about that history?

LAURA JOHNSON: There are some wonderful connections between the new network and the Lincoln Institute’s past support of the innovative, capacity-building effort devoted to conservation that eventually became the Land Trust Alliance.

In the early 1980s, Kingsbury Browne, a prominent Boston lawyer, decided to take some time away from his law firm, and he used a sabbatical at the Lincoln Institute to explore the needs and opportunities of private land trusts in the United States. Up until that point, there was no nationwide effort to seek out the best examples of land protection activities, to share those ideas and best practices, or even to keep track of what was happening in land conservation around the country. Kingsbury Browne’s study led him, along with several other land trust leaders at the time, to start a new organization called the Land Trust Exchange, which connected the country’s small but growing conservation community through a newsletter and some basic research and training activities. The Lincoln Institute played a crucial role in helping to launch the Exchange, which grew over the years and changed its name to become the Washington, DC–based Land Trust Alliance. There were fewer than 400 U.S. land trusts in 1982 when the Exchange got started; now the Land Trust Alliance serves 1,200 land trusts all over the United States. The Exchange started out with a modest newsletter in the 1980s; now the Alliance provides an online learning center, a full conservation and risk management curriculum, and more than 100 webinars and 300 workshops that served close to 2,000 people in 2014.

LL: Throughout most of your career, you have been deeply engaged in U.S.-based land conservation work. What attracted you to expand your efforts on an international scale?

LJ: When I stepped down from the presidency of Mass Audubon two years ago, I began talking with Jim Levitt, a fellow at the Lincoln Institute, the director of the Program on Conservation Innovation at the Harvard Forest, and a former Mass Audubon board member. It was initially his idea that I explore how conservationists outside the United States were using and adapting conservation tools that had been developed over the years here. Jim had become very involved in private conservation efforts in Chile, and there was an opportunity to strengthen the very new movement there by sharing U.S.-based measures such as conservation easements. At about the same time, Peter Stein received the Kingsbury Browne fellowship and award from the Land Trust Alliance and the Lincoln Institute, which allowed him to explore the breadth of worldwide conservation organizations as well. Through our different projects, Jim, Peter, and I came to the similar conclusion that many people around the globe shared a strong interest in connecting to each other and to U.S. conservationists. This desire for a community of practice seemed like a remarkable opportunity to help build capacity for privately protecting land.

LL: Why is this role the right challenge at the right time for you?

LJ: I have had the incredible good fortune to work with some great organizations and wonderfully talented people. As a young lawyer just starting out at The Nature Conservancy in the 1980s, I was able to grow professionally at a pivotal time for conservation in the United States. Looking at the historic trend lines, the U.S. land conservation movement took off then, and it was very exciting to be a part of that growth. Then when I went to Mass Audubon in 1999, I was able to run the nation’s largest independent state Audubon organization, which provided leadership not just with land conservation, but with environmental education and public policy as well. Now, I have the honor of serving on the board of the Land Trust Alliance, which does such remarkable work here in the United States to enable effective land and resource protection. Along the way, my legal training was certainly useful, but I have also learned a tremendous amount about what makes organizations successful and likely to have a positive impact. I feel very fortunate to have this background and set of experiences, and I want to bring it to bear on the issues facing the international land conservation community.

LL: You’ve mentioned capacity building and creating successful organizations a few times. Can you comment on what that means in the context of land conservation?

LJ: Land conservation organizations need all the elements of any sound nonprofit organization—a clear mission, a compelling vision and strategy, disciplined planning and clear goals, sufficient financial resources, and great people. But working on land protection requires a very long-term outlook. To start with, a land trust needs to have the knowledge and resources to assess what land should be protected—whether the mission is to conserve natural resources or scenic, cultural, or historic values—and what legal and financial tools are best suited to achieving a good outcome. Then it can take years of working with a landowner to get to a point where everyone is ready to agree on a deal. Land trusts need to have people with the training, knowledge, and experience to carry out transactions that are legally, financially, and ethically sound. Once land is protected by a trust, that organization is making a commitment to manage the land it owns or has restrictions on forever. Museums are a good analogy, but instead of Rembrandts and Picassos, land conservation organizations are stewards of invaluable living resources, and the land and water we all depend on to survive.

LL: Why is private land conservation particularly important now? Why do we need an international network?

LJ: We are at a critical juncture as the pressures of climate change, land conversion, and shrinking government resources are making it more challenging than ever to protect land and water for the public benefit. Therefore the mission statement of the new International Land Conservation Network emphasizes connecting organizations and people around the world that are accelerating voluntary private action that protects and stewards land and water resources. Our premise is that building capacity and empowering voluntary private land conservation will strengthen the global land conservation movement and lead to more long-lasting and effective resource protection.

Support for better coordination of international private land conservation is emerging from many sources. For example, the International Union for the Conservation of Nature (IUCN) considered the role of private land conservation in the context of global efforts at its November 2014 World Parks Congress held in Sydney, Australia. The Futures of Privately Protected Areas, an IUCN-commissioned report released at that conference, provided a number of recommendations, such as developing relevant training and improving knowledge sharing and information, which are certainly important goals for the new network. We expect to work in collaboration with partners such as the IUCN, and with the existing regional or countrywide networks that are already in existence. And of course we have the very powerful example of the Land Trust Alliance and what it has been able to accomplish over 30 years to build the capacity of land trusts in the United States.

LL: What will you try to accomplish in the first year to address these needs?

LJ: We’ve had to get ourselves organized and deal with basic issues such as our name, visual identity, mission statement, goals, and governance structure. We will be designing and launching a website to serve as the essential repository of case studies, research, best practices, events, and conferences. Eventually, we want to have a continuum of learning available on the website through tools like webinars that address a range of subjects, from legal instruments to organizational best practices. We also want to carry out a census of existing networks and active organizations, to start building a baseline of knowledge about private land protection that will help measure progress over time.

LL: What are the greatest challenges to starting the network?

LJ: There are many. Money is a big one, of course. We’ve received a generous start-up grant from the Packard Foundation, and we have great support from the Lincoln Institute. But we are working hard to identify additional sources of funding, in order to grow the network and increase its impact. And of course we are still proving that the network will provide useful, important, and actionable information and training to meet a tremendous variety of needs within the international land conservation community. We know that we can’t do everything, so we must be strategic and choose activities that will have impact. The global scale also presents a host of cultural and logistical challenges, requiring us to navigate different legal systems, languages, customs, and, last but not least, time zones.

On the positive side, we already have a very committed group of land conservation practitioners who came together at our organizing meeting in September 2014 and enthusiastically signed on to be the “sweat equity”—to provide the network with knowledge, expertise, experience, and wise counsel. It’s already very clear to me that this is a wonderful group of colleagues who are doing interesting and important work around the globe. It will be an adventure—and I know I’ll learn a lot—to grow this new network together.