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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.
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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:
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:
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.
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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.
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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.
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Because many brownfield sites are located in areas with depressed property values, the cost of remediation and redevelopment can be greater than the expected resale value. These sites, referred to here as low-to-no market value brownfields, are rarely addressed under current policies and programs. Rather, the current practice of many brownfield redevelopment projects is to select only the most marketable sites for remediation and redevelopment, essentially perpetuating the age-old “creaming” process. Private and public developers’ avoidance of the lowest market value parcels typically excludes disadvantaged neighborhoods from programs aimed at redeveloping brownfields and creates the potential for widening existing inequalities between better-off and worse-off neighborhoods.
The Role of Land Banks
In a recently completed project supported by the Lincoln Institute, I examined the barriers to brownfield redevelopment and focused on promising approaches for improving the prospects of the least marketable sites. The specific research goal was to identify land transfer procedures and processes through which land bank authorities and other community land development entities would be willing to receive vacant brownfield property that is tax-delinquent and environmentally contaminated, and then arrange for its remediation and sale.
A local land bank authority is typically a nonprofit entity established by either a city or county to address the problems of urban blight and to promote redevelopment. The original motivation for this project was to seek a solution to the problem of land banks being unwilling to accept some tax-delinquent brownfield properties due to fears of becoming liable for the contamination on these properties. Removing that barrier improves the prospects for promoting productive land redevelopment and reducing property vacancies to enhance a community’s economic development.
Over the course of this project, the nature of the original problem shifted in a positive way when recent federal guidelines clarified that land bank authorities that are part of a local government and acquire brownfield properties involuntarily (e.g., because they are tax-delinquent) are not liable for any contamination. With removal of this legal liability, it became clear that the real problem land banks face in taking on tax-delinquent, low-to-no market value properties is a lack of financial resources to arrange for their subsequent remediation, sale or redevelopment.
For example, the Atlanta/Fulton Country Landbank operates on a model of clearing title on properties to allow for private redevelopment, since it does not have the financial resources to act as the redeveloper itself. The Landbank, like most of the public or quasi-public entities we have identified as engaging in brownfield redevelopment, is promoting a market-based, creaming process of redevelopment. While there is validity in employing such processes, to do so exclusively poses a serious public policy issue. It serves to widen the inequality between the most depressed neighborhoods, where the low-to-no market value properties are most likely to be found, and the neighborhoods experiencing revitalization and brownfield cleanup.
Barriers to Brownfield Redevelopment
Our review of current land bank activity in other cities has revealed that, overall, land bank authorities do not take a pro-active stance on brownfield redevelopment for several reasons: operational limitations, fear of legal liability, and/or lack of funds to cover remediation costs. Our national search yielded only two exceptions: the Cleveland Land Bank and the Louisville/Jefferson County Land Bank Authority. But of these two, only the Louisville/Jefferson County Land Bank has pursued brownfield properties actively and has made the required changes in its by-laws to effectively acquire, remediate and redevelop contaminated properties. The Cleveland Land Bank experience in brownfield redevelopment was with a donated parcel that was suspected of being contaminated.
Operational Limitations
The two major operational requirements that currently deter land banks from entering into brownfield redevelopment are the need to identify an end user for a property before the property can be acquired by the land bank and the limited scope of activity for which the land banks were established originally. For example, the Nantucket and Martha’s Vineyard land banks in Massachusetts were established for conservation purposes; they rarely deal with properties that would be considered brownfields, although their organizational structure makes them ideal candidates to do so.
Fear of Legal Liability
As with any owner of contaminated property, land banks are concerned about the legal liability associated with brownfields. Although most state volunteer cleanup programs offer liability exemptions for municipalities, the issue of federal liability still has to be addressed when land banks choose to acquire contaminated properties.
Federal legal liability arises from the Comprehensive Environmental Response, Compensation and Liability Act (CERCLA), also known as Superfund, but both federal and state governments have developed programs and guidelines aimed at eliminating that barrier. As a point of clarification, it is not the intent of federal or state programs to release responsible parties from their legal obligation to clean up property that they have contaminated, but, rather, to facilitate brownfield remediation and redevelopment by reducing the fear of unwarranted legal liability.
Landowners who are not responsible for contaminating the property, who did not know, and had no reason to suspect contaminants were present on the property are not liable under CERCLA sections 107(b) and 101(35). This is often referred to as the “innocent landowner defense.” Sections 101(20)(D) and 101(35)(A) protect federal, state and local governments from owner/operator liability if they acquire contaminated property involuntarily as a function of performing their governmental duties, including acquisition due to abandonment, tax delinquency, foreclosure, or through seizure or forfeiture authority. This process was further clarified by the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) in June 1997 to facilitate the work of state and local brownfield redevelopment programs.
For land bank authorities that are a part of local government, the above-mentioned program should protect the acquisition of contaminated properties through the land bank’s normal operational functions. However, any land bank seeking to acquire contaminated properties should contact its regional EPA office for further legal clarification and assistance with the redevelopment process.
Lack of Funds for Remediation Costs
The often costly remediation process is another significant problem for land banks seeking to redevelop brownfields. Even when the mission of the land bank is to eliminate blight and spur revitalization, both of which are directly related to brownfield reuse, limited budgets prevent interested and willing land banks from acquiring brownfields for remediation and redevelopment. Therefore, while the land bank authority could be helpful in forgiving the property taxes owed on the parcel as an incentive for reuse, the property’s redevelopment potential is still thwarted by its having little-to-no market desirability.
Promising Alternatives for Low-value Sites
When the focus of this research project became the identification of promising approaches for improving the redevelopment prospects of low-to-no market value brownfield sites, we began to examine different kinds of roles for land banks. These included identifying possible ways of raising revenues for land banks and other community development agencies to use in financing the remediation and redevelopment of low-to-no market value sites, and considering potential reuses of such sites, including open space, residential or commercial/industrial uses.
One alternative is found in community land trusts, which generally are private non-profit corporations in both urban and rural areas engaged in social and economic activities, such as to acquire and hold land for affordable housing development. While traditionally they have not focused on conservation issues, their model could be adapted for brownfield redevelopment efforts. One approach for solving the problem of low-to-no market value brownfields is a community land trust modeled after Boston’s Dudley Neighbors, Inc., which received from the city the power of eminent domain to acquire vacant land and buildings in its neighborhood. This strategy provides an alternative mechanism to a citywide land bank for acquiring brownfield properties, and it can be used to target geographic areas in greatest economic decline.
Another promising alternative to the traditional land bank is modeled after Scenic Hudson, an environmental advocacy organization and land trust located in Poughkeepsie, New York. It has an urban initiative to acquire, remediate and develop environmentally friendly reuses for derelict riverfront sites. Among its projects has been the redevelopment of a twelve-acre abandoned industrial waterfront for a public park, the Irvington Waterfront Park. Scenic Hudson has proven that, with cooperation from public and private organizations, land trusts can be effective vehicles for brownfield redevelopment.
The most popular form of land trust is one founded to protect natural areas and farmlands. Such land trusts most often operate at the local or regional level to conserve tracts of land that have ecological, open space, recreational or historic value. If land trusts choose to expand their conservation goals to include urban open space, they could become very helpful partners in public/private projects to create green space and parks from remediated brownfields. The Scenic Hudson land trust model specifically addresses brownfield redevelopment for the stated purpose of stemming greenfield development.
To address the needs for financing the redevelopment of low-to-no market value brownfields, the Louisville Land Bank Authority’s approach is promising. It established a fund that uses the profits from the sale of remediated brownfields to fund future remediation projects. Another possibility for raising funds for land banks is suggested by the two-percent transfer fee the state of Massachusetts authorized for its Nantucket and Martha’s Vineyard land banks to purchase open space. The transfer fee idea could be adapted by land banks to create a fund for brownfield remediation.
The research project also sought to identify municipalities that did not have a specific land bank authority, but did have a municipal office or program that dealt with tax-delinquent properties and their redevelopment. Two municipalities found to be engaging in noteworthy and innovative brownfield redevelopment are Kalamazoo, Michigan, and, Emeryville, California. Kalamazoo’s brownfield pilot approach of creating brownfield redevelopment districts emphasizes community development over traditional, market-based economic development goals. The city uses stakeholder groups to design brownfield projects and to plan for redevelopment.
Emeryville has determined, through surveying its property owners and developers, that offering financial assistance for site assessment alone is not effective; it must be backed up by financial assistance for remediation. The city’s brownfield program is based on the principle that “sharing of risks should lead to sharing of rewards.” That is, if a community bears the residual risk for permitting the private sector to conduct risk-based cleanup, a portion of the private sector’s savings on remediation expenses should be shared with the community. The Emeryville approach to brownfield redevelopment also recognizes that smaller sites and projects require proportionately more loans, grants and technical assistance than do larger sites and projects.
Conclusion
At the present time, there is a paucity of programs and strategies to address tax-delinquent, low-to-no market value brownfield properties in marginal urban neighborhoods. If this deficiency persists, the current brownfield redevelopment movement will likely lead to a widening of intraurban inequalities. If municipalities, land bank authorities, and community development organizations will recognize the need for, and move towards, promoting more equitable brownfield redevelopment, the approaches presented in this article hold promise for correcting this deficiency and preventing wider inequalities. Further, such actions could remove potential polution sources and health hazards from the neighborhood, provide much-needed open space, and hold the remediated property until the surrounding area increases in value and the site can be redeveloped through traditional market processes.
References
City of Emeryville, Project Status Report, Emeryville Brownfields Pilot Project. Emeryville, California. November 1998. See also
Rosenberg, Steve. “Working Where the Grass Isn’t Greener: Land Trusts in Urban Areas.” Land Trust Alliance Exchange. Winter: 5-9, 1998.
U.S. EPA. Handbook of Tools for Managing Federal Superfund Liability Risks at Brownfields and Other Sites. Office of Enforcement and Compliance Assurance. November 1998.
Nancey Green Leigh, AICP, is associate professor of city planning in the Graduate City and Regional Planning Program at the Georgia Institute of Technology. She teaches and conducts research on urban and regional development, industrial restructuring, local economic development planning, and brownfield redevelopment.
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Una versión más actualizada de este artículo está disponible como parte del capítulo 4 del libro Perspectivas urbanas; Temas críticos en políticas de suelo de América Latina.
Brasilia, la capital de Brasil, fue inaugurada a principios de los años 1960 como una “nueva ciudad” que daría comienzo a una era distinta para las metrópolis en América Latina y que demostraría cómo el gobierno hacía un uso eficaz de la tierra en aras de un crecimiento urbano planificado. Tal propósito se servía de dos instrumentos básicos: un control normativo del uso de la tierra basado en un plan general diseñado por Lucio Costa y el gobierno como propietario de las tierras de la capital federal, lo que permitiría que ésta fuera planificada sin los tipos de restricciones y conflictos que normalmente surgen cuando la tierra está en manos privadas. Sin embargo, tres décadas y media más tarde, los problemas asociados con el desarrollo urbano en Brasilia no se diferencian sustancialmente de los que padecen otras ciudades grandes de América Latina.
Falta de visión para la tenencia de la tierra y padrinazgo administrativo
Brasilia se presenta como un ejemplo único de la gestión de tierras urbanas en América Latina porque la responsabilidad de administrar las tierras públicas siempre ha recaído sobre el gobierno local. Sin embargo, la periferia de la ciudad ha sufrido un índice explosivo de crecimiento con un patrón concomitante de ocupación irregular de la tierra, subdivisiones ilegales y carencia de infraestructura. En Brasilia la posibilidad de dirigir el proceso de crecimiento urbano a través de una política explícita de acceso a las tierras públicas se ha visto comprometida de forma lenta e irremediable por la ocupación espontánea (e ilegal) de la tierra. Esta falta de visión en el uso de las tierras públicas suele ser disfuncional tanto para la densidad urbana como para las finanzas públicas, por lo que obstruye los esfuerzos que hace el gobierno local para proveer infraestructura a esos asentamientos irregulares.
Más aún, las influencias políticas que intervienen en el proceso de desarrollo han menoscabado en gran medida las posibilidades de manejar con eficacia la oferta de tierras públicas en Brasilia. A principios de los años 1990 el gobierno distribuyó unas 65.000 parcelas en áreas que carecían de infraestructura básica. Además de reducir las reservas de tierras públicas, este “padrinazgo de la tenencia de la tierra” generó la necesidad de encontrar otras fuentes para financiar nueva infraestructura. Dado que el principal recurso que tiene disponible la entidad de desarrollo urbano del Distrito Federal (Terracap) es la tierra misma, esta política de padrinazgo trajo como resultado la venta de otras tierras públicas para financiar la construcción de infraestructura en los asentamientos irregulares. Este círculo vicioso ha provocado graves distorsiones que la administración local actual pretende resolver usando tierras públicas como “capital” para crear una política efectiva que permita controlar los ingresos provenientes de la tenencia de la tierra y los costos urbanos.
La experiencia de Brasilia parece confirmar los argumentos de Henry George y otros de que la propiedad de tierras públicas no conduce por sí sola a un crecimiento urbano más equilibrado y equitativo socialmente. La estrategia del gobierno local actual de definir maneras de manejar el ingreso proveniente de tierras públicas para así controlar el uso de tierra urbana indica una nueva modalidad de interacción gubernamental con el mercado inmobiliario. En tal sentido, el gobierno cambia su función y deja de ser el propietario principal para convertirse en el administrador de los beneficios de la tierra.
Tierras públicas como capital de tenencia de la tierra
El principio medular de la nueva estrategia de Brasilia para administrar la equidad de la tierra es la definición de tierra pública como “capital de tenencia de la tierra”. El uso de esta tierra se somete a una serie de acciones estratégicas que transforman el capital de las tierras públicas en un factor que propicia la consolidación del complejo tecnológico del Distrito Federal. Se trata de la contraparte pública en el proceso de reconvertir el uso de la tierra en el centro de la ciudad en un instrumento de promoción social en el programa de regulación de la tenencia de la tierra: las tierras públicas se usan como activos mediante ventas, arrendamientos y asociaciones en proyectos urbanos.
La aplicación de estrategias diferenciadas para la tenencia de la tierra confiere mayor flexibilidad al gobierno para coordinar sus acciones. La búsqueda del equilibrio entre las iniciativas de índole social y otras en las que el gobierno intenta maximizar sus ingresos está cobrando la apariencia de una verdadera política de administración de tierras públicas que rompe con las anteriores prácticas de padrinazgo.
En este contexto de exploración de nuevos enfoques para el uso de tierras públicas con la finalidad de controlar el desarrollo urbano en Brasilia, el Instituto Lincoln, el Instituto de Planificación del Distrito Federal y Terracap organizaron un seminario internacional sobre gestión de ingresos provenientes de la tenencia de la tierra y costos urbanos en junio de 1998.
El programa reunió a expertos internacionales, ministros gubernamentales y administradores locales con miras a evaluar las experiencias internacionales en el uso de tierras públicas para financiar el crecimiento urbano en Europa, los Estados Unidos y América Latina. Martim Smolka del Instituto Lincoln describió las relaciones entre las operaciones del mercado inmobiliario, las regulaciones sobre el uso de la tierra y la recuperación pública de plusvalías. Alfredo Garay, arquitecto y exdirector de planificación de la ciudad de Buenos Aires, expuso las experiencias en el desarrollo de terrenos públicos en los alrededores del puerto de esa ciudad.
Bernard Frieden del Instituto de Tecnología de Massachusetts describió cómo se usan las actividades comerciales realizadas en tierras públicas en el oeste de los Estados Unidos para recaudar fondos para la educación y otros fines locales. Henk Verbrugge, director del organismo fiscal de Rotterdam y representante de Holanda ante la Asociación Internacional de Peritos, describió el sistema que tiene el país para la tenencia hereditaria, una regulación legal con la cual la tierra puede tener uso y beneficios completamente privados al tiempo que permanecen bajo control y propiedad económica de la municipalidad.
Los participantes discutieron la medida en que estas experiencias eran comparables a la situación en Brasilia y concluyeron que el éxito de varias estrategias para el uso de tierras públicas depende de la idoneidad de los proyectos específicos para la cultura empresarial del país en cuestión y las prácticas institucionales vigentes en la administración local.
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The shift to a multi-racial government in South Africa is as pronounced and dramatic a transition as that of the new independent states of Central and Eastern Europe. In the past five years, South Africa has adopted a new constitution, elected a new government, redrawn state and municipal boundaries, and undertaken basic reform of its legal and political system. Land policy is central to this transformation, for “since the 1913 Natives Land Act, rights to own, rent or even share-crop land in South Africa depended upon a person’s race classification.” (1) Among the major land-related issues currently under scrutiny are property tax reform, restitution of land rights, and improvements in tenure security and access to landholding.
Land and Property Taxation
South African real property taxes take a number of forms, including “site rating,” a tax on unimproved value alone; “flat rating” on land and structures uniformly; and “composite ratings,” which tax land and improvements at different rates. Multiplicity and change are the norm, as Cape Town has recently decided to adopt site rating, Durban is considering replacement of its composite rating system with site rating, and Pretoria has introduced a temporary tax on improvements to supplement its site rating system.
The property tax in South Africa is not at present applied to rural land, although its potential extension to non-urban areas is the subject of intense debate. It is in the cities, however, that the struggle to transform the country will succeed or fail. In 1995, the urban sector accounted for about 65 percent of South Africa’s population and more than 80 percent of its GDP. Property taxes are an important source of revenue for cities to meet the cost of providing services within their newly redrawn boundaries.
These new boundaries are another index of the pace and variety of change in South Africa. Efforts to consolidate wealthy residential and commercial areas with impoverished townships and settlements have taken different forms in different regions. The central business districts of Johannesburg and Durban have been divided among several taxing jurisdictions that extend beyond their city limits. By contrast, the most of Cape Town’s business and residential regions were combined this summer with a set of neighboring townships in a new administrative region. It consists of 19 former administrations consolidated into 7, involving a transfer of more than 10,000 municipal staff and many assets. These measures have extremely important political and fiscal implications, bringing together as they do residential areas with living standards equal to or even surpassing European norms and settlements without electricity, paved roads or running water.
From a land policy perspective, perhaps the most dramatic legacy of past racial policies is the imbalance between white and non-white landownership. Under apartheid, 87 percent of the country’s land was reserved for white residents, who in 1995 constituted only 13 percent of South Africa’s population. Under these circumstances, property taxation takes on special importance as a potential means for expanding access to the land market. Roy Bahl and Johannes Linn have written:
[A]n equity argument may be at the heart of the matter: urban land prices are frequently so high that low-income groups cannot afford to purchase land…. To the extent that the revenue from property taxes is capitalized into lower current land values (since the tax reduces the expected future private yield on the land), it partially expropriates landownership rights from the present owner and also constitutes a loan to future owners, who can now acquire the land at a lower price but will have to pay property taxes in the future. If low-income groups cannot buy land because they lack liquidity and access to capital markets, property taxation may be one of the policy instruments to improve their access to landownership. (2)
Tax Collections and Tax Revolts
The government faces the challenge of reversing a “culture of nonpayment” for municipal services among township residents. During the apartheid era, the African National Congress (ANC) encouraged its supporters to refuse payment of water and utility charges as a means of contesting the legitimacy of the state-sponsored black local authorities. The resulting arrears were a major financial burden on all levels of government. Now the ANC seeks to promote voluntary payment for these same services, and as well as payment of real property taxes by those who now are able to hold title to their property.
Ironically, one tax protest that received wide publicity took the form of a property tax revolt in one of the nation’s wealthiest white residential areas, the Sandton suburb of Johannesburg. When property tax rates doubled and tripled there in 1996, many local property owners withheld payment in protest. This situation illustrates one of the most paradoxical aspects of the fiscal challenge to the new South Africa: the need to redress the enormous imbalance in resources across racial groups while commanding support from white citizens who feel over-taxed.
On the one hand, the disparities in needs and resources are overwhelming. Households falling below the official poverty level include only 0.7 percent of the white population, but 65 percent of the black population. At the same time, many white taxpayers feel overburdened by taxes-income tax rates, for example, can reach 45 percent on earnings over $22,000-and resentful of nonpayment by some township residents. In Alexandra, a black township inside Sandton, last year’s tax collection rate was only 3 percent. Any effort to meet the pressing fiscal needs of the new South Africa must take into account the vastly different perceptions of contribution and entitlement across its diverse population.
Perspectives on Future Directions
In July, a conference at the University of South Africa in Pretoria brought together governmental officials, policy analysts, academics and international experts to consider local government design and fiscal capacity. Brief overviews of two of the more than 30 presentations at that conference give a sense of the range of issues debated there, from concrete points of physical engineering to theoretical questions of intergovernmental fiscal relations.
At the most basic level, the definition of revenue needs depends on a prior decision as to the scope of local services to which all citizens are entitled. Given that large township areas have grown up without standard infrastructure, what goals should the government set for provision of water, electricity and roads?
Peter Vaz of the official Financial and Fiscal Commission outlined an approach to the monumental task of estimating the cost of providing the minimum services that each citizen can expect. The South African constitution enumerates 27 guaranteed rights, including the right to equality, to human dignity, to life, to freedom of expression, to a healthy environment, to housing, to health care services, to sufficient food, water and social security, to education, to information. The Commission is considering attempts to identify three levels of services-basic, intermediate and full provision. It is also looking at the cost of extending six services to urban and rural areas: water, sewerage, solid waste, roads, stormwater, electricity. For example, the basic level of water provision might be a communal standpipe, the intermediate level a yard tap, and full provision a house connection. The capital cost of each service package then provides a first estimate of the revenue necessary to meet the guarantees relevant to local government activities.
The broadest fiscal questions concern the allocation of taxes and functions among levels of governments. Rudolph Penner of the Barents Group stated that his general support for decentralization in transition economies was tempered in the case of South Africa. The model of voters as consumers choosing a set of local services in exchange for payment of local taxes is not necessarily applicable or desirable in this context. The strong ideological background to politics in South Africa means that voters are not primarily making a local electoral choice on the basis of economic policy. Moreover, the history of apartheid makes self-selected homogeneous groupings unacceptable if they lead to segregation by income class or race. Penner concluded that fiscal decentralization in South Africa must be of a more restrained variety than might be appropriate elsewhere.
These considerations serve only to highlight the sweeping reconsideration of all public institutions and their mandates that has accompanied the initiation of a new era in South African history. Improvements in land policy and taxation may play a significant role in assisting this immense task of national self-transformation.
Joan Youngman is a senior fellow of the Lincoln Institute, where she directs the Program on the Taxation of Land and Buildings. She and Martim Smolka, senior fellow for Latin America Programs, served on the faculty of the July conference at the University of South Africa.
Notes:
1. South African Department of Land Affairs, Our Land: Green Paper on South African Land Policy (1996), p. 9.
2. Roy W. Bahl and Johannes F. Linn, Urban Public Finance in Developing Countries (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1992), p. 168.
What are the names of South Africa’s official languages?
A recent newspaper trivia puzzle gives a startling perspective on the enormity of the political, legal and cultural changes experienced by South Africa since 1993, and the difficulty foreign observers face in grasping the scope of these transformations.
The original answer to the question about official languages was given as English and Afrikaans. One week later, a correction noted that South Africa’s major tribal languages should also be included. So the full answer lists ten official languages:
English
Afrikaans
Ndebele
Northern Sotho (Sepedi)
Southern Sotho (Sesotho)
Swati
Tsonga
Tswana (Setswana)
Venda, Xhosa
Zulu
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Local governments exercise greater land use authority in the United States than in any other advanced democracy. Yet local governments have themselves evolved piecemeal in the typical U.S. metropolitan area, producing a pattern of fragmented authority. Most notably, as metropolitan areas have exploded outward, the local government system has adapted mainly by creating new suburbs and single-function districts rather than by expanding the boundaries of existing central cities.
Illustratively, when Robert Wood studied the New York metropolitan region in the late 1950s, he counted roughly 1,400 local governments. When Jameson Doig and Michael Danielson examined the same region in the early 1980s, the number had grown to 2,200, of which more than 800 exercised land use regulatory authority.
Critics levy numerous charges against this system. Above all, they contend it invites parochialism and, in dealing with issues of regional scale, gridlock. These failings are particularly apparent when the potential ends of land use policy are controversial. But they are visible in many other circumstances as well—wherever, for example, there is substantial risk that the instruments of policy (from regional overrides of local zoning to the siting of new incinerators) will be highly controversial and no consensus has yet emerged about the severity of a crisis that might justify accepting such risk.
In other respects, however, the system is both adaptive and finely tuned to citizen desires. Numerous functions have been shifted from localities to regional authorities and higher levels of government in recent decades, yet the changes have been highly selective and incremental.
When broad agreement has emerged that a particular function—such as mass transit or environmental protection—requires decisionmaking and management at supra-local scale, the political leaders in many metropolitan areas have frequently crafted new institutional arrangements. They have typically defined the new institutions quite precisely, however, so as to avoid sapping local authority any more than necessary to deal with the specific problems that gave rise to the consensus for change. Where large numbers of voters still favor local control, moreover—as, preeminently, in the field of land use regulation—metropolitan-area political leaders have taken great care to avoid disturbing it.
To be sure, certain objectives are all but impossible to realize through this piecemeal, consensus-dependent mode of institutional adaptation (most notably, greater class and racial integration at regional scale, and prevention of urban sprawl). But others (e.g., the preservation of neighborhood character and vigorous grassroots democracy) are accomplished much more reliably than would be likely in a more “rationalized” system.
Balancing Communal and Individualistic Values
Controversies about this system invariably reflect a mix of conflicting interests and values. Since a considerable body of scholarship exists on the interests most commonly in dispute, let us concentrate here on the values.
Americans consider land use issues within the framework of two disparate ideologies: one communal and egalitarian, the other individualistic and disposed to leave distributional outcomes to the marketplace. In any given controversy, self-interested groups organize their briefs around aspects of one or the other of these ideologies. So it is easy to miss the crucial fact that both enjoy near-consensual support. Americans favor both private capitalism and government action to further collective values–each in its place. The disputes typically arise in situations where parties disagree about which ideology ought to take precedence or about how the differing ideological claims should be balanced.
The land use arena is chock full of such points. Ownership is private. Most development initiative is private. And tradition favors viewing land as a market commodity. But most human activities take place on land; the byproducts of land use profoundly affect every aspect of the human environment; and no one is an owner every place he or she goes. So everyone has a powerful stake in the preservation of some common spaces, in society’s rules for behavior in such spaces, and in some regulation of land use “overspill” effects.
Owners themselves, moreover, are eager for collective services. The value of urban real estate hinges critically on the availability and quality of such services, from highway access to public safety to education. In addition, neighborhood characteristics and the level of investor confidence in the neighborhood’s future profoundly affect real estate values. As a result, whether their aim is development or simply enjoyment of what they already have, property owners are drawn inevitably to the public realm.
Within the public realm, however, communal values–including the presumption of equal access to collective services regardless of income or wealth–predominate. This poses a severe problem for relatively affluent property owners who are reluctant to trigger wide egalitarian claims.
The fragmentation of metropolitan areas into independent suburbs, a problem for some, is for these voters a solution. It provides a means of confining the application of communal norms within relatively small population groups. And it makes available to such groups an instrument of extraordinary power for the pursuit and preservation of homogeneity: land use regulation.
Public Regulation vs Market Forces
Pressures have built in recent decades, nonetheless, for public land use action on a wider scale. Some of these pressures (e.g., for major infrastructure investments and for environmental protection) come largely from property owners themselves and do not pose much redistributive threat even when higher-level governments assume responsibility for action. Nearly all of the centralization that has occurred has been in response to pressures of this sort.
A second set of pressures for supra-local action has come primarily from less favored groups and their political representatives, seeking fiscal equalization and residential integration. There have been considerable shifts of money in response to these pressures. But resistance has been fierce to reforms that might force racial or class integration at the neighborhood level. With rare exceptions it has been successful.
The reform idea with the greatest apparent potential to override local land use parochialism would be a shift of some land use regulatory authority to the state level. Movement in this direction occurred in about one-quarter of the states during the 1970s and 1980s. Except in the notable cases of Oregon and Florida, however, the changes were slight, and the historic pattern of local land use autonomy remained firmly entrenched. Concerns about growth, moreover, rather than concerns about equality or integration drove these state land use reforms. Consequently, with weak real estate markets in the early 1990s interest in them has waned.
The question remains whether shifting land use authority from the local to the state level, if it does occur, will be likely to produce more egalitarian and integrationist outcomes than would the existing pattern of fragmented land use governance. One can plausibly argue that it will, stressing that egalitarian norms tend to prevail within (even if not between) U.S. public jurisdictions. Thinking of the immediate future, however, the likelihood is that such shifts will be rare and that, even when they occur, their egalitarian impacts will be meager.
For better or worse, the overwhelming trend of the 1990s, at all levels of government, is toward greater market deference rather than more vigorous public action to achieve redistributive objectives.
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Alan Altshuler is professor in urban policy and planning and director of the Taubman Center for State and Local Government at the John F. Kennedy School of Government, Harvard University. He is also a faculty associate of the Lincoln Institute, which distributes several of his publications. This article is reprinted with permission from the 1995-96 Annual Report of the Taubman Center.
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For the past several years, the Lincoln Institute has been collaborating with the Loeb Fellowship Program based at Harvard University’s Graduate School of Design. The program was established in 1970 through the generosity of Harvard alumnus John L. Loeb to allow mid-career professionals to study independently and gain additional tools to help revitalize the built and natural environment. The 2001-2002 Loeb Fellows took their end-of-the-year class trip to Cuba in mid-June, including two days in Santiago de Cuba and four in Havana, with a side trip from Havana to Trinidad and destinations in between.
With its neoclassical facades, white cobbles, Caribbean clouds and pastel paint, Trinidad is frozen in time like a watercolor postcard. Because Cuba’s architectural heritage is the focus of growing international attention and it’s not threatened by waves of new construction, the future of the past seems assured. The future itself is much more difficult to find. As our Loeb Fellowship group searched for clues in three cities and parts of the countryside, we found that despite economic stagnation and international political tension Cubans are hard at work on a future that is uniquely theirs.
An influx of tourist dollars and an aggressive, uniquely Cuban preservation campaign have begun to seize the riches of Old Havana from the jaws of benign neglect. After at least one bad experience with new construction, the Office of the City Historian, which coordinates the impressive large-scale restoration and revitalization of Old Havana, is still grappling with the problem of integrating the new with the historic. One way of addressing the problem is to closely oversee the design of block-sized developments. We walked by one large, modern parking structure inside Old Havana that will be rebuilt as a multi-use building, with parking beside it, according to a design intended to replicate the scale and some of the monumental features of a colonial convent that once stood on the site. Although some residents are being relocated here and elsewhere, many are returning to their homes after their neighborhoods are rehabilitated.
Now considered a model for financing rehabilitation efforts in other districts of the city, the renewal of Old Havana is based on a system of taxes and joint ventures that includes revenues from the private enterprises profiting from restoration-related tourism. The Office’s US$50 million-per-year budget is divided between construction and social supports for Cubans living within the boundaries of the rehabilitation zone. This can be thought of as a system of “value capture,” long a topic of interest at the Lincoln Institute.
Julio César Pérez, a Cuban architect, urban designer and advocate for community-based planning, was a member of our Loeb Fellowship class. With his special perspective as a local practitioner, he showed our group some favorite examples among the rich legacy of pre-revolutionary Deco and Modern architecture in Havana. Five-story gems are set among the very mixed cityscape of central Havana, which also includes the 28-story Edificio Focsa, with its 375 apartment units, built in the twilight of the Batista years.
On the heels of the international style housing blocks and casinos of the 1950s, the revolution brought its own form of land use revision. Julio told a story of Che Guevara and Fidel Castro playing a game of congratulatory post-revolution golf on the vast green of the former Havana Country Club. “How can we make good use of this land?” they mused, according to the legend. The results of their conversation are the grandly metaphoric and mostly unfinished National Schools of Art designed by Ricardo Porro, Vittorio Garratti and Roberto Gottardi. Their stance is deliberately indifferent to the clubhouse or the plan of the golf course, treating the open area as if it were a large meadow in the wilderness. The buildings are slated for restoration, a project made more complicated by poor siting and hydrological problems.
Julio also singled out more recent examples of large-scale construction in Havana, such as the Melia Cohiba Hotel with its bulky, corporate arch and the Miramar Trade Center, a commercial (dollar) mall across the street. These expensive projects are not only design failures, but also miss the relationship of the site with the sea and the possibility for creating a new quality of place in a developing district.
With the stalled economy and international stalemate of the 1990s, Cuban architect and planner Miguel Coyula and his colleagues have made use of the time and materials at hand to take a more thoughtful approach to land use and development. While vertical cities of steel and glass are popping up on a fast track and enormous scale in cities around the world, one of the world’s largest scale city models is being built out of discarded cigar boxes in Havana. This breathtaking miniature landscape was conceived as an aid to planning and an anchor for the efforts of the Group for the Integrated Development of the Capital (GDIC), which has been advising the city government on planning matters since 1988.
The 1:1000 model of greater Havana has been evolving piece by fitted piece for most of the last decade, and now covers 112 square meters or about a quarter of a basketball court. The model is housed in a specially designed, daylight-filled pavilion in the Mirarmar area near the center of the city, where drop-in visitors can circulate around and above the model on the broad floor and ramping mezzanine levels. Scale models of virtually every structure in the city are mounted on the wood topographical base. The buildings are color-coded to show development at different stages in history: colonial, pre-revolutionary modern (1900-1958) and post-revolutionary.
Miguel describes one construction project, a high-rise for the Committee for Economic Collaboration (CECE), which was cancelled because the model showed it was clearly out of scale for its location in central Havana. The decision seems to be a milestone because it was a very real project and also symbolic of a determination to build with environmental sensitivity—despite pressures to accommodate foreign investors in cash-strapped Cuba.
The primary mission of the GDIC is intimately familiar to Americans involved in planning inside major cities: start with neighborhoods. The group has run a series of “neighborhood transformation workshops” for local residents guided by professional designers and planners, selected from the same area when possible. These projects capture the spirit of the international community design movement, a 45-year-old, U.S.-linked tradition in which designers work directly in the interest of area residents. Since both the hard times of the post-Soviet 1990s and the U.S. embargo began taking their huge economic toll on Cuba, these workshops have gained in significance. They have brought planning and economic development together in a new local context, with neighborhoods tackling projects like urban farming and manufacturing building materials from recycled rubble.
The neighborhood transformation workshops and similar initiatives over the last 20 years have helped to bridge the Cuban revolutionary imperative of equal treatment for all and the very human imperative of making decisions about family, community and daily life. Another example is Architects for the Community, a national civic sector community design practice involved in town construction and environmental planning as well as low-fee design services for individual families. Built on the theories of Argentinean architect Rodolfo Livingston, the practice promotes a direct relationship between the user and the architect while building sustainability and contextual sensitivity into each construction project. Julio worked with the practice for five years before coming to Harvard and he presented a paper with Kathleen Dorgan, another member of the Loeb class, at the Association of Collegiate Schools of Architecture conference in Cuba last spring. As an advocate for more humane and thoughtful land use and building design in his country, Julio is among a number of Cuban architects concerned with traditional values of craft and environmentally appropriate design.
Considering efforts like these, there is hope for a future of construction based on a fine calibration of scale, carefully considered relationships between built fabric and natural features of the surroundings, as well as the comfort and pleasure of the users. The challenge is to find the economic and regulatory means to support appropriate construction. So far, the state has maintained control of land use through direct and almost exclusive ownership, negotiating leases for some private and foreign investment through a delicate and extremely tenuous web of economic and legal formulas for valuing the parcels involved. As the economy becomes tied to the influx of outside currencies, these leases are likely to evolve into more predictable and transparent transactions. Perhaps land sales and heftier taxation are not far behind.
With the coming of foreign investment and the pressures to open up to even more, there will be ample opportunity in the future to be hijacked by land use decisions that are driven by the profit margins of distant organizations, and that would be an unfortunate addition to Cuba’s historic burden. Because, despite the beauty of its landscapes and cityscapes, Cuba is a map of victimization—by colonial conquest, crass economic exploitation, revolutionary confrontation, and brutal Soviet-style development.
The Loeb Fellows got an overview of intense nationalism built upon a deep and diverse culture, cosmopolitan history and the very real achievements of the last 40 years. Cuba is a place of great hardship and also enormous potential, for Cubans and for the rest of the world. We hope that the future does not hold only exploitation and cultural degradation when the barriers to trade and international travel finally fall. We also hope to show that Cuba is a place to learn from the mistakes of the past—theirs and ours—and to find out what is possible when a people are free to protect, respect and enhance their environment.
For more information about the Loeb Fellowship Program, see the website at www.gsd.harvard.edu/loebfell.
Loeb Fellows, 2001-2002
Kathleen Dorgan
Architect and community designer, Storrs, Connecticut
Clair Enlow
Journalist, Seattle
Kathleen Fox
Director, Ohio Arts and Sports Facilities Commission, Columbus.
James Grauley
President, Bank of America’s Community Development Corporation, Atlanta
Seitu Jones
Public artist, Minneapolis
Rick Lowe
Public artist and founder, Project Rowe Houses, Houston
Rubén Martínez
Writer, Los Angeles, and professor of non-fiction writing, University of Houston
Julio César Pérez
Architect, urban planner and professor, Faculty of Architecture, Havana
Virginia Prescott
Radio journalist and interactive media specialist, National Public Radio, New York and Boston
Richard St. John
Director, Conversations for the Common Wealth, Pittsburgh
Marina Stankovic
Architect, Berlin
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Matthew McKinney was named director of the Public Policy Research Institute at the University of Montana in 2003, after serving for 10 years as the founding director of the Montana Consensus Council. He is also a senior lecturer at the University of Montana’s School of Law, a partner with the Consensus Building Institute in Cambridge, and a faculty associate of the Lincoln Institute. Matt was a research fellow at the John F. Kennedy School of Government, Harvard University, in 2000 and 2002, and a visiting fellow of the Lincoln Institute in 2000. During the past 18 years, he has designed and facilitated more than 50 multiparty public processes, helping leaders and citizens address issues related to federal land management, land use planning, growth management, water policy, fish and wildlife, and public health and human services. He has published numerous journal articles and is coauthor of The Western Confluence: Governing Natural Resources (Island Press, June 2004).
Land Lines: You have a strong background in facilitation and consensus building. How do you apply that to land use planning?
Matt McKinney: I come to planning largely from a process perspective. Land use issues typically involve multiple parties, and the challenge of planning is to integrate diverse, often conflicting, interests. In my current work with the Public Policy Research Institute I operate on the assumption that one of the most effective ways to develop and implement strategies to sustain livable communities and healthy landscapes is to create opportunities for stakeholders to come together with the best available information to address issues of common concern. In short, the planning process is most effective when it is inclusive, informed and deliberative:
This principled approach has been shown through experience to produce decisions that are broadly supported by the public, and it eases implementation because the key stakeholders have already played their part in shaping the proposed action or plan. Compared to lobbying, litigation and other ways of shaping public policy, it can save time and money. Last—and important for planners—this approach offers an effective way to integrate social and political values within the scientific, technical and legal framework of land use planning. It’s a more cooperative and constructive way for planners and public interests to work together.
LL: Can you give some examples of how these principles work in the real world?
MM: In the northern Rocky Mountains, many communities with limited staff, money and other resources are struggling with double-digit growth, strains on local infrastructure and cultural clashes between newcomers and those with traditional western values. But westerners are infamous for resisting government intrusion—a predictable backlash in a region where the federal government holds sway over more than half of the land base. As a result planners often face a steep climb just to gain the public’s ear on land use issues.
These situations are ripe for inclusive, informed and deliberative approaches, and there are many examples across the West. In Helena, Montana, we helped a broad-based citizens group—including open space advocates, neighborhood leaders, realtors and developers—negotiate new procedures for subdivision reviews. Developers wanted to streamline the subdivision application process, and residents of established neighborhoods wanted to ensure that safeguards remained in place to preserve the small-town feel and curb sprawl. In another case, residents of Jefferson County, Montana, started talking about zoning after a cement plant near an elementary school proposed burning hazardous waste as fuel. The “z” word caused some resistance from local business and industry, notably the cement plant and a nearby mining operation, but we brought in a facilitator who helped a working group of local residents, industry representatives, private property rights advocates and county officials develop a zoning plan.
In both cases, negotiations took the form of deliberative dialogue that lasted about a year. Both groups used joint fact-finding to gather information that was credible to all parties at the table. Then they crafted proposals and submitted them to formal decision-making arenas—city council and county commission, respectively. After careful review, both the new subdivision protocols and the zoning plan were adopted essentially unopposed.
LL: What role do planners play in such processes?
MM: We frequently recommend using an impartial, third-party facilitator to help build trust and more effective working relationships among the stakeholders. A facilitator can also keep the group on task and focused on a common goal. In some cases planners can play this role themselves, but more often they act as conveners or sponsors of a multiparty process, or as vested stakeholders and hands-on participants. Either way, planners can participate more effectively if they have a working knowledge of the principles and strategies of collaborative problem solving.
LL: How can planners obtain this kind of training?
MM: Since 1999 the Lincoln Institute and the Consensus Building Institute have cosponsored a two-day introductory course, Mediating Land Use Disputes, for planning practitioners and others interested in land use decisions. It presents practical insights into negotiating and mediating conflicts over land use and community development. Using interactive exercises, games and simulations, participants receive hands-on experience with collaborative problem solving and public participation. They learn how to dovetail these concepts with existing processes for designing and adopting land use plans and evaluating development proposals. In addition, we are reaching out to 100 planners across 10 western states to enroll in the Planning Fundamentals course offered online through LEO, the Lincoln Education Online program.
LL: What other planning-related programs do you teach?
MM: Again with the Lincoln Institute, I have been involved in a relatively new and much-needed program for state planning directors in 13 western states, modeled on a similar program in the Northeast. These seminars provide a forum for leaders within state government to compare their experiences, learn from each others’ successes and failures, and build a common base of practical knowledge that will serve them in their individual efforts and in the region generally. The intent is not to promote any particular approach to planning and growth, but to explore a range of strategies to respond to growth and land use challenges in the West. The level of interest goes well beyond the planning officials themselves, as evidenced by the list of cosponsors: the Council of State Governments-WEST (an association of state legislators), the Western Governors Association, the Western Municipal Conference and Western Planners Resources.
LL: Is regionalism in the West a new emphasis in your work?
MM: Land use issues often transcend political and jurisdictional boundaries. Coping with sprawl, water and air quality, economic development and the effects of globalization demands practical, local solutions that also work within the bigger picture. Research indicates that many land use issues are most efficiently addressed at a regional scale. Instead of stopping at the county line or the border between federal and private land, planners are now thinking in terms of the “problemshed” or the “natural territory” of the problem.
More and more regional initiatives are being designed to address transboundary matters. Some augment existing government institutions, but most are more ad hoc and rely on the principles of collaboration to engage people with diverse interests and viewpoints. When we inventoried such initiatives throughout the West, we were as surprised as anyone by the sheer number and variety of ongoing regional efforts. They range from ad hoc, community-based groups like the Applegate Partnership in the Siskiyou Mountains of southwestern Oregon, which seeks to promote and sustain the ecological health of land within its watershed, to substantial government entities with regulatory authority like the Tahoe Regional Planning Agency (McKinney, Fitch and Harmon 2002).
LL: How do you transfer this work to other regions?
MM: Recently I have worked with the Lincoln Institute to conduct clinics on regional collaboration for several interstate efforts in the New Jersey-New York area, including a watershed management plan for the Delaware River Basin Commission.
Another project is a collaborative effort among local, state and federal agencies in the New York-New Jersey Highlands, the 1.5-million-acre region between the Delaware and lower Connecticut rivers. State and federal land managers are assessing changes in land cover and use, identifying significant natural areas for protection, and developing strategies to protect the 12-county region’s open space and natural resources.
In addition, we have designed a two-day course titled Regional Collaboration: Learning to Think and Act Like a Region. It provides a conceptual framework and practical skills to train planners, local elected officials, small business owners, advocates and educators to initiate, design, coordinate and sustain regional initiatives. With the involvement of several national and regional organizations, the Institute cosponsored the first course in spring 2003 in Salt Lake City and offered it again in March 2004 at Lincoln House in Cambridge.
Reference
McKinney, Matthew, Craig Fitch, and Will Harmon. 2002. Regionalism in the West: An inventory and assessment. Public Land and Resources Law Review 23:101–191.
The inventory is also available online at www.crmw.org/Assets/misc/regionalinventory.asp and www.crmw.org/Assets/misc/regarticle.htm
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Carbonell, Armando, and Lisa Cloutier. 2003. Planning for growth in western cities. Land Lines 15(3):8–11.
McKinney, Matthew. 2003. Linking growth and land use to water supply. Land Lines 15(2):4–6.
McKinney, Matthew, and Will Harmon. 2002. Land use planning and growth management in the American West. Land Lines 14(1):1–4.
