Policies affecting the use, regulation, and taxation of land in the United States are promulgated and applied primarily by states and local governments, and real estate markets are largely local and not national in scope. However, national policies including those on taxation, property rights, and mortgage financing have a significant impact on local land and housing policies and their outcomes. Accordingly, it often makes sense for local policy makers and activists to combine forces so they can learn from each others’ experiences and ensure that their viewpoints are present in national land policy debates. The Lincoln Institute has played, and continues to play, an important role in sponsoring research and fostering training, communication, and organizational activities that promote land policies consistent with the its mission.

One example is the Lincoln Institute’s role in helping to establish the Land Trust Alliance (LTA), the national network of nonprofit conservation organizations that protect natural resources such as farmland, forests, and wilderness areas. The Lincoln Institute in 1981 provided a fellowship to Kingsbury Browne, a Boston-based conservationist and lawyer, to visit land trust leaders throughout the country. He discovered that they had no organized means to communicate and learn from each others’ experience. His work and counsel led the Lincoln Institute to carry out a national survey of the 400 known local and regional land conservation organizations at the time and to sponsor a national meeting for 40 representatives in October 1981. As a result of that meeting, the Land Trust Exchange was incorporated and initiated activity in July 1982. This year, as the Land Trust Alliance, the organization is celebrating its 30th anniversary.

LTA has become a major presence in the conservation community, and the Lincoln Institute continues to support its networking goals. For example, the Lincoln Institute sponsors the annual Kingsbury Browne Fellowship, which supports research, writing, and mentoring by outstanding individuals whose vision and creativity have contributed to land conservation and the land trust community. The Lincoln Institute also participates in LTA’s annual Rally and has supported selected projects, such as the 2010 National Land Trust Census Report that summarizes the land conservation and organizational activities of the 1,760 known land trusts at the time of the survey.

The Lincoln Institute has also played a key role over the past few years in developing a practitioners’ network on large landscape conservation, bringing together those working on projects at a regional scale, such as the Crown of the Continent, an 18-millionacre area spanning the US–Canadian border including portions of Montana, Alberta, and British Columbia. Still in its formative stages, this international network provides a semiannual forum to exchange information and best practices, examine emerging policy initiatives, and advance the theory and practice of large landscape conservation.

In a similar initiative, the Lincoln Institute supports the National Community Land Trust Network, formally organized in 2006. Community land trusts (CLTs) are local nonprofit organizations that own land and provide housing whose affordability is preserved permanently. While CLTs have existed for more than 30 years, coordination and communication among them was limited until the national network was established. With about 200 member CLTs in 2012, the network provides training, supports research, and disseminates guidelines and good practice to its members.

The Lincoln Institute maintains a role in the network’s training program, the Community Land Trust Academy, which offers courses, conferences, and other activities ranging from a general introduction for new residents and staff members to sessions on standard legal documents, financing, and city-CLT partnerships. The Lincoln Institute published The Community Land Trust Reader (2010), a compendium of articles on the historical background and current practices of the international CLT movement, edited by John Emmeus Davis, former dean of the Academy. In addition, the Lincoln Institute sponsors research disseminated in working papers and analytic work, including a 2007 survey of CLTs in the United States.

Information about these conservation and community land trust networks and their related programs and publications is available on the Lincoln Institute website at www.lincolninst.edu.

En vista de que, en los Estados Unidos, existen más de 25.000 gobiernos municipales involucrados en el análisis y aprobación de cambios propuestos en referencia a la zonificación, planificación y desarrollo de propiedades, la cantidad de decisiones sobre el uso del suelo que se toma a nivel municipal por año probablemente ronda los millones. Si bien la gran mayoría de estas resoluciones siguen el curso normal, los cambios en el uso del suelo y la zonificación que resultan más complejos y conflictivos con frecuencia implican conflictos amargos y duraderos. El exceso de derechos de desarrollo en la región intermontañosa del oeste de los Estados Unidos (página 4) es un ejemplo de este problema tan complicado sobre el uso del suelo.

Los conflictos sobre el uso del suelo y el desarrollo inmobiliario están clasificados entre los tipos más comunes de desacuerdos civiles en los Estados Unidos y, por lo general, involucran a muchas partes, propiedades e intereses. Estos conflictos generan costos para todas las partes directamente implicadas, así como también para el público en general. Sin embargo, una larga experiencia en la resolución de conflictos sobre el uso del suelo indica que los cambios en el proceso de toma de decisiones sobre el uso del suelo pueden producir mejores resultados a un costo menor.

Los gobiernos municipales por lo general tienen una junta encargada de tomar las decisiones referentes a los cambios en el uso del suelo, para lo cual emplean un proceso de cuatro pasos. En primer lugar, la parte que desea obtener un cambio o permiso para desarrollar una propiedad debe presentar una solicitud ante dicha junta. En segundo lugar, la junta analiza la solicitud y puede requerir al solicitante respuestas adicionales o modificaciones. En tercer lugar, se da la oportunidad al público para que realice comentarios, lo que puede derivar en un diálogo más entre la junta y el solicitante, así como en nuevas modificaciones a la solicitud. Finalmente, la junta emite su decisión. Este proceso funciona bien en la mayoría de las solicitudes que se procesan con una celeridad razonable. No obstante, la junta invierte la mayor parte de su tiempo en aquellos casos, una minoría, que involucran muchos intereses y numerosos derechos que pueden superponerse o ser contradictorios o imprecisos.

El proceso típico de cuatro pasos se centra en la adjudicación de derechos; así, cuando se trata de pocas cuestiones simples y los derechos se encuentran bien definidos en relación con las propiedades en cuestión, este método funciona bien. Sin embargo, en los casos más complejos, resulta más prometedor utilizar un enfoque más amplio centrado en el beneficio mutuo de todas las partes involucradas. El enfoque de beneficio mutuo resulta más productivo cuando se dan las siguientes condiciones: existen muchas partes interesadas; la junta que toma las decisiones posee algún nivel de discreción en la decisión en particular; el impacto de la decisión es de largo plazo y largo alcance; y es probable que todo resultado que no sea colaborativo finalmente sea apelado por una o más de las partes interesadas. El enfoque de beneficio mutuo no debe considerarse como una alternativa al proceso normal de los cuatro pasos, sino como una ampliación del mismo, básicamente, mediante la suma de pasos adicionales o la ampliación de los pasos existentes en el proceso estándar.

La clave para utilizar con éxito el enfoque de beneficio mutuo es lograr descubrir los intereses subyacentes de las partes interesadas, es decir, de aquellos intereses situados tras la posición adoptada públicamente, y, luego, desarrollar nuevas opciones o soluciones que den respuesta a dichos intereses. La situación ideal se da cuando este paso tiene lugar en las primeras etapas del proceso cuando las posiciones de las partes interesadas todavía son flexibles.

Este proceso de investigación y detección es un elemento de la primera etapa del enfoque de beneficio mutuo, la cual implica identificar a las partes interesadas, escuchar atentamente sus motivos de preocupación y tomar como base sus intereses. En el proceso habitual de cuatro pasos, estas actividades probablemente tendrían lugar en una fase previa a la solicitud, en la que se considerarían los conceptos de desarrollo y diseño antes de formular las propuestas definitivas. La segunda etapa del enfoque de beneficio mutuo consiste en diseñar un proceso de colaboración que involucre a todas las partes interesadas y ofrezca oportunidades para que dichas partes compartan información y aprendan unas de otras. La tercera etapa consiste en promover un diálogo exitoso entre las partes interesadas, por lo general mediante la intermediación de un buen facilitador que logre generar relaciones y confianza entre las partes involucradas. La etapa final consiste en implementar los acuerdos que se hayan logrado, garantizando que las soluciones propuestas incluyan los acuerdos que se hayan alcanzado entre los participantes, a la vez que cumplen con los requisitos que establezca la junta encargada de tomar las decisiones.

El nuevo libro publicado por el Instituto Lincoln, Land in Conflict (Suelo en conflicto), escrito por Sean Nolon, Ona Ferguson y Pat Field, que contiene una descripción más detallada del enfoque de beneficio mutuo, junto con estudios de casos informativos. Está disponible tanto en formato impreso como electrónico.

The Lincoln Institute of Land Policy partnered with a team of nonprofit organizations and federal agencies to host the National Workshop on Large Landscape Conservation (NWLLC) on October 23 and 24, 2014, at the Ronald Reagan Building in Washington, DC. The meeting drew some 700 participants to consider how—working across the public, private, civic (NGO), and academic sectors; across disciplines; and across parcel, town, county, state, and even international boundaries—large landscape conservation practitioners could achieve creatively conceived, strategically significant, measurably effective, transferable, and enduring results on the land in this era of climate change.

The policies, practices, and case studies discussed at the NWLLC offered a broad spectrum of solutions and promising paths for enhancing wildlife conservation efforts on a regional level; substantially improving water quality and quantity across large watersheds; achieving sustainable production of food, fiber, and energy; and protecting internationally significant cultural and recreational resources. The conference organizers greatly appreciate the productive contributions of all participants—ranging from Interior Secretary Sally Jewell, Iroquois elder Sid Jamieson, and National Wildlife Federation President Collin O’Mara, to on-the-ground land managers, scientists, and project coordinators from Alaska’s Bering Strait to the Florida Keys.

A version of this article originally appeared in Expanding Horizons: Highlights from the National Workshop on Large Landscape Conservation, the complete NWLLC report. Prepared by the Lincoln Institute and three conference partners—the National Park Service Stewardship Institute, the Quebec-Labrador Foundation/Atlantic Center for the Environment, and the Practitioners’ Network for Large Landscape Conservation—the full report is available on the Practitioners’ Network website (www.largelandscapenetwork.org)

—James N. Levitt
Lincoln Institute of Land Policy and the Harvard Forest, Harvard University

Big ideas about nature and people and a new approach to conservation cascaded through the first-ever National Workshop on Large Landscape Conservation. So much happened so quickly that the usual phrases for describing heartening and enlivening events don’t fit.

A watershed event? It felt more like white-water rafting down Niagara Falls or along an Ice-Age Flood.

A coming of age? Perhaps, if what you’re thinking about is the “rocket stage” in the growth of a longleaf pine tree: the tree can spend years looking like no more than a clump of grass, although it’s been invisibly sinking a deep taproot; then, in a single season, it leaps four feet toward the sky, putting it past the reach of ground-hugging wildfires.

Variety of input? The medieval Spanish king, Alfonso the Wise, is remembered for saying that if he’d been present at the Creation, he could’ve offered some useful hints. But at the oversubscribed Large Landscape Workshop, 117 hours of experience, advice, and data had to be packed into seven sets of concurrent sessions that occupied most of the 17 hours of the conference. There were thoughtful talks and panels and carefully prepared reports and slideshows by 269 presenters from inner cities, remote rocky heights, far-flung islands, and landscapes of all types across the United States, with connections to Canada and Mexico.

Continuing momentum? Ben Franklin said on the last day of the U.S. Constitutional Convention in Philadelphia in 1787 that, after spending three months listening to back-and-forth debate and looking daily at a gilded sunburst on the back of the president’s chair, he finally had the happiness of knowing he was seeing a rising sun, not a setting one. But Secretary of the Interior Sally Jewell, one of two cabinet members to address the NWLLC audience and applaud its efforts, told a lunchtime plenary session on the very first day: “This room is bursting with vision. You will be pioneers of landscape-level understanding, as Teddy Roosevelt was of conservation a century ago. Let’s make it happen!”

Landscape-level conservation—the term is still relatively new—is a different way of making sense of the world, and of assessing and nurturing its health. It steps beyond the laudable but limited 20th-century practice of designating reserves and cleaning up pollution. Taking a wide-angle, big-picture view of things, it sees every landscape, designated or not, as an intricately connected network of living beings sustained by a wide-ranging community of people. Landscape-level conservation has been reenergizing and broadening the environmental movement. And as its perspective is adopted, the first thing that grows is not necessarily the size of the property to be protected, but the possibility for actions, some large, some small, that will make a lasting difference for the future of the biosphere and its inhabitants, including humanity.

Many of these inaugural projects were on display in the workshop presentations and in the 34 posters that adorned the vast Reagan Building atrium. At times, the workshop felt like an enormous bazaar, displaying programs, concepts, research findings, explorations, cooperative agreements, and other early successes, as well as questions to ponder. Unexpected jewels, efforts hitherto known only to small groups, gleamed brightly in corners and were freely offered to all.

Yellowstone-to-Yukon, known as “Y2Y,” is perhaps the granddaddy of citizen-generated large-landscape projects—an idea for a connected, binational wildland corridor 2,000 miles long, from Yellowstone National Park north to the Alaskan border along the world’s last intact mountain ecosystem. At the NWLLC, Y2Y was literally coming of age, celebrating its 21st birthday. In 1993, only 12 percent of this 321-million-acre landscape had been conserved, but by 2013 the total had surged to 52 percent.

National Heritage Areas, honoring this country’s history and achievements, are even more well-established: the program embraces tens of millions of acres, including the entire state of Tennessee. It has just turned 30.

Y2Y has inspired plans for “H2H”—a 50-mile corridor of land that has been identified as a “resilient landscape,” just beyond the affluent northern suburbs of New York City, stretching from the Housatonic River, in Connecticut, to the Hudson River, in New York. Once protected, it could dramatically slow the effects of climate change.

The Staying Connected Initiative—a coalition of Canadians and Americans working across 80 million acres of forested land in four provinces and four states anchored by northern New England (a landscape the size of Germany)—calls itself “the very young cousin to Y2Y that, 15 years from now, they’ll call its northeast equivalent.”

Shortly before the workshop began, an Oregon county sewerage agency began adding trees and shrubs to the meandering banks of the 80-mile-long Tualatin River west of Portland, Oregon, to keep the fish in the river cool; it will have planted a million of them by World Environment Day on June 5, 2015.

The effect, workshop participants told me during breaks (there were a few), was somehow both exhilarating and sobering. Landscape-level conservation is hope-propelled rather than fear-accelerated. It’s a banding together in the face of grave environmental threats of extinctions and degradation. By widening our horizons, the focus shifts from salvage operations to the astounding number of things that can and need to be undertaken to restore, replenish, safeguard, protect, and celebrate the long-term integrity of this gigantic continent’s astonishing natural and cultural heritage.

When human ancestors first stood upright millions of years ago and could see over the tall savanna grasses of East Africa, their world went in an instant from being about 20-to-30 feet wide to something like 20-to-30 miles wide. This redefined what was practical, necessary, and possible to think about. In a similar fashion, scaling up or accelerating our own awareness of conservation to the landscape level is a useful way of dealing with the ever-proliferating complexities of modern America, a country of 320 million people that within half a century will have 400 million.

It’s a country where, the last half-century of science tells us, existing conservation methods aren’t enough to protect these places properly—in part because plants and animals move across lines drawn on a map and because, as these places become more isolated, former inhabitants can’t move back in again, either for full-time or part-time residence. Even high-flying Alaskan shorebirds, which winter in Mexico or China or New Zealand, are finding their round-trips impeded by oil spills in San Francisco Bay and invasive mangroves in New Zealand; Tom Tidwell, chief of the United States Forest Service, calls birds, bats, and butterflies the “winged messengers” of landscape-scale conservation. In recent years, we’ve also seen that, though maps and land designations remain stationary, places may soon be on the move in their entirety, as climate change nudges one ecosystem aside and draws in another.

Perhaps mapping itself is finally entering a non-Euclidean, or post-Jeffersonian, phase. For almost 230 years—ever since 1785, when Thomas Jefferson, even before the Constitutional Convention, suggested that geometry should trump topography for surveying what were called the “vacant lands” west of the Appalachians—we’ve had the “Jeffersonian grid,” still inescapably seen from the windows of any transcontinental flight in the way roads and fields are laid out. This grid used the otherwise invisible (and only recently computed) lines of longitude and latitude to partition the landscape into square-mile “sections” for property lines that ignored ecosystems, watersheds, and even mountain chains. It created a right-angled reality for settlers moving west to set up towns, unencumbered by what they were inheriting—the natural organization of the landscape and the age-old ways and knowledge of its previous human inhabitants.

Banding together. If working across more of the land is something that follows the realization that there’s more to the land (and beneath it and above it), the new conservation equation places as much emphasis on the who part of the work as it does on the what of it. In yet another departure from traditional practices, another thing to grow is the number and kinds of people who need to get behind any landscape-scale project. The entire process, said Dan Ashe, director of the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, relies on “epic collaboration,” which became the workshop’s most frequently repeated phrase. Epic resonated because it spoke of reaching across so many divides. “De-railers” was another popular workshop word:

Private landowners partnering with public-land managers. The migration path of the pronghorn antelope, which traverses both public and private land, has been protected, but it’s the last of what were seven such corridors, and the others have all been expunged. Working with 953 ranchers across 11 Western states, the National Resources Conservation Service’s Sage Grouse Initiative has moved or marked with white plastic tags 537 miles of barbed-wire fences, so these low-flying birds won’t impale themselves. “I work with the hopefuls, not the hatefuls,” one rancher said.

Private landowners partnering with their next owners. Tens of millions of acres of farms and ranches will change hands within the next 20 years, along with more than 200 million acres of “family forests.” The average age of a forest landowner is 62½, and “affinity to the land,” one commentator pointed out, “can be harder to pass along than a legal deed.”

Public-land managers working with other public-land managers. Too many sister agencies have longstanding habits of treating each other as disdained step-sisters, or they function like the three Gray Sisters in Greek myths, sharing a single eye. Over the last 30 years, the Bureau of Land Management has developed a Visual Resource Management (VRM) system for evaluating intrusions on lands in the West that includes listing scenic qualities at various distances from Key Observation Points (KOPs). But VRM methods have not yet made it back East, where the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission tends to approve without question all proposals for new gas pipelines and electric-transmission corridors, even if they might affect views from a National Historic Landmark such as Montpelier, the Virginia estate surrounded by old-growth forest where James Madison drafted an outline for the U.S. Constitution.

Other disparities yet to be bridged. Eighty-five percent of Americans live in urban areas, leading to a generation of kids who have “walked only on asphalt.” Within the workshop, most presenters were male—engaged in “mansplaining,” as one woman said. Another participant was shocked to find the conference so “overwhelmingly white.” Dr. Mamie Parker, retired assistant director of the Fish and Wildlife Service (the first African-American woman in that position), was a plenary speaker who got a sustained ovation equaled only by Secretary Jewell’s. “For many years,” Dr. Parker said, “we’ve been stuck, stalled, and scared of nontraditional partnerships. Fear has kept us from reaching out to people who want to feel respected, to know that they’re a valued member of the team.”

“Change happens at the rate of trust,” said one workshop participant. “I don’t think we’ve tested the trust yet,” said another. It’s abundantly clear that, from here on out, successful conservation is going to need a lot of successful conversations, many of which might be awkward at first. It will be a challenging stretch—standing upright brought human ancestors out of their comfort zone; a sense of belonging to other tribes is something we’re still working on.

City People, a groundbreaking book by the historian Gunther Barth, showed how 20th-century American cities became cohesive places because of late-19th-century inventions: millions of small-town Americans and Eastern European immigrants learned how to live and work together thanks to apartment houses, department stores, newspapers (which gave them the same information base), and baseball parks (which taught them the rules of competition and cooperation). Public libraries and public parks could be added to the list.

Baltimore’s Masonville Cove, the country’s first Urban Wildlife Refuge Partnership, launched in 2013, is perhaps a new kind of public library for the large-landscape era. A waterfront neighborhood in the southernmost part of town—torn up after World War II for a harbor tunnel thruway, and littered with abandoned industrial sites that have regenerated and then been rediscovered by 52 species of birds—the Masonville Cove Urban Wilderness Conservation Area now offers classes taught by staffers from the National Aquarium about the Chesapeake Bay and its 64,000 square-mile watershed (the size of 18½ Yellowstones). There are also field trips, walking trails, a kayak launch, and opportunities to help clean up charred debris, which may date back to the Great Baltimore Fire of 1904.

Nationally, landscape-scale conservation has an informal and unofficial steering committee—the Practitioners’ Network for Large Landscape Conservation, an alliance of government land managers, land trusts, academics, citizens, and national nonprofits who save lands and protect species. And officially, as the result of an early Obama administration initiative, there’s now a nationwide underpinning to the work: a network of federal fact-finders and conveners, organized as 22 Landscape Conservation Cooperatives. The LCCs don’t own anything or run anything, nor do they issue regulations, but they generate and compile reliable scientific data about all of the country’s landscapes (and many of the adjoining landscapes in Canada and Mexico), creating a shared information base. They necessarily cover a lot of ground and water (one LCC takes in both Hawaii and American Samoa, 4,000 miles to the west). And they bring a lot of people together; each LCC has at least 30 partners who represent separate government agencies, nonprofits, and tribal governments.

What’s next? That was the question asked over and over, with excitement and urgency, in the building’s sprawling, mall-length hallways. There were those buoyed by a recent survey showing that Americans think 50 percent of the planet should be protected for other species (Brazilians say 70 percent). Some foresee a seamless continental system of interlocked large landscapes, and the establishment of an international peace park on the U.S.–Mexico border to complement the one set up in 1932 across the U.S.–Canada boundary. There were, on the other hand, those in anguish who see all efforts falling short, confining North Americans to a continent with more development, less biodiversity, and fewer wolves, salmon, and spotted owls. There were those who thought that, at the next national workshop, partnership must be made an official part of the proceedings, built into the planning of sessions, into their presentations, and into follow-up discussions and initiatives.

What is next? People may need to take some time to assimilate the ascendancy of a new insight, a permanent expansion in the perception of landscapes. No more NIMBY (“Not In My Backyard”); there’s only one backyard (OBY), and it’s our care and delight, our inheritance and responsibility.

When you gain a new capacity, where will you set your sights? If someone gives you a telescope, what will you look at first?

About the Author

Tony Hiss was a New Yorker staff writer for more than 30 years and is now a visiting scholar at New York University. He is the author of 13 books, including The Experience of Place and, most recently, In Motion: The Experience of Travel.

At the train station for Bijlmermeer, in the fringe development area of Amsterdam known as Southeast, a landscape comes into view that seems very un-Dutch-a huge enclosed mall, a gleaming new sports stadium, and an oversized boulevard lined with big-box retail stores. How could this be, in a land with such a proud tradition of good design and even better planning; in a country that embraces compact development, density and mass transit; in a place where virtually no land is privately owned but rather is leased by the government and thus tightly controlled.

Welcome to the Netherlands in 2001: experimenting with market forces as never before, and increasingly conflicted about the same development patterns facing the United States. Just as postmodern architecture is all the rage in the Netherlands while a resurgence of modernism washes over the U.S., the state of planning in the two countries is in some respects moving in equally opposite directions. In the U.S., some two dozen states have established growth management plans and many have created regional governance systems to guide development. In the Netherlands, the Dutch are flirting with a kind of free-market liberation and leaving many old assumptions and methodologies behind.

There is still planning, to be sure. The guiding document, known with great reverence as the 5th memorandum (the National Policy Document on Spatial Planning), elegantly organizes relationships between the major cities of the Netherlands, including Amsterdam, Utrecht, The Hague and Rotterdam. Regional strengths among so-called “polynuclear city regions” or “urban networks” are thoughtfully mapped out to establish interconnections in transportation or housing. And the added framework of the European Union emphasizes connections in transportation and commerce, both within and between countries. Centuries-old national borders increasingly fade into the background as other geographical definitions, such as the Rhine River, take on greater significance.

But against that backdrop, other attitudes in the Netherlands are changing, allowing more experimentation with public-private partnerships, a greater sensitivity to market demands, and acceptance of development projects that have a distinctly American flavor. Scholars in university planning departments around the country are candid in their admission: sometimes we do too much planning, they say, and the results are by no means universally acclaimed.

These are some of the comments heard and observations made during a study trip to the Netherlands in May by the Loeb Fellowship Class of 2001. The Loeb Fellowship, based at Harvard University Graduate School of Design, supports mid-career professionals in the design fields to study at Harvard for one year. The year-end trip was cosponsored by the Lincoln Institute and the Loeb Fellowship Alumni Association as part of an ongoing collaboration between the two organizations.

Some of what the Loeb Fellows found was expected: a national rail system and urban tram systems that work so efficiently that climbing into a private car seemed unthinkable; a marvelous system of pedestrian walkways and bicycle paths and an elegant sensibility for sharing the street; and compact development concentrated in urban areas with a clearly defined edge, and countryside beyond.

The Southeast district of Amsterdam, however, was a somewhat surprising example of a new and different approach-and evidence of perhaps inevitable infection by the global virus. The site overall is badly in need of redevelopment. It is home, on one side the rail line, to Bijlmermeer, the Le Corbusier-inspired high-rise slabs that have been a disaster since inception in the mid-1960s. Across the tracks is the 50,000-seat Amsterdam Arena and Arena Boulevard, lined with big-box retail, a temporary music hall, a cinema complex, and a huge mall devoted to home furnishings and interior design stores. The development team is a consortium including the City of Amsterdam and private development and real estate conglomerates. The thinking behind Southeast, though not explicitly stated, is that the central core in Amsterdam is best left to tourists, and that a shopping and entertainment center will serve residents who don’t want to drive into the city anyway. Although a new metro-rail-bus station, due in 2006, can accommodate tens of thousands, 80 percent of the Southeast clientele is expected to come by car.

A similar sense of providing what people want pervades several development projects around Nijmegen, on the western edge of the country, near Germany. The Grootstal housing project on an infill site outside the city center, for example, is a curious mix of sustainable design and driveways at every unit’s front yard. Garages, wide roads, easy motorway access and abundant fast-food outlets are similarly encouraged in the Beuningen subdivision, where new suburban homes are fashioned in kitchy 1930s styles. The expansive Waalsprong development area (literally to “spring over” the river embracing the core of Nijmegen) includes plans for 11,000 housing units in a scheme vaguely reminiscent of New Urbanism, though the most notable achievement so far is the slick marketing campaign undertaken by the private-sector partners.

“This is what the Dutch middle-class people want,” said University of Nijmegen planning professor Barrie Needham. “People get wealthier and they want more space. Part of the problem with planning in the 1960s was that we didn’t ask people what they want.”

There is no question the Dutch approach continues to be far more iterative than that of the U.S. The Dutch planners choose where to intervene much more carefully, and with much more analysis. They are experimenting with lower-density development in stages, not letting it take over the landscape unrestrained. The Dutch, also, can readily admit when planned development has failed, and set out to fix the things that don’t work. Transportation remains at the heart of all planning, and the quality of design remains essential.

While none of the Loeb Fellows on the trip concluded that the Netherlands is tilting towards a wholesale retreat from planning, the challenge of striking a balance between market forces and government control struck many of us as daunting. How much are the Dutch willing to experiment? Is a balance possible or somehow illusory? Is the proud tradition of subsidized and affordable housing in danger of atrophy? In Nijmegen and the Southeast district of Amsterdam, where one official was late for a presentation because of a traffic jam on the motorway, only time will tell. The current recalibrations could result in the best of two worlds, or the worst of both.

Anthony Flint is a reporter for The Boston Globe, covering land use, planning and development. For more information about the Loeb Fellowship, see the website at www.gsd.harvard.edu/loebfell.

Loeb Fellows, Class of 2001

Marcel Acosta, senior policy advisor, National Capital Planning Commission, Washington, DC

Terrence Curry, former director of design, Detroit Collaborative Design Center

Anthony Flint, reporter, The Boston Globe

Ben Hamilton-Baillie, consultant in sustainable transportation and urban planning, Bristol, England

Anthony Irons, city architect, San Francisco.

William H. McFarland, community development consultant, Peoplestown Revitalization Corporation (PRC), Atlanta.

Paul Okamoto, architect, San Francisco

Roxanne Qualls, former mayor, Cincinnati, Ohio; graduate student, Kennedy School of Government, Harvard University

Robert Stacey, chief of staff, Office of Rep. Earl Blumenauer (D-Oregon), Washington, DC

Rebecca Talbott, consultant in private-public land management partnerships, Cambridge, MA

Katy Moss Warner, former director of horticulture and environmental initiatives, Walt Disney Resort, Orlando, Florida

Vacant land and its integration into the urban land market are topics rarely investigated in Latin America. The existing literature tends to focus only on descriptive aspects (i.e., number and size of lots). In the current context of profound economic and social transformations and changing supply and demand patterns of land in cities, the perception of vacant land is beginning to change from being a problem to offering an opportunity.

A comparative study of vacant land in six Latin American cities (Buenos Aires, Argentina; Lima, Peru; Quito, Ecuador; Rio de Janeiro, Brazil; San Salvador, El Salvador; and Santiago, Chile) was recently completed as part of an ongoing Lincoln Institute-sponsored research project. The participating researchers examined different categories of vacant land, the problems they generate and their potential uses, as well as the changing roles of both private and public agents, including governments, in the management of vacant land. They concluded that vacant land is an integral element of the complex land markets in these cities, affecting fiscal policies on land and housing. Thus, vacant land has great potential for large-scale developments that could result in improved conditions for urban areas, as well as reduced social polarization and greater equity for their populations.

The six cities in the study vary in size but share the common attributes of rapid population growth and territorial expansion. They also have comparable social indicators (high rates of poverty, unemployment and underemployment), significant deficits in housing and provision of services, and high levels of geographical social stratification and segregation. The land markets in each of the cities also have similar characteristics, although they exhibit their own dynamics in each sub-market.

Characteristics of Vacant Land

The four primary characteristics of vacant land considered in this research project are ownership, quantity, location and length of vacancy. In general, vacant land in Latin America is held by one or more of the following agents, each with their respective policies: real estate developers or sub-dividers (both legal and illegal); low-income people who have acquired land, but cannot afford to develop it; real estate speculators; farmers; state enterprises; and other institutions such as the church, the military, social security, etc.

Determining how much vacant land exists in each city depends on the definition given to the term in the respective country . Quantifying vacant land is further complicated by the numerous obstacles that exist to obtaining accurate information, thus limiting the possibility of comparing data and percentages across metropolitan areas. Finally, in several of these cities (San Salvador, Santiago and Buenos Aires) there are significant “latent” vacant areas. These are unused or marginally used buildings, often previously occupied by former state-owned companies, waiting for new investments in order to be demolished or redeveloped.

In these six cities, the percentage of vacant land ranges from under 5 percent in San Salvador to nearly 44 percent in Rio de Janeiro. If all of San Salvador’s “latent” vacant areas were included, the percentage of vacant land could increase to 40 percent of the total metropolitan area. On the whole, vacant land in the cities accounts for a significant percentage of serviced areas that could potentially house considerable numbers of people who currently have no access to serviced urban land.

The location of vacant land is relatively uniform throughout the region. Whereas in the United States vacant land tends to be centrally located (such as abandoned areas or industrial brownfield sites), in Latin America the majority of vacant sites lie in the outskirts of the cities. These areas are frequently associated with speculation and retention strategies for occupation based on the provision of services. In contrast, the length of time land has been vacant differs considerably: in Lima and Quito, vacant urban lots are relatively “new,” whereas in Buenos Aires some urban lots have remained vacant for several decades.

Policy Issues and Development Potential

An evaluation of the urban-environmental conditions of vacant land concludes that a significant number of sites could tolerate residential or productive activities. These areas currently constitute an underutilized resource and should be considered for investments in urban infrastructure to improve land use efficiency. An equally significant segment, however, has important risk factors: inadequate basic infrastructure; water polluted by industrial waste; risk of flood, erosion or earthquake; and poor accessibility. Such land is inappropriate for occupation unless significant investments are made to safeguard against these environmental problems. Some land in this category could have great potential for environmental protection, although consciousness about land conservation remains a low priority in Latin America.

The study asserts that, in general, the urban poor have little access to vacant land due to high land values, despite the fact that values do vary according to sub-market. Prices are high in areas of dynamic urban expansion that offer better accessibility and services. A large amount of vacant land in several of the cities studied is not on the market and will likely remain vacant for an indefinite period of time. It is in these areas, the researchers contend, that policies should be implemented to reduce the price of serviced vacant land to make it more accessible to the poor.

The majority of Latin American cities have no explicit policies or legal framework regarding vacant land. In those cities where some legislation does exist, such as Rio de Janeiro, it is basically limited to recommendations and lacks real initiatives. In Santiago, recent legislation has promoted increased density in urban areas, yet it is too soon to know the implications of these measures. References to the environment are also generally lacking in “urban” legislation. Vacant land could play an important role in urban sustainability. However, reaching this potential would depend on better articulation between environmental and planning actions, especially at the local level.

Another characteristic common to the areas studied, with the exception of Santiago, is that urban development policy and specific land market policies have been disconnected from tax policy. Even in those cities where there is a distinction in taxation on vacant versus built land-such as Buenos Aires or Quito-it has not translated into any real changes. Sanctions and higher taxes on vacant areas have largely been avoided through a series of loopholes and “exceptions.”

Proposals and Criteria for Implementation

Arguing for an increased government role in land markets in combination with institution-building and capacity-building among other involved actors, the study formulates a number of proposals for the use and reuse of vacant land in Latin America. An overriding proposal is that vacant land should be incorporated into the city’s overall policy framework, taking into account the diversity of vacant land situations. Land use policies to increase the number of green areas, build low-income housing and provide needed infrastructure should be implemented as part of a framework of urban planning objectives. Furthermore, vacant land should be used to promote “urban rationality” by stimulating the occupation of vacant lots in areas with existing infrastructure and repressing urban growth in areas without appropriate infrastructure.

Urban policy objectives on vacant land should also be pursued through tax policy. Some suggestions formulated in this regard are the broadening of the tax base and tax instruments; incorporating mechanisms for value capture in urban public investment; application of a progressive property tax policy (to discourage land retention by high-income owners); and greater flexibility in the municipal tax apparatus.

These policies should be linked to other mechanisms designed to deter the expansion of vacant land and the dynamic of geographical social stratification and segregation. Such related mechanisms might include the granting of low-interest credits or subsidies for the purchase of building materials; technical assistance for construction of housing; provision of infrastructure networks to reduce costs; and credits or grace periods for payment of closing costs, taxes and service fees on property.

Other proposals address the development of pilot programs for land transfers using public-private partnerships to build on government-owned land in order to promote social housing at affordable rates; reuse of some land for agricultural production; and greater attention to environmental issues, with the goal of assuring urban sustainability in the future.

The 1994 Regulatory Plan for the Santiago metropolitan area defined a goal of elevating the city’s average density by 50 percent, while 1995 reforms to the Ley de Rentas introduced a fee on non-edified land and a disincentive to land speculation.

Nora Clichevsky is a researcher with CONICET, the National Council for Scientific and Technical Research in Buenos Aires, Argentina. She is the coordinator of the six-city study of vacant land in Latin America, which met to discuss these findings in August 1998. Laura Mullahy, a research assistant with the Lincoln Institute’s Latin American Program, contributed to this article.

Other members of the research team are Julio Calderón of Lima, Peru; Diego Carrión and Andrea Carrión of CIUDAD in Quito, Ecuador; Fernanda Furtado and Fabrizio Leal de Oliveira of the University of Rio de Janeiro, Brazil; Mario Lungo and Francisco Oporto of the Central American University in El Salvador; and Patricio Larraín of the Chilean Ministry of Housing and Urbanism.

In the next phase of this project, the Lincoln Institute will sponsor a seminar on vacant land this spring in Río de Janeiro, with the participation of the original researchers as well as other experts from each of the cities involved.

Decentralization of the state and growing business and community involvement in civic affairs are posing new challenges to the development of institutions focused on land policies and their implementation throughout Latin America. Mayors and local councils are assuming new responsibilities in the areas of environmental protection, urban transportation, basic infrastructure, local financing, social services and economic development. At the same time, business and civic organizations are finding new avenues to ensure public attention to their demands through participatory planning, budgeting, co-financing and control at the local level.

Thus, decentralization and democratic participation are gradually building an environment in which public-private alliances can develop joint projects of common interest to both government and individuals. However, many government institutions have a long way to go before they are fully adjusted to their new roles in planning, regulation and evaluation.

Long-entrenched cultures of apathy and citizen distrust of government have to be transformed into mutual confidence capable of mobilizing the best community traditions of the Latin American people. Political and economic patronage and state corruption need to be superseded by political and administrative accountability. Obsolete budget, contract and municipal laws still restrict the capacity of both local governments and civil society to interact creatively through contractual and co-financing arrangements.

The institutional challenges and policy dilemmas currently confronted by the Metropolitan Area of San Salvador (MASS) illustrate the transformations occurring throughout the region. After years of civil war, the Salvadorans signed a peace agreement in 1992 that provided the framework for real competition among political parties and stimulated more active participation by business, non-governmental organizations (NGOs) and community organizations. MASS incorporates several municipalities, some of them led by mayors from opposition parties to the central government. The coordinating body of MASS is the Council of Mayors, which in turn is supported by a Metropolitan Planning Office.

With technical assistance from international NGOs, MASS has prepared a comprehensive development plan. Contemporary urban planning instruments such as macrozoning, multi-rate property tax, value capture for environmental protection, public-private consortiums and land use coefficients are being considered for the implementation of land, development and environmental policies. Indeed, the Salvadorans have the support of several research centers that are familiar with the use and impact of these and other instruments in other parts of the world. Their primary need now is to mobilize public and private metropolitan actors around common policies and to develop shared instruments for their application.

Toward that end, PRISMA, a prominent Salvadoran NGO and urban research center, invited the Lincoln Institute to develop a joint workshop on urban management tools, intergovernmental coordinating mechanisms for metropolitan areas and public-private initiatives for sustainable cities. The workshop, held in San Salvador in October, included high-ranking officers from the central government, mayors, planning officers and other authorities from MASS, and representatives from builders’ and developers’ associations and some cooperative housing institutions and community organizations.

Speakers from the Lincoln Institute presented experiences from Taiwan, The Philippines, Mexico and other Latin American countries that underlined policies and instruments capable of harmonizing the interests of different urban stakeholders and coordinating several layers of government for land use and urban development objectives. The Salvadorans explained their immediate concerns, such as the lack of intergovernmental coordination to protect the urban environment, discontinuities in policy measures, arbitrariness at all levels of government, and legal and administrative uncertainties.

The workshop participants concluded that to foster the new legal and institutional framework sought by MASS the Salvadorans need to expand discussions among other metropolitan actors. They also need to continue to work with institutions such as the Lincoln Institute that have the trust and credibility to present internationally recognized land management policies and can help build consensus among different public and private interests.

Mario Lungo is a researcher at PRISMA, the Salvadoran Program for Development and Environmental Research; Alejandra Mortarini is the Lincoln Institute’s Latin America and Caribbean programs manager; and Fernando Rojas, a lawyer from Colombia, is a visiting fellow of the Institute this year.

Water companies and the communities they serve have been grappling for years with complex issues of water treatment and provision, watershed management, public finance and control over regional land use decisionmaking. The federal Safe Drinking Water Act of 1974 prompted water providers across America to face a dilemma: “to filter or not to filter.” Some states or regions require filtration to ensure water quality, but elsewhere communities explore alternative strategies to both protect natural filtration processes in their watersheds and avoid the enormous costs of installing water treatment plants.

The hard-fought conversion of the New Haven Water Company from a private, investor-owned company to a public regional water authority provides an informative case study of a partnership strategy. In the process of hammering out agreements on difficult land use and tax issues, the city and surrounding suburbs succeeded in breaking down conventional barriers and recognized that regional solutions can meet shared needs for a safe water supply, open space protection, recreation and fiscal responsibility.

The drama unfolded in 1974, when the Water Company attempted to sell over 60 percent of its 26,000 acres of land in 17 metropolitan area towns to generate capital for filtration plant construction. The announcement of this massive land sale created vehement opposition throughout the state. Residents of the affected towns viewed the largely undeveloped land as an integral part of their community character. They feared losing control of the land as well as environmental damage and increased costs associated with potential new development.

Several New Haven area legislators recognized the critical link between the city and its watershed communities. They introduced legislation imposing a moratorium on the land sale and proposing public ownership of the water works. New Haven Mayor Frank Logue countered with an announcement that the city planned to buy the water company under a purchase option in a 1902 contract. The suburban towns responded by promoting regional ownership as the only viable alternative to city control.

After a lengthy feasibility study, and despite a gubernatorial veto, legislation enabling the creation of the South Central Connecticut Regional Water Authority (RWA) was enacted in 1977. In addition, separate legislation classified all utility-owned watershed land and severely restricted its sale. The sale restrictions combined with standards for source protection, provisions for public recreation and consideration of the financial impact on ratepayers, also diminished the land’s market value, thereby limiting the Water Company’s ability to use the land as a source of capital.

Regionalization of the Water Company also required a regional approach to taxation. This was the most difficult obstacle to overcome in passing the RWA enabling legislation. With New Haven Water Company’s projected capital investments in excess of $100 million, the region’s towns had looked ahead to vastly increased tax revenues from the private utility. However, New Haven, with the majority of consumers, was more concerned with keeping water rates low.

The conflict between city and suburbs was resolved through the principle that the regionalization of the water utility would cause no erosion of the tax base. Under the agreement, each town would receive payments in lieu of taxes (PILOTs) on all property acquired by the RWA, equivalent to the taxes that would be paid by a private owner. However, while these payments would rise and fall with future assessments, the RWA would not be required to make such tax-substitution payments for any new capital improvements.

Lessons of Regional Resource Sharing

In addition to forcing a reconsideration of the balance between suburban tax bases and urban water rates, New Haven’s Regional Water Authority has broadened its own mission. While protecting the water supply is the primary focus of all RWA land use policies, the authority also manages recreational use of the land to meet the needs of both inner city and suburban residents.

The early success of the conservation and recreational use plans depended on public participation in formulating the RWA Land Use Plan. Many types of active recreation would have been unsuitable for water supply land, but it was determined that hiking and fishing, the two most popular activities, could be conducted without threatening water quality.

The RWA’s active program for policing the watersheds was reinforced by establishing a center to educate future consumers on water supply protection. Located at the base of the dam at Lake Whitney, the Whitney Water Center annually teaches thousands of children the basics of drinking water science. It emphasizes the interdependence of source protection and safe drinking water.

Primary among the lessons to be learned from the New Haven Water Company’s ill-advised land sale proposal is that the value of a water supply watershed as a natural and human resource is far greater than its value as a market commodity. Management of the watershed’s natural resource potential must extend beyond the collection and distribution of water to include the needs of the people who live within the watershed. At the same time, limiting watershed land activities to low-risk uses minimizes the water treatment costs that are still necessary for safe drinking water.

Regional cooperation need not begin and end with water. Developing economic and ecological partnerships between cities and their suburbs for tax-sharing, recreation, and education recognizes that the economic and ecological concerns of all residents in a metropolitan region are interdependent. Successfully bucking the trend toward privatization, the RWA demonstrates that regional resource sharing is the most viable way of meeting the needs of New Haven and its suburbs.

Watershed Protection vs. Filtration in Other Regions

The public acquisition of the New Haven Water Company in the 1970s provided a preview of 1990s approaches to managing water resources. Today, water supply management is increasingly becoming watershed management, with plans reflecting the broader ecological functions of watersheds and the importance of partnerships with local residents. Conflict resolution has become an essential skill for today’s watershed managers.

Watershed land acquisition continues to be a key filtration avoidance strategy in many areas. New York City has the nation’s largest unfiltered water supply, and some experts have called on the city to develop programs to filter its drinking water. However, New York Governor George E. Pataki has taken the position he would “do whatever it takes to avoid filtration,” from working with farmers and businesses on mutually beneficial voluntary programs to buying up to 80,000 acres from willing sellers to protect the water supply.

New Jersey Governor Christine Todd Whitman has committed to a “hands across the border” $10 million contribution toward purchasing the New York portion of the two-state metropolitan watershed in Sterling Forest, which is threatened with commercial recreational and housing development. The nonprofit Trust for Public Land and the Open Space Institute are negotiating the purchase on behalf of both states, and recent congressional action has guaranteed funding for the project.

In central Massachusetts, the Metropolitan District Commission’s Quabbin Reservoir has met the Safe Drinking Water Act’s criteria as an unfiltered water supply source for the Boston area, but the MDC’s Wachusett Reservoir has not. A recently approved $399 million state open space bond includes funds for land acquisition in the Wachusett watershed.

Acknowledging the essential function that undeveloped land serves in preventing contaminants from reaching water supplies is long overdue. But is watershed source protection alone a viable alternative to filtration?

In North Carolina, where all surface water supplies are already filtered, state legislation requires local water authorities to develop watershed land use plans that must be approved by the state. Although such legislation can reduce the health risks of watershed development and the cost of water treatment, it cannot prevent future development.

Our conclusion is that the combination of watershed protection and filtration is a proven, cost effective approach to ensure safe drinking water while also building partnerships to implement regional land use policies.

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Dorothy S. McCluskey was a Connecticut State Representative from 1975 to 1982 and chaired the Environment Subcommittee on the Sale of Water Company Land. She subsequently served as director of government relations for The Nature Conservancy Connecticut Chapter. Claire C. Bennitt, secretary-treasurer of the Regional Water Authority since 1977, was a resident of North Branford when the threatened land sale galvanized the New Haven region. She worked with Rep. McCluskey as her administrative assistant in the state legislature. They have written Who Wants to Buy a Water Company: From Private to Public Control in New Haven, to be published in early 1997 by Rutledge Books, Inc., of Bethel, Connecticut.