One emerging consensus to combat climate change is increasingly clear: electrify everything, and make that power come from renewable sources, like wind, solar, and hydro power. Removing fossil fuels from electricity generation can be surprisingly smooth, as clean power facilities have rapidly become more cost-efficient. Renewables are currently 20 percent of US power generation and steadily growing.

But there’s a sprawling and daunting land use task that is necessary to make that clean energy transition happen: not only the siting of solar arrays and wind farms, but the construction and improvement of transmission lines and substations and pipelines, across thousands of acres of land.

Researchers at Princeton University have estimated that if manufacturing capacity for turbines and photovoltaics continues to ratchet up as it has been for the last several years, up to 400,000 square miles will be needed in the US to harvest wind energy alone. That means much more visible renewable energy infrastructure on hilltops, in suburban neighborhoods, and in what may feel like people’s backyards.

Battles over the siting of wind and solar installations, and opposition to the key upgrades and expansion of the grid that will allow clean power to plug in, are occurring on a state-by-state basis, in the absence of federal authority or oversight. In many cases, renewable energy facilities have been cleared through the permitting process to start operating, but remain in limbo because they can’t plug in to the existing, antiquated grid.

A crazy quilt of local land use regulations—including bylaws restricting solar fields and wind farms—has amplified the voices of opposition from neighbors and organized groups, including, in what many climate advocates consider a profound irony of the times, some environmental organizations. In addition, land use conflicts are hindering another critical component of the clean energy transition: the mining of metals such as lithium to make high-capacity rechargeable batteries, for electric vehicles and storing power from renewable sources when the sun doesn’t shine or the wind doesn’t blow (see sidebar).

Those targeting net-zero emissions by mid-century hoped for a high-level wave of renewable energy that would transform the way everyone gets their power. Instead, there are standoffs and bottlenecks, at the state and local level, as the execution of this extraordinary transition gets bogged down, literally, on the ground.

“I would agree things aren’t going well right now—though I would suggest that we also have way more shots on goal than in previous years, so there are more stories of projects getting blocked because there are just more project proposals,” said Sarah Banas Mills, senior project manager at the Graham Sustainability Institute and lecturer at the School for Environment and Sustainability, University of Michigan.

As frustration mounts at what many see as a fumbling of the ball at a key moment in the fight against climate change, Mills, who has been tracking battles over renewable energy all over the US and coauthored a paper on the topic, says a more nuanced analysis is required about each and every site, now that installations are ramping up. Wind projects in places with more people or higher scenic amenities are more likely to be opposed; neighbors may also be more likely to balk at large solar arrays on farmland, which many clean-energy advocates thought would be an easier sell.

“Renewables present one of the biggest economic opportunities rural communities have seen in decades,” she said. “But with all opportunities, there are trade-offs. That we have so many communities saying no suggests to me that in many places communities are finding that the positives—economic benefits—don’t outweigh the negatives. Changes may need to be made to project characteristics, like size, location within the community, and distribution of economic benefits . . . to get more communities to ‘yes.’”

It wasn’t always this way. In the past, there was little to no veto power exercised at the local level, as industrialization advanced and critical infrastructure was deemed necessary, whether canals, railroads, and telegraph lines in the 19th century, or the interstate highway system in the 1950s.

A common thread for infrastructure is the intensive use of land, which is necessary to complete networks and distribute benefits across large expanses. This was especially true in the development of the grid. Power plants were built at whatever location was required, whether near a coal mine or on a river. Then, a decentralized but highly connected system of substations, transformers, and transmission and distribution lines got the power to the end user—homes and businesses. The flow of power is from point to point and as it happens, since large amounts of electricity are not stored; the power is used as it is produced, and vice versa.

Although the construction, organization, and regulation of the grid started out in a patchwork state-by-state and regional framework, the federal government established oversight with the Federal Power Act of 1920, which Congress passed to coordinate the development of hydroelectric projects such as the Hoover Dam. Major new agencies like the Tennessee Valley Authority, established in 1933, helped create a sense of intention and purpose; bringing electricity to rural areas was part of a national mobilization in economic development during the Great Depression (and, also intentionally, a fountainhead of jobs). Among other federal agencies, what is now known as the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission (FERC) took the lead in managing power generation and the grid, although generally oversight of utilities, and the prices they charge in particular, remains a state responsibility.

In terms of the extraordinary accomplishment of the grid, the ultimate result of planning and coordination is the familiar landscape of today: 160,000 miles of high-voltage power lines draped on shiny metal stanchions up to 200 feet tall, with forest and brush cleared away underneath, crisscrossing the countryside, whisking electricity generated by 7,300 power plants to nearly 150 million customers across the US, according to the US Energy Information Administration (EIA). The North American grid—three grids, technically, called the Eastern, Western, and Texas Interconnect—is completed by millions of miles of low-voltage power lines and distribution transformers.

To date, most electricity is produced using conventional sources such as natural gas, oil, coal, and nuclear. But at least 20 percent of the nation’s power is now generated by renewable energy facilities—wind, solar, hydroelectric, biomass, geothermal—and that proportion is growing, as coal-fired power plants, for example, are steadily phased out. Over the past decade, 290 coal-fired plants were decommissioned in the US, leaving 224 in operation.

The Biden administration has pledged to eliminate fossil fuels as a form of energy generation in the US by 2035, setting the goal of 80 percent carbon-free electricity by 2030. Wind, solar, and hydroelectric power have been the fastest-growing segment of the energy sector, and will be further fueled by some $370 billion in funding under the Inflation Reduction Act. Wind and solar projects, steadily improving in their technology and efficiency, are ready to roll.

But therein lies the current land use challenge—not only in the siting of renewable energy installations, but also in the all-important upgrade to the grid to carry and distribute all that clean power. On both fronts, the development of renewable energy has been stymied in recent years.

Opposition to offshore wind farms, notably the Cape Wind project off Cape Cod, was perhaps the first and most infamous example of affluent homeowners objecting to clean-energy infrastructure because they claimed it spoiled the view. But wind farms on land, whether atop ridges or on farmland, have also ignited fierce opposition, even in remote areas.

In Northern California, Shasta County supervisors rejected a proposal by Connect Wind/Fountain Wind for 48 turbines on rural land after hearing concerns about impacts on wildlife habitat, Indigenous lands, and even whether the turbines would interfere with fighting wildfires from the air. A local ordinance passed shortly afterward banning large wind projects outright. The California Energy Commission is allowing the developers a second chance under a provision of Assembly Bill 205, which can override local veto power over clean energy projects.

In Iowa, a judge ordered developers to dismantle three 450-foot turbines on farmland after neighboring landowners complained about the noise they made. The victorious opponents, who successfully argued that the zoning board shouldn’t have issued the permits, hope their battle “will empower other rural landowners and small towns to take on wind,” according to the Des Moines Register.

A typical concern as well is the danger posed by wind turbines to birds—although pesticides, buildings, and housecats kill many times more birds than the slowly rotating blades, and clean-tech researchers, using artificial intelligence, have come up with ways to keep birds away anyway.

Solar installations have not fared much better. While more than 2,500 solar farms are up and running in the United States, solar projects are increasingly running into blockades, in Indiana, Ohio, Virginia, and elsewhere. Neighbors often get in an uproar when they see how large, visible, and land-intensive some of the solar arrays are, describing them in alarming fashion, as in one battle over a Midwest proposal, as filling up thousands of football fields with shiny, deep blue panels.

Researchers in a 2021 Michigan study found that despite readily acknowledged benefits such as economic development, tax payments, and compensation for the landowner and community, “projects have increasingly faced local resistance . . . [due to] aesthetics, noise, and negative impacts to rural and Tribal culture, values, and community energy sovereignty, along with . . . risk to wildlife, productive farmland, biodiversity, and human health.” Additional perceived risks included lowered home and property values, increased electricity rates, impacts to tourism, and the toxicity of materials used in construction and operation, the study says.

A team at MIT studied 53 American renewable energy projects that were paused, delayed, or canceled between 2008 and 2021 in 28 states because of local opposition. The researchers identified seven common drivers of conflict: environmental impact; financial viability; quality of public engagement; Tribal rights; health and safety concerns; and concerns related to land and property values.

“We found overwhelming evidence to suggest that federal, state, and local regulators need to rethink the design and operation of their facility siting processes,” the researchers conclude. “A fast and fair transition to renewable energy will not be achieved in the US if policymakers and energy developers do not anticipate and respond proactively to the full array of sources of local opposition.”

High-profile standoffs have the effect of scaring off partners worried about bad publicity. In Queensland, Australia, the tech company Apple withdrew from an agreement to buy power from a proposed 80-turbine windfarm on nearly 2,000 acres, a project the World Wildlife Fund (WWF) had criticized for threatening koalas, wallabies, and red goshawks. A WWF spokesman applauded the move, saying it demonstrated “leadership and a commitment to renewables that are good for climate and nature.”

Opposition to transmission lines and the upgrades and expansion of the grid that are necessary to handle new clean power has been perhaps the most strenuous of all—leaving renewable energy installations that have already been built or permitted to remain in limbo, an untenable scenario for green-tech companies and investors.

A four-year legal battle over a 145-mile transmission line that would carry hydroelectric power from Quebec to Massachusetts has been representative of the bare-knuckle brawling over land use. Conservation groups said the pipeline threatened wilderness areas in Maine, where most of the line would be constructed, prompting a statewide vote against the project, though it had already been permitted. A judge recently ruled that construction could resume.

Proponents complained that the opposition had been financed and motivated by a rival natural gas utility seeking to block competition. Joseph Curtatone, president of the Northeast Clean Energy Council, said he hoped the court decision “marks an end to the self-interested, corporate-funded attempts to sabotage this project.” Building the project as planned, he said, would remove more than 3 million metric tons of carbon annually and provide $200 million in desperately needed upgrades to the electric grid.

“This is essential work in our effort to electrify everything in order to avoid the worst effects of climate change. Without grid upgrades we can’t deliver power to heat pumps and electric vehicles. These are the kinds of big leaps we need to take after decades of minimal progress on climate action,” he said. “If we’re fighting tooth-and-nail over removing 3 million tons of CO2 with lower-cost energy, we’re never going to reach net zero.”

In the book Superpower, the author Russell Gold chronicled the ultimately futile attempt by Houston businessman Michael Skelly to get approval for a transmission line to connect windfarms in Oklahoma to the grid in Tennessee, which became emblematic of community opposition paired with politics. But the same problem keeps recurring. It took 18 years before a 732-mile transmission line was approved by federal authorities to carry clean power from the proposed 700-turbine TransWest wind farm on ranchland in Wyoming to homes and businesses in California. The interstate project required multiple approvals under the National Environmental Protection Act (NEPA), with detailed examination of impacts on flora and fauna, including the sagebrush grouse.

The objections to green infrastructure have evoked past battles over endangered species, sacred sites, and otherwise culturally valuable land. The Greenlink West project, a 470-mile transmission line through Nevada, is under fire because it might disturb woolly mammoth tusk fossils.

The irony is not lost on many that environmental laws passed in the 1970s to combat rampant pollution are now being used to fight renewable energy projects that will curb climate change. Environmental litigation is threatening a wide range of environmentally advantageous initiatives across the country, from dense housing to bike lanes to congestion pricing.

“I’m an environmentalist, which means I’ve got some practice in saying no. It’s what we do,” wrote Bill McKibben in an essay for Mother Jones titled, “Yes in Our Backyards.” McKibben’s decades of activism include successfully fighting the Keystone XL fossil-fuel pipeline. “But we’re at a hinge moment now, when solving our biggest problems—environmental but also social—means we need to say yes to some things. . . . One way may be to back up a little and think of the slightly longer term.”

Without any sense of a grand plan or rationale, and environmentalists divided—one camp saying impacts on the environment must always be considered, the other that there will be no functioning wildlife habitats or thriving species if climate change isn’t curtailed—renewable energy projects are increasingly being viewed as what Harvard professor Alan Altshuler called LULUs: “locally unwanted land uses,” like prisons or landfills.

An array of solutions for overcoming this impasse has emerged recently, including legislation introduced just this year. At least three steps are needed to adequately and effectively deploy clean energy infrastructure, says Patrick Welch, an analyst in the Climate Strategies group at the Lincoln Institute of Land Policy: federal-level permitting reform, local regulatory changes, and more strategic and creative planning.

“In many instances, there are genuine issues regarding the proposed siting of new solar, wind, and hydro projects—whether that is related to stormwater runoff issues, other impacts on important ecosystems, or new land grabs on Indigenous lands,” Welch said. “We need to be more strategic and creative. Things like co-locating solar on parking lots and rooftops or interstate rights of way, rather than clearcutting forests, are good solutions.”

The Nature Conservancy’s Site Renewables Right initiative, which identifies suitable sites for wind and solar energy by mapping factors including environmental impact and agricultural production, is a good example of trying to find workable solutions, he said; another is Baltimore County’s study on solar siting, which identified nearly 34,000 acres of potential optimal solar sites on rooftops, parking lots, and degraded lands.

But even with more appropriate siting, Welch said, permitting and local land use regulations can get in the way. “Both sides of the aisle have known for decades that NEPA and the associated permitting spiderwebs are responsible for long, unnecessary delays. Now, the climate crisis has brought new urgency to that conversation. Local regulations must allow for the appropriate siting of renewable energy infrastructure, too.”

Federal coordination—harkening back to the more intentional establishment of infrastructure in the first half of the 20th century—has seemed to many the obvious first step. This spring, US Senator Sheldon Whitehouse (D-RI) and US Representative Mike Quigley (D-IL) introduced the Streamlining Interstate Transmission of Electricity (SITE) Act, which would establish a new federal siting authority at the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission to ease the process of constructing long-range, high-voltage transmission lines.

“If we don’t build more long-range transmission lines, much of the low-cost clean energy that is coming online will simply not be able to get to the homes and businesses that need it,” Whitehouse said when unveiling the bill. The goal is better reliability, an upgrade of the nation’s creaky grid infrastructure, and lower emissions while “responsibly balancing local needs and preferences,” he said.

There is action at the state and regional scale as well. After criticism that state regulatory authorities have been dragging their feet on the clean energy transition, Massachusetts Governor Maura Healey appointed climate-savvy commissioners to the state Department of Public Utilities, and established two new commissions, one to review clean energy siting and permitting, and another to coordinate offshore wind development.

In Washington State, Governor Jay Inslee recently signed a bill requiring longer-term planning by utilities and allowing bigger transmission projects to go through the state’s streamlined siting process. The Bonneville Power Administration (BPA), which manages hydropower from 31 federal dams in the Northwest, has proposed some upgrades to its system, which, if completed, will help increase transmission capacity.

The electricity market is structured differently in the Pacific Northwest than in California and other states, making coordination and planning that much more difficult, said Emily Moore, director of the Climate and Energy program at the Sightline Institute. Washington and Oregon have assertive climate action plans to shift to clean energy, but even if all utilities agreed to switch tomorrow, the grid couldn’t support the load, she said, so hundreds of wind and solar projects are languishing.

“In an ideal world, we would have clarity on how much more transmission is needed . . . and where it would go, so we could then start building it before it is too late,” she said. “But planning, at least in our region, is largely reactive, not proactive. Changing that here will require new levels of coordination between BPA, individual utilities, regulators, and policymakers.”

When renewable energy projects or transmission lines are first rolled out to the public, developers would do well to practice better stakeholder engagement, said Josh Hohn, a principle at the urban design firm Stantec. He urges project leaders to help people visualize what’s actually being proposed “before imaginations run wild.”

Building consensus about clean energy infrastructure is especially challenging in part because the land use issues are so local, but tie back to the global problem of climate change, requiring conceptualizing priorities in sometimes counterintuitive ways. For example, it seems outrageous to clear trees to make way for solar panels. But according to one forest ecologist, doing so actually reduces carbon emissions more after a period of time than leaving the trees in place.

Technology is also advancing so rapidly, the land use dimension of clean energy could become less onerous. Geothermal drills require less land, though are akin to the oil rigs that have dotted the landscape since the turn of the last century.

Batteries are getting better, allowing clean power to be stored. And there is the notion of the mega-solar project, consolidating arrays all in one or two large, out-of-the-way locations, like a corner of the Sahara desert. By one calculation, solar panels on a single parcel of 43,000 square miles—1.2 percent of the Sahara—could power the entire world.

At a more conceptual level, McKibben—who founded the organization Third Act to recruit aging boomers concerned about climate change—called for a change in mindset when looking at clean energy infrastructure. Instead of viewing it as unsightly, he suggests, we could appreciate how it’s helping the planet wean off fossil fuels, and has great economic returns as well. “It’s a different kind of beauty,” he said in an interview, though he acknowledged people are used to judging landscapes by more conventional measures.

Whether such reconceptualization can happen remains to be seen. But the public’s relationship with land has clearly become a key element of the clean energy transition. Above all, this is a moment for thoughtful land policy, with the future of the planet hanging in the balance, said the Lincoln Institute’s Patrick Welch.

“Given the scale and urgency needed for this massive rollout of new infrastructure, there is a significant risk that we do it in a way that leads to serious unintended consequences,” Welch said. “So we need to be mindful and strategic—but not to the point of inaction.”

Anthony Flint is a senior fellow at the Lincoln Institute, host of the Land Matters podcast, and a contributing editor to Land Lines.

Lead image: Protesters in Maine express their opposition to a planned hydroelectric corridor that will cut through the state as it carries energy from Quebec to Massachusetts. Credit: AP Photo/Robert F. Bukaty

Forests are hardworking heroes in the fight to manage climate change, but they can’t remove enough carbon dioxide from the atmosphere to single-handedly help the world reach its Paris Agreement targets. However, what if we focus on protecting not just the trees, but also the larger animals that have historically lived among them, like gray wolves and elephants?

Well, that could get us a lot closer.

In a new study published in Nature Climate Change, an international team of researchers led by Yale ecology professor Oswald J. Schmitz found that protecting and restoring populations of animal species—including marine fish, gray wolves, wildebeests, sea otters, African forest elephants, and bison—can supercharge the carbon capture capabilities of their respective ecosystems, enhancing the total amount of CO2 naturally absorbed and stored by as much as 6.41 gigatons per year.

That’s more than 14 trillion pounds of CO2, and about 95 percent of the annual “negative emissions” needed to limit global warming to 1.5ºC in line with the Paris Climate Agreement.

The findings could have a big impact on land and marine conservation efforts, says Jim Levitt, director of the International Land Conservation Network (ILCN) at the Lincoln Institute. “This is not your everyday piece of natural climate solution research,” says Levitt, who was not involved in the study. “I think this is a major insight.”

Animating the Carbon Cycle

Climate change and a staggering worldwide loss of biodiversity are not just concurrent crises of the natural world; they’re two sides of the same coin, each impacting the other. This research suggests that the positive climate impacts of land and ocean conservation can be amplified even further when coupled with what’s called “trophic rewilding”—that is, protecting and restoring the functional roles of animals within their ecosystems.

That’s because many animals all over the world augment the carbon capture potential of their native habitats in different but impactful ways.

In the African Serengeti, for example, migrating wildebeests graze on grasses and, with the help of dung-burying insects, return that carbon to the soil. When disease decimated wildebeest populations in the early 20th century, the resulting overabundance of dry, uneaten grasses led to more frequent, intense wildfires that turned the savannah into a net emitter of CO2. Now the wildebeest population has recovered, and the Serengeti is once again a carbon sink.

Endangered forest elephants in central Africa, meanwhile, spread the seeds of trees and woody plants, and trample and devour vegetative undergrowth, helping carbon-dense overstory trees grow faster and bigger. Based on one of the authors’ earlier studies, the researchers estimate that restoring wild elephant populations just within the region’s 79 national parks and protected areas—about 537,000 square kilometers of tropical rainforest—could help capture roughly 13 megatons of additional CO2 per year, or 13 million metric tons.

When large mammals like muskoxen trample arctic snowpack, that cold crust of compressed snow helps keep the soil below from thawing and releasing methane. Migrating marine fish eat algae near the surface and send it to the ocean floor as fecal pellets. Predators like sea otters help carbon-absorbent kelp forests thrive by keeping seaweed-munching sea urchins in check; gray wolves and sharks are responsible for similar “trophic cascades” in boreal forests and coral reefs, where they keep the populations of their smaller herbaceous prey in balance.

And in North America, where white settlers all but wiped out the more than 30 million bison that once roamed the prairies, just 2 percent of that animal’s one-time numbers remain, confined to about 1 percent of its historical range. Because grazing bison help grasslands retain carbon in the soil, restoring herds across even a small fraction of the landscape—less than 16 percent of a handful of prairies where human conflict would be minimal—could help those ecosystems store an additional 595 megatons of CO2 annually, the study found. That’s more than 10 percent of all the CO2 emitted by the United States in 2021.

“Using wild animal conservation explicitly to enhance carbon capture and storage is known as ‘animating the carbon cycle,’” the study’s authors write—and it demands a new way of thinking about conserved spaces as “dynamic landscapes.” It’s well understood that protecting nature as a climate solution can have the ancillary benefit of enhancing biodiversity, for example, but it turns out the relationship works both ways: Improving animal biodiversity can also enhance natural climate solutions. “It requires protecting and restoring the ability of animal species to reach ecologically meaningful densities so that as they move and interact with each other they can fulfill their functional roles across landscapes and seascapes.”

Failing to protect wildlife, meanwhile, can limit or even reverse an ecosystem’s carbon-storing potential. Overfishing of predatory fish in the coastal waters of the Northeastern United States, for example, led to an explosion of saltmarsh crabs, whose voracious appetite for seagrasses ravaged intertidal salt marshes, triggering their demise. Salt marshes are carbon supersinks that absorb and store up to 10 times as much carbon as a mature tropical rainforest. But when they die off, the resulting tidal erosion releases hundreds of years’ worth of stored sediment carbon, and a powerful carbon sponge disappears, along with all its future potential for CO2 capture.

Keeping Systems in Tune

For animal populations to recover their historical numbers and species diversity, they need large swaths of functionally intact ecosystems—which currently comprise just 2.8 percent of global land area. But “with the right enabling conditions, animal populations can rebound rapidly,” the authors write, with a measure of hope.

“If you give nature a chance to reestablish itself, it’s really, really efficient at doing so,” Levitt agrees, noting that many of the U.S. National Forests were once abandoned landscapes denuded of their timber. Now those swaths of forest are essential tools for absorbing atmospheric carbon. “Not only do the trees sequester carbon, but the soil, the animals, the insect life, and the mycorrhizal networks under the ground, they’re all sequestering carbon, and they all depend on a healthy chain of trophic networks,” Levitt says. “So there is utility, even related to the survival of our species, in having wild animals on open space. It’s not just beautiful, it keeps the carbon cycle in tune.”

As a resource hub connecting private and civic conservation groups across cultural and political boundaries, Levitt says ILCN has an important role to play in supporting the establishment of the types of linked, protected environments that promote greater biodiversity. “You really need large, interconnected, protected spaces to get to truly rich ecosystems,” he says. “And what networks can do is make land conservation contagious sociologically—meaning, if your next-door neighbor has conserved his property, you’re more likely to do the same thing.” ILCN also supports the global 30×30 effort, an agreement among more than 190 countries to work toward protecting 30 percent of the world’s land and oceans by 2030.

Expanding the range of intact ecosystems to restore and protect animal populations will require people and wildlife to share space in more dynamic “coexistence landscapes,” the authors add. “This involves seeking ways for wild animals and humans to coexist across landscapes and seascapes, rather than separating people from nature, as has been a common practice in proposals to apportion spaces for biodiversity and carbon storage.”

While the study’s authors acknowledge the challenge of such a cultural shift, they also note, with some urgency, that the opportunity is too great to squander. “We are losing populations of many animal species just as we are discovering how much they functionally impact carbon capture and storage.”

Jon Gorey is a staff writer for the Lincoln Institute of Land Policy.

Lead image: Bison grazing in Yellowstone National Park. Credit: panugans via iStock/Getty Images Plus.

Aftab Pureval, elected in 2021, is making history as Cincinnati’s first Asian American mayor. He was raised in Southwest Ohio, the son of first-generation Americans, and worked at a toy store when he was in middle school. After graduating from the Ohio State University and the University of Cincinnati Law School, Pureval held several positions including as counsel at Procter & Gamble before entering public service. He served as Hamilton County Clerk of Courts from 2016 to 2021, and was the first Democrat to hold that office in over 100 years. Pureval resides in the north Cincinnati neighborhood of Clifton with his wife and their two sons and, as has become evident during his time in office, is a big-time Cincinnati Bengals fan. He spoke with Senior Fellow Anthony Flint earlier this year for the Land Matters podcast

Anthony Flint: You’ve attracted a lot of attention for what some have called a “heroic undertaking” to preserve the city’s single-family housing stock and keep it out of the hands of outside investors. Briefly, walk us through what was accomplished in coordination with the Port of Cincinnati.

Aftab Pureval: Just to provide a little more context, Cincinnati is a legacy city. We have a proud, long tradition of being the final destination from the Underground Railroad. We were the doorstep to freedom for so many slaves who were escaping that horrific experience. We have a lot of historic neighborhoods, a lot of historic buildings, and we have a lot of aging infrastructure and aging single-family homes, which—paired with the fact that we are an incredibly affordable city in the national context—makes us a prime target for institutional investors.

Unfortunately, Cincinnati is on national list after national list about the rate of increase for our rents. It’s primarily being driven by these out-of-town investors—who have no interest, frankly, in the well-being of Cincinnati or their tenants—buying up cheap single-family homes, not doing anything to invest in them, but overnight doubling or tripling the rents, which is pricing out a lot of our communities, particularly our vulnerable, impoverished communities.

The City is doing a lot of things through litigation, through code enforcement. In fact, we sued two of our largest institutional investors, Vinebrook and the owners of Williamsburg, to let them know that we’re not playing around. If you’re going to exercise predatory behavior in our community, we’re not going to stand for it.

We’ve also done things on the front end to prevent this from happening by partnering with the Port . . . . When several properties went up for sale because an institutional investor put them on the selling block, the Port spent $14.5 million to buy over 190 single-family homes, outbidding 13 other institutional investors.

Over the past year, the Port has been working to bring those properties into compliance, dealing with the various code violations that the investor left behind, pairing these homes once they’re fixed up with qualified buyers, oftentimes folks who are working in poverty or lower middle-class who’ve never owned a home before.

Just this year we’re making three of those 194 available for sale. It’s a huge success across the board . . .  but it’s just one tool that the Port and the City are working on to increase affordability of housing in all of our neighborhoods.

AF: What did you learn from this that might be transferable to other cities? It takes a lot of capital to outbid an institutional investor.

AP: It does require a lot of funds. That’s why we need more flexibility from the federal government and the state government to provide municipalities with the tools to prevent this from happening in the first place. Now once an institutional investor gets their claws into a community, there’s very little that the city can do to hold them accountable.

The better strategy as we’ve seen this time is to, on the front end, buy up properties. A lot of cities have a lot of dollars from the federal government through ARP [American Recovery Plan]. We have used a lot of ARP dollars not just to get money into the hands of people who need it most, which is critically important in this time, but also to partner with other private-public partnerships or the Port to give them the resources necessary to buy up the land and hold it.

That has been part of our strategy with ARP. This is a unique time in cities where they have more flexibility [with] the resources coming from the federal government. I would encourage any mayor, any council, to really think critically about using the funds not just in the short term but also in the long term to address some of these macroeconomic forces.

AF: Cincinnati has become a more popular place to live, and the population has increased slightly after years of decline. Do you consider Cincinnati a pandemic or climate haven? What are the implications of that growth?

AP: What I love about my job as mayor is my focus isn’t necessarily on the next two or four years, but the next 100 years. Right now, we are living through a paradigm shift because of the pandemic. The way we live, work, and play is just completely changing. Remote work is completely altering our economic lifestyle throughout the entire country, but particularly here in the Midwest.

What I am convinced of is because of climate change, because of the rising cost of living on the coast, there will be an inward migration. I don’t know if it’s in the next 50 or 75 years, but it will happen. We’re already seeing large businesses making decisions based on climate change. Just two hours north of Cincinnati, Intel is making a $200 billion investment to create the largest semiconductor plant in the country.

Two of the reasons they chose just north of Cincinnati are access to fresh water, the Ohio River in the south and the Great Lakes in the north, and our region’s climate resiliency. Now, don’t get me wrong: we’re all affected by climate change. We’re not all affected equally—our impoverished and disadvantaged communities are more affected disproportionately than others—but in Ohio and Cincinnati, we’re not seeing the wildfires, the droughts, the hurricanes, the earthquakes, the coastal erosion that we’re seeing in other parts of the country, which makes us a climate-change safe haven not just for business investment but also for people. Cincinnati is partly growing because our economy’s on fire right now, but we’re going to really see, I believe, exponential growth over the next few decades because of these massive factors pushing people into the middle of the country.

The investments that we make right now to help our legacy communities and legacy residents stay in their homes and continue to make Cincinnati an affordable place for them, while also keeping in mind these future residents, is a really challenging topic. While Cincinnati right now is very affordable in the national context, it’s not affordable for all Cincinnati residents because our housing supply has not kept up with population growth and our incomes have not kept up with housing prices.

In order to make sure that the investments in the future and the population growth in the future does not displace our current residents, we’ve got to stabilize our market now and be prepared for that growth.

AF: What are the land use changes and transportation improvements that you’re concentrating on accordingly?

AP: Oftentimes, people ask mayors about their legacy, and the third rail of local politics is zoning. If we’re going to get this right, then we have to have a comprehensive review and reform of our land use policies. When I talk about legacy, that’s what I’m talking about.

We have, for over a year now, been having meetings with stakeholders to [explore what] a modern Cincinnati looks like. I believe it looks like a dense, diverse neighborhood that’s walkable, with good public transportation and investments in public art. Right now, the City of Cincinnati’s zoning is not encouraging those kinds of neighborhoods. Close to 70 percent of our city is zoned for single-family use exclusively, which is putting an artificial cap on the amount of supply that we can create, which is artificially increasing rents and artificially increasing property taxes, which is causing a lot of our legacy residents, who even own their homes, to be displaced.

If we’re serious about deconcentrating poverty and desegregating our city, then we’ve got to take a look at multifamily unit prohibitions. We’ve got to take a look at parking requirements for both businesses and homes. We’ve got to look at transit-oriented development along our bus rapid transit lines. We’ve got to look at creative opportunities to create more housing like auxiliary dwelling units, but none of this is easy.

It’s not easy because NIMBYism is real, and we’ve got to convince people that I’m not going to put a 20-floor condo building on your residential cul-de-sac . . . . Zoning is very, very difficult because change is very difficult, and people are afraid of what that will turn the city into. That’s why we’ve been doing a year-long worth of community engagement, and I am confident we can make some substantive changes to our zoning code to encourage more affordability, encourage more public transportation, and just be a greener city.

On that note, we have made a commitment that we will only buy city vehicles that are electric vehicles when they become available. We have the largest city-led solar farm in the entire country, which is significantly contributing to our energy consumption.

AF: A little bit of this is back to the future, because the city had streetcars. Do you have the sense that there’s an appreciation for that, that those times actually made the city function better?

AP: The city used to be dense, used to have incredible streetcars, public transportation, and then, unfortunately, cities—not just Cincinnati but across the country—saw a steady decline of population, losing folks to the suburbs. Now people want to come back into the city, but now we have the hard work of undoing what a lot of cities tried to do, which was create suburban neighborhoods within a city to attract those suburban people back, right? It’s a little bit undoing the past while also focusing on what used to exist. When I share this vision with people, they say, “Yes, that’s a no-brainer, of course, I want to do that,” but they don’t want to do it on their street.

AF: What worries you most about this kind of transition, and what do you identify as the major issues facing lower-income and communities of color in Cincinnati?

AP: Displacement. If we cannot be a city that our current residents can afford, they will leave, which hurts everything. If the city is not growing, then a city our size, where we’re located in the country, we are dying, and we are dying quickly. Cities our size have to grow, and in order to grow, not only do we need to recruit talent, but we have to preserve the families and the legacy communities that have been here in the first place.

No city in the country has figured out a way to grow without displacement. The market factors, the economic factors are so profound and so hard to influence, and the City’s resources are so limited, it’s really difficult. Getting back to our institutional investor problem, the City doesn’t have the resources to just go up and buy property and make sure that we’re selling to good-faith owners, right? If we had that power, that market influence, we would do it. Oftentimes, I guess I get frustrated that I don’t have enough resources, enough authority to make a meaningful impact on the macroeconomic forces that are coming into the city. Because if we get our dream, which is more investment, more growth, that comes with negative consequences, and it’s really difficult to manage both.

AF: Finally, back to climate change, the mayor’s website says Cincinnati is well-positioned to be a leader in climate change at home and abroad. What do you think the city has to offer that’s distinctive in terms of climate action?

AP: All of our policy initiatives are looked at through two lenses. The first is racial equity and the second is climate. Everything that we do, whether it’s our urban forestry assessment, looking at a heat map of our city and investing in trees to not just clean the air but also cool our neighborhoods, [or] our investments in biochar. We are one of only seven cities in the entire world that received a huge grant from the Bloomberg Philanthropies to continue to innovate in the world of biochar, which is a byproduct of burning wood, which is an incredible carbon magnet that helps with stormwater runoff but also pulls carbon out of the air.

Our parks department, which is one of the best in the country, continues to innovate on that front . . . . Continuing to have some of the best testing and best preservation in the country for our water supply will be important. Ultimately, businesses and people who are looking to the future consider climate change in that future. If you’re looking for a city that is climate-resilient but also making massive investments in climate technology, then Cincinnati is that destination for you.

Anthony Flint is a senior fellow at the Lincoln Institute of Land Policy, host of the Land Matters podcast, and a contributing editor of Land Lines.

Lead image: Cincinnati Mayor Aftab Pureval. Credit: © Amanda Rossmann – USA TODAY NETWORK.

By many accounts, Costa Rica has been a unique Central American success story—“a beacon of Enlightenment” and “a world leader in democratic, sustainable, and inclusive economic growth,” according to the prominent economist Joseph Stiglitz.

A nation of about 5 million people roughly the size of West Virginia, Costa Rica has been punching above its weight particularly in the realm of sustainability and climate action: a pioneer in eco-tourism; successful in getting nearly all of its power from renewable sources, including an enterprising use of hydro; and a leader in fighting deforestation and conserving land with its carbon-soaking rainforests.

The Land Matters podcast welcomed two special guests recently who know a thing or two about this country: Carlos Alvarado Quesada and Claudia Dobles Camargo, the former President and First Lady of Costa Rica. They are both in the Cambridge, Massachusetts, area this year—she is a Loeb Fellow, part of a mid-career fellowship program based at Harvard’s Graduate School of Design, and he is a visiting professor of practice at the Fletcher School of Law and Diplomacy at Tufts University.

Also in the studio was Enrique Silva, vice president of programs at the Lincoln Institute, who oversees the organization’s research and activities globally, and has years of experience in and familiarity with Latin America.

The conversation, recorded at the Podcast Garage in Allston after a visit by the couple to the Lincoln Institute, included reflections on leadership and climate action, and what it’s been like to take a year to decompress after an eventful time in office, from 2018 to 2022.

Costa Rica has much to show the world when it comes to the implementation of targeted sustainability practices, Quesada said. “We’re not saying people have to do exactly the same [as we did], but we can say it’s possible, and it’s been done in a model that actually creates well-being and economic growth,” he said. “Back in the day, people would say it’s impossible—‘if you’re going to create protected areas, you’re going to destroy the economy.’ It turned out to be the other way around, it actually propelled the economy.”

After seeing big successes in the countryside, the interventions have turned to urban areas. “Costa Rica has done such an amazing job in nature-based solutions, not so much on urban sustainability,” said Dobles, noting the ambitious National Decarbonization Plan she launched with Quesada, which aims to reach net-zero emissions by 2050. “In order to decarbonize, we really needed to focus also on our urban agenda.”

A big task was reinvigorating public transit, starting with a new electric train that would have spanned the city of San Jose. Quesada’s successor shelved the $1.5 billion project, demonstrating the common mismatch between long-term projects and limited time in office. A pilot project to electrify buses was implemented, however, to rave reviews. The couple says they are hopeful the train will be revived.

“I know that this is eventually going to happen. Sometimes you have political setbacks,” said Quesada. “Your administration cannot own throughout time what’s going to happen, but you can plant positive seeds.”

Costa Rica has been nothing if not creative in addressing the many dilemmas inherent in climate action. Open-ore mining is banned, for example, but entrepreneurs figured out a way to extract lithium from recycled batteries.

“That’s very linked to the discussion of the just energy transition, where the jobs are going to come from, where the exports are going to come from. While there’s a huge opportunity for many developing countries which are rich and are endowed with minerals and metals . . . we need to address those complexities,” said Quesada.

Dobles added, “When we talk about decarbonization, we cannot exclude from that conversation, the inequality conversation. This is supposed to provide our possibilities of survival as humankind, but also it’s a possibility for a new type of social and economic development and growth.”

Reflecting on being in the land of Harvard, MIT, and Mr. Bartley’s Burger Cottage, Dobles said she has been immersed in “the whole academic ecosystem that is happening here . . . just to be, again, in academia, sometimes just to receive information, not having the pressure of having the answers . . . . It’s been wonderful.”

“Being a head of state for four years of a country, it’s an experience that I’m currently unpacking still,” said Quesada. “I’m doing a little bit of writing on that, but you get to reflect a lot, because it’s a period of time you live very intensely. In our case, we were not only working with decarbonization, with the projects we mentioned, we [were also working] with the fiscal sustainability of the country. We had COVID. We had [the legalization of same-sex marriage].

“We tend to train ourselves for things that are outside of us, like methods, tools, knowledge,” he said. “There’s a part of it that has to do with training ourselves, our feelings, our habits, our framing, our thinking . . . to address those hard challenges.”

Carlos Alvarado Quesada served as the 48th President of the Republic of Costa Rica from 2018 to 2022, when his constitutionally limited term ended. He won the 2022 Planetary Leadership Award from the National Geographic Society for his actions to protect the ocean, and was named to the TIME100 Next list of emerging leaders from around the world. Before entering politics, he worked for Procter and Gamble, Latin America.

Claudia Dobles Camargo is an architect with extensive experience in urban mobility, affordable and social housing, community engagement, climate change, and fair transition. As First Lady, she was co-leader of the Costa Rica National Decarbonization Plan. Her architecture degree is from the University of Costa Rica, and she also studied in Japan, concentrating on a sustainable approach to architecture.

You can listen to the show and subscribe to Land Matters on Apple Podcasts, Google Podcasts, Spotify, Stitcher, or wherever you listen to podcasts.
 

Further Reading

Showing the Way in San José – How Costa Rica Gets It Right (The Guardian)

Former President of Costa Rica Talks Climate Change, Public Policy During Northeastern Campus Visit (Northeastern Global News)

Costa Rica’s ‘Urban Mine’ for Planet-Friendlier Lithium (Agence France- Presse)

How Costa Rica Reversed Deforestation and Raised Millions for Conservation (Diálogo Chino)

Anthony Flint is a senior fellow at the Lincoln Institute of Land Policy, host of the Land Matters podcast, and a contributing editor of Land Lines.

Lead image: San José, Costa Rica. Credit: Gianfranco Vivi via iStock/Getty Images Plus.

La alcaldesa Yvonne Denise Aki-Sawyerr asumió su cargo en Freetown, Sierra Leona, en mayo de 2018, después de desempeñarse como jefa del Ayuntamiento de la ciudad de Freetown. La profesional de las finanzas con más de 25 años de experiencia en los sectores público y privado, previamente había participado en la campaña contra los “diamantes de sangre” y tuvo un papel fundamental en la respuesta a la crisis del ébola en 2014. Presentó dos charlas TED sobre cómo transformar la insatisfacción en acción y sobre la iniciativa de la ciudad capital para plantar un millón de árboles, y recibió nominaciones para la lista Time100 Next de líderes emergentes y la lista 100 Women de la BBC.

Como líder en la red mundial C40 Cities, Aki-Sawyerr lanzó la iniciativa Transform Freetown y nombró al primer director de calor de África. Se graduó en la Facultad de Economía de Londres y en la universidad Fourah Bay College de Freetown. En otoño, habló con el miembro sénior Anthony Flint. La conversación, que se editó por motivos de espacio y claridad.

Anthony Flint: ¿Podría hablar sobre la iniciativa Transform Freetown como una planificación urbana y un marco de acción, y contarnos qué opina sobre cómo progresó? 

Yvonne Aki-Sawyerr: Me postulé para el cargo en 2018, motivada por mis preocupaciones en torno al medioambiente y el saneamiento. Mi mensaje para la campaña, “por la comunidad, por el progreso, por Freetown”, se tradujo en Transform Freetown. La iniciativa se centra en cuatro categorías: resiliencia, desarrollo humano, ciudad saludable y movilidad urbana.  

La resiliencia incluye la gestión medioambiental; además incluye el planeamiento urbano, porque no es posible separar las dos cosas, y la organización de la renta, porque la sostenibilidad solo se logrará si la ciudad es capaz de mantener y generar una renta por sí misma. El punto sobre la ciudad saludable incluye el saneamiento, que está estrechamente relacionado con la gestión medioambiental para Freetown y muchas ciudades de África. Si pensamos en el cambio climático, en nuestro aporte diminuto al cambio climático, gran parte de este proviene del metano, del vertido de basura a cielo abierto, pero, a su vez, esto tiene implicaciones inmensas para la salud. Así que, en la categoría de ciudad saludable se incluyó el saneamiento, la salud y el agua.

Lo que hicimos fue, habiendo asumido el cargo con esos focos prioritarios de preocupación, organizar 322  grupos de sondeo con alrededor de 15.000 residentes, para escuchar sus opiniones sobre la capacidad de pago, la accesibilidad y la disponibilidad de servicios en esos sectores. Invitamos al sector público, al sector privado y a la comunidad internacional, por medio de socios de desarrollo y ONG, a participar en debates.

De ese proceso surgieron 19 objetivos específicos y mensurables en los que estamos trabajando en el marco de Transform Freetown. Todo los años informamos sobre la situación de los objetivos a la ciudad, a nuestros residentes. Fue una forma de generar un mayor grado de responsabilidad, de ponernos a prueba, y existe un fuerte sentido de propiedad por parte de la comunidad que es quien impulsa la iniciativa. 

AF: Entre todas las amenazas climáticas que la ciudad enfrenta, usted nombró un director de calor. ¿Por qué se necesitó un director de calor, y qué resultados se observaron hasta ahora? 

YA: A menudo me preguntan: ¿cómo logras que la gente común se interese en el cambio climático? En nuestro caso, no es difícil, porque, en estos pagos, las consecuencias del cambio climático se sienten con intensidad, y sufrimos intensas inundaciones y derrumbes. A esto se debe mi preocupación por el medioambiente y nuestra habilidad para mitigar esos impactos. 

El [Arsht-Rockefeller Foundation Resilience Center] nos hizo pensar de verdad sobre el hecho de que muere más gente a causa del calor extremo que de los desastres tangibles y visibles como las inundaciones y los derrumbes. El calor extremo, sobre todo en lugares donde el agua escasea, es un efecto importantísimo del calentamiento climático.  

En nuestro caso, las personas vulnerables son, principalmente, aquellas que viven en asentamientos informales. Estas representan el 35 por ciento de la población de nuestra ciudad, y en esos asentamientos urbanos, las estructuras de las viviendas son, por lo general, de chapa corrugada. Con el aumento de la temperatura, viven, literalmente, en un horno. Otro aspecto relacionado con esto es que tenemos una economía informal. Alrededor del 60 por ciento de las mujeres de nuestra ciudad están involucradas en el comercio. La mayoría de nuestros mercados están al aire libre, por lo que te la pasas todo el día sentada al rayo del sol. Si a esto le sumamos el calor intenso, se exacerban otras consecuencias negativas para la salud.

Ahora, con el director de calor, vamos a poder emprender algunas investigaciones y recopilar datos para identificar las islas de calor. Según nuestra experiencia, tenemos una idea de dónde se encuentran, sobre todo en los asentamientos informales, pero es posible que también se encuentren en el medio de la ciudad. Tenemos que ser capaces de generar argumentos para desafiar lo que está sucediendo respecto a la falta de permisos para la construcción, y la delegación de la planificación del uso del suelo a la ciudad y la deforestación masiva que continúa sin amainar.

El director de calor trabajó con las mujeres del mercado y obtuvo financiamiento de la Arsht-Rockefeller [y el Atlantic Council] para instalar toldos que generen sombra en tres de nuestros mercados al aire libre. Es maravilloso ver el entusiasmo de las mujeres y oírlas decir: “¿Esto se va a extender a todo el mercado? Podemos ver donde empieza, dónde termina, pero también lo necesitamos”.

AF: ¿Qué esperanzas tiene para los otros proyectos de mitigación climática, incluida la iniciativa para plantar un millón de árboles? ¿Cómo tuvo lugar y en qué situación se encuentra? 

YA: Bien, el proyecto surgió porque observamos que estamos perdiendo nuestra vegetación, y eso [agrava] los fenómenos meteorológicos extremos, [como cuando las lluvias fuertes generaron avalanchas de lodo en 2017]. La falta de forestación es uno de los principales motivos de eso. El objetivo es aumentar la cobertura de vegetación en un 50 por ciento.

La plantación de un millón de árboles es un plan a largo plazo, pero en el ínterin, la escorrentía de las montañas sigue llenando los drenajes de lodo. A través de nuestro trabajo anual de mitigación de las inundaciones, identificamos cuáles son las peores áreas en este sentido y limpiamos el lodo para que cuando llegue la lluvia, el agua siga corriendo. A una escala menor, también pudimos construir alrededor de 2.000 metros de drenaje en comunidades más pequeñas. Aparte de eso, hicimos inversiones importantes en formaciones y capacitaciones sobre gestión de desastres.

El problema con los efectos del cambio climático es que son profundos. Si las personas están teniendo malas cosechas a las afueras de Freetown, con el tiempo, se producirá una migración del campo a la ciudad porque no pueden mantener sus medios de subsistencia y vendrán en busca de alguna forma de sustento.

Esa presión del crecimiento demográfico en la ciudad es algo más con lo que tenemos que lidiar, ya sea introduciendo el teleférico para mejorar el transporte y reducir la emisión de gases de efecto invernadero [o alentando] al gobierno para que delegue la planificación del uso del suelo y las funciones de los permisos para la construcción a fin de que podamos implementar medidas de gestión del suelo, que salvan vidas y salvan propiedades, pero además protegen el medioambiente y evitan que las personas construyan sus propiedades en vías fluviales, arroyos y canales, que es lo que ocurre hoy en día. Todo esto empeora porque no se utilizan herramientas legislativas y de gestión urbana, como la planificación del uso del suelo y los permisos para la construcción, de forma superadora.

AF: ¿Podría describir los proyectos de reforma del impuesto a la propiedad de Freetown y los resultados que observó en el contexto general de la salud fiscal del municipio? 

YA: Empezamos a trabajar con esta reforma del impuesto a la propiedad en 37.000 propiedades de la base de datos de una ciudad que es la ciudad capital y tiene al menos entre 1,2 y 1,5 millones de personas, 37.000 propiedades. Cuando asumí, estaba claro que esas cifras no reflejaban la realidad, pero, además, el sistema manual que se utilizaba, literalmente un libro de registro, no era apropiado para la tarea en pleno s. XXI.

Uno de nuestros 19 objetivos es quintuplicar el ingreso del impuesto a la propiedad para el 2022. Para lograrlo, nos aseguramos un financiamiento y sociedades a fin de implementar una digitalización. Pasamos de un sistema basado en superficies a un sistema de representaciones puntuales. Nuestro trabajo consistió en tomar imágenes satelitales de toda la ciudad y crear un algoritmo para ponderar características [como los techos, las ventanas y la ubicación], y luego comparar eso con una base de datos de 3.000 propiedades cuyos valores fueron determinados por tasadores inmobiliarios. Logramos implementar la forma antigua de avalúo. Pudimos identificar casos atípicos y perfeccionar el modelo y, con el tiempo, construir un modelo que ahora utilizamos como nuestra base de propiedades.

Durante ese proceso, pasamos de 37.000 propiedades a 120.000. De esta manera, alcanzamos nuestro objetivo de aumentar la renta por impuestos a la propiedad de [US$ 425.000 a más de US$ 2 millones]. Ese es, en sí mismo, el camino hacia la sostenibilidad, al igual que tener la capacidad de invertir. Una gran parte de la salud fiscal se basa en esa sostenibilidad, pero . . . lamentablemente, el Ministerio de Gobierno Local [detuvo la recaudación mientras desarrollaba pautas para la reforma tributaria nacional]. Estuvimos sin recaudar rentas durante casi un año. Empezamos a recaudar otra vez, pero como se imaginará, nos llevará bastante tiempo recuperar los niveles de cumplimiento.

AF: ¿Dónde encuentra inspiración frente a tantos desafíos? 

YA: En el hecho de que fuimos capaces de marcar una diferencia en las vidas de las personas de Freetown. Pudimos evaluar y comprobar cuánto se puede lograr si se nos da el espacio para hacerlo. Sabemos que hay mucho por hacer, así que seguimos adelante. 

 
Anthony Flint es miembro sénior del Instituto Lincoln, conduce el ciclo de pódcasts Land Matters y es editor colaborador de Land Lines. 

Imagen: La alcaldesa Yvonne Aki-Sawyerr.

Cuando pensamos en innovaciones en la urbanización y la construcción, la madera no suele ser lo primero que se nos viene a la mente. Para que no suene tan agresivo, es un material de la vieja escuela. Pero, en el último tiempo, la construcción con masa de madera (mass timber) (que consiste en paneles, vigas y columnas de madera fabricados con técnicas modernas y herramientas de diseño digital avanzadas) ha tenido un crecimiento destacado. Entre otros atributos, los defensores señalan su potencial con relación al impacto climático: al usar masa de madera extraída de forma sostenible, la huella de carbono se puede reducir a la mitad, en comparación con la de una estructura similar hecha con acero u hormigón.

Según el grupo de comercio de madera WoodWorks, hasta septiembre de 2022, se construyeron o diseñaron más de 1.500 proyectos multifamiliares, comerciales o institucionales con masa de madera en los 50 estados del país. Esto representa un aumento de más un 50 por ciento desde el 2020. El Wall Street Journal, en base a los datos del Servicio Forestal de los Estados Unidos, informa que desde el 2014, abrieron al menos 18 plantas de fabricación de masa de madera en Canadá y los Estados Unidos.

Los componentes básicos de la construcción con masa de madera son las placas, columnas y vigas de madera. Son mucho más sostenibles que, por ejemplo, los conocidos tablones de cinco centímetros por diez, gracias a procesos especiales que se utilizan para unir pedazos pequeños de madera y formar bloques de madera fabricados con precisión. El resultado final incluye columnas y vigas de madera laminada encolada (o “glulam”), y paneles de madera contralaminada (o CLT) que pueden tener hasta 3,5 metros de ancho y 18 metros de largo. Los paneles más largos se usan, principalmente, para pisos y techos, pero también para las paredes. El resultado final, como lo expresaron en la publicación en línea de Vox, es “madera, pero como bloques Lego”. Los proyectos de masa de madera más importantes suelen exhibir el material, por lo que se obtienen construcciones cuyos elementos estructurales ofrecen una estética más cálida y orgánica en comparación con aquellas de acero u hormigón.

Desde hace un tiempo, tanto el proceso como el interés en su potencial vienen cobrando fuerza. La masa de madera empezó a utilizarse en Austria y, luego, en toda Europa, en la década de 1990, y, desde entonces, su uso se ha extendido gradualmente al resto del mundo. En una charla TED muy citada del 2013, el arquitecto Michael Green, de Vancouver, dio sus argumentos a favor de este material: “Siento que la madera tiene una función que cumplir en las ciudades”, sostuvo resaltando las propiedades de captura de carbono de la masa de madera (una estructura de hormigón de 20 pisos emitiría más de 1.200 toneladas de carbono, mientras que una construcción de madera capturaría más de 3.000 toneladas). Además, destacó la capacidad que tiene este material de soportar terremotos e incendios.

Cuando Green dio su charla, las estructuras más altas de masa de madera tenían nueve o diez pisos. Sin embargo, Green argumentó que este nuevo proceso de fabricación podría utilizarse con éxito en estructuras con una altura dos o tres veces mayor. “Esta es la primera innovación en la manera de construir rascacielos que observamos en, probablemente, 100 años”, declaró, y explicó que el proceso de ingeniería no sería tan arduo como la tarea de cambiar la percepción general del potencial que tiene la madera. En el último tiempo, esta percepción se ha estado renovando gracias a un aluvión de proyectos atractivos (entre ellos, un complejo de 25 pisos de comercios minoristas y viviendas en Milwaukee, y un hotel y centro cultural de 20 pisos en el noreste de Suecia) y propuestas para edificios de masa de madera aún más altos.

Debido a que la masa de madera se prefabrica en una planta y se envía al lugar de la instalación (a diferencia de las estructuras de hormigón, que se hacen en el lugar), los detalles del diseño deben resolverse de antemano, lo que requiere una planificación y un trabajo de modelado digital exhaustivos. En definitiva, esto puede aumentar la eficiencia de los procesos de construcción, así como requerir menos trabajadores y generar menos desperdicio. Los proyectos de masa de madera siguen incluyendo otros materiales, señala Judith Sheine, una profesora de arquitectura de la Universidad de Oregón (UO) y directora de Diseño del TallWood Design Institute. TallWood es una colaboración entre la Escuela de Diseño de la UO y las Facultades de Silvicultura e Ingeniería de la Oregon State University que se centra en fomentar la innovación de la masa de madera. “Pero la masa de madera puede reemplazar al acero y el hormigón en muchísimos usos, y cada vez es más popular”, afirmó. “Esto se debe a la nueva disponibilidad, pero también a un interés en usar materiales que impliquen menos carbono”.

TallWood llevó a cabo decenas de proyectos e iniciativas de investigación aplicada, en los que se analizaron los más diversos aspectos, desde problemas de codificación hasta desafíos de la cadena de suministro y maneras de mejorar el rendimiento, con el fin de promover el uso de madera con propiedades y diseños superiores. El instituto forma parte de la Oregon Mass Timber Coalition, una asociación entre instituciones de investigación y agencias estatales de Oregón que, en el último tiempo, recibió US$ 41,4 millones en becas del plan Build Back Better Regional Challenge de la Administración de Desarrollo Económico de los Estados Unidos. Este financiamiento tiene como objetivo respaldar iniciativas de investigación vinculadas con el desarrollo del mercado para la masa de madera.

Sin duda, parte de la promesa medioambiental de este novedoso material depende de los detalles menos conocidos, en particular, cómo y dónde se extrae la madera. Los defensores del sector alegan que su expansión no causará una presión indebida en los bosques, en parte porque los productos de masa de madera pueden fabricarse con madera de “poco valor” (como árboles de diámetro pequeño que ya se sacrifican como parte de la mitigación de los incendios forestales, árboles enfermos y, posiblemente, incluso madera de descarte).

Los grupos conservacionistas y otros expertos están actuando con mayor cautela. En 2018, The Nature Conservancy inició una evaluación de varios años del impacto de la masa de madera a nivel global. Se investigaron los beneficios y riesgos potenciales de la mayor demanda de productos de masa de madera para los bosques, y se está desarrollando un conjunto de principios orientativos mundiales para una “economía de los bosques inteligente desde el punto de vista del clima”, buenas prácticas que ayudarán a proteger la biodiversidad y los ecosistemas a medida que el mercado de la masa de madera crece.

A menudo, los constructores y desarrolladores que, concretamente, desean pregonar el uso de materiales de masa de madera insisten en que la forma de obtención se certificó como sostenible, según Stephen Shaler, profesor de materiales y tecnologías sostenibles en la Facultad de Recursos Forestales de la Universidad de Maine. “En este momento, dicha demanda está en el mercado”, afirmó.

Además del interés en la sostenibilidad, existe otra razón a favor de la proliferación de los proyectos de masa de madera: la biofilia o instinto humano de conectar con la naturaleza. Sharler explicó que “el solo hecho de estar en una casa de madera puede generar una sensación agradable”. Este no es un simple juicio subjetivo: pequeños estudios demostraron que los interiores de madera pueden mejorar la calidad del aire, reducir la presión sanguínea y el ritmo cardíaco, y mejorar la concentración y la productividad.

Según se informó, los desarrolladores del edificio de 25 pisos en Milwaukee, Ascent, escogieron la masa de madera, sobre todo, por razones estéticas y por el valor de difusión de su aspecto distintivo. El edificio Ascent, una de las construcciones de masa de madera más altas del mundo, ha sido el centro de atención de los medios, y se le suma otro valor a la exposición pública: si bien es posible que el edificio Ascent, de 86,5 metros de altura, y otros proyectos de muchos pisos no presagien el futuro de todos los rascacielos, demostraron que es posible construir de manera segura y a gran escala con masa de madera. Esto podría persuadir a reguladores y planificadores, sobre todo, a la hora de aprobar construcciones de menor escala que podrían ser más importantes para demostrar el potencial real de la masa de madera. Según las predicciones de Sharler, “es probable que la mayor parte de su uso se centre en proyectos de altura media, de seis a ocho pisos”.

El Código Internacional de la Edificación permite construcciones de madera de hasta 18 pisos. Los desarrolladores de Ascent lograron una variación debido, en parte, a que el diseño final incluía dos núcleos de hormigón. Sheine y Sharler recalcaron que la mayoría de los proyectos de masa de madera siguen incluyendo al menos algo de hormigón, acero y otros materiales. Y está bien, añade Sharler: la masa de madera debería verse como una opción relativamente nueva que puede ayudar a mejorar la huella de carbono, y no como un sustituto absoluto de los materiales tradicionales. Además, las opciones nuevas siempre son útiles, incluso cuando provienen de la vieja escuela como la madera

Rob Walker periodista; escribe sobre diseño, tecnología y otros temas. Es el autor de The Art of Noticing. Publica un boletín en robwalker.substack.com.

Imagen: La construcción con masa de madera. Crédito: Cortesía de ACSA.