Hacia 2050, el 70 por ciento del planeta será urbano: se sumarán unos dos mil millones de residentes a las ciudades de todo el mundo. Si consideramos la historia y el futuro de estas áreas, nuestro desafío más importante podría ser redesarrollar territorio que ya está en uso u ocupado. Mantener, gestionar y expandir una ciudad donde los edificios y las personas ya están arraigados es mucho más difícil que crear una desde cero. El lugar y el modo en que ubiquemos a la población nueva allanarán el camino de las viviendas para el resto del milenio. En este siglo urbano, debemos encontrar formas de construir las ciudades que necesitamos.

El crecimiento urbano del futuro no se dará en las megaciudades. Todo parece indicar que, en 30 lugares con más de 10 millones de residentes, el crecimiento demográfico se está estabilizando. Las ciudades con crecimiento más acelerado son las que hoy tienen entre 100.000 y un millón de habitantes. Estas ciudades no tienen ni tendrán la capacidad de gestionar el crecimiento. ¿Cómo pagarán la infraestructura (carreteras, puentes, gasoductos, etc.) para duplicar o triplicar su tamaño? ¿Se atorarán con desarrollos no planificados que sumarán a las mil millones de personas que ya viven sin servicios públicos?

Más allá de los desafíos logísticos y económicos, hay otra preocupación, relacionada con la identidad de las ciudades. ¿Cuánto nos importa la relación entre las personas y su lugar? ¿Estamos listos para conservar la “personalidad” y proteger la integridad de las ciudades y las personas que viven en ellas? ¿Nos podremos dar el lujo de renunciar a la conveniencia a cambio de la individualidad? Si aceptamos que la mayoría de las ciudades en todo el mundo no tienen los recursos para planificar y gestionar su propio crecimiento futuro, entonces concedemos el diseño y la forma de las ciudades futuras a las fuerzas del mercado. Esto augura un futuro de monotonía urbana, una distopía tomada de Le Corbusier: todas las ciudades parecerán bosques de “torres en el parque”, convenientes y desalmadas.

Si se pueden tomar como referencia las labores recientes e históricas para redesarrollar los vecindarios urbanos, los residentes urbanos podrían no aceptar las soluciones convenientes tan fácilmente. En Dharavi, un barrio de Bombay que se hizo famoso por la película ¿Quién quiere ser millonario?, 700.000 personas viven en una superficie de menos de 2,5 kilómetros cuadrados. En 2006, un grupo de interés decidió construir edificios altos para “mejorar” las condiciones de vida de miles de personas que vivían en el asentamiento informal e intentaron convencerlos de que se mudaran allí. A pesar de que ofrecieron conexión de agua corriente, techos seguros y beneficios similares, este grupo se sorprendió al ver que pocos lo aceptaban. Se quedaron perplejos porque nadie quería irse para ocupar viviendas modernas. Pero no habían hecho la tarea: Dharavi produce alrededor del 25 por ciento del producto interno bruto de Bombay. Los residentes no solo vivían ahí, sino que trabajaban ahí. No estaban dispuestos a cambiar su sustento y su techo por un techo nuevo, aunque fuera mucho mejor. 

Todavía se está planificando cómo desarrollar Dharavi, ubicado en el territorio más valioso de Bombay. Los residentes pobres tendrán problemas para protegerse del poder inexorable del mercado. Pero si nos comprometiéramos a defender los derechos e intereses de los residentes, ¿podríamos imaginar un futuro centrado no en edificios altos, sino en un uso del suelo más creativo que ofrezca un techo y promueva el empleo? ¿Qué se necesitará? ¿Dónde podemos buscar buenos ejemplos de redesarrollos con buenos resultados?

En la historia de Estados Unidos no abundan los ejemplos exitosos de redesarrollo urbano. Los primeros intentos de desmantelar asentamientos informales mediante la construcción de viviendas públicas guardan una similitud inquietante con las labores de Bombay. Irónicamente, la construcción de viviendas públicas no fue una estrategia de viviendas. El Congreso la aprobó como una estrategia de empleo, diseñada para volver a emplear mano de obra de construcción durante la Gran Depresión. 

Durante la posguerra, el gobierno federal delegó el redesarrollo a las autoridades locales con la Renovación Urbana. Un caso famoso fue el del redesarrollo de West End, en Boston, a mediados de la década de 1950. La ciudad hizo uso (correcto o incorrecto) de la expropiación y obtuvo cientos de viviendas que pertenecían a familias blancas de clase media, con la excusa de que estaban en malas condiciones y de que era necesario “hacer un mayor y mejor uso de estas”. Los residentes del vecindario intentaron detener el proceso mediante organizaciones locales, protestas y juicios. Pero no lo lograron. El barrio fue sustituido por un desarrollo impulsado por el mercado. Según la Fundación para la Preservación Histórica, hacia 1964 se perdieron más de 18.000 edificios históricos de Estados Unidos por renovaciones urbanas.

Cuando el desarrollador Robert Moses propuso una carretera transurbana que pasaría por Greenwich Village, Jane Jacobs, activista y escritora, aprovechando la experiencia de Boston y la demolición de la Estación Pensilvania original de Nueva York, una “mejora” contra la cual ella había protestado, organizó a otras personas para evitar la destrucción al por mayor del tejido urbano de la Ciudad de Nueva York. Jacobs marcó el inicio de un enfoque con múltiples frentes en oposición a la planificación abusiva, centralizada y vertical. La resistencia organizada fue el primer frente; el armado de coaliciones, el segundo; pero lo que creó el marco para que cientos de otras personas defendieran su ciudad fue la política de uso del suelo.

Las coaliciones de Jacobs reclutaban a amas de casa de Nueva York y a aliadas poderosas, como Eleanor Roosevelt y Lady Bird Johnson, quienes no solo pensaban que la renovación urbana tenía un costo humano intolerable, sino que también lloraban la pérdida de la cultura y la historia. Movilizar a otros nos puede ayudar a proteger la historia y la cultura urbanas. Incluir a aliados poderosos ayuda aun más. Pero para poder potenciar nuestras labores, necesitamos herramientas más poderosas: políticas que impidan lo que queremos impedir y promuevan lo que queremos promover. Necesitamos zanahorias y palos.

La Ley Nacional para la Conservación Histórica (NHPA, por su sigla en inglés), sancionada en 1966 por el presidente Johnson, fue el palo que exigía revisar las estructuras históricas antes de demolerlas para redesarrollar vecindarios. El Crédito Fiscal Histórico, promulgado en 1978, fue la zanahoria. Dado que redesarrollar edificios históricos y adaptarlos para nuevos usos podría ser más caro, el crédito fiscal endulzó la idea: se pagaba por el bien público que se conservaba con las estructuras históricas y lograba que el redesarrollo fuera asequible. Treinta y cinco estados imitaron estos pasos con sus propios programas de crédito fiscal histórico para complementar la financiación federal. Así, comenzó la recuperación de las ciudades de Estados Unidos. Según la Fundación para la Preservación Histórica, entre 1981 y 2015 se invirtieron más de US$ 120.000 millones en la reutilización de edificios para adaptarlos. 

¿Cuáles son los desafíos de hoy para el redesarrollo urbano? Uno es la perseverancia de la planificación para hacer un “mayor y mejor uso”. En una charla que di el año pasado en Cantón, China, los planificadores no podían concebir por qué se pensó que Jacobs ganó al evitar que se construyera una carretera a lo largo del sur de Manhattan. Argumentaban que el trabajo de un planificador es alcanzar el mayor y mejor uso, y no mantener intactos los edificios y vecindarios antiguos. La planificación vertical aplicada a objetivos estrechos es una garantía casi segura de que se replicarán los resultados de la renovación urbana, a costa de la cultura y la historia.

Todas las comunidades urbanas corren el riesgo de ser desplazadas por un segundo desafío, más importante, y un nuevo villano sin rostro: el capital global capturará inmuebles en ciudades de todo el mundo y los hará menos habitables y menos asequibles. A pesar de la crisis económica mundial de 2008, se considera que los bienes inmuebles urbanos aseguran el capital, en especial en lugares con moneda estable, como Estados Unidos. Según CNBC, durante los 12 meses anteriores a marzo de 2017, los inversores extranjeros compraron 284.455 viviendas de Estados Unidos y gastaron más de US$ 150.000 millones. Según Statistica, el 52 por ciento de las adquisiciones extranjeras de bienes inmuebles se dan en los suburbios, mientras que el 27 por ciento se da en ciudades centrales. En algunas ciudades, más del 20 por ciento del total de inversión en bienes inmuebles proviene del extranjero. La inversión mundial también incluye el capital local, y no solo fluye hacia destinos dentro de Estados Unidos, sino también hacia ciudades en crecimiento de todo el mundo. Este capital distorsiona los mercados inmobiliarios y hace que las personas que viven en las zonas urbanas no puedan costearlas, desde California hasta China. También distorsiona los mercados de oferta y determina lo que se construirá de acuerdo con los gustos de los residentes temporales y los especuladores.

¿Qué se puede hacer? ¿Qué haría Jacobs? Estoy seguro de que ella movilizaría a los residentes locales para que exigieran el poder sobre el control del suelo, y enseñaría sobre las consecuencias de tratar a las viviendas como un producto básico comercializable. Parte de la movilización es atraer más interesados al mapa. Sin duda, ella usaría herramientas nuevas para involucrar a los ciudadanos en la planificación urbana, como las que ayudaron a construir el plan Detroit Future City. Los planificadores de Detroit usaron de todo, desde juegos en línea hasta visualizaciones de datos, y obtuvieron la opinión de más de 100.000 residentes.

Para potenciar la labor, ella necesitaría nuevas herramientas de políticas de suelo, palos y zanahorias, para motivar a los desarrolladores a que construyan las ciudades que los ciudadanos necesitan, y no los bienes inmuebles que los inversores desean. Algunos palos pueden ser recargos para inversiones extranjeras, como los que se implementaron recientemente en Vancouver y Toronto. También pueden tomar forma de tributos inmobiliarios mucho más altos combinados con exenciones de viviendas muy altas, con el objetivo de aumentar el costo de posesión en las propiedades cuyos dueños no son los residentes. Se podría proteger a los edificios de la especulación con medios como fideicomisos de suelo comunitarios. Una zanahoria puede ser aprobar desarrollos adicionales mediante bonos de densidad para los desarrollos que conserven la personalidad urbana, lo cual ofrecerá a los residentes la oportunidad de vivir y trabajar cerca. Y también debería ser una zanahoria incluir subsidios para motivar a los desarrolladores a construir los desarrollos correctos, que apoyen a los residentes y su sustento para conservar la personalidad de la ciudad.

Como sociedad, hemos cometido muchos errores, y los seguimos cometiendo. Pero quienes queremos ayudar a crear ciudades más sustentables y equitativas debemos hacer dos cosas: encontrar formas más efectivas de involucrar y movilizar a las personas, y encontrar las políticas para trabajar a escala. Es hora de preguntarse: “¿Qué haría Jane Jacobs?” Si bien no siempre acertó en todo, nos obligó a encontrar formas creativas de lograr que las ciudades funcionen y, al mismo tiempo, conservar la cultura y la historia. Ciudades más acogedoras, que puedan ofrecer un techo y empleo. Ciudades que faciliten la interacción social, no solo el comercio. Son pretensiones grandes, pero que debemos aspirar a alcanzar. Esto es crucial si queremos sobrevivir a este siglo urbano.

Fotografía: En Dharavi, un barrio de Bombay, India, de 2,5 kilómetros cuadrados y 700.000 habitantes, hubo tensión entre las “mejoras” diseñadas de forma externa y las necesidades reales de los residentes. Crédito: Flickr/Adam Cohn

Shared equity housing programs are designed to provide a key to those who are locked out of homeownership, whether because of fast-rising housing prices, stagnant incomes, or a history of discriminatory policies. As new research shows, the programs do just that.

In the Lincoln Institute of Land Policy working paper “Tracking Growth and Evaluating Performance of Shared Equity Homeownership Programs During Housing Market Fluctuations,” Ruoniu Wang of Grounded Solutions Network and his coauthors study the performance of more than 4,000 shared equity housing units across 20 states over three decades—the largest study of shared equity to date. They demonstrate that shared equity housing promotes sustainable wealth-building opportunities and lasting affordability for lower-income households, and serves an increasing number of minority households.

“Shared equity homeownership provides opportunities for families of color to access quality housing, build wealth, and counter systemic racial housing disparities,” said Grounded Solutions CEO Tony Pickett, citing how the median shared equity household accumulates approximately $14,000 across all housing cycles, compared to a median initial investment of $1,875 made at purchase.

“We believe this study validates shared equity as a sustainable housing model, and our focus is on growing the scale of shared equity housing to a level where increased numbers of lower-income families view it as something they can participate in and benefit from.”

Comparing 58 programs across the country with data from Grounded Solutions’ HomeKeeper National Data Hub, the study measures the impact of the shared equity housing sector over 33 years, from 1985–2000 (pre-housing bubble), 2001–2006 (housing boom), 2007–2012 (housing bust), and 2013–2018 (housing recovery). It finds that 95 percent of shared equity mortgages are affordable for households earning 50 to 80 percent of area median income, and the share of minority households living in shared equity homes increased from 13 percent between 1985–2000 to 43 percent between 2013–2018.

“Shared equity programs unlock stable housing opportunities and provide a foothold for people who would not otherwise be able to access homeownership, one of the main wealth-building vehicles in the United States,” said George W. “Mac” McCarthy, president of the Lincoln Institute.

Under the shared equity housing model, lower-income residents are provided the opportunity to own a home—either directly or indirectly—at a lower cost than the open market rate. When a shared equity home changes hands, the resident reaps a portion of the gains, and a portion stays with the property, providing a perpetual subsidy and allowing others to purchase the same home at below-market cost.

The study covers three types of shared equity homeownership: community land trusts, deed-restricted housing, and limited-equity cooperatives. In community land trusts, a nonprofit corporation owns the land and provides a long-term lease to the resident, who owns the structure. In deed-restricted housing, the resident owns the entire property, but the resale price is restricted to preserve affordability. In a limited-equity cooperative, the residents own a share of a corporation, which wholly owns the property.

In addition to wealth-building and affordability, the study explores other dimensions of homeownership including the demographics of homeowners served, the structure of different programs, the levels of public and private funding, and the frequency with which participants sell their home.

Will Jason is associate director of communications at the Lincoln Institute of Land Policy.

Brandon Frazier is director of communications at the Grounded Solutions Network.

Photograph: Rawpixel/iStock via Getty Images

F

or an afternoon, in 2015, residents temporarily transformed an aging business district in Akron, Ohio’s North Hill neighborhood. Local business owners and leaders worked with the Better Block Foundation to demonstrate what more was possible for the intersection of North Main Street and Cuyahoga Falls Avenue. Pop-up businesses, parklets, bike lanes, and art installations erased vacancies and reinvigorated a space that, in the early 20th century, had been a pioneering route for the city’s streetcar.

But today, despite the much-lauded 2015 vision, there are still several vacant lots and storefronts for every heavily trafficked Nepali grocery store, Italian restaurant, or church lining the four-lane thoroughfare, which drives a wedge through the central business district.

The city is focused on revitalizing North Hill as part of a six-month pilot project that is convening local leaders with their counterparts in Rochester, New York, and Lansing, Michigan. This community of practice, organized by the Lincoln Institute of Land Policy and the Rose Center for Public Leadership in Land Use in partnership with Enterprise Community Partners and the American Planning Association, seeks to explore the challenges of equitably revitalizing midsize postindustrial cities—sometimes known as legacy cities. The project includes visits to each city, coaching, webinars, and technical guidance.

Concentrated most heavily in the Midwest and New England, legacy cities were once essential to building American middle-class prosperity. Yet as the national economy has transitioned away from manufacturing, many of these communities have struggled with entrenched poverty, disinvestment, population loss, vacancies, and a workforce with skills that do not match employers’ needs.

Small and midsize legacy cities face even greater challenges because they often lack major corporate headquarters or significant anchor institutions, assets that have been leveraged successfully in larger postindustrial cities such as Pittsburgh. 

“These cities are often overlooked in national efforts at revitalization,” said Jessie Grogan, senior policy analyst at the Lincoln Institute. “While researchers and community leaders have identified strategies to revitalize places like Detroit and Baltimore, less attention has been paid to how these approaches might transfer to communities like Akron.”

Challenges in North Hill  

By many measures, Akron is a typical smaller legacy city. After earning recognition for having the nation’s fastest growing population in 1916 and for being home to Goodyear and other manufacturing giants, the city has lost about a third of its residents since the 1960s, recently stabilizing at around 200,000.  

North Hill has fared better than many parts of Akron, due in part to the new wave of immigrants who have followed in the footsteps of the Italian, Polish, and Irish who arrived a century ago. The tracts of single-family rental homes surrounding the central business district now house a more diverse population than 80 percent of U.S. urban neighborhoods. These immigrants from countries such as Nepal, Myanmar, and Bhutan have helped to populate homes and storefronts in a city trying everything to bounce back from decades of population loss. They have found opportunities in business ownership and jobs in science, technology, engineering, and mathematics.

In 2017, the Knight Foundation recognized North Hill as an up-and-coming neighborhood at a “tipping point,” and provided funding for the North Akron Community Development Corporation to pursue concentrated business development. Yet, the city has found it difficult to guide North Hill because of aging infrastructure, speculative landowners, and difficulty engaging local residents in leadership and decision-making. 

During a recent convening of the community of practice in Akron, participants visited the Exchange House, a permanent product of Better Block’s pop-up experiment. With $155,000 from the Knight Foundation’s Knight Cities Challenge, Better Block rehabilitated a single-family home into a space that now includes an upstairs AirBnB; space on the first floor for health clinics, sewing classes, and spiritual group meetings; and a pocket park in the backyard. 

As manager, Katie Beck helps to organize events like Multilingual Meals, during which attendees discuss community issues in nine different languages. She sees the potential for groups to interact across ethnic and socioeconomic lines, but also the challenges of building a sense of community among such a diverse population. 

“North Hill has silos, lines, and boundaries between different communities,” Beck said. “At the Exchange House, we are able to observe and reflect on those boundaries, while we aim to cross those lines through diverse programming in our space.”

While North Hill has always been a neighborhood of immigrants, it has also long been home to a large African American population, which experienced devastating urban renewal in the mid-20th century. Revitalization efforts often focus on branding the area as an international district, but doing so leaves these residents out of the narrative, Beck says.

As part of the tour of North Hill, participants from Lansing and Rochester joined Beck, Akron city officials, and other local civic leaders, including representatives from Asian Services in Action, Bridging the Gap Ministries, and Urban Vision Ministry, for a roundtable at the Exchange House.

“Having that conversation in that broad of a group really brought to the forefront that there are a lot of different views about how the community should move forward,” said Heather Roszczyk, innovation and entrepreneurship advocate for the Mayor’s Office of Economic Development in Akron. “It firmed up the message that we need to have additional community conversations, even among the leaders, to figure out a collective way forward.”

The cohort walked through North Hill’s business district, site of the 2015 Better Block project. Roszczyk said that promoting the business district can be challenging: business owners not only have to come up with the capital to get their businesses off the ground, but also the funding to rehab and repair aging infrastructure. In addition to vacancies, the business district has a number of lots where businesses have been torn down. 

“Although North Hill has had a lot of energy, this hasn’t translated to construction,” said Jason Segedy, Akron’s director of planning and urban development.

In some cases, landlords who own properties on the stretch have been unresponsive to interested buyers. “To some extent, we have a landlock on economic development,” Beck said.

North Hill’s business district is part of Akron’s Great Streets Initiative, which aims to enhance the city’s business districts through community engagement, business development, and improved public spaces. While only a handful of business owners have reached out about the vacant spaces on the main street, programs like the forthcoming Rubber City Match are designed to help fill this pipeline. The city will work with community leaders to assess the needs of the North Hill business district and use neighborhood data to direct business owners to promising locations.

“We are really the testing ground for different economic development methods, of what could be successful in other parts of the country,” Beck said.

Finding a Way Forward in a Community of Practice

While each city is still finding its way forward, lessons are already migrating from place to place. In Lansing, a visit with the Capital Area Housing Partnership left a lasting impression on Akron’s Segedy because of the organization’s strong community presence. It inspired him to think about how the Exchange House could expand its offerings and potentially open up additional centers throughout North Hill. Segedy was also inspired by the transformation of an abandoned auto warehouse into the Lansing Brewing Company, and of a former school building into the Liberty Hyde Bailey Center, which contains affordable senior housing, day care, and space for performances and other activity.

“There haven’t been any huge revelations, but it has been very valuable to compare notes and see the different approaches these cities have taken to redevelopment,” Segedy said.

Where organizers see the cities’ common challenges, such as community engagement, the community of practice brings in experts to facilitate a conversation.  

At the convening in Akron, participants learned how a larger legacy city—Detroit—engaged residents in long-term planning. Charles Cross, director of landscape architecture for the nonprofit Detroit Collaborative Design Center, described how his team collaborated with residents in the Detroit Works Project, a planning process that produced the Detroit Future City Strategic Framework, a comprehensive document intended to guide Detroit’s revitalization.

Cross’s team traveled around Detroit with a roaming table to stimulate discussion, created a home base for drop-in conversations, held Twitter town halls, built a mobile phone app, and sought out residents in public spaces throughout the city. Through the work of the design center and other partners, an estimated 30,000 conversations helped shape the framework.

“Each of the cities, to varying degrees, seems to feel that, ‘we are the city so we can’t do that; we are distrusted by the immigrant population or the longstanding African American population,’” said Amy Cotter, associate director of Urban Programs for the Lincoln Institute. “Through the conversation, presentations, and programming, we aimed to focus on how city governments can forge unconventional partnerships to achieve more.”  

Emma Zehner is communciations and publications editor at the Lincoln Institute of Land Policy.

Photos in order of appearance:

In 2015, residents worked with the Better Block Foundation to temporarily transform North Hill’s business district, adding bike lanes, parklets, and pop-up businesses. Credit: Better Block Foundation.

The owners of Dhimal’s Mini Marts stand outside the grocery store, which is located in North Hill. Credit: Shayne Wynn.

The Exchange House has become a central gathering space for residents of many ethnicities in North Hill. Credit: Exchange House.

North Hill residents gather for Multilingual Meals, an event at the Exchange House. Credit: Shayne Wynn.

Jason Segedy, director of planning and urban development, at the City of Akron, speaks to community of practice participants from Akron, Lansing, and Rochester. Credit: Amy Cotter.

As part of the meeting in Lansing, participants stopped at Akronym Brewing. Credit: Amy Cotter.

If the Colorado River Basin is a test case for how a massive watershed can prepare for scarcity in the years ahead, recent news has been encouraging.

Seven states, tribes, conservationists, and other stakeholders agreed to a Drought Contingency Plan, signed into law by President Trump last month, that spreads out cutbacks so that Lake Powell and Lake Mead don’t drop too low.

While the seven-year agreement confronted the nuts-and-bolts realities of keeping water flowing to forty million people and five million acres of farmland, the hard work to bring about a truly sustainable future is just beginning, participants agreed at the Lincoln Institute Journalists Forum this spring in Phoenix. The two-day event, attended by about 50 reporters and editors, was organized by the Babbitt Center for Land and Water Policy in partnership with Walton Family Foundation, Gates Family Foundation, and the Arizona State University Walter Cronkite School of Journalism and Mass Communication.

“We’ve made enormous progress. We are learning to talk to each other,” said former Arizona Governor and U.S. Interior Secretary Bruce Babbitt (video). Now, he said, “We need to talk to each other about how we’re using water . . . how water gets used on the land.”

That conversation—both among and within Colorado River Basin states, with all stakeholders at the table—will help determine the best mix of future policies basin-wide, including conservation, efficiency, market pricing, and infrastructure. The problem, Babbitt said, is that the adversarial stance has dominated for so long—“waving the bloody shirt” as he put it, never giving in, never yielding a drop—it has blotted out these longer-term considerations.

“That’s where we’ve always been. How do we divvy up the river, who gets what share, how much, in what circumstances . . . and it’s nobody’s business about how it’s used,” he said. The sooner that changes, the better, he said, so the next crisis in the basin doesn’t dictate how this most precious resource is managed.

The Journalists Forum, a tradition at the Lincoln Institute going back nearly two decades, has focused on various themes including climate change, gentrification, infrastructure, and property rights, to name a few. This year’s issue was the Colorado River Basin and the integration of water management and land use—the mission of the Phoenix-based Babbitt Center, established two years ago. On social media, the hashtag was #WaterMeetsLand.

After hearing an overview of the history, hydrology, and the laws, treaties, and other agreements governing the use of Colorado River Basin water, the journalists considered how intensely and quickly climate change has complicated everything about the system. Despite this year’s relatively robust snowpack, warming trends will inexorably decrease supply, said Kathy Jacobs, director of the Center for Climate Adaptation Science and Solutions at the University of Arizona, and a leader in the National Climate Assessment initiative. Virtually all future decisions and actions must be based in the understanding of climate science, she said.

Climate change has also raised the stakes in the already challenging business of bringing together stakeholders, including those in agriculture, the growing constituency of urban areas, and environmentalists concerned about the integrity of ecosystems. The intensity of the crisis tends to make different groups feel defensive and wary, just at the moment when they should be open to new ideas, said Colorado rancher Paul Bruchez, who has worked to blend the interests of wildlife habitat, recreation, and irrigation needs for agriculture.

Similarly, indigenous peoples, overlooked or excluded from many previous agreements, bring a lot to the table. “Tribes have lived for hundreds of years in some kind of balance,” said Daryl Vigil, water administrator for the Jicarilla Apache Nation, and part of the Ten Tribes Partnership. “We want to show the world how we fit into this picture.”

The journalists also heard from Stephen R. Lewis, governor of the Gila River Indian Community; Terry Fulp, Lower Colorado Regional Director of the U.S. Bureau of Reclamation; and Roberto Salmón, Mexican commissioner of the Mexico-United States International Boundary and Water Commission (video). All emphasized the importance of keeping and building relationships, and basing decisions on solid evidence.

As the forum turned to exploring solutions, technology emerged as one of the more promising tools for making water infrastructure more efficient, improving conservation, facilitating desalination and storage, and revealing what’s happening to the water on the land through satellite imagery and data collection. A solid foundation of evidence can guide decision making in powerful ways, said George W. “Mac” McCarthy, president of the Lincoln Institute.

Data collection tells stories that confront the intense emotions pulsing through all issues of water and land, he said, citing the Chesapeake Bay Conservancy’s high-resolution mapping, which helped farmers pinpoint areas of runoff from fields. That knowledge allowed farmers and environmentalists to target riparian buffers where they were most needed, rather than requiring blanket solutions for such interventions throughout the properties. Two potential adversaries started working better together, aided by technology. “It changed the entire sociology,” McCarthy said.

Still, there was no universal agreement about the path forward. “We have to address the structural deficit,” said Pat Mulroy, senior fellow at the William S. Boyd School of Law at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas, and a veteran of water battles (video). That means augmenting the system with new sources, and entertaining more radical ideas, like the sea-to-sea pipeline to stabilize California’s Salton Sea and the provision of extra water through desalination. “We can’t get through the next seven years simply by taking away. You can manage the system all you want. It’s going to crash. . . . You can’t conserve your way out of it. Everything has to be on the table.”  

Added Dave White, director of the Decision Center for a Desert City at Arizona State University: “There is simply no historical record that approximates what the future will be under the climate change scenario. . . . The mechanisms designed for the system thus far” can’t just be tweaked.

Yet all stakeholders should stay wary of “magical thinking” and a quest for a silver bullet, which can become a distraction, said Jennifer Pitt, Colorado River Program director for the Audubon Society. Others agreed that there is still plenty to gain by eliminating grass lawns, recycling water for use in toilets, or finding different ways to grow thirsty crops—and by scrupulously linking water management with land use, zoning for housing, and economic development. Many of those steps are being taken at the local level, seen in one presentation on policies and initiatives in the city of Westminster, Colorado.

Anne Castle, senior fellow at the Getches-Wilkinson Center for Natural Resources at the University of Colorado, Boulder, echoed the sentiments of several speakers by pointing out that the window for action will close soon. “We’ve only got a couple of years to do a lot of creative thinking and change our paradigm.”

Many agreed that the management of water resources “needs a lot of journalistic attention,” as Bruce Babbitt put it. Reporters and editors shared how they have engaged readers on the topic by telling stories that go beyond horse-race coverage of incremental political wins.

Ted Kowalski, senior program officer for the Walton Family Foundation’s Colorado River initiative, announced the establishment of The Water Desk, an independent news organization dedicated to coverage of Western water issues, to be led by Mitch Tobin at the University of Colorado.

In a session titled “Practicing the Craft,” Elizabeth Hightower Allen, features editor at Outside magazine, shared examples of content that engages readers by building on human drama. The challenge is to draw in the “concerned middle” between those who are “freaked out” and those who deny there is a crisis unfolding, suggested Cynthia Barnett, environmental journalist in residence at the University of Florida College of Journalism and Communications.

Paolo Bacigalupi, author of The Water Knife, fielded questions about his disturbing narrative of a dystopian future of chronic water shortages. The dark and action-packed novel was certainly one way to draw attention to water issues. But, he added, “I’d love to be proven wrong,” he said.

The journalists agreed that while specialized outlets like Circle of Blue, Aspen Journalism, and ProPublica have been putting water issues front and center, there is no substitute for thoughtful coverage by major metropolitan newspapers, which can have greater influence on elected officials and policy makers. One important journalistic obligation emerged: holding all parties accountable for following through with commitments.

Coverage flowing from the 2019 Journalists Forum included dispatches by Josh Stephens at California Planning & Development Report Jason Blevins at The Colorado Sun Ry Rivard at the Voice of San Diego and Tom Yulsman at Discover magazine. James Brasuell, managing editor at Planetizen, has also been aggregating stories about water and land use here.

Slide show presentations and videos of portions of the Journalists Forum are available on the Lincoln Institute website.

Anthony Flint is a senior fellow at the Lincoln Institute of Land Policy.

Photograph: Journalists at the Tres Rios water treatment area in Phoenix, one of several field trips to innovative projects, in collaboration with the 10X Water Summit, held just before the 2019 Journalists Forum. Credit: Anthony Flint

By 2050, the planet will be 70 percent urban, as we add some two billion residents to the world’s cities. As we consider the history and future of these areas, our biggest challenge may be redeveloping land that is already used or occupied. Maintaining, managing, and growing a city where buildings and people already are rooted is much harder than creating one from scratch. Where and how we accommodate new populations will set the stage for human habitation for the rest of this millennium. In this century of the city, we must find ways to build the cities we need.

Future urban growth will not take place in megacities. All indications suggest that popula­tion growth is plateauing in the 30 or so places with more than 10 million residents. The fastest-growing cities are the ones with current populations between 100,000 and one million. These cities do not and will not have the capacity to manage growth. How will they pay for the infrastructure—highways, bridges, gas lines, and the like—to double or treble their size? Will they be choked with unplanned development, adding to the one billion people already living without public services?

Beyond the logistical and financial challenges, a separate concern relates to the identity of cities. How much do we care about the relation­ship between people and their places? Are we prepared to protect the integrity of cities and the people who live in them by preserving their “character”? Will we have the luxury of forgoing expedience for individuality? If we accept that most of the world’s cities do not have the resources to plan and manage their own future growth, then we concede the design and form of future cities to market forces. This portends a future of urban sameness, a dystopia straight from Le Corbusier: all cities looking like forests of “towers in the park,” expedient and soulless.

If recent and historic efforts to redevelop urban neighborhoods are any indication, urban residents might not be so quick to accept expedient solutions. In Dharavi, a Mumbai neighborhood made famous in the movie Slumdog Millionaire, 700,000 people live on less than one square mile of land. In 2006, an advocacy group decided to “improve” the living conditions of thousands of people who lived in the slum by building high-rises and trying to persuade people to move. Despite offering indoor plumbing, secure roofs, and the like, this group was stunned to have few takers. They were mystified that no one wanted to leave for modern accommodations. But they hadn’t done their homework: Dharavi produces an estimated 25 percent of the gross domestic product of Mumbai. The residents didn’t just live there, they worked there. They weren’t willing to trade their livelihoods and shelter for better shelter, no matter how much better.

Plans are still afoot to develop Dharavi, which sits on the most valuable real estate in Mumbai. It will be difficult for its poor residents to protect themselves from the inexorable power of the market. But if we were committed to defending the rights and interests of the residents, could we imagine a future centered not on high-rises, but on more creative land use providing shelter and promoting livelihoods? What would that take? Where can we look for good examples of respon­sive redevelopment?

In the United States, our history is not replete with successful examples of urban redevelopment. Early attempts at slum clearance through the construction of public housing are eerily similar to the efforts in Mumbai. Ironically, building public housing was not a housing strategy. Congress passed it as a livelihood strategy, designed to reemploy idle construction labor during the Great Depression.

In the postwar era, the federal government devolved redevelopment to local authorities through Urban Renewal. A famous case involved the redevelopment of Boston’s West End in the mid-1950s. Using (or misusing) eminent domain, the city obtained hundreds of homes that were owned by middle-class white families, citing their poor condition and the need for “higher and better use.” Neighborhood residents tried to stop the process through local organizing, protest, and the courts. They failed. The neighborhood was replaced by market-driven development. By 1964, more than 18,000 historic buildings in the United States were lost to urban renewal, says the Trust for Historic Preservation.

Informed by the Boston experience and the demolition of New York’s original Penn Station, an “improvement” against which she had protested, activist and author Jane Jacobs organized others to prevent the wholesale destruction of the urban fabric of New York City when developer Robert Moses proposed a crosstown highway through Greenwich Village. Jacobs ushered in a multipronged approach to oppose abusive, top-down, centralized planning. Organized resistance was the first prong; coalition-building was the second; but it was land use policy that created the framework for hundreds of others to defend their cities.

Jacobs’ coalitions enlisted New York house­wives and powerful allies such as Eleanor Roosevelt and Lady Bird Johnson, who not only found the human toll of urban renewal intolerable, but also mourned the loss of culture and history. Mobilizing others can help us protect urban history and culture. Including powerful allies helps even more. But to scale up one’s efforts requires more powerful tools—policies that prevent what one wants to prevent and promote what one wants to promote. It requires carrots and sticks.

The National Historic Preservation Act (NHPA), signed into law by President Johnson in 1966, was the stick, requiring review of historic structures before demolishing them to redevelop neighborhoods. The Historic Tax Credit, enacted in 1978, provided the carrot. Because it might be costlier to redevelop historic buildings and adapt them for new uses, the tax credit sweetened the pot—paying for the public good that was preserved in the historic structures and making redevelopment financially feasible. Thirty-five states have followed suit with their own historic tax credit programs to supplement federal funding. Thus began the rebound of American cities. More than $120 billion was invested in adaptive reuse of buildings from 1981 to 2015, says the Trust for Historic Preservation.

What are the challenges of urban redevelop­ment today? One is the persistence of “highest and best use” planning. In a talk I gave last year in Guangzhou, China, planners could not conceive of why Jacobs’ prevention of a highway across lower Manhattan was considered a success. They argued that achieving highest and best use was the planner’s job. Keeping old buildings and neighborhoods intact was not. Top-down planning predicated on narrow objectives is almost guaranteed to reproduce the results of urban renewal, at the expense of culture and history.

Urban communities everywhere are at risk of displacement from a second, bigger challenge and a faceless new villain: global capital capturing real estate in cities across the globe, making them less livable and less affordable. In spite of the global financial crisis of 2008, urban real estate is considered a safe harbor for capital, especially in places with stable curren­cies like the United States. In the 12-month period ending in March 2017, foreign investors purchased 284,455 U.S. homes, spending more than $150 billion, according to CNBC. According to Statistica, 52 percent of foreign real estate purchases are in the suburbs, while 27 percent are in central cities. In some cities, more than 20 percent of all real estate investment comes from outside the country. Global investment includes domestic capital as well, and it flows not only to U.S. destinations, but also to growing cities around the world. This capital distorts housing markets and makes urban areas, from California to China, unaffordable for the people who live there. It also distorts supply markets, dictating what will be built based on the tastes of part-time residents and speculators.

What can be done? What would Jacobs do? I am sure she would mobilize local residents to reclaim power over land control and teach about the consequences of treating housing as a tradable commodity. Part of mobilizing is to get more stakeholders to the table. She would no doubt use new tools to engage citizens in urban planning, like the tools that helped build the Detroit Future City plan. By using everything from online games to data visualizations, Detroit planners secured input from more than 100,000 residents.

To scale this effort, she would need new land policy tools, sticks and carrots, to motivate developers to build the cities residents need, not the real estate investors want. Sticks might include surcharges on outside investment, like those recently enacted in Vancouver and Toronto. They might include significantly higher property tax rates combined with very high homestead exemptions to increase holding costs for properties owned by nonresidents. Buildings might be protected from speculation using devices like community land trusts. Carrots might include approval for additional develop­ment through density bonuses for developments that preserve urban character, offering residents the opportunity to live and work in closer proximity. And the carrots should also include subsidies to motivate developers to build the right developments—those that preserve the character of the city by supporting residents and their livelihoods.

As a society, we have made, and continue to make, lots of mistakes. But those of us who want to help create more sustainable and equitable cities must do two things: find more effective ways to engage and mobilize people and find the policies to work at scale. This is a time to ask, “What would Jane Jacobs do?” While she did not get it all just right every time, she did compel us to find creative ways to make cities work while preserving their culture and history. Cities that were more welcoming, that could provide both shelter and work. Cities that facilitated social interaction, not just commerce. That is a tall agenda, but it’s one that we should aspire to achieve. It is critical if we are going to survive beyond this century of the city.

George W. McCarthy is the President and CEO of the Lincoln Institute of Land Policy.

Photograph: In Dharavi, a one-square-mile neighborhood in Mumbai, India, that’s home to 700,000 people, tensions have existed between externally designed “improvements” and the actual needs of residents. Credit: Flickr/Adam Cohn

Positioned near the epicenter of California’s housing crisis, Oakland is slightly more affordable than San Francisco and Silicon Valley, but the East Bay city is experiencing rapid gentrification and the displacement of longtime residents. Amid skyrocketing rents and an influx of high-income workers, local organizations are testing new approaches to revitalize neighborhoods and serve low-income residents without spurring more displacement. The East Bay Asian Local Development Corporation (EBALDC) is on the frontlines of this effort. Since 1975, EBALDC has developed and preserved more than 2,200 affordable homes and now serves more than 6,000 people annually through both property management and community engagement services.

Romi Hall is the director of neighborhood collaborations at EBALDC. In this role, she manages EBALDC’s work as a convener of the San Pablo Area Revitalization Collaborative (SPARC). SPARC was formed in 2014 to improve the health and wellbeing of residents in a historically African-American neighborhood and to help prevent displacement by securing parcels of land for affordable housing, resident-desired economic development, or community facilities. Over the last five years, the collaborative’s work has centered on a five-block area of the San Pablo Avenue Corridor (SPC), which stretches from Downtown Oakland to the city of San Pablo. One of EBALDC’s signature projects, the California Hotel, is located on this stretch; since 2011, the formerly vacant hotel has been redeveloped to house 137 below-market-rate units as well as on-site resident services and ground-level businesses including a new restaurant space, a music education nonprofit displaced from its former location, and the recording studio of an Oakland-based Grammy winner.

Hall is one of 14 mid-career professionals in the second cohort of the Fulcrum Fellowship, a leadership development program run by the Lincoln Institute’s Center for Community Investment. She recently sat down with Communications and Publications Editor Emma Zehner.

Emma Zehner: What strategic challenge will you tackle during your fellowship?

Romi Hall: I want to continue to work with our collaborative partners to ensure that residents are able to live in or return to culturally vibrant, healthy, and affordable neighborhoods. I am focused on supporting more “development concierge” work—identifying key opportunities and projects for affordable housing or resident-desired community facilities, and matching them with nonprofit developers. Along with this concierge work, I would like to work with collaborative partners to translate the on-the-ground project and community-based work into advocacy campaign and policy work. The last part is sustaining the collaborative backbone role of coordinating efforts to address the many dimensions of community revitalization, from housing to health to education to employment.

EZ: How is EBALDC working to ensure that revitalization of the San Pablo Avenue Corridor won’t fuel displacement?

RH: The work started around five years ago when we were still recovering from the recession. Nobody really knew that big swaths of Oakland had been purchased by investors. Over that time, we have seen the neighborhoods where we are deeply invested very rapidly and quickly shift. We are in crisis mode now.

Organizations like ours are working rapidly to better apply an anti-displacement lens to our strategies to ensure that our community revitalization successes don’t come at a cost to current residents. We still have more to do to continue to figure this out. One of the key approaches has been to buy up as much land as we can, to either preserve or produce affordable housing and support economic and cultural development. Our partners and EBALDC are also implementing resident engagement, placemaking activities, and leadership work. Collectively with our SPARC collaborative partners, we are on target to have 400 new units of affordable housing and a new grocery store, which will open in May 2019.

EZ: What is the role of zoning and land-use planning in shaping the future of the neighborhood?

RH: One of the things that is interesting about zoning and land use within the SPARC neighborhood is that there is a specific plan for the entire area (West Oakland), but it is not too detailed for the San Pablo Corridor area. This provides some flexibility in terms of what is possible and how to move on work that residents want to see in their neighborhood. I think we have some opportunities to think about how to utilize zoning or other land-use approaches to keep the neighborhood affordable despite positive changes. In the neighborhoods surrounding the San Pablo Avenue Corridor, the zoning is largely for lower-density, residential uses such as single-family homes, duplexes, and fourplexes. This can slow some of the growth, as the large market-rate developments that are happening in other parts of Oakland are limited. The larger-scale developments can only occur on San Pablo Avenue, but this is where the SPARC partners have purchased many of the properties, thus helping to secure the affordability of the neighborhood and to support thinking about different zoning and land-use approaches.

EZ: EBALDC takes a “healthy neighborhoods approach” to its work. What does this mean in practice?

RH: A lot of the community development field is heavily focused on economic development and affordable housing, but it doesn’t necessarily work with a more holistic, comprehensive lens. We adopted this approach after research from our county public health department showed a life expectancy difference of almost 16 years between neighborhoods. The difference isn’t because of race, but because of the social determinants of health. [This] led us to adopt our healthy neighborhoods approach and to understand that we cannot have such a comprehensive approach and rely on ourselves to achieve our vision. We now look to identify measurable health goals in our new developments; create vibrant, cultural corridors tied to place; and support residents with a small amount of funds to implement their own projects to address issues in their neighborhoods. Our new approach also meant that we needed to partner differently, and, through this work, we started our Neighborhood Collaborations department to work on convening strong, place-based collaboratives.

You could create a healthy neighborhood by pushing people out, but what if people could afford to live in a place and see themselves represented [there]? And they are healthy in that place—not because they are pushed out, but because they are here, they see themselves here, and they are contributing to, if not owning, the change? We are honing in on the neighborhoods that have some of the most inequitable outcomes, working within those places with the intention of keeping people in their homes, and helping to build up community the way they want, so that change doesn’t mean you leave, but it means you get to stay.

EZ: What challenges have you faced in your intense focus on cross-sector collaboration in the SPARC corridor?

RH: The thing about the collaboration is that it takes a while to build trust. Everyone has a role, but it takes a long time to understand everyone’s different roles and how to align the roles, the partners, and the people to make change happen. One of the questions I think a lot about is how can you push on those different roles and make them more flexible to meet the needs of communities? And how do you support partners—particularly resident groups, organizations, and institutional leaders—not just to participate as individuals, but to think about how they can leverage their organization, their community’s voice, and their place in the system to do the work? Once you have trust there, it is a game-changer in terms of how the partners talk together and collaborate. For example, one social service agency noticed a property that was causing them a lot of heartache. They said, what if we buy that building? They did. And they don’t normally do development. But since they were part of a collaboration, they leaned into something new with full support from the collaborative. You don’t get that very often, and I think trust and belief in the work was key to making this happen.

EZ: EBALDC is increasingly focused on the intersection of public health and community development and the provision of on-site supportive services for residents. What does the recent Kaiser Permanente Housing for Health Fund commitment to fund affordable housing mean for EBALDC’s work in the Oakland area?

RH: It is incredible to see Kaiser and other healthcare and insurance companies looking at investing in affordable housing and realizing the role that affordable housing and community developers play in creating a healthy ecosystem. The stars were aligned in terms of where Kaiser wanted to invest, and it was a special opportunity for us to be the first investment and have our mission align with a big healthcare partner. Kaiser is also looking to attract other larger corporations to invest in the housing fund they created to secure more affordable housing, thus securing the Bay Area’s future.

EZ: What is next for the SPARC Collaborative? Are there plans to buy additional parcels of land in this neighborhood?

RH: The group will focus on achieving its five-year action plan results. They have a little over a year to meet their goals. As part of this process, the partners will start planning for SPARC 2.0. Our strategy continues to include acquiring key parcels and underutilized land to produce or preserve affordable housing and to create community facilities, and using this as a buffer against displacement. The city has some public land, so we are working on that. There are other hotel properties that we are looking at. The group has started to purchase multi-unit buildings at risk of being converted to market-rate housing to preserve affordability—somewhat of a [community] land trust model. We are also asking, are there ways to create more home ownership opportunities?

EZ: A 2016 KQED article about SPARC said, “If this experiment works, it may represent one of the few models of how an Oakland neighborhood was able to grow from the ground up.” Do you see a possibility to scale this approach in other Oakland neighborhoods over time?

RH: Well, first I’d say we didn’t grow the neighborhood from the ground up. The neighborhood already had a history, a community, a story, a culture, a set of buildings, [and] people; it was a place already. The journalist wrote this. What is most important is that we continue to tap into hearing from residents, representing their voices, building political capital and will, and making sure as practitioners, organizations, and institutions that we listen and act. Each day, each year, the SPARC collaborative partners are getting better at this. So I’d say back to the journalist now, nearly three years later, that we are still tooling the model but having more success and experimenting less.

Five years into this work of convening neighborhood collaboratives, we are thinking about our ecosystem here in Oakland and reflecting on the power [that arises] when aligned, passionate partners come together and are supported to make change happen. We’ve seen crazy dreams start to become reality. We hope in the future to share more of our work and lessons learned so that other neighborhoods will also join us in creating healthy, safe, and vibrant neighborhoods where they are. To the extent that we are able to support other neighborhoods, great. And this certainly doesn’t mean EBALDC itself needs to take the lead or be the convener of this work. We can support, champion, and rally. Our goal is to support and build our ecosystem to spread health equity and opportunity, not as an anomaly but as a way of being.

Emma Zehner is Communications and Publications Editor at the Lincoln Institute of Land Policy. 

Photograph Credit: East Bay Asian Local Development Corporation