Environmentalism, with Concrete and Steel
When I first began to consider myself an “environmentalist,” I guess you could say that I was a hopelessly naive romantic. My fellow hippies and I took wilderness survival classes, read about Native Indian practices, and waxed about the impending environmental doom that would soon visit upon human civilization and all of Earth. The world’s environmental affairs were bad, yes, but fortunately, we were enlightened. Thus, we not only understood the situation; we also convinced ourselves that we knew how to survive.
It didn’t take me long to realize that my environmental vision of living off the land was not only unsustainable, with only 0.2 hectares of arable land per person, but also unethical. Because the environmental dilemma is the most pressing concern for human civilization, we have an ethical duty to discover, invent, and clarify pragmatic solutions, not nostalgiac, pie-in-the-sky fantasies about gathering wild vegetables and tanning the hides of mega-fauna.
What’s the most pragmatic initiative, then, for the environmental cause? If we really want to make the planet habitable — for all species, not just humans — then we should focus on what I see as the primary destructor of the planet’s habitability: our own habitat.
Today, much of the human habitat in the post-industrial and developing worlds is characterized by a few traits that you should be familiar with: asphalt mazes of interconnecting and confusing highways; outdoor shopping malls and big box retailers sitting side-by-side; dead-end streets and cul-de-sacs; and a host of destructive services that supports one’s ability to navigate this urban sprawl — the gasoline-powered, personal automobile and everything associated with its maintenance and functioning. Urban ecologist Richard Register referred to this cornucopia of metal, asphalt, and oil as the car/sprawl/freeway/oil complex, and he saw its existence as the primary disruptor of ecological stability and human health. And I’ve come to agree with him. Furthermore, I think the core focus of environmentalism should come to agree with him. Instead of advocating for “green” cars, for example, we should advocate for no cars.
Since the first Earth Day in 1970, prominent environmentalists and organizations have spent inordinate amounts of time focusing on what could be called “postcard issues.” Iconic landscapes, such as National Parks, National Wildlife Reserves, National Seashores, and important species, such as polar bears and whales, occupied the major environmental organizations. I’ve visited many of these cultural and ecological gems. There is no doubt in my mind that they are valuable to us people and that they are valuable in themselves. Thus, they should be protected in perpetuity.
However, by many environmental health accounts, environmentalists’ commitment to post card issues has served neither humanity nor the natural world very well — per annum global CO2 emissions have more than doubled since 1970, the rate of deforestation for the world, while slowing down, still remains alarming, and total municipal solid waste generation, while peaking in 2000, is one 1 lb./person/day higher than the 1970’s rate.
If environmentalism is to remain relevant, and more importantly effective, it must reassess its focus. That focus should be upon where humans live and how humans live. Residents of dense urban spaces typically have a 50% below average carbon footprint, whereas the carbon footprint of nearby suburbanites is so high that it cancels out that carbon savings. Environmentalists should then focus their creative energy upon imagining cities that incorporate millions of people into dense urban cores. These “vertical cities” would not only house millions of people, but they would also provide amenities that would make lives more enjoyable, more efficient, and healthier. Mass public transit systems and access-by-proximity, which Register sees as real transit, would make the personal automobile largely obsolete, an expense that averages $9,000.00/year. Because residences in cities are generally smaller than residences in suburban and rural areas, people spend less time and money populating their homes with junk (let’s be honest) and more time and money on activities outside their residence. Instead of laying out by one’s own private pool in their fenced backyard, urban residents visit museums, parks, cafés, bars, restaurants, concerts, clubs, festivals, plays, and arcades, pumping vibrancy into their local economies and cultures.
Environmentalists need not only advocate residency in cities; they can also contribute to the reconceptualization of our species’ urban habitat. They can advocate for infusing the concrete and steel jungles of major cities with an overwhelming presence of nature. The benefits of immersing oneself in nature have been well-recorded and lectured upon, as seen in Richard Louv’s two recent books and his “Last Child in the Woods” campgain. Cities today largely fail at making the presence of nature more obvious to urban residents. Barring the nature that finds its way into cities on its own accord (humans, of course, and moisture, air, heat, insects, birds, small mammals, tadpoles and frogs, weeds and plants), the nature purposely invited into cities is oftentimes mere penance for having used too much concrete, asphalt, glass, and steel.
Environmentalism for the 21st century must imagine how a more wild nature can become intimately entwined with our daily lives amongst the hustle and bustle of major cities. Imagine ecosystems of flora and some fauna scaling the rising walls of a skyscraper, as the Bosco Verticale towers have done in Milan, Italy in preparation for the next World Expo. Or take a look at Richard Register’s renderings of cities that decided to replace wide boulevards for automobiles with greenbelts and that built “key-hole plazas,” public gathering pavilions that frame views of the landscape that surrounds the city. Consider public lighting systems that actually allow the Milky Way to shine upon the urban inhabitants — might gazing upon the light of billions of stars affect the human psyche for the better and make urban life more calm, peaceful, and enjoyable? I think so.
Contributing to the creation of this eco-city concept, as many practitioners call it, will serve the core goals of the environmental movement. With densely-packed urban residents, we lower greenhouse gas emissions; with fewer personal automobiles on the road, we render the car/sprawl/freeway/oil industrial complex superfluous, the space of which can be transformed into green spaces and arable land; with less money spent on acquiring junk to fill oversized houses and spare garages, we direct more time and capital at low-impact, culturally meaningful activities within cities, outside individuals’ homes.
The eco-city is on the cusp of development. It’s big debut, however, just awaits a larger megaphone — one that the environmentally conscious public can help provide through advocacy and action.
