Waking from the dream - Page 16

From Griffith REVIEW Edition 20: Cities on the Edge
© Copyright Griffith University & the author.

Written by Brendan Gleeson

 

In 1970, Hugh Stretton, Australia's first great urbanist, wrote and self– published an urban best-seller, Ideas for Australian Cities. The book disdained the anti-suburbanism of elites and offered a much more intelligent assessment of suburbia's strengths, weaknesses and possibilities. His most recent book, Australia Fair (UNSW Press, 2005), addresses the environmental menace and concludes, as I do, that some form of resource rationing will be forced upon us. Reflecting on the great rationing exercises that saw us through World War II and its reconstruction phase, Stretton believes that their success can be repeated: ‘But it is likely to depend, now as then, on three achievements which look unlikely as this is written. We must believe the dangers are real and deadly. We must hope to survive them by radical action, self-restraint and sacrifice. And we must attract the necessary solidarity by a serious reduction of our inequalities.'

Restraint, sacrifice, solidarity: these are words that would shatter the dream of neo-liberal Prometheanism. Generating large consumption cuts is surely the province of the nation state. By electing the Rudd Government, Australians authorised a serious project. So the task of reining in consumption is now theoretically possible. The Garnaut Climate Change Review will outline the prospects in 2008. We may be entering a more sophisticated phase of Prometheanism, hinged on the belief that resource use can be decoupled from economic expansion. I very much doubt it, but at least we have the prospect of a national climate response based on a serious reckoning of the threat.

The terrible scales of natural disruption facing the cities contrast starkly with the fragile institutional systems and meagre resources dedicated to urban resilience. In one sense, planning is the urban Maginot Line, its capacities already sidelined by the global environmental menace. The ACF analysis indicates the moderate influence that urban form – the main object of planning effort – has on energy use and greenhouse emissions. Urban form, however, has a much more potent bearing on household use of, and dependency on, the direct forms of energy – notably oil – that are likely soon to be in scarce supply.

In the fight against global warming, I see planning's prime contribution as urban adaptation in search of climate-resilient cities. This means the creation of urban environments that will withstand the vagaries of a harmed climate and rising resource shortages. Good planning and design can reduce the vulnerability of cities to shortages in key resources – notably water, coal and oil. An immediate and wholesale improvement to public transport in the suburbs is the first planning improvement we should make in our quest for climate resilience. Other insights and possibilities will emerge as we free ourselves from a suburban debate polarised between censure and celebration.

When we reinstate history to urban discussion, we recover the alternative suburban futures discarded by both the Goths and the Dreamers. Outright proscription and simple prescription give way to consideration of new possibilities based on old insights – in this case, perhaps, a suburbia that recovers the values of modesty, solidarity and locality but in new ways. At present, as Patrick Troy, eminent Australian urbanist, points out, the cult of suburban censure is blocking thought on alternative possibilities for suburbia, including the prospect that it may be the landscape best suited to safe adaptation in a warming climate. Its space and greenery offer immediate resources for on-site collection and disposal of water, generation of energy and production of food. Suburbia's adaptive potential has been understated or ignored by commentary and policy. Others are pointing this out to us – renowned international ecologist Herbert Giardet recently told the International Solar Cities Congress in Adelaide: ‘The suburb is perfect for low-energy ... Low density is good for wind and solar power because there's more space to generate locally.'

Suburban scorn weakens more than our ability to think of a way out of the looming crisis. It threatens solidarity by demonising the social mainstream. Aidan Davison argues that anti-suburbanism engenders disenchantment and withdrawal by the (sub)urban civil society that originally gave birth to environmentalism. The wall of hostility raised by suburban critique is hindering the generation of a societal response to global warming and oil depletion. It fails Stretton's tests by unfairly apportioning blame and by undermining the conditions for solidarity.

The suburbs will be the main theatres in the defensive war against global warming, and need to be engaged and treated fairly in the debates and actions that will address climate change and energy insecurity. The first great task of urban adaptation must be a green suburban renovation.

A critical view is invited of the urban environments created by what Clive Hamilton has termed the ‘growth fetish' economy of recent neo-liberalism. These landscapes include the walled estates of civic refusal that pepper our cities, the more environmentally egregious mega-homes, and the vertical sprawl produced by wild, market-driven consolidation. The narcissism of communal gating can't be allowed to continue if we are to rebuild the solidarity needed to confront the stresses ahead. Equally, we must restore material capacity and civic confidence in our suburban exclusion zones.

Maintaining equity, and therefore solidarity, will be critical to the success of mitigation and adaptation strategies. Urban science and policy should ponder how equity is to be maintained in the face of threat, disturbance and displacement. As Steve Biddulph put it recently, ‘we co-operate or die'. Yet co-operation will not thrive without a fair distribution of burden and effort. It is, as Mark Peel states, time to ‘talk of shared sacrifices led by those with most to give'. The ACF consumption maps show us where they live.

A prescient letter to the editor in the Courier-Mail in late 2007 captured the essence of the problem. The letter laments the role of elites in climate debates, including the ‘knowledgeable' and the ‘rich and famous', observing their continued ability to ‘fly their private, corporate or government-funded jets' while the ‘numerous' rest ‘are warned that if the worst does materialise it will be our fault if we do not immediately turn off our air conditioners, use smaller cars, burn less fuel and save all the rainwater we can muster'. Moreover, ‘no rationing is mentioned to bring equitable sharing of the load. So the haves can still outspend the have-nots.'

I doubt the author had read the ACF's report, which is still yet to resonate popularly. But I think the letter's sentiment anticipates a divisive politics that may well emerge when the broader community begins to comprehend that it is the gilded coin, not the dreadful penny, that most bankrupts our climate. While a small part of me cheers the justice of the claim, the outbreak of suburban complaint mostly fills me with dread. We cannot afford yet another obstacle to the task of preparing for what lies ahead. There is an immediate need to promote, and if necessary prescribe, a culture of moderation amongst elites. This will include restraints on the most conspicuously damaging forms of consumption, including air travel and the import of bulky and weighty luxuries.

The latest human Promethean dream may be shattering, but its political and moral legacies will not easily be overcome. Most of our leadership cannot think outside the narrow frame of neo-liberalism. The universities have lost, or had removed, much of their capacity to craft alternative thinking. We are in a situation of serious ethical and intellectual deprivation at a time of peril. It's been a long time since we had faith in the kind of concerted public endeavour that will be needed to bring us to safety. The values of social justice and social solidarity seem quaintly archaic, while the concepts of restraint and modesty seem barmy. These values and ambitions will have to be restored to public life and to institutional purpose if we wish to find a common passage through the coming storm. To begin this restoration, we must rouse ourselves from the Promethean dream and reawaken our most basic human obligations – to each other, to those to come, and to the ecology that will nurture – or at least endure – us all. Without these commitments, society might survive but democracy may not. At worst, Nature may simply decide to go on without us. In an age of ambiguity, we can be sure of one thing: Homo urbanis will meet its destiny in the city.  ♦