My time here in New Orleans is ticking away. Every week the city, from the street names (the street named after the muse Calliope is pronounced cal-ee-oh) to the politics (so many Landrieus…) to the food (I recently got schooled that I need to add more nasally ‘aaa’ when I pronounce ‘Boudin Balls’) is becoming more familiar but at times more confusing.
My very first hurricane was largely, excuse the pun, anticlimactic. Although Hurricane Ida - the only one to pose a threat to New Orleans during the 2009 season - built up to a category 2 in the Gulf of Mexico, the cold November waters made it sputter out to a tropical storm by the time it hit the coast. A little mist, a little wind, but if you hadn’t been watching the news you’d probably just think it was the usual afternoon to evening downpour. Needless to say, the hurricane kit full of everything random (Pudding packs? Eight maps? A full rain suit? The Midwesterner in me continues to be confused by expected needs during an evacuation) remains tightly sealed.
Through my work at Jericho Road I’ve continued to gain a better understanding of the process of rebuilding New Orleans. My daily tasks at Jericho Road involve working at a neighborhood level on number of very localized and internally important activities. Besides this work, however, I’ve also been afforded the opportunity – through reading, discussions with staff, and conferences - to think about how everything we do fits into a broader picture of urban revitalization not only here in New Orleans but also in many cities across the U.S. In this overarching effort, sustainability is the prominent paradigm of the moment; translating into overhauling yet innovative solutions that totally change the ways our cities look, feel, and work. It’s a sort of catch-all term that encompasses the answers to all of our converging environmental problems. Yet, what I’ve come learn about New Orleans is that perhaps this city has already figured out an essential key to the sustainability effort, even though it’s not as snazzy as plans for greening and LEEDing that we’ve come to expect. On the sustainability front, I think New Orleans figured out long ago how to make neighborhoods and therefore a city to last a lifetime.
Yet, to first take a step back, what does sustainability exactly mean? I think for most people it is a term immediately recognized and at some level understood, but the actual real world application is broad and therefore difficult to readily define via deliverables. In specific terms of city planning, however, sustainability usually means one of a number of environmental initiatives to decrease the metropolitan carbon footprint. This includes green buildings, walkable neighborhoods with a mix of amenities and residential units, broad and easily accessible public transportation, as well as a public open spaces of various sizes and uses. Yet, making a city sustainable – and this is where New Orleans comes in – can also mean something a little less tangible. The term can also mean making a city great, and therefore making a place where buildings and infrastructure last for generations instead of facing the prospect of cyclical teardowns to start-over with a blank slate.
Perhaps what I’m trying to develop here is best illustrated in terms of a comparative example. Say your city builds a new development full of the most environmentally friendly buildings – recycled materials, net zero energy, bicycle paths, and a string of small parks. Sounds nice, right? But what if the architecture is bland and expected, the adults are so busy with their own lives they don’t talk to each other, the kids have so many after-school activities there’s no pick-up game on the street, the bike paths come to dead-ends, and the only food options are Arbys and TGIF Fridays because no small-business guy can’t afford to move into the snazzy new sustainable neighborhood? I’ll take the chance of sounding a little bit like a football cheerleader phrase by questioning - what if the place lacks spirit? Boring, like-all-others, and unauthentic.
What if? Well, I think the outcome that is this environmentally-cool neighborhood is new and exciting at first, but in the next decade it may just be your average American subdivision. And after that? Nothing in particular makes people want to live there, so in a decade or five (but long before it has been used to its fullest potential) someone comes along to tear it down and try it all over again. Although the pre-planning to make a place beloved and full of community and culture is doubtless a tricky task, without an initial design input paying attention to quality and local character these places become passé homes, neighborhoods, or entire cities. Nothing distinguishable. Nothing in particular to make people want to stay there. Nothing to make people fight for its existence.
What I mean by all of this, and I’m starting to understand more the longer I’m in New Orleans and at Jericho Road, is that sustainability is not only about the best environmental practices but also about figuring out how to make places that will last for generations. Cities where an entire new level of material input for construction, and all of the associated environmental destruction, will be the occasional and not the automatic answer. For sustainability to really work buildings are cherished, the foundational framework makes sense, and communities are strong with family and friendship connections. In the end the most sustainable places are those that will usually only require a patch, instead of a raze, as they age.
The question of how to bring New Orleans back in a sustainable way seems to be on the minds of many within the city (just look at the November 2009 Atlantic article “Houses of the Future”). The massive rebuilding process New Orleans has undertaken over the last four years has already included a number of attempts at sustainable experimenting. Yet even with so much done to rebuild the 80% of buildings that ended up damaged or destroyed, nearly 60,000 buildings and lots remain vacant, most often in a state of dilapidation. For many in the planning, architecture, construction, and non-profit world that number presents simultaneously a challenge and opportunity to make New Orleans into a city know not only for its music, food, and architecture – but also as a place that becomes a leader in sustainability.
But given what could be consider the under-appreciated component of sustainability – making great places that last generations – I think New Orleans in some sense has already succeeded and is a leader of within this movement. In many neighborhoods the underlying gridwork dispersing traffic and interspersing houses and amenities makes sense. Undeniably the architecture is unique and loved not only with residents but with the thousands of tourists who trek through the city. The food, endless (and for an outsider frankly overwhelming amount of) festivals, countless parades, and music all attest to the strong cultural fabric and commitment of the people to New Orleans. It all adds up to a place the people love and will fight to keep in its original essence – an essential part of sustainability. For however much the city may be ridiculed for lagging behind the rest of the country on various fronts, New Orleans needs greater recognition for its ability to create places that are loved and can therefore last.
