A reform of the Green Belt is long overdue. Here’s how it should be used

A waste of space. Image: London First/Quod/SERC.

The Metropolitan Green Belt is embedded in people’s psyche as the epitome of British countryside alongside the moors of Yorkshire and the wilderness of the Scottish Highlands. It embodies a romantic vision of a preserved landscape – a green and pleasant land where time stays still in contrast to the dizzying urban beast that is London, spewing out pollution, noise and decadence.

Whilst many areas within the Metropolitan Green Belt are undoubtedly beautiful and should be vehemently preserved and nurtured, there is mounting pressure to release more of the designated land to ease housing pressures. This unsurprisingly pits conservationists against developers, idealists against pragmatists, and feeds into party politics.

Much of the debate revolves around housing development and whether increased development will signal the death of the Green Belt as a policy concept; a reductionist and a narrow prism through which to see the debate. A wider strategic view of Green Belt policy is required to address the multiple and interconnected issues facing London and the South-East.

The idyll of the Green Belt as an untouched haven is mostly unfounded. With the remaining wildlife clinging on in hedgerows and in pockets of lush woodland, Areas of Outstanding Natural Beauty (AONBs), and Sites of Specific Scientific Interest (SSSIs), the Green Belt is for the most part a man-made landscape; a polluted pasture land devoid of biodiversity.

Much of the existing agricultural land is actually in poor condition, with its depleted soils heavily reliant on chemical fertiliser, fungicides and pesticides, which have a damaging effect on biodiversity, key insect pollinators, rivers and ground water sources.

Large swathes of Green Belt land are also unproductive, and are disguised as agricultural in order to collect farm subsidies. Land banking is also common, in the hope that landowners can cash in on speculative development on their land. The Green Belt arguably preserves privilege, whilst many get crippled by appallingly high rent in the urban area.

As well as being unaffordable, London is rabidly hungry. Huge quantities of food produce are imported into London from the world over, clocking up food miles and emissions, which is inherently unsustainable and wasteful. In this respect, the Green Belt surrounding London is an untapped resource; an available space available ideal for the formation of a peri-urban agroecological system.

Broadly speaking, agroecology is the science of applying ecological concepts and principles to the design, development, and management of sustainable agricultural systems. Along with the release of appropriate Green Belt land for housing and associated infrastructure (schools, roads, essential amenities etc) in close proximity to London and existing transport nodes, a wider vision of the function of the Green Belt is required.


Utilising the Green Belt to produce a portion of the food consumed within London, for example, is an astute spatial adaptation. Indeed, not only would this reduce emissions by sourcing produce locally but with the use of agroecology, it is also an opportunity to provide nutritious organic produce, improve soil health, increase biodiversity, and create jobs.

Agroecology is a form of organic farming whose main ethos is the production of a diversified yield of crops without the use of pesticides or chemical fertiliser. The Food & Agriculture Organisation (FAO) of the UN held an International symposium on agroecology in April 2018 in which it stressed the need to scale up agroecology initiatives so as to meet UN sustainable development goals (SDGs).

In many ways it is an insurgent form of agriculture that goes against the tide of intensive industrial scale farming, minimises human impact and works in symbiosis with local ecosystems – enhancing the synergy between plants, insects, crops and soil fertility. Adopting these methods would bolster climate change resilience and considerably alleviate food insecurity.

Releasing strategic areas of land for housing in transport corridors and nodes as well as within and bordering existing Green Belt settlements should be accompanied by the implementation of a closed-loop agroecological system on suitable land. Such a system could also go hand-in-hand with sustainable waste management: the tons of biodegradable food waste generated in the city can be utilised to provide organic fertiliser or biogas through anaerobic digestion.

Incentives should be given to landowners and farmers to reforest parcels of barren land and they should be encouraged to diversify their crops and adopt agroecological principles. The benefits of this would be multi-pronged from an ecological perspective as well as from an economic and social perspective. It would contribute towards more self-sufficiency instead of a reliance on imported foods.

Reform of Green Belt policy is long overdue. The fundamental planning tenets of Green Belt policy – namely limiting sprawl, settlement coalescence, maintaining “openness”, and assisting in urban regeneration through the recycling of brownfield land can still be preserved but should also be questioned.

What is “openness” for example if it means preserving a sterile green desert and presiding over an insect Armageddon? The national planning system and other relevant bodies and policy-makers should give the Green Belt a wider role in the sustainable urban management of Greater London.

Thomas Courtney is a Bedford-based town planner, writing in a personal capacity.

 
 
 
 

What does the fate of Detroit tell us about the future of Silicon Valley?

Detroit, 2008. Image: Getty.

There was a time when California’s Santa Clara Valley, bucolic home to orchards and vineyards, was known as “the valley of heart’s delight”. The same area was later dubbed “Silicon Valley,” shorthand for the high-tech combination of creativity, capital and California cool. However, a backlash is now well underway – even from the loyal gadget-reviewing press. Silicon Valley increasingly conjures something very different: exploitation, excess, and elitist detachment.

Today there are 23 active Superfund toxic waste cleanup sites in Santa Clara County, California. Its culture is equally unhealthy: Think of the Gamergate misogynist harassment campaigns, the entitled “tech bros” and rampant sexism and racism in Silicon Valley firms. These same companies demean the online public with privacy breaches and unauthorised sharing of users’ data. Thanks to the companies’ influences, it’s extremely expensive to live in the area. And transportation is so clogged that there are special buses bringing tech-sector workers to and from their jobs. Some critics even perceive threats to democracy itself.

In a word, Silicon Valley has become toxic.

Silicon Valley’s rise is well documented, but the backlash against its distinctive culture and unscrupulous corporations hints at an imminent twist in its fate. As historians of technology and industry, we find it helpful to step back from the breathless champions and critics of Silicon Valley and think about the long term. The rise and fall of another American economic powerhouse – Detroit – can help explain how regional reputations change over time.

The rise and fall of Detroit

The city of Detroit became a famous node of industrial capitalism thanks to the pioneers of the automotive age. Men such as Henry Ford, Horace and John Dodge, and William Durant cultivated Detroit’s image as a centre of technical novelty in the early 20th century.

The very name “Detroit” soon became a metonym for the industrial might of the American automotive industry and the source of American military power. General Motors president Charles E. Wilson’s remark that, “For years I thought what was good for our country was good for General Motors, and vice versa,” was an arrogant but accurate account of Detroit’s place at the heart of American prosperity and global leadership.

The public’s view changed after the 1950s. The auto industry’s leading firms slid into bloated bureaucratic rigidity and lost ground to foreign competitors. By the 1980s, Detroit was the image of blown-out, depopulated post-industrialism.

In retrospect – and perhaps as a cautionary tale for Silicon Valley – the moral decline of Detroit’s elite was evident long before its economic decline. Henry Ford became famous in the pre-war era for the cars and trucks that carried his name, but he was also an anti-Semite, proto-fascist and notorious enemy of organised labor. Detroit also was the source of defective and deadly products that Ralph Nader criticized in 1965 as “unsafe at any speed”. Residents of the region now bear the costs of its amoral industrial past, beset with high unemployment and poisonous drinking water.


A new chapter for Silicon Valley

If the story of Detroit can be simplified as industrial prowess and national prestige, followed by moral and economic decay, what does that say about Silicon Valley? The term “Silicon Valley” first appeared in print in the early 1970s and gained widespread use throughout the decade. It combined both place and activity. The Santa Clara Valley, a relatively small area south of the San Francisco Bay, home to San Jose and a few other small cities, was the base for a computing revolution based on silicon chips. Companies and workers flocked to the Bay Area, seeking a pleasant climate, beautiful surroundings and affordable land.

By the 1980s, venture capitalists and companies in the Valley had mastered the silicon arts and were getting filthy, stinking rich. This was when “Silicon Valley” became shorthand for an industrial cluster where universities, entrepreneurs and capital markets fuelled technology-based economic development. Journalists fawned over successful companies like Intel, Cisco and Google, and analysts filled shelves with books and reports about how other regions could become the “next Silicon Valley”.

Many concluded that its culture set it apart. Boosters and publications like Wired magazine celebrated the combination of the Bay Area hippie legacy with the libertarian individualism embodied by the late Grateful Dead lyricist John Perry Barlow. The libertarian myth masked some crucial elements of Silicon Valley’s success – especially public funds dispersed through the U.S. Defense Department and Stanford University.

The ConversationIn retrospect, perhaps that ever-expanding gap between Californian dreams and American realities led to the undoing of Silicon Valley. Its detachment from the lives and concerns of ordinary Americans can be seen today in the unhinged Twitter rants of automaker Elon Musk, the extreme politics of PayPal co-founder Peter Thiel, and the fatuous dreams of immortality of Google’s vitamin-popping director of engineering, Ray Kurzweil. Silicon Valley’s moral decline has never been clearer, and it now struggles to survive the toxic mess it has created.

Andrew L. Russell, Dean, College of Arts & Sciences; Professor of History, SUNY Polytechnic Institute and Lee Vinsel, Assistant Professor of Science and Technology Studies, Virginia Tech.

This article was originally published on The Conversation. Read the original article.