The future of Christchurch under Cera

April 25, 2011

I’m going to add my voice to the concerns being expressed widely in Christchurch about the approach the authorities (meaning the NZ government) are taking to the broken city’s reconstruction.

My wife and I spent last weekend in Christchurch, mainly for a big family celebration but also to see for ourselves, for the first time, some of the damage to the city we lived in for years and to catch up with a few close friends. It was our first trip there since February 22nd, and yes, we did experience the large aftershock on the Saturday evening.

In (very) brief, we saw how the events of the past seven months have so profoundly shaped the attitudes, thinking and day-to-day lives of our friends. We saw how and why the earthquake events have become the on-going major topic of all conversations. We saw how the people there (the ones we met, anyway) are doing what is almost unthinkable to us who learn about it only through the media – trying to get on with some sort of normal living when the whole atmosphere wrapping around the city is a giant fog of question marks.

I have frequently wondered over the past two months how I would have managed to stay positive had we still been living there. Our old house, as we saw, is still standing strongly – one of what appears to be a minority in the neighbourhood – but the surrounding suburban area is messy and only partially operating in the way we remember. And our weekend conversations were filled with stories about people who knew people whose lives have been turned on their heads, and are now trapped in a series of circumstances – disruptions to house, work, business, finances, toileting habits, families – which no longer resemble what they had in mind this time last year. I simply don’t know how I would be coping if it were me there.

These people have guts and patience, that’s for sure, and somehow they’re going to have to rely on those qualities to see them through at least one cold winter and hot summer ahead, and maybe a few more. What else can they do? Those with property commitments that cannot be cashed up simply have no alternative.

But back to my commentary on the future there, and the part that will be played by the new government-run authority, Canterbury Earthquake Recovery Authority (Cera). It’s to be run by a politician whom I (along with most everyone I’ve talked with recently) have never respected, Gerry Brownlee. The government’s main “do as I say, I won’t tolerate any backchat” man.

Brownlee aside (for my concern would be much the same even if the politician in charge were someone I admired), I’m one of many who fear that the whole top-down, prescriptive approach to the decision making and planning that Cera is tasked by the new law to do will fail.

Physically, the city can be reconstructed in time – no doubt about it. To do that you do need a “tsar” (as the media is calling Brownlee’s role) who can decide everything and simply say what will be built where and when. Returning unviable suburban areas to nature, remaking sewers and water lines, building roads, houses and places of business. With the money and the workers, that’s no big deal for any first-world country.

But if you don’t take the people with you, if you don’t involve them in the decision making, it will almost certainly fail. Why? Because the city is the physical structures and the people.

As I talked with Christchurch people last weekend – most of them born and bred there – it became apparent that if they are not involved in the new development work, if they are expected to sit and make do for five years while the new city is designed and built, they will lose heart, interest, contacts, and the will to do their bit.

With the bulk of the population sitting on the sidelines, not taking any official part in the planning (except through the 20-person community feedback group, all appointed by Brownlee), businesses will decline in number and importance, people will leave, schools will shrink, fewer teachers, fewer pupils and parents, fewer jobs ….. It becomes a negative spiral. In five years time Christchurch could be comprised of a hard core of those who somehow managed to live well despite the events plus a few thousand tradespeople no longer needed after major rebuilding is over.

Five years down the track, all the physical structures will be there but not the people, and not the attitude of ownership that a great city requires of its inhabitants.

I really hope the Cera process somehow works, but as time stretches out before us and the wider picture is becoming less foggy, and particularly as the authorities make it clear that they won’t be wasting time talking with the communities that make the city, I’m increasingly, sadly, pessimistic of the outcome. Christchurch may never again be the glorious little city it once was.


Grumpier and kinder – that’s me

January 17, 2011

Back at the keyboard again. As mentioned in my previous post, I needed a break and I’ve had it now, assisted by a head cold that forced me to take things easier anyhow.

While doing the usual contemplation of a year past and a new one beginning (part of which was wondering to myself whether or not I should keep this blog going), something prompted me to consider the type of person I’m becoming as I explore my “mature years”. This was also prompted by a couple of newspaper articles I read about ageing gracefully (or otherwise) and considering the conventional benefits of being older.

They all seem to make sense. Yes, the body becomes frail and badly shaped. Aches and pains at some level and in various places are a constant companion that you have to get used to. You feel you have wisdom to offer, but it’s hard to find anyone younger who’s interested in asking you for it. You have more time to pursue your own interests rather than having to work for others. You worry less every year about what others think of you and whether or not you can “keep up”. And the happier ones amongst us learn to be thankful for the good things that have happened to us over the years, and often still are.

Anyhow, amid that navel gazing I came to one conclusion: that as I get older I’m getting more grumpy in some ways and at the same time kinder in others. Let me explain.

Grumpier:

Such is my nature and upbringing that I try to avoid arguments. Until recently that has meant that I’ve tended to tolerate and pass over, usually without comment, most statements made to me in convivial conversations that I very much disagree with, particularly if they’re put forward in a black-and-white or generalised style (such as “I find Australians lazy, don’t you think?”). Usually I just “Uh huh, you think so? That’s interesting”, or I try to change the topic. It’s easier and less stressful than getting into an argument or debate, especially if shades of grey are involved and my life doesn’t depend on it.

Increasingly, as I allow myself to care less about what people think of me, I’m finding myself less tolerant of statements or arguments I think are just over-simplistic, mean-spirited, racist, hypocritical or self-serving. And I’m tending to make counterstatements that make me appear grumpy. Take this blog, for instance. I couldn’t easily have written these opinion pieces a few years ago, but now I feel it’s okay to be grumpy about people with attitudes I simply think drag society down rather than enlighten it.

Kinder:

Throughout my life I’ve experienced the same sort of mixture of good things and bad things that people have done to me or to others around me. You cannot help but realise that there will always be people who know that it is personally satisfying to be positive, accepting of others’ strengths and faults, and supportive of the good in others. And there are also always people whose lives are dragged down by forever moaning without taking action, criticising others, and highlighting the bad things that happen.

So I’ve found myself choosing to look for the positives and encouraging people who are trying to contribute (even if sometimes they don’t realise that they are). This is especially so for our young folk; it’s easy to criticise them, easy to decry their attitudes, easy to say society is done for if this is the next generation. But when you choose to encourage the things they do that are inventive, aspirational, artistic (by their standards, not ours), and considerate, when you look for the good things they do and don’t get hung up on their silly mistakes [and especially when you remember what you were like at that age], suddenly you feel confident that society is not done for yet.

The same for adults. For the parents who spend time helping out at their kids’ school or sports club; for the middle-agers who look after folk at the aged care centre. When I view life in this kinder way, I feel more at ease in my world.

So what’ll I be today – Mr Grumpy or Mr Kindly? Both!

 


Who owes who a living?

October 4, 2010

In the last decade or two of my life I’ve found myself characterising people not as good or evil, rich or poor, left-wing or right, clever or stupid, but more as fundamentally mean-spirited or generous.

The way I view it, people are either grateful for what they have or are, or they’re never happy. You see it in people who appreciate the contributions and the good in others, who have a positive disposition, against those who must always see the worst in things or other people. You see it in those who usually try to praise versus those who usually look for imperfections and complain.

Recently an old friend said something which cast this distinction in a slightly different way, making it a little easier for me to express what I mean. We hadn’t seen each other for over a year and he was telling me of the joys and challenges of his present work as a manager of a small group of staff working in a “caring” profession (ie, social work).

He commented that half of his staff thought the world owed them a living while the other half felt they owed the world a living. These two attitudes provided the challenges and the joys he was talking about.

I thought this was a great way of viewing people’s attitudes in general. People who I see as showing predominantly negative and mean-spirited attitudes usually seem to think that they are owed a living. They’re sure there’s something better around the corner, if only all these other annoying and demanding things would stop happening to them. They are infected with the modern bug of “entitlement” and inalienable rights. Me first.

The others, the generous-minded souls, are mainly grateful of the good things that have happened to them – their luck in being born into good circumstances; the things that others have done for them over the years; the little delights that make each day worth living.

Although they don’t actually owe the world a living, these people acknowledge and appreciate the good things that have happened to them over the years and are happy to keep the circle going by paying back to their families, friends and communities.


Observations on communities after one year in Motueka

July 5, 2010

It’s been nearly a year since we moved from Christchurch to Motueka and it feels like a good time for a progress report, not as a “what we’ve done here” diary but rather what things I’ve learnt.

Also we’ve recently enjoyed a great community festival, the Motueka Festival of Lights, celebrating mid-winter and lifting the spirits of the locals. For those not familiar with this event, have a look here for reports and photos.

If my blog is new to you, you may also want to have a look at earlier articles (for example, this one) about what a community like Motueka means to me philosophically.

My experience here (matched pretty much by that of my wife) shows that most of my expectations have been met and opinions confirmed, but some new things have been learnt – mainly about the strengths and limitations of living in a community the size of Motueka (population 7,500 to 14,000, depending on where you draw the line around it) and a city the size of Christchurch (pop. 400,000 and growing fast).

Other lessons learnt (and still being learnt) are about what it can be like to live in a “sustainable” and “resilient” community that may well be able to withstand the 21st century onslaught of global financial instability, peak oil and climate change.

For a start, I’ve learnt that having fewer choices makes it easier to actually do things. In Christchurch on any day there is a choice of entertainment experiences, so much so that, given almost all involved getting in the car and looking for car parks, we rarely went to any of them. (Especially on the cold winter nights in those parts.) In Motueka good concerts and other entertainments are held quite often, sometimes involving visiting performers but more often using home-grown talent, mostly of excellent quality. And guess what – we actually go to see most of them, mostly within walking distance.

We reside only 5 walking minutes from the main shopping precinct so we use the car far less often than we used to in suburban Christchurch. In winter we drive sometimes when in summer we would have walked or cycled, and we go to Nelson for family and occasional extra shopping or medical excursions, but we realise that if petrol supplies dried up for a month or three our lives would not be disrupted too much.

When we chose Motueka to live, part of the reason was that we didn’t want to be in a smaller village community where everyone knew each other and their activities. Going to that from a city would have been one leap too far. But as hoped, we’ve found the size of Motueka is just right. Almost all the things important for a busy and happy life are located within walking distance, covering a broad range of needs. But it’s big enough for us to know that we will still be meeting new people for many years to come.

We have found that for some locals, even Motueka is too large, and they seem stuck in their own little sub-communities or clubs with little interest in wider community events or activities. Many of the older ones told us that, despite plenty of publicity, they weren’t really aware the Festival of Lights was coming and didn’t really care anyway – they were more interested in their next club meeting and trip away. I guess that happens in communities of all sizes, especially among the well entrenched.

While here I’ve become aware of the Transition Towns (TT) concept. Motueka has a TT group of its own, which is purposeful and active but struggles for traction. I’m quite convinced that the TT concept – basically a green, low-energy, localised economy – is the best for the future, but it’s so hard to go “cold turkey” and switch from a consumption and growth-driven society en masse. I’m confident, however, that Motueka is better placed than many NZ towns to work toward that goal over the coming decade or two, and to weather crises that will devastate larger cities.

I do recognise that the depth and breadth of one’s involvement in a community depends largely on how much time you have, and therefore on your age and family or business responsibilities. I am now edging into the ‘oldies’ category and do have more time on my hands to ponder concepts like ‘community’. It’s easy for parents of young families to become totally occupied in just parenting and have little time to think about wider community issues. But in the parenting process they are also making a big, long-term contribution to the community by raising and teaching the next generation to appreciate their place in it.

And they do. I’ve talked with a few of our teenaged residents who are aware of the positives of the Motueka community and who appreciate what it offers. They commonly talk of leaving to look for the more varied and exciting opportunities in the cities or overseas, but they also say that they can easily see themselves returning to raise families here. We should welcome their adventurous nature because many of them return with vigour and ideas that benefit us all in the long run. And the more welcoming and engaging we make our community to them now, the more likely they are to return.

Even if most teenagers and young parents don’t get involved in wider community projects, most parents nevertheless play a role and make their contribution by helping out at preschool groups, school activities, and sports and other clubs that their kids join. Since arriving here, I’ve been impressed by the sheer number of community groups offering services, support and companionship to people of all demographics.

And finally, the clearest difference I see between community living in a small/medium town and a city. In a community like Motueka, if something needs doing you talk with others like yourself and, if there’s a way, organise amongst yourselves to get it done – yourselves. Whereas in a city your first thought is to find out whose job it is to do that thing – who’s paid to do it – and agitate to get them to do it.


The big lessons from volcanic ash and oil spills

May 10, 2010

One problem with being a worrier about the way the world is going is that when your predictions become reality it’s hard to know what to say without sounding holier-than-thou.

I don’t like being told “I told you so” by anyone else, so I prefer not to say it to others when what is obvious to me, but is negative lefty thinking to others, turns out to actually happen. And generally you can hardly be pleased to be right, because what you’re right about too often results in a mess that you really, really don’t want.

But every now and then things happen that cause you to sit up, put two and two together and say: We are going in the wrong direction! It’s obvious. Why could you not see that this was going to be the result? I did tell you so.

Two recent events have made it abundantly clear that unsustainable activities eventually have downstream costs which even the cheerleaders of relentless economic growth acknowledge are horrendous.

Now I didn’t predict the eruption of that volcano in Iceland, and the ensuing disruption to air traffic. And I didn’t predict the accident at the oil rig off the US coast. So I won’t say ‘I told you so’ about these specific events (though some people actually could).

But what I have thought, spoken and written about for many years, and am being proven correct often enough, has been that the more we allow ourselves as residents of this planet to become dependent upon economic growth and the unsustainable tools of growth, the more likely a disaster results when mother nature or human error throws us a curve ball and these tools let us down.

The volcano event has shown how dependent most of us are, mainly indirectly, on scheduled air services. When they’re interrupted for days or weeks, products cannot get to market, people get stranded, people run out of funds to live, business contracts are threatened or breached. And the thing is …. we can’t do anything about it. Good old Mother Nature reminds us that she’s in charge. No amount of management skill, market-driven competition, economic growth or new technology has any real effect.

I’m not saying that good public management skills, sound trading markets or new technologies are poor goals. I’m just saying that we all need a level of self-sufficiency in our places of living, our communities, and our lives such that our existence is not threatened by distant acts of nature. Disrupted, maybe; but not seriously threatened. Making us ever more dependent on remote technologies and activities is just not the way to go.

(I wrote about this in this article on the Haiti earthquake.)

And then we come to the oil rig situation – an even more salutary event with far longer-term implications and an even more obvious lesson for us. Here I’m going to borrow ideas and a few sentences from an opinion article I read in the Christchurch Press (May 3), written by The Times’s Simon Barnes. It was his piece that prompted me to think: I should be writing in the same vein, because I sure think the same.

As we watch on TV the desperation of the Americans who live and earn their livelihood by the coastline that will now inevitably be ruined for decades by the incoming oil slick, it is impossible to see any good side to this. There is no grey area, no “Yes, but ….”, and certainly no bright side. We’ve got it wrong, and we’re going to pay for it.

Those Americans whose jobs will be ruined by the destruction of the seafood stocks will be directly affected. The rest of us will be affected by the resulting costs and how they ripple through our economies.

And although the operator/owner of the exploded oil rig, BP, and its technology suppliers are directly to blame, we’re all indirectly responsible. Everyone who whinges every time the price of petrol goes up, and who demands the right to use a petrol-powered vehicle to go wherever they please, has played a part in this and every costly mistake made within the petroleum industry (including the tanker whose short-cut caused damage to Australia’s Great Barrier Reef last month). The oil suppliers are merely responding to demands from addicted consumers for petrol at the cheapest possible cost – which inevitably means ‘cut corners if you have to, I want my petrol now!

As Simon Barnes put it: “These spills concentrate the mind, at least for a while. They tell us that our addiction for oil is madness, that our short-term thinking is madness, that our reckless approach to containment – oil at any price – is madness. Treasure this spill; it is a rare occasion on which we can see this essential truth of the way we run our lives with absolute clarity.

“We crave oil like a junkie craves his fix, and like the junkie, we will put up with anything to get it. But even for an addict, there come moments of searing clarity. A sudden revelation that this is actually a stupid way to live life. Well, the spill tells us that this is a stupid way to run our planet.”

Sorry for copying that bit, Simon. But it’s exactly what I’ve thought about the attitude of too many people who lack any longer-term respect for our environment, and he’s said it in far better words than I could have used.

And so I say, with feeling, “I also told you so!”


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