No matter what your profession, you’ve probably been to your share of conferences. From professional to academic, trade shows to think tanks, conferences are still the most popular way to share your research and ideas with a larger audience. In academia, paper presentations and face-to-face networking with other academics are still the norm even in our increasingly wired society. Similarly, practicing planners share their policies, plans and tools with each other at the Canadian Institute of Planners/American Planning Association conferences, and their provincial and state equivalents.

I confess that while I gain a lot from these events, and often meet other interesting researchers in the field, I find the whole thing a bit draining. Several days of listening to presentations and networking is tiring. The other thing is that there seems to be a divide in the types of people these conferences attract: practicing planners go to one conference and academics to another. It’s rare that you have that blend of practicing planners, academic researchers, and those working in municipal, regional and federal policy development.

Last March, students at SCARP organized such an event on sustainability, and I wrote in an earlier post about the success of this one-day symposium and our PhD panel on research dissemination. SCARP repeated the success of this event with another one-day symposium on affordable housing funded by the BC provincial government and several key sponsors like VanCity and the Planning Institute of BC. Papers were presented by both Masters and PhD planning students, municipal planners, housing developers, architects, and more. It was a rare confluence of research, policy development and practical planning tools that have impacted the construction of affordable housing in Canada. Some of the sessions I attended included Haley Mousseau (BC Non-Profit Housing Association) on the long-term survival of non-profit housing units in the province; Andy Yan (Bing Thom Architects) on the impact of empty condos on Vancouver, and Vanessa Kay (internship for the City of Vancouver) research on the long-term costs associated with amenity spaces in Vancouver condos.

The breadth of experience in the room was palpable, and it was easy to strike up conversations over breakfast, lunch, and the cocktail hour with (in my case) the director of a shelter, a housing provider in a suburban municipality, a planning consultant working extensively on housing development, an academic researcher looking at sustainable neighbourhoods, a PhD candidate in geography at UBC, and a Masters student who had travelled from northeastern US to attend the symposium. Best of all, the one-day format kept things moving and packed a lot of information into a short amount of time. The only problem I overheard participants discussing was that there were concurrent sessions, so it was impossible to hear all the presentations.

It’s easy for us to become entrenched and isolated in our little silos, whether it’s a municipal department of planning or an academic faculty. Events like this provide a rare opportunity to share our work with a wider audience and to learn from a variety of different viewpoints. The short length of the symposium effectively limited participation to those within a short distance of the host city, forcing people to develop better ties in their own locality. While there is a place for big conferences, and connecting with people over continents who share our interests, it’s a sad fact that few of us have the time to create or maintain local research/practice networks outside the context of our immediate projects.

Next week I’ll be attending another rather unconventional conference, or rather “un-conference” called TransportCamp, which uses multimedia techniques to foster dialogue between participants. A similar event was held in Toronto in April 2008. I’m skeptical, but I’ll let you know how it turns out.

In many cities, highway infrastructure is a reminder of one of the lowest points in the history of planning: highways divided cities in half, destroyed working class neighbourhoods, and cut cities off from their waterfronts. Instead of helping to keep downtowns alive by allowing suburbanites quicker access to shops and services, they allowed drivers to bypass these areas, often generating more traffic and acting as a conduit for further suburban sprawl.

Within the past decade, we’ve begun to see a remarkable development in transportation. In cities around the world, the ubiquitous highway infrastructure that characterized the postwar era has been replaced or removed. Cities and regions have tried to devise methods to deal with decaying structures; in the US, most were constructed in the 1950s and 1960s, while in Canadian cities they did not begin until the 1970s. The most controversial of these highway rehabilitations is the complete removal of the highways. In many cases this seems to be the most cost-effective way to cope with crumbling infrastructure; in other cases, solutions had to be found for highways that had been significantly damaged in earthquakes (Seattle’s Alaskan Way Viaduct and San Francisco’s Embarcadero Freeway come to mind). Some cities, wanting a more seamless network of streets, cycling trails, and walking paths, have decided to replace their highways with underground traffic arteries.

Cities from Oklahoma City to Toronto have been discussing plans to remove aging highways. Oklahoma City, whose 4.5-mile Crosstown Expressway will be demolished by 2012, is merely moving the highway five blocks over to an old railroad line and burying it underground. At grade, the highway will be replaced by a tree-lined boulevard that is hoped to revitalize an 80-block area from downtown to the Oklahoma River. The City of Toronto has been considering the removal of the aging Gardiner Expressway for years.  The Congress for New Urganism even published a top ten list of highways they’d like to see removed to promote urban revitalization: Seattle’s Alaskan Way Viaduct was number 1, the Bronx’s Sheridan Expressway a close second. These schemes are seen as catalysts for urban regeneration. Are they an indication of the type of multi-modal, pedestrian and cyclist-friendly planning that has been gaining momentum for a couple of decades?

Boston’s Big Dig project may give some municipalities reason to pause: the Central Artery (I-93) was rerouted underground at a cost of $22 million, making it the most expensive highway project in the US. Rerouting the highway underground was only one part of the Big Dig: the other components included the construction of the Leonard P. Zakim Bunker Hill Memorial Bridge, the Rose Kennedy Greenway, and the Ted Williams Tunnel. The complex megaproject, initially proposed in 1971 and plagued by engineering and funding complications, was finally completed in 2006. The original construction of the Central Artery (1949-1954) displaced 573 businesses and hundreds of families in the working-class Italian North End of the city. It was chronically congested with east-west and north-south traffic, in part because citizens were so infuriated by it that they managed to stop the construction of further highways linked to the Central Artery in the 1970s, but not before another 4,000 families were displaced.

Designed for a capacity of 70,00, Boston’s Central Artery carried about 190,000 cars per day bin the 1990s. After its redesign underground, travel time across downtown went from 20 minutes down to three. A 62 percent drop in hours spent on the road has resulted in a savings of $200 million annually in time and fuel. The greenway designed at grade level is still not complete, but shows promise in rejoining the city neighbourhoods to their waterfront. Commercial properties adjacent to the Artery have made major gains in property value, and neighbourhoods like the North End have begun to regenerate.

The Infrastructurist recently reviewed four cases of highway removal: Seoul’s Cheonggyecheon Highway, Portland’s Harbor Drive, San Francisco’s Embarcadero and Central Freeways. You have likely seen the remarkable before and after photos of Seoul’s Cheonggyecheon Highway and the river that was restored in its place. The project was completed in 2005, largely at the urging of mayor Seoul mayor Lee Myung-bak, and at a staggering cost of 1.2 trillion won (about $281 billion US). The gorgeous 1000-acre park along the restored river isn’t the only benefit of the highway removal: the road carried 160,000 cars per day and these drivers have in many cases switched to alternative transportation. The number of cars entering downtown has decreased by 2.3%, while the number of bus users and subway users has increased (by 1.4% and 4.3% respectively). Air temperatures are lower. And even more astounding, Lee Myung-bak won the Presidency of South Korea in 2007.

Portland was an early highway removal advocate, replacing Harbor Drive with a greenway in 1978. Harbor Drive, a four-lane freeway built in 1950, carried 24,000 cars a day by the 1970s. It also eliminated pedestrian access to the river. When the state Department of Transportation proposed widening Harbor Drive, the City of Portland resisted. In fact, many called for an elimination of the freeway was a way to replace what had been lost: between 1940 and 1970, the number of housing units downtown dropped by 56 percent, as homes were demolished to build an urban renewal project and the Stadium Freeway (I-405). Retail business had declined significantly. With the help of Governor Tom McCall, Harbor Drive was eliminated in 1974. It was to be a turning point in the planning history of Portland. That same year, the City of Portland voted against the Mount Hood Freeway, the first of several highways proposed by Robert Moses. The federal funding for the freeway was instead used to build the downtown transit mall, eastside light rail, and other transit projects. Tom McCall Waterfront Park, built on the Harbor Drive site, opened in 1978.

San Francisco replaced the Embarcadero Freeway with a tree-lined boulevard, bike trails, squares and plazas. The freeway, built in 1958 amid considerable public resistance, was a double-decker structure that connected drivers to the Bay Bridge, which opened in 1936. The Bay Bridge was also double-decker, originally with a rail line on one level. But when the traffic levels on the bridge reached peak levels in only a few years, the rail line was converted to freeway. Originally the Embarcadero Freeway was supposed to connect the Bay bridge to the Golden Gate Bridge, but after the first section of the Embarcadero was built the city’s Board of Supervisors vetoed any further expressway infrastructure. Although the Board of Supervisors proposed tearing the freeway down in 1985, the motion was defeated; it carried 70,000 cars per day at its busiest point. In 1989, when the freeway was severely damaged in an earthquake, there was a debate over its fate. It was eventually decided that the freeway would be taken down in 1991. Streetcar lines, which had served the busy port area in the pre-Bay Bridge era when it was bustling with ferry traffic, were rerouted along the new boulevard. The freeway’s removal also spurred a resurgence in residential living. Traffic has been absorbed by the adjacent streets, and BART ridership has increased by 15%, all at a cost of less than $50 million.

The removal of the Embarcadero Freeway may have also inspired the removal of San Francisco’s Central Freeway, which was also damaged in the 1989 earthquake and subsequently closed. Like the Embarcadero, it was a spur highway built as part of the larger unbuilt freeway plan. Despite this, the debate over its removal was fierce. It was finally taken down in 1992 and replaced by Octavia Boulevard, which handles a smaller traffic volume and protects cyclists and pedestrians from car traffic. In addition to this, a short section of the freeway was replaced.

These highway replacement and removal projects can be seen as an effort to reclaim inner city neighbourhoods, but they are also part of a larger movement that acknowledges the importance of many different transportation modes. The rehabilitation of these highways has in most cases been fraught with political tension. In some cases compromises were reached, and replacement instead of complete removal was the end solution. In the cases where highways were removed, the dire predictions of cities overrun by traffic have been proven to be false. The Portland and San Francisco cases remind us that the highways were originally constructed amid public opposition, and that in some ways they represent a turning point in the history of urban planning. The construction of these “gateway” highways inspired public resistance to further highway infrastructure, preventing entire city centers from being destroyed by the octopus-like arms of high-speed concrete. Public support for highway replacement and removal has been critical in each case, but the political sway of individual politicians and city administrations has also been instrumental. These cities have proven that traffic engineers’ predictions of traffic volumes (wait for it) don’t seem that accurate after all.

TransLink’s recent decision to delay construction of the Evergreen Line yet again illustrates the difficulty the regional agency has in funding projects. As I documented in a previous post, TransLink is a regional body created by the Province of British Columbia, which means it legally has only the powers given to it by the province. Their funding comes from fuel taxes, property taxes, transit fares and advertising.

In the case of large infrastructure projects such as the recently-built Canada Line, the Province and the Federal Government kick in some money. The feds are particularly swayed if the project is of national significance, hence the funding for the 19-km Canada Line during the same year Vancouver is set to host the 2010 Winter Olympics. The original SkyTrain line was constructed for Expo ’86. Usually, the balance of funding is made up through public-private partnerships. The Canada Line had the usual regional, provincial, and federal funding sources, as well as the Vancouver Airport Authority (VAA), the City of Vancouver, and private sector partner, InTransitBC, who was selected through a competitive bidding process. The total cost of the Canada Line is $1.9 billion ($2003), with the federal government contributing $419 million, the province $235, the VAA $245 million, TransLink $321 million, the City $27 million, and InTransitBC $65.3 million. TransLink will own the finished line and set fares, while InTransit BC designed the line and will operate and maintain the line for 35 years.

Like many municipalities, as a regional body TransLink has lots of legal responsibility with few fundraising abilities. Legally, the provincial and federal governments have more taxation ability, hence the Goods and Services Tax and BC’s new Carbon Tax. Yet they have been decreasing their responsibilities each year by transferring them to municipalities. The Evergreen Line had $410 million in provincial funding and $417 million in federal funding, in addition to TransLink’s $400 million. Still, the project fell $173 million short, money that TransLink expected to raise through public-private partnerships and transit-oriented development. TransLink’s proposed funding schemes, such as a parking tax and a vehicle levy, have been met with considerable public resistance.

TransLink, which regularly conducts surveys on ridership and potential ridership, has long been in favour of the 11-km Evergreen line linking Burnaby, Coquitlam, and Port Moody. While Burnaby already has the Millenium and Expo Skytrain lines, Coquitlam and Port Moody are among the fastest-growing municipalities in the GVRD and like most of the region, has no rapid transit options. The Evergreen Line was first proposed 20 years ago, and the Province has been promising its construction for five years.

TransLink also has a history of tenuous relationships with the province, as I wrote in a post about their organizational structure. Disagreements between Kevin Falcon, formerly the Provincial Minister of Transportation (2004-2009), resulted in TransLink dropping the Evergreen and UBC lines in favour of the Canada Line proposal, which the TransLink board had voted down repeatedly. Falcon also dissolved the TransLink board, made up of municipal representatives, and replaced it with a provincially-appointed board with no public accountability. It is not surprising that now that TransLink has built the Canada Line, provincial support has returned to its previous dismal level. And as usual, TransLink takes the blame for funding shortfalls (witness the CBC article entitled “TransLink to yank Evergreen Line funding.”) when the real “bad guy” in this scenario is the lack of any comprehensive federal transportation plan that acknowledges municipalities’ role in public transit provision.

TransLink, the South Coast British Columbia Transportation Authority, is responsible for roads, bridges, public transit, and cycling in the Vancouver region. TransLink’s revenues come from transit fares and advertising, property taxes and fuel taxes. The regional transportation authority regularly consults with the public on transportation planning issues including financing, rapid transit, bus, and cycling options. Their online Transit Advisory Board, launched a few years ago, allows Metro residents to have a say in all sorts of decision making. Their current survey deals with their 10-Year Transportation and Financial Plan, a step towards Transport 2040, their 30-year plan. The survey presents three scenarios: spending $460 million more annually to expand transit, road, and cycling capacity, spending $260 annually to maintain the current situation, or cutting back service drastically.

As they have been in existence for just a decade, TransLink also published a list of accomplishments from 1999-2008. Among these are a 37% increase in transit hours, 38% increase in bus fleet size, 99% increase in annual funding for transit operations, and a whopping 283% increase in capital investments. While those who use TransLink on a daily basis complain about it regularly, and Metro Vancouver doesn’t have nearly the transit service it needs to service almost 2 million people, these are some impressive results over a ten-year period.

TransLink is an excellent example of how complicated it is for municipalities and regions to fund, plan, and provide transit services. Power struggles between all three levels of government are played out every time budgetary consultations are due. While TransLink is unique in providing services and capital improvements for roads, bridges, transit, and cycling, this balanced approach frequently puts the provincially-created body at odds with its creator. The transit strike in 2001, the struggle over funding for the Canada Line, and increased pressure on the UBC line are all potent examples of biting the hand that feeds transit in Metro Vancouver. An effort in 2001 to add a vehicle levy to funding sources was rejected by the Province, which put a stop to service expansion, fuelled service decreases and led to a four-month-long transit strike. One of the other funding challenges is that the income from fuel taxes (about 30% of TransLink’s funding) fluctuates with gas prices.

These struggles occur because often the upper levels of government are at odds with the municipalities; it is one area that the Federation of Canadian Municipalities has fought to reconcile. Municipalities know what works best at the local level: in this case, more funding for public transit, cycling, and walking. Funds can be raised through taxes on less sustainable transportation modes. But the Province of BC has long fought this approach, like other Provincial governments, sticking to the postwar status quo: fund road and highway infrastructure to cut down on traffic and make goods movement easier and cheaper. An excellent example is the Gateway proposal, a $4.5 billion dollar road and highway expansion project bitterly fought by Vancouver and Burnaby councils and decried by environmentalists, will now be funded entirely by the Province. BC Minister of Transportation Kevin Falcon’s spearheading of the Gateway proposal, against the recommendations of cost benefit and environmental analyses, made lifelong enemies of many GVRD transportation advocates. Falcon was replaced as Minister of Transportation by Shirley Bond when Gordon Campbell was recently re-elected as Premier on May 12, 2009. It isn’t known yet how much Bond will support public transit, cycling, and walking in the Province; it may not matter, considering Campbell’s support of the proposal. A glance at the Provincial Ministry of Transportation website indicates its primary interests in goods movement and airport management; public transit is clearly low on its list of priorities. The Province of BC released a Transit Plan in 2008 that contradicts TransLink’s long-term plan. Clearly, these power struggles indicate that transportation, at the level of public transit and commuter services, is an area that should be wholly given over to Canadian municipalities. There is considerable dissention in the ranks, because without funding from the upper levels of government, municipalities would face the same challenges in transportation that they do in housing: responsibilty with out much-needed cash.

But despite these struggles, TransLink has accomplished a lot in a city that is rapidly growing and needs transportation alternatives. As I write this, the new 19-km Canada Line is being tested for its Labour Day opening, a new SeaBus glides across Burrard Inlet, and the 24-km Central Valley Greenway has just opened. These victories, in addition to the gains in capital investment, and sheer numbers of passengers using the system, are worthy of celebration.

The City of Vancouver is one of a growing number of cities concerned about local agriculture and food availability; the City set up a Food Policy Council in 2003. So far, the Council’s interest is confined to homeowners producing their own food (beekeeping and possibly backyard chickens), or producing food for the poor with its Grow-a-Row program. It has not extended its reach to the larger issues: ensuring households have better access to fresh fruits and vegetables (grocery store location) or enabling more local farmers to sell their produce in the city. Another ongoing debate for City of Vancouver planners is whether or not to allow street vendors to operate on busy street corners. While we have the commonplace hotdog/sausage vendors, portable kitchens are not allowed. As Tim Pawsey wrote in the Vancouver Courier, “Zealous health authorities suppress any deviation from predictable food service that might be remotely interesting.”

While Asian cities seem to have the best variety of street food (fresh pakoras in Delhi, sizzling potstickers and skewers of meat in Shanghai), many North American cities offer a variety of quick eats. In New York, there are carts selling pastries, soft pretzels, muffins and bagels; in San Francisco’s Berkeley there’s a giant vending machine with all manner of hot meals available. The City of Richmond is slightly better off than Vancouver, with sizzling meat, Chinese dumpling, and fresh fruit vendors at their weekly Night Market. Hot dog/sausage vendors can always be found at Toronto’s Nathan Phillips Square, but recently Toronto City Hall approved eight new ethnic street food vendors.

Street food has even reached the epitome of high art. The Vitra Design Museum in Basel, fittingly located on Charles-Eames-Strasse and designed by Frank Gehry, is currently hosting a Global Street Food Exhibition featuring all kinds of portable kitchens.

In practice, getting street vendors approved in Canadian cities has proved daunting. Toronto’s process required the vendors to invest $21,000-28,000 for carts and pay an annual location fee of $5,000-15,000. As Vanessa Lu reports in the Toronto Star, a rigorous selection process included scoring for nutrition, food safety, locally produced food, ethnic diversity, taste and an overall business plan. Best of all, the new vendors reflect the city’s diversity: passers-by will be able to choose from Persian, Middle Eastern, Greek, Afghan, Korean, Caribbean, Thai, and Eritrean food at the eight busy downtown locations. This is only a three-year pilot project, but the City of Toronto hints at expanding the program in due time.

While the City of Vancouver still claims health concerns, perhaps Toronto’s pilot project will have some impact on the stodgy minds of the health authorities here.

A major governance change may significantly affect transportation decision-making in the Toronto region. Metrolinx, the Greater Toronto Transportation Authority formed in 2006, will absorb GO Transit, which operates regional transit services. As both are provincial bodies, they can be created, dissolved, or merged by the Province of Ontario. Transportation Minister Jim Bradley introduced the Greater Toronto and Hamilton Area Transit Implementation Act on March 30, 2009 amid concerns that the new Metrolinx board will not incorporate municipal mayors. In fact the legislation expressly forbids a municipal employee from sitting on the board, which is made up of fifteen high-level business people, only five of whom have any transit planning experience. A similar process took place in the Vancouver region in 2007 when Provincial Transportation Minister Kevin Falcon removed municipal delegates from the TransLink board, replacing them with his own hand-picked delegates.

Steve Munro, a vocal supporter of the transit in the Toronto region, voiced his discontent with the Ontario government’s decision. Munro argues that although the new legislation was introduced to push infrastructure through and override petty squabbles between municipalities, in reality the higher levels of government were usually at fault for failing to fund transportation initiatives in the region. This has resulted in years of inertia rather than good, solid investment and planning of transportation projects.

When was the last time Toronto copied Vancouver? The new Metrolinx board shares many similarities with the new TransLink board formed in November 2007, whose nine members boast only two with vague transit planning experience. Lower Mainland citizens were outraged when the board’s first action was to vote themselves a pay raise in February 2008. While the former board, composed of municipal employees, were paid $200 per meeting, and met once a month, the new board gets $1200 per meeting and hefty retainers between $25,000 and $100,000. Like the former board of elected municipal politicians, the new appointed board can raise property taxes, change taxation classifications, accumulate property and run its own police force. The new board makes most of its decisions in private and holds quarterly consultations with the mayors’ council: at the first of these meetings, several mayors stormed out after being unable have their opinions heard. Under Bill 43, the board is allowed to decide when and where to meet.

In Toronto, the new legislation proposes that the Metrolinx board meets in public:

  • On any occasion it determines
  • When the board is adoping or amending a regional transportation plan
  • When the board is considering approval of an investment strategy
  • When the corporation’s annual report is presented
  • When the corporation is considering a by-law to change the fares charged on its system

The board is not required to discuss capital planning or projects, the Metrolinx budget, or the investment strategy. It is unclear whether Metrolinx will take over ownership of municipal transportation infrastructure such as the subway; naturally any change in governance raises issues of local versus regional importance. This is rather important; we see the results of this fragmentation in Vancouver, where TransLink still hasn’t recovered from the 1998 split of BC Transit into Coast Mountain Bus Company, which does detailed route planing and operates buses, TransLink, which does comprehensive planning. The British Columbia Rapid Transit Company operates the SkyTrain, while the new Canada Line will be operated by InTransit BC.

An interesting note is that in both cases, the province claimed it was making the change in order to streamline decision-making in the region. Those of us with even a hint of planning experience can understand the frustrations of political agendas entering the decision making process: witness the construction of the Expo Skytrain Line in Vancouver for Expo 86 and its alignment through NDP ridings. However, in the Vancouver region, Bill 43 was introduced in part to expedite provincial will, ensuring that the region had less say in the decisions; the Canada Line had been voted down by the old TransLink Board three times. TransLink argued it could have more of an impact on transit in the region by increasing bus frequency and introducing more rapid bus services; the Province favoured the LRT. Some argue that TransLink was given a choice: accept the LRT or face funding shortfalls for transit in the region. Shortly afterward, Bill 43 was introduced to effectively eliminate regional voices. Now that’s streamlined!

I would urge Toronto transit advocates and municipal transportation planners to keep on top of the Province of Ontario’s decision. While the TTC still remains under municipal control, the Province plays a major role in infrastructure decisionmaking and funding. Compiling an “expert” board made up of the provincial minister’s investment buddies, none of whom take or advocate transit, is like asking a bunch of PC users to design Mac software. They just don’t have the knowledge to make good decisions. Just ask Vancouver transit users.