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Kamis, 01 Mei 2014

Community Engagement in Mexico City

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02.40

by Wangũi Kamonji

An innovative urban development program is activating positive change in low-income neighborhoods across Mexico City. Despite winning the World Habitat Award in 2011, the city government's Programa Comunitario de Mejoramiento Barrial (Community Program for Neighborhood Improvement, or PCMB) is surprisingly little-known outside Mexico.

Socioeconomic inequality is deeply engrained in Mexico City's spatial structure, and neighborhood wealth generally corresponds with the quality of public services. The PCMB addresses this problem by funding revitalization projects in economically depressed areas. While living in one such area, El Pedregal de Santo Domingo, I noticed the program's impact on freshly painted buildings that were formerly concrete gray.


Recently painted homes along a street in Mexico City's El Pedregal de Santo Domingo neighborhood. Image source: Wangũi Kamonji

Inspired to learn more about the PCMB, I met with economist Manuel Luis Labra Illanes, a member of the Malacate Civic Association who has been actively involved in developing the program. Our conversation is transcribed below.

Can you tell us about how the PCMB came about?

The PCMB came out of the Programa de Mejoramiento de Vivienda (Home Improvement Program, or PMV), which the Mexico City government started in 2000. The PMV helped improve people's houses through loans repayable over eight years, but it didn't address public spaces and other shared resources. So we began planning the PCMB, which launched officially in 2007.

So the main difference between the two programs is that the PMV is for homes and the PCMB is for broader neighborhood projects?

Yes, and the PMV is a credit system while the PCMB is a public benefit program.

What are the core elements of the PCMB? How does it actually work?

The guiding principle is that neighborhood residents decide what to do, how to do it and who will do the work. They administer the government funding. That's what makes the program unique.

Another essential component is that it's a competition — community groups compete for available funds. In 2015, for example, there were 677 entries and roughly 200 projects funded.


Inauguration of new planters and recreation equipment installed through a PCMB project. Image source: Mexico City Government

Does the amount of funding vary each year?

The city government's Social Development Secretariat (SDS), which is responsible for the program, allocates funds that vary slightly from year to year and average around 100 million pesos. We carried out a study and found that, for a program of this kind in a city like ours, the base budget should be about 300 million pesos.

How many times can a neighborhood group secure funding?

Up to five. Applicants can receive a maximum of 500,000 pesos in the first year and a million pesos after that.

How do you evaluate applications, distribute funds and prevent irregularities?

There's a program committee made up of five civil servants and five civil society members who decide which applications to fund. The most economically disadvantaged neighborhoods take precedence.

The program committee releases funds to a neighborhood representative, and that person has to be on a project committee. Local assemblies elect the members of these committees. If there are no project committees in a given neighborhood, residents have to establish them in order to receive funding. Each project has an administrative committee that monitors project spending and other implementation requirements to prevent irregularities.

What specific issues do funded projects address?

There are three main focal points: public space, infrastructure and neighborhood image. Projects can, for example, establish open squares, community gardens and needed infrastructure. They can also attend to neglected parts of the urban fabric through maintenance and beautification.


El Centro de Artes y Oficios "Escuelita Emiliano Zapata" — a community center in El Pedregal de Santo Domingo — received crucial repairs to its building. A later project resulted in 20 solar panels that allow the center to generate its own electricity. Image source: Yolanda Gómez

Can you share your thoughts on the program's results so far?

About 1,000 projects have been funded, covering each of the neighborhoods most in need and improving government services after decades of neglect. We're especially proud of reaching communities like Tepito, which are known for severe blight and violence.

The Legislative Assembly of Mexico City recently approved a law through which the program budget is set each year and protected against rising inflation. This law also protects against threats to the PCMB's existence under new administrations. You see, there are politicians who don't like the program because grassroots administration makes it hard to control from above.

What's in store for the PCMB in coming years?

A few things. One is a problem with the current model: we have to figure out what happens when neighborhoods reach their funding limit. This is a discussion we're currently having.

We're also discussing ways to fund larger projects — libraries, cultural centers, schools — with broader impact on neighborhood identity. This has real potential for reversing cycles of marginality. Opportunities are often closed to people from high-poverty areas, but social stigma declines with visible signs of progress. So neighborhood improvement signifies many things. We'd like to fund 30 medium-to-large projects a year through the PCMB or create a parallel program for this purpose.

Another thing I'd like to see is a process for building relationships between neighborhoods with similar issues in different cities. There are nation-to-nation links and city-to-city links but I don't know if there are neighborhood-to-neighborhood links.

Do you have any advice for people who are interested in starting a similar program?

It's important to design the program with local communities instead of trying to impose a prefabricated model. The process has to be participatory, emerging through strong relationships with neighborhood residents.

The original vision may be different from the way it develops in practice, and adaptability is key. When we began, we didn't imagine that we'd be attending to basic sanitation infrastructure, because that's the work of the central government. We were very theoretical in our conception of public space, viewing it as a kind of panacea for all the city's problems. When I visited Colonia La Cruz, part of the Gustavo A. Madero borough, I was surprised to see how residents adapted the program to their infrastructural needs.


The hilly Colonia La Cruz area in northern Mexico City lacked proper drainage and safe pathways. The PCMB empowered residents to install a new drainage system, build staircases and give homes a new coat of paint. Image source: Wangũi Kamonji

It's really important to begin where you know people are interested — where there are community leaders and responsible participants. If you start out in a place where residents are apathetic, or where there are extreme social conflicts, the chances of failing increase exponentially. Start with a promising location, ensure the effectiveness of the program, and then you can move to more challenging situations. If not, funders will lose confidence in the project. Social programs come under a lot of fire, so it's critical to build a reputation for successful work.

Wangũi Kamonji is a recent graduate of Wellesley College who researches urban socio-environmental issues in countries worldwide, including Brazil, Colombia, Mexico, Kenya, South Africa, Tanzania and Vietnam. She blogs about her experience at Sustainability from the Roots.

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Sabtu, 22 Maret 2014

An Instant Capital Expands in Myanmar

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03.03

by Jordi Sánchez-Cuenca

In 2007, Siddharth Varadarajan described the city of Naypyidaw (Abode of Kings) as "the ultimate insurance against regime change, a masterpiece of urban planning designed to defeat any putative 'colour revolution' — not by tanks and water cannons, but by geometry and cartography." Less than two years prior, this brand-new outpost became the capital of Myanmar through a process shrouded in mystery.

Based on astrological counsel, as the story goes, a convoy of 1,100 military vehicles carrying 11 battalions and 11 ministries left Yangon for Naypyidaw on November 11, 2005, at 11 a.m. General Than Shwe, leader of the junta in power at the time, justified this move as a solution to expanding government facilities without exacerbating congestion in Yangon. Information Minister Kyaw Hsan added that the government sought to place the capital in a strategically central location. Military planners rapidly developed Naypyidaw with little if any input from civil society.

Following the release of pro-democracy activist Aung San Suu Kyi from twenty years of house arrest, in 2010, a series of political reforms took effect in Myanmar. A civilian government succeeded the military regime in 2011, and Suu Kyi's party — the National League for Democracy — won 43 of 45 seats in the Lower House of Parliament a year later. It is unclear whether the former leaders, who have retained substantial influence, built the new capital in preparation for these changes.

Unlike the famous modernist plans for Brasilia and Chandigarh, Naypyidaw lacks a clearly articulated form. Its structures are idiosyncratically arranged in low-density clusters linked by giant roadways. Architectural monotony is evident from above in the shapes and colors of residential development.










Housing in Naypyidaw.

The capital's public buildings include a central parliamentary complex, an international airport and a massive pagoda. Their designs tend to feature grandiose symmetry around a central axis. Most are located far from residential areas, in keeping with the general scarcity of mixed-use development in Naypyidaw.


Uppatasanti Pagoda (Peace Pagoda), at left, is Naypyidaw's largest monument.


Rare mixed-use development around the Gems Museum.

The town of Pyinmana, about two miles from Naypyidaw, exemplifies the organic density of most settlements in Myanmar. By contrast, the new capital is a luxurious sprawling garrison. Its costly architecture and amenities underscore longstanding deprivation that still plagues the country in spite of government reforms.


The town of Pyinmana, located a few miles from Naypyidaw.


Naypyidaw Railway Station (above left) and other new development (below center) in comparison with nearby settlements.



Naypyidaw does not reflect an explicit social model or policy aimed at improving the lives of Myanmar residents as a whole. Still, it is growing haphazardly with the arrival of migrants in search of employment. Such opportunities are extremely limited in other areas due to inadequate public and private investment. As a result, informal settlements will likely expand around Naypyidaw as persistently as they have around Brasilia and Chandigarh.

Myanmar's capital is oriented, above all, toward the interests of a small group of military leaders. Government reforms may eventually improve conditions for the broader populace, but a vital question remains: will current leaders allow people outside their ranks to play a meaningful role in urban planning?

Credits: Satellite images captured from Google Earth.

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Jumat, 28 Juni 2013

Contested Space, Contested Identity

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15.55

by Max Holleran


Source: Max Holleran

In cities around the world, public space is an essential platform for voicing calls for change. Whether Madrid's Puerta del Sol, Athens's Syntagma Square, or Tahrir Square in Cairo, this space is the hippocampus of the nation: the first to experience unsettling tremors in the body politic.

One of the most fascinating things about the occupation of Istanbul's Gezi Park was that many of the issues were tied to the use of urban space to promote a contentious version of national identity. It was an expression of widespread frustration with an autocratic urban transformation that has raised questions over which heritage represents the nation in the 21st century.


Protesters react to tear gas on June 15. Source: Enca

Protesters were brutally suppressed after attempting to use Taksim Square as an agora to address urban and national concerns. Over the past decade of Recep Tayyip Erdoğan's rule, the Turkish economy soared as Istanbul experienced increasing class segregation and an "Americanization" of the built environment in the form of gated communities and horrendous traffic jams.

Real estate development has been accompanied by wholesale demolition of historic neighborhoods and removal of Roma communities in Istanbul. The plan to place a rebuilt Ottoman military barracks and shopping mall in Gezi Park was a major spark for the protests. Another was construction of a third bridge across the Bosphorus, named after an Ottoman sultan known for massacring people of the Alevi religious minority. The barracks and mall are fitting symbols of the AKP's urban transformation, in which Ottoman cultural heritage is used to build regional support for aggressive market-oriented development.


Source: France 24


Reconstructed Ottoman military barracks and mall planned for Gezi Park. Source: KH

The protests focused national attention on the AKP's increasingly oppressive desecularization of society. The party's deputy chairman recently denounced the reforms of Mustafa Kemal Atatürk, who brought an end to the Ottoman Caliphate and established the modern republic. While such jibes have been isolated and oblique, there have also been more-direct attacks on Atatürk's secular policies.


Turkish flag with a portrait of Mustafa Kemal Atatürk. Source: Kathimerini

Portraits of Turkey's great modernizer still adorn public buildings and private shops in Istanbul, and many of the Taksim protesters feel a connection between their efforts and those of the national patriarch. Flags with his photo have been used as symbols of what's at stake if Erdoğan is given a free hand at widespread reforms.

Members of the AKP suggest that, while acknowledging Ataturk's achievements, they believe his policies were pushed through too quickly and the country must now reclaim its soul. Many in Istanbul feel the same way about Erdoğan's urban transformation.

Max Holleran is a doctoral candidate in the department of sociology at NYU.

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