THIRTY YEARS AGO, in their book ''3000 Years of Urban Growth," the historians Tertius Chandler and Gerald Fox calculated that of all the cities that had been flooded, burned, sacked, leveled by earthquake, buried in lava, or in some way or another destroyed worldwide between 1100 and 1800, only a few dozen had been permanently abandoned. Cities, in other words, tend to get rebuilt no matter what.

We've been assured that New Orleans will, too. Residents and civic leaders--like their counterparts all along the ravaged Louisiana and Mississippi coast--have pledged to return and rebuild, and the federal government has promised to help. ''The great city of New Orleans will be back on its feet," President Bush said Wednesday. ''And America will be a stronger place for it."

But, after what promises to be a Herculean clean-up operation, what will the new New Orleans look like? How much will it resemble its antediluvian self?

The short answer is that, right now, no one knows. With the focus on rescuing stranded residents and restoring basic order, with very little sense of what will be found when the waters recede, and with the city likely to be uninhabitable for months to come, government officials understandably have said little about the more distant future. Still, according to Paul Farmer, the executive director of the American Planning Association (APA), once people do return to ravaged cities ''there's often a rush to rebuild way too quickly," before there's been much discussion about what exactly is being built.

And the debate, when it comes, is likely to be bitter. ''There are zillions of stakeholders from residents and landholders to city and state officials to business interests," says Jerold Kayden, co-chair of the Department of Urban Planning and Design at Harvard's Graduate School of Design. What sort of master plan emerges from this tangle of interests is anybody's guess, but it's possible, even now, to get a sense of the options. That some of them are so radical only serves as a further reminder--if in any were needed--of the difficulty of building a safer New Orleans.

Though no one is eager to talk about the situation in New Orleans as anything but an epic tragedy, planners and architects agree that, historically, devastation has often created an opening to address deep and long-standing structural problems. After the Great Chicago Fire of 1871, for example, the city was transformed from a wooden to a (far less flammable) brick one. ''There was a major cultural change in building design," says James Schwab, an APA researcher specializing in disaster recovery, ''a determination that, if we don't want this to happen again, we'll have to make a major change in the way we're doing things."

For New Orleans, perhaps the most provocative suggestion is that the city, at least in part, be moved to a less precarious location. House Speaker Dennis Hastert provoked a furor when he suggested, in comments to a suburban Chicago newspaper, that it didn't make sense to spend billions to rebuild New Orleans below sea level, but planners say it's actually something worth thinking about. As David Godschalk, an emeritus professor of city and regional planning at the University of North Carolina, puts it, ''The $64,000 question on this one is whether to rebuild it where it is or not. The fact is that something never should have been built there in the first place, that's pretty clear now."

Kayden believes that whether to move the city should depend in part on how much of the existing city survives the flood: ''I hope there's a lot of urban fabric still there, but if there's not--if it's a tabula rasa, if enormous swathes are effectively rendered useless--then what is one rebuilding? Why rebuild it if it's below sea level?"

The details of such a plan would be devilishly complex, and would raise questions from the practical (where to put it?) to the almost philosophical (would it still be the same city?). Lawrence Vale, head of MIT's Department of Urban Studies and Planning and co-editor of the recent book ''The Resilient City: How Modern Cities Recover from Disaster" (Oxford), sees economic and political considerations effectively mooting any such proposal. ''My sense is that the number of people who raise that question is directly proportional to their distance from New Orleans," he said. ''The combination of the level of financial investment that people already have in the city with the level of emotional attachment that they have to the place makes it very hard to think about moving the city."

Perhaps even more ambitious is the possibility of simply moving the river. As Godschalk puts it, ''We might be thinking about redirecting the Mississippi River, that was one of the precipitating elements in this whole disaster." While that sounds fantastical, the fact is that the Mississippi today only continues to flow by New Orleans because of an assiduously maintained set of upstream dams and levees. The river has changed course several times over its lifetime, and it's only because of a massive engineering effort that the river didn't change its course 50 years ago as it silted up its own riverbed.

Of course, even if such a task were to be deemed feasible, the attendant social and financial disruption would be unimaginably large and complicated. Whole settlements and industries have grown up along the river. Godschalk readily concedes the enormity of the necessary negotiations: ''What are we going to do about all the property that's there, all the ownership by individuals and businesses and homeowners and so forth? How are those people going to be compensated?"

Another idea focusing on the river comes from a Harvard Graduate School of Design project run by Joan Busquets, a professor there who served as planning director for Barcelona in the years when the city remade itself for the 1988 Olympics. This spring, Busquets's team of architecture students looked at how to revitalize New Orleans, which even before Katrina was an economically depressed city. Their solution was to focus redevelopment on the docklands along the Mississippi. Using the example of Rotterdam, another low-lying port city (and in a country that has itself largely been reclaimed from the sea), they suggested that New Orleans move much of its already-derelict shipping activities to the outskirts of town and transform the area--which includes some of the city's highest ground--into a commercial and residential district.

In the wake of Katrina, Busquets argues, the new development could absorb many of the residents from the city's lowest and most vulnerable areas, which could be abandoned to function as a sort of flood buffer, restoring some of the original logic of the city's settlement. ''For decades or for centuries," explains Busquets, ''the city always selected the higher places for residences. The lower places were dumps for when there was a lot of rain."

There are also less transformative fixes that might help somewhat. ''One thing that's frequently used in coastal floodplains is just building elevation," says Schwab. ''Just clear out a lower floor so the water can just pass through without actually affecting living areas." In other words, houses could be raised up on stilts. Different materials would help, too. ''Wood and plaster don't hold up very well," Schwab says, ''Concrete and stucco tend to hold up a lot better."

Such changes would change the unique architectural character of the city, its famously historical look and feel. But as Vale puts it, ''a sustainable city has to react not only to its own history but to its environment."

The way New Orleans was built, after all, not only failed to protect it, but may even have helped feed Hurricane Katrina. Since the early 20th century, planners point out, the draining and infilling of wetlands for development, and the prevention of some of the Mississippi's regular smaller-scale flooding through upstream levees, stripped New Orleans of natural defenses against hurricanes. Wetlands help absorb storm surges, floods dissipate the Mississippi's strength and leave behind silt that would help counteract the steady sinking of the city.

Indeed, whatever happens, Vale and others hope that the rebuilding will avail itself of such natural safety valves. ''We have ignored the ecosystem of the Mississippi Delta at our peril for more than 100 years, and the situation is much worse because of that," says Vale. The city, he believes, needs ''to work with the natural systems of the area"--among other things, expanding a proposed Louisiana state project to fill in coastal wetlands with water and silt diverted from the river--''as part of the problem-solving rather than simply building higher and bigger dikes."

Drake Bennett is the staff writer for Ideas.

http://www.boston.com/news/globe/ideas/articles/2005/09/04/the_city_that_will_be/

 

 

 

 

 

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