If Sprawl's the Disease, What's the Cure?

	The Vermont Times, December 17, 1997 Greg Guma, Editor of Toward Freedom. To contact him, send e-mail to MavMedia@aol.com.
Reprinted on the Planners Web with permission of Vermont Times.
	In 1969, Vermont took a vanguard role in the emerging environmental movement. Act 250 was a landmark attempt to preserve the state's most valuable asset — its extraordinary physical environment — while promoting "orderly growth and development." But its limitations were already obvious just seven years later, when the plan surfaced to build a large shopping mall in Williston.

Both bustling South Burlington, which had led the suburban wave, and tranquil Richmond, which remained a rural oasis, anticipated major traffic congestion. Winooski was worried about the potential impacts on water quality, transportation, and its own urban renewal dreams. Despite plans for a marketplace district, Burlington warned that the project could "devastate" downtown business. And the newly-formed Citizens for Responsible Growth argued that the project — then known as Pyramid Mall — wouldn't only affect soil, air, and water quality, but also prove to be energy inefficient and aesthetically unpalatable. While threatening such potential impacts, the mall plan helped crystallize a fundamental debate over large-scale development, and whether the region's increasingly fragile rural character could be preserved in the long run.

Well, last week, things obviously took a dramatic turn for the worse with the approval of a land-use permit for a 550,000-square-foot shopping center near Taft Corners. Combined with WalMart, Home Depot, Circuit City, PetSmart, Toys 'R' Us, and a Hannaford Superstore, the proposed Maple Tree Place may well seal the county's suburban fate. Can other projects put forward in response to the suburban "threat" be far behind?

As sprawl critic James Howard Kunstler explained during a tour this summer(sponsored by the Burlington Free Press), having failed to acknowledge the difference between city and country, nature and culture, scenery and civic life, we seem almost resigned to a "cartoon" future in which Chittenden County looks too much like Los Angeles. Get ready for the San Fernando Valley on Lake Champlain!

"Sometimes I think that the mentality in Vermont is that a good traditional Vermont town is a strip mall with a candle shop in it," he quipped. While that's a bit harsh, the malling of Williston certainly points up the absence of a clear vision, as well as a serious flaw in the effort to avoid becoming Anywhere, U.S.A.

Still, if truth be told, Williston was slated for suburbanization long before its mall appeared on the horizon. In the same year Act 250 became law, a report on public investment designated Taft Corners as a prime commercial site due to interstate access. The only thing lacking, said the experts, was adequate sewage, a problem easily solved by public funding. And the only real surprise has been that it took so long. Throughout the struggle, Act 250 was a cumbersome and expensive tool. Lacking a clear countywide consensus, the environmental review process only delayed the outcome until the opposition ran out of steam.

Would stronger regional planning, or — dare I say it? — regional government make a difference? Certainly, this borders on heresy in a state whose self-image, despite considerable centralization of power, revolves around town meetings and the importance of local control. Yet, it may be the only way to address the issues confronting this rapidly changing county. I know: If it ain't broke, don't fix it. But what if it is broke?

The effects of Williston's haphazard commercial expansion are already spinning out for miles beyond the town lines. While no one community will feel the entire brunt, many will be deeply affected. But trying to use the state's land-use law as a regulatory mechanism has proven to be inadequate, especially since crucial public investments have promoted precisely such an outcome. In short, Act 250 just isn't designed to deal with the issues that Williston raises.

Going regional, on the other hand, may be the best hope for defining coherent public policies that prevent more of the same. With a countywide "governing" body, empowered to make decisions and funded to provide key services, Act 250's sensible criteria could then be used as they should be: To judge specific projects in the context of both local and regional needs. Moving cautiously toward regional government might also help to answer some nagging questions. For example, how much growth is enough — and in what direction? How centralized should services be? What kind of private investment should be encouraged — or discouraged? And, what limits and responsibilities does the public wish to place on big developers like Ben Frank and Jeffrey Davis?

At the very least, strengthening regional services and planning — along with the public's role in the process — is worth a look. A proposal by the GOP contingent on Burlington's City Council to create a Regional Assets Commission moves in that direction. Its job would be to promote coordinated public services while retaining local control. Among the suggestions for its initial focus are expanded recycling and sewage treatment, affordable housing in the suburbs, cost sharing for public amenities such as bike paths, joint administration of some school programs, and collective marketing of businesses.

But the conflicting interests and unclear authority lines that characterize what passes for regional planning aren't helping. Communities are suspicious of each other's special agendas, and thus, the Regional Planning Commission at best plays a mediating role. Compounding the problem, some of its functions are currently being shifted to the state-dependent Metropolitan Planning Organization, which considers only transportation issues. Even with more clout and a broader mission, however, the RPC still has a key weakness — public accountability.

Alright, then. Nothing increases accountability like an election. So, imagine the democratic possibilities if little-known appointed commissioners were replaced by elected representatives who had the authority to coordinate services and set collective standards. Suggested originally in the late 1970s, elections would move planning and development into the political spotlight where it belongs, increasing sensitivity to public preferences.

Guided by a county Master Plan that considered matters beyond land use and transportation, "regional government" could begin to deal with broad economic impacts, jobs, housing, consolidation of services, and quality of life issues. If sufficiently democratic, such an evolving regionalism could help bridge the gap between urban Vermont and its remaining countryside.

There are obviously risks. Unless it emphasizes real participation and accountability to individual communities, regionalism could increase alienation and just end up making suburbanization more palatable. It's also possible that campaigns for county commissioner could become money-driven and superficial.

But consider what we have now: scattered and inconsistent development, duplicated services, competing local interests, and a developer-driven "review" process that favors whoever has the money and energy to last the longest. In other words, fertile ground for suburbia by default.

It won't be easy to overcome obsolete thinking. Despite Williston's commercial explosion, for example, that community has yet to support the Chittenden County Transportation Authority. All those big boxes need a workforce, not to mention a huge number of shoppers. But they currently have only one way to get there — cars. Meanwhile, officials from Colchester, Essex Junction, and Williston are pressing the state to use almost half of a projected $200 million federal transportation windfall to complete the Circumferential Highway. If anything is going to encourage more driving and sprawl, it's the Circ.

Would a sane and responsive regional government choose to spend $80 million for a 12-mile highway whose main purpose is to relieve traffic in Essex Junction? Would it blindly accept assumptions generated 30 years ago? Okay, maybe. But surely it would first consider the full potential of commuter rail, and direct sufficient resources into an expanded public transit system. It also would be forced to give serious consideration to the "sensible transportation" approach described in Burlington's recent report on sustainability — that is, a multi-modal system linking trains, bus lines, park-and-ride, bike paths, and improved pedestrian access.

The same report, "Creating a Sustainable City," also provides a strong case against suburbanization. Beyond the environmental impacts, it argues, places like Taft Corners "tend to homogenize the market experience, erasing local customs, traditions, and products." Yet, even in this cutting-edge city, sprawl so far has been defined primarily as a threat to downtown retail sales, prompting increased pressure to keep up. Thus, the answer to Maple Tree Place and the big boxes is to "save" downtown by adding another parking garage and attracting a big box of its own. Unfortunately, those who live and work in old Burlington are left out of the equation, already robbed of discount, hardware, and stationery stores. It's the urban equivalent of destroying a village in order to save it.

Apparently, the current thinking is that Burlington can be an island of sustainability surrounded by homogenized suburbia. But when communities are pitted against one another without an overarching vision, low-intensity business warfare is normally where you end up. I much prefer the approach suggested to me 20 years ago by Al Ulmer, then a Williston Planning Commissioner. "You don't have to stop economic development to save the environment," he said, "but you do need development that respects the environment." And "environment" includes the human beings who live within it.

Going regional may not be the only option. And it surely won't be sufficient unless a serious attempt is made to limit growth. However, if acting regionally incorporates the essence of sustainability — that is, meeting today's needs without jeopardizing the future — there's still a chance for Chittenden County to avoid becoming yet another suburban "cartoon." Extreme? I suppose so. But so is almost a million square feet of stores on what was open space less than a decade ago. If that doesn't prove something's broke, what does?