THE PRESS, Christchurch
Monday, June 18, 2012 A15
Perspective
Christchurch’s future is still far from certain. In the first of a five-part series, DAVID KILLICK
argues that we need a master plan, not just for the city but for the whole region.
I
Grand designs: The plan to rebuild Christchurch must consider the entire region, not just the city centre.
Photo: KIRK HARGREAVES/FAIRFAX NZ
Think bigger, clearer for
future of all of Canterbury
T
wenty months
after the first big
earthquake, there
is still no overall
plan for greater
Christchurch including the
suburbs and outlying districts
– a grand design. Such a plan
would make a difference by
giving direction and
confidence.
Yes, we have had proposals
– although nothing definite –
for the Christchurch city
centre, but there has been
nothing at all about how the
Canterbury region as a whole
should develop.
That was the basis for the
submission that I made to
Christchurch City Council
last year, when everyone was
able to have a say.
Councillors listened
politely but Mayor Bob
Parker seemed puzzled; he
explained that we already
have lots of organisations
handling different tasks.
I believe that’s part of the
problem. We have too many
authorities but no proper coordination. There are a slew
of acronyms – CCC, CCDU,
Ceds, Cera, Cerf, DBH, ECan,
EQC, EQR, Scirt, and GCUDS
(Greater Christchurch Urban
Development Strategy). I bet
most people have never heard
of some of these. That last one
sounds good in theory, but
A bird flies free,
a streaker is
seized and Irish
inspire passion
does it produce results?
Big hopes were held for
Cera, the Canterbury
Earthquake Recovery
Authority, and Roger Sutton,
but the body’s role seems to
have been relegated to
overseeing demolition work.
The glossy leaflet that Cera
produced last year was pure
corporate waffle, with phrases
such as ‘‘setting
expectations’’, ‘‘establishing
processes’’ and ‘‘ensuring
tracking’’.
This month Cera has
finally produced a Recovery
Strategy for Greater
Christchurch. Could this be
what we need at last – a vision
for the future and a road map
on how to get there?
Unfortunately, this 56-page
glossy document isn’t it.
Nobody would dispute the
need to ‘‘work together’’ and
to ‘‘care about each other’’.
‘‘Well-designed, connected
communities and buildings
that are constructed to a high
standard have benefits for
health and wellbeing.’’ Of
course they do.
‘‘Facilitating’’, ‘‘enabling
and empowering’’, ‘‘coordinating’’ – what do these
phrases actually mean?
Concerned about
infrastructure? ‘‘A decision
support tool to decide how the
infrastructure rollout will be
prioritised will be developed
by SCIRT.’’ Oh yay! There will
be rejoicing in the streets.
The Cera document does
list a host of other plans –
more than 20 – into which this
strategy is supposed to fit. It
all looks like more waffle. I
wonder how much this
document cost to produce.
We need an action plan
that is clear, specific and
straightforward, with a
timeline.
Earthquake Recovery
Minister Gerry Brownlee is
supposedly in charge. Blunt
as a bulldozer, pragmatic, and
thick skinned as a rhinoceros,
he might seem to be the ideal
person to bang heads
together. But is he too
abrasive? Is he doing enough?
Does local government need
radical restructuring?
People have limited
confidence in the city council.
With councillor numbers
halved after previous
restructuring, is it too small?
Would a bigger council in
charge of a bigger area be the
answer?
Some will shudder at the
thought. There are dangers in
a super-city. Parts of
Auckland (Waitakere, which
has promoted sustainability,
and the North Shore, which
has a proudly preserved
colonial precinct in
What Christchurch so desperately needs is
a people-centred approach, design driven
not process driven, where planners and
architects with real expertise call the
shots.
Devonport) loathe the
Auckland super-city because
they feel their communities
have been ignored.
Senior citizens at a
meeting in Christchurch said
their expertise was being
ignored and they had no
confidence in ‘‘the present
lot’’. Indeed, my parents’
generation, who went
through World War II, shared
a very hands-on, no-nonsense,
roll-up-your-shirt-sleeves, geton-with-the-job attitude.
Organisations were often
run with people who had a
military background. Public
service was a vocation. No
matter how many chief
executives there are now, or
how much they are paid,
there is no guarantee they
will produce a good outcome.
Although we undoubtedly
have some hard-working
individuals who are dedicated
to the future of Christchurch
and Canterbury, and I have
no wish to denigrate their
work, it seems they are too
often stymied. We are
dominated by bureaucratic
box tickers. Organisations are
obsessed with systems,
processes and procedures.
Instead, what
Christchurch so desperately
needs is a people-centred
approach, design driven not
process driven, where
planners and architects with
real expertise call the shots.
(Whatever happened to
Danish architect Jan Gehl’s
city plan – $300,000 of
ratepayers’ money?)
Christchurch city centre is
only part of the mix. Despite
population movement,
Canterbury will continue to
grow. There is so much more
to consider such as where do
people live? How can they
afford new houses? Where
will they work?
Do we actually need one
city centre, or would a series
of hubs and low-rises work
better, as Sir Bob Jones
suggested? What will the city
look like? Where will the
main amenities be? How will
people get around?
The big picture comprises
a series of elements, all interrelated. The next articles will
look at each of these in detail:
❏ Housing: The housing crisis
was entirely predictable.
What are some solutions?
❏ Transportation: How
people get around is crucial in
determining the shape of the
city, suburbs and outlying
areas.
❏ Architecture: The
cathedral(s) matter, but so do
other buildings. The
Government needs to support
and encourage architects to
produce their best work.
❏ International comparisons:
What can we learn from Asia,
Europe, the United States and
Australia?
The present way of
working isn’t working. Big
problems were evident before
the earthquakes, and the
cracks have only widened.
It is my hope that some
ideas presented here will
stimulate further thought – or
even action.
■ David Killick edits the monthly
At Home supplement for The
Press. He has a strong interest in
design and has lived previously in
Britain and Germany. The second
part of his series will run next
Monday. Email:
[email protected]
had stupidly paused at the
threshold of the Garage
People’s front door, one
hand on the door handle and a
foot on the step when
suddenly the canary Zee Zee
Top flitted past my head
making a bid for freedom.
He landed on the roof for a
brief moment then was off
like a bride’s nightie into the
wild blue yonder on the
coldest of mornings, and we
knew he wouldn’t be back.
When Lorraine phoned
Simon to deliver the bad
news, he was nice enough to
be philosophical about it
saying ‘‘these things happen’’
and later ‘‘not the first or the
last bird to do a runner’’ as we
piled into the car to set off to
find a replacement.
I had envisaged spending
Saturday morning somewhat
differently, but a death threat
had been issued against
Benecio as I imagined us
living together claustrophobically in a safe house, if
there is such a thing in these
parts. No, there was nothing
for it but to speed out to
Bishopdale from whence the
bird had come from, only to
find the cupboard bare of
canaries.
We trudged in and out of
other pet shops admiring a
veritable Noah’s ark of
cockatiels and lovebirds but
alas, not the required species,
till we hit Ferry Rd finding a
bustling aviary of them as Zee
Zee 2, a bright free-range
orange was manhandled out
of his cage.
One the way home we
stopped at the dairy for the
paper and I asked a
traumatised Simon if he
wanted anything else, to
which he replied, ‘‘Yes, a
psychiatrist.’’ – a professional
I could have done with after
attending the big match later
that night where the ABs
stretched the nerves to the
limit, only just securing a
victory over the Danny Boys.
The steam was coming off
the players like cattle and my
biro was so cold I had to insert
it into the warmth of an
underarm to make the ink
flow. The pitch had survived
the downpour magnificently,
but as my offsider remarked
wistfully, it would have been
nice to see some mud and a
couple of full frontal water
slides on the skid of a sodden
pitch.
Everywhere you looked
the Irish were there decked
out in a celebration of bad
taste of Kermit green, high
visibility orange wigs and
funny hats and garish face
paint contrasting with the
rather sombre outfits of the
Kiwis. The contrast was
marked, we looked
restrained, uptight, as boring
as black and white television
Jane
Bowron
sets before the introduction of
colour TV. The un-shy
encouragement of noise the
foreigners emitted seemed to
intimidate the home crowd
generationally leached of
their rowdy Celtic impulse. So
this is what Christchurch
might look and feel like in the
near future – noisy and full of
gusto as the offsider
welcomed their introduction
saying: ‘‘They’re welcome to
it, as long as they pay their
basilica tax.’’
At halftime I held back
from the exodus to the loos
thinking the queues would
have long dissipated if I cut it
a bit fine and went late, but to
my annoyance the little girls’
room lines were long and
winding roads. By the time I
got back to my seat the second
half was in full swing and I
was informed that I had
missed a streaker whose
circuit had been cut rudely
short having been
frogmarched off the paddock
spoiling everybody’s fun.
After all she wasn’t
interrupting play.
‘‘What did she look like?’’ I
asked the chap next to me
who replied, ‘‘shaved’’.
On the other side of us a
woman who seemed to have
gleaned a bigger picture of the
woman waved her hands in a
curvy manner indicating an
hour-glass figure describing
her as voluptuous, while her
husband leaned over to
remark that she was ‘‘bloody
gorgeous’’.
Before the match a male
voice came over the
loudspeaker to coach the
passionless people in singing
‘‘awe’’ which we tried to do
but it came off a second best to
the lilting cry of ‘‘Ireland’’.
Surprised not to see the Irish
get a pasting, some of us were
ungracious enough to boo the
Irish side as they hurtled
dangerously close to the try
line, but there was plenty of
applause, too, at the visitors’
many triumphs from those in
the black and white camp.
As a curtain-raiser the
drumming musical group
Strike had been employed as
two stages set up in front of
the north and south stadiums,
set with an impressive variety
of drums and kits, pounded
Celtic beats replied to by a
Maori version. The blend was
intense, powerfully melding
together into a visceral thrill
of brilliance you felt deep in
the gut. If this is the future its
blood’s worth bottling.