After 160 years of colonial settlement, Christchurch has recently experienced a sequence of devastating earthquakes and seen the need for a widespread de- and re-construction of the central city, as well as, many of the surrounding neighbourhoods and peri-urban satellite settlements. This paper will offer a view of the opportunities and restrictions to the post-earthquake re-development of Christchurch as informed by ‘growth machine’ theory. A case study investigating an illegal dump in central Christchurch will be used to assess the applicability of growth machine theory to the current disaster response.
High rise developments dominate skylines and are contentious in many low rise urban environments. Christchurch is no exception and its residents have historically been vocal in articulating their opinions on matters they care about, especially in regard to projects they perceive will ruin their ‘garden city’. At the turn of the millennium, developers were preparing yet another proposal which would get the tongues wagging in Christchurch with the development of the former Ferrymead Tavern site on Ferry Road. The planning process was a long and antagonistic one with many individuals viewing the built towers with a look of ‘disgust’ and discontent. In an ironic twist, the seismic activity in Christchurch over the last few years which has had major implications for a range of planning issues, incrementally led to the death of highly controversial Ferrymead ‘Water’s Edge’ Apartments.
As far as suburbs with bad reputations go, Aranui in Christchurch often seems to dominate local public perceptions. High crime, high unemployment, low incomes, run-down state houses and uncared-for neighbourhoods have been the key words and phrases used over many decades. This reputation achieved national standing over the same period and in 2001 Aranui gained the dubious distinction of becoming the pilot project for the Labour Government’s state housing Community Renewal Programme initiated in 2001. It is common to read “Don’t buy or rent here” comments on websites and blogs advising prospective immigrants on where to live. One of the dispiriting moments in Aranui’s history came in September 2009 with the discovery of two bodies under the floorboards of a Hampshire Street property and the subsequent charge of double-homicide and conviction of local resident Jason Somerville for the murder of his wife Rebecca Chamberlain and neighbour Tisha Lowry.
Earthquakes rupture not only the objective realm of the physical landscape, but also the subjective landscape of emotions. Using the concepts of topophilia and topophobia developed by Yi-Fu Tuan as theories of love and fear of place, this paper investigates the impact of Christchurch’s earthquakes of 2010 and 2011 on relationships with the city’s landscape. Published accounts of the earthquakes in newspapers from around New Zealand are examined for evidence of how people responded to the situation, in particular their shifting relationship with familiar landscapes. The reports illustrate how residents and visitors reacted to the actual and perceived changes to their surroundings, grappling with how a familiar place had become alien and often startling. The extreme nature of the event and the death toll of 185 heightened perceptions of the landscape, and even the most taken-for-granted elements of the landscape became amplified in significance. Enhanced understanding of the landscape of emotions is a vital component of wellbeing. Through recognising that the impact of disasters and perceived threats to familiar places has a profound emotional effect, the significance of sense of place to wellbeing can be appreciated.
The city of Christchurch, New Zealand, was until very recently a “Junior England”—a small city that still bore the strong imprint of nineteenth-century British colonization, alongside a growing interest in the underlying biophysical setting and the indigenous pre-European landscape. All of this has changed as the city has been subjected to a devastating series of earthquakes, beginning in September 2010, and still continuing, with over 12,000 aftershocks recorded. One of these aftershocks, on February 22, 2011, was very close to the city center and very shallow with disastrous consequences, including a death toll of 185. Many buildings collapsed, and many more need to be demolished for safety purposes, meaning that over 80 percent of the central city will have gone. Tied up with this is the city’s precious heritage—its buildings and parks, rivers, and trees. The threats to heritage throw debates over economics and emotion into sharp relief. A number of nostalgic positions emerge from the dust and rubble, and in one form is a reverse-amnesia—an insistence of the past in the present. Individuals can respond to nostalgia in very different ways, at one extreme become mired in it and unable to move on, and at the other, dismissive of nostalgia as a luxury in the face of more pressing crises. The range of positions on nostalgia represent the complexity of heritage debates, attachment, and identity—and the ways in which disasters amplify the ongoing discourse on approaches to conservation and the value of historic landscapes.
