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<\/a><\/p>\n\u00a0<\/strong>Introduction<\/strong><\/p>\n People who object to proposed real estate projects are often called NIMBYs (Not in My Backyard), and they can be the bane of economic development planners, elected officials, land owners and construction contractors. But highly motivated development critics believe they act as civic-minded residents seeking to fend off greedy and possibly politically connected investors.<\/p>\n Land use law in many jurisdictions offers abundant guidance on the boundaries between community interest and private property rights. Yet the process for approving projects typically also provides for public comment. And the ability to speak out about proposed developments is as sacrosanct in American public discourse as the First Amendment itself.<\/p>\n In some instances, proposals with a clear right to proceed have been crippled by vocal protests, however thinly based; in others, citizens with legitimate concerns have been dismissed as ill-informed fuddy-duddies. One man\u2019s NIMBY may be another\u2019s Jane Jacobs.<\/p>\n Perhaps the first reference to the term \u201cNIMBY\u201d came in a Nov. 6, 1980, Christian Science Monitor<\/em> article (\u201cHazardous Waste\u201d) about a proposed landfill, although no one appears able to identify who actually coined the term. Considering how apt neighbors are to annoy each other, it seems strange that a shorthand way to describe the phenomenon arrived so recently.<\/p>\n One purpose of this analysis is to offer a more useful definition of NIMBYism than the vague one advanced by Merriam-Webster\u2014\u201copposition to the locating of something considered undesirable (such as a prison or incinerator) in one\u2019s neighborhood.\u201d The lexicographers here sought to remain neutral on whether NIMBYism is a positive or negative thing. But although the acronym may sound quaint and benign, it can signify much more than just a grouchy neighbor. NIMBYs can and do sometimes wreck worthwhile projects with years of planning and earnest commitments behind them based on little more than a whim or in the worst cases cultural animosity.<\/p>\n A better definition that distinguishes between legitimate and bogus opposition might read as follows: Opposition to a development that places an individual\u2019s perceived interests above those of the larger community.<\/p>\n Another goal here is to help economic development professionals understand when opponents point out the down side of a project the developers have not considered, and when their complaints simply reflect a personal prejudice. The article will discuss a spectrum of cases that fit between these two poles. In doing so it will illustrate that the distinctions are not always clear-cut.<\/p>\n In one case, community activist Jane Jacobs certainly must have seemed to urban development juggernaut Robert Moses as the peskiest of all NIMBYs, but in the fullness of time she had a better argument against the Lower Manhattan Expressway than he had for it. A similar set of circumstances played out in the Los Angeles area when local opponents over several decades compiled a sloshing punchbowl of reasons not to conjoin two major roadways, but at the end of the day the project died because of the evolving Southern California urban landscape. In another case, protests that prominent Massachusetts waterfront residents have lodged against a proposed offshore wind farm serve as a flimsy, but well-funded argument against an infrastructure project with potential environmental benefits. Finally, the proposal for development at a Bay Area Rapid Transit station highlights the need for economic development professionals to get out in front of such projects with solid public education before NIMBYs tarnish them with rumor and misinformation.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n The Lower Manhattan Expressway<\/strong><\/p>\n An Original Moses Schema for Cross-Manhattan<\/p><\/div>\n Among the most powerful figures in shaping New York City in the mid-20th century was Robert Moses. His vision of building infrastructure to advance the city\u2019s immediate physical requirements and future growth potential netted impressive results. They included the United Nations headquarters, Shea Stadium, the Lincoln Center and hundreds of thousands of public housing unit. But his primary mark on the development of New York City came in the form of key bridges, tunnels and expressways (Throgs Neck, Henry Hudson, Bronx Whitestone and the Verrazano-Narrows bridges, to name a few). Moses also was the guiding force behind the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway, Staten Island Expressway and Cross-Bronx Expressway. The project that may stand as his crowning achievement was the Triborough Bridge complex of spans that connected Manhattan with the Bronx and Queens.<\/p>\n Perhaps more important than the structures themselves was the Triborough Bridge Authority, which he headed and parlayed into a leviathan of political and financial power. Moses in large part controlled the tolls collected from the various traffic conduits and that gave him an outsized role in influencing what public infrastructure got built and where it was sited.<\/p>\n In light of history, Moses could be seen as responding with good intentions to the unprecedented impacts of vehicles on the urban landscape. Remember that the car itself had been invented less than half a century before Moses planned some of his most consequential infrastructure facilities. He regarded himself as dealing pragmatically with the need to move people and machines throughout a burgeoning city, to ease congestion, to serve the good of the whole.<\/p>\n Without debating the merits of Moses\u2019s urban planning strategies, history has rebuked his arrogance as both a planner and decision-maker. He fought it out–and often won–with other New York power brokers and therefore saw little need for comment from or accountability to block-level interests. He became infamous for his reluctance to inform the public about his proposed projects and worked constantly to get them done without hearings or community input.<\/p>\n That autocratic streak eventually ran headlong into an insightful and persistent opponent–author and urban intellectual Jane Jacobs. A neighborhood resident, she led a grassroots campaign against Moses\u2019s late 1950’s proposal for a Lower Manhattan Expressway, which would move traffic from the Holland Tunnel through Manhattan to the Williamsburg and Manhattan bridges. Not only would the 10-lane highway require the demolition of 416 buildings, it would barrel right through Soho and Little Italy. In addition, the network of roads intended to feed traffic into the expressway would cause significant disruptions in nearby neighborhoods, including Greenwich Village, where Jacobs lived.<\/p>\n Robert Moses, master-builder, and his proposed Battery Bridge<\/p><\/div>\n No doubt in Moses\u2019s eyes Jacobs must have come across as the ultimate NIMBY–an angry middle-aged housewife, albeit one with respected credentials as a writer with her own defensible view of her community. She, working as an activist with her neighbors, was able to enlist the support of media and important public figures and eventually defeated the expressway project.<\/p>\n History\u2019s verdict has upheld Jacobs and condemned Moses, as well as his heavy-handed approach to large-scale urban planning. It is widely understood that the expressway would have sliced up, paved over and ravaged much of Lower Manhattan. Many other neighborhoods that had no Jane Jacobs to fight off freeway builders have sustained long-term economic and social injury from similar projects.<\/p>\n What the episode established was the precedent–proof that citizens can stand up to powerful actors in urban development. Since then stronger requirements for adequate notice and opportunities for public involvement, particularly regarding larger development initiatives, have been enshrined throughout America.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n State Road 710<\/strong><\/p>\n California highway planners have been trying to tie together the two loose ends of State Road 710 and State Road 210 for more than 60 years. In recent months planners finally may have thrown up their hands due in no small part to the efforts of ever-changing sources of opposition, but also due to the evolving urban environment itself. Both of these major sections of Interstate terminate in residential areas, with 210 extending from the San Fernando area to Pasadena and 710 originating at Long Beach and ending abruptly north of I-10 just east of Los Angeles.<\/p>\n By Remi Jouan – Photo taken by Remi Jouan, CC BY-SA 3.0, https:\/\/commons.wikimedia.org\/w\/index.php?curid=7245156<\/p><\/div>\n The two roads are essentially lined up to meet each other and need just a five-mile connection to provide a link between two of Los Angeles\u2019s major east-west Interstate corridors. The absence of this final section of road has formed a bottleneck for truck traffic out of Long Beach and resulted in decades-long worries about air pollution and congestion.<\/p>\n The 710 project had its origins in California highway plans dating back to the 1930’s. Actual construction began in 1951. In 1964 the California Highway Commission identified a route to extend the road through South Pasadena, and the California Department of Transportation (Caltrans) began acquiring properties along that route. After opening a new 1.3-mile section of the freeway north of I-10, the project stalled when opponents from South Pasadena objected. The project remained on hold for many years and in 1973, several groups, including the city of South Pasadena, took the issue to federal court, arguing for additional environmental study. The court subsequently issued an injunction that halted work on the freeway for 25 years.<\/p>\n A more recent proposal would have built the 4.9-mile connection as a tunnel. In 1982, Gov. Jerry Brown signed legislation that would have countered attempts by South Pasadena to block the possible route. However, the legislation also called for additional environmental analysis, further delaying the project.<\/p>\n Gov. Pete Wilson pushed for the freeway in 1992 and federal highway officials approved an environmental analysis. But El Sereno activists filed a 1995 race discrimination suit, charging that the route through an ethnic Latino neighborhood did not include the same noise mitigation measures that had been promised to South Pasadena and Pasadena.<\/p>\n In April 1998 the Federal Highway Administration (FHA) reached a decision clearing the way for completion of the extension of 710. Later that year South Pasadena brought another federal lawsuit alleging inadequate environmental and historic preservation protections. U.S. District Judge Dean Pregerson in 1999 came down on the opponents\u2019 side, ruling that Caltrans and federal agencies had failed to consider other options and may have violated the Clean Air Act. The decision again blocked progress on the freeway.<\/p>\n In 2000 the Pasadena City Council dropped its support for the project and in 2003 even the FHA backed off its long-standing position and told Caltrans its 1992 environmental impact analysis was out of date. Meanwhile, 11 more historic sites were added along the projected freeway route.<\/p>\n Support for the highway also was undercut when the LA Metro\u2019s Gold Line, which runs through Pasadena, opened up. That relieved commuter pressure on the highway system in the region. Further, the Alameda Corridor freight line opened, and that also reduced truck traffic along 710.<\/p>\n Highway proponents in 2008 had instituted a half-cent sales tax measure that had raised $780 million to build the estimated $3.2 billion tunnel and had sought federal support as well. But after decades of wrangling, the Metropolitan Transportation Authority (MTA) in May 2017 voted unanimously to pull its support for the project, effectively killing it.<\/p>\n The long ordeal of the State Road 710 project is a case study in how NIMBYism sometimes can delay action on a development until the circumstances around it obviate the need it was designed to meet. In the context of the lattice-work of highways that move goods and people throughout the greater Los Angeles metropolitan area, the proposed link-up of 210 and 710 could be seen as a logical component of the larger road network.<\/p>\n Yet the eventual extension of subway and freight rail service to the area, which had not been envisioned when the freeway was originally proposed, changed the facts on the ground. It meant the surrounding communities preferred the inconveniences that still exist in the area to the disruptions and expense of completing the development.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Cape Wind<\/strong><\/p>\n At 4.5 miles out to sea, the proposed Cape Wind offshore windmill farm in the Nantucket Sound would hardly be close to anyone\u2019s backyard. Like solar arrays, large-scale wind power generators hold appeal as an ecologically sound alternative to fossil fuels. But both technologies involve intensive networking and delivery systems in addition to the sizable structures themselves. They are hard to hide, though many don\u2019t object to their presence and some find the windmills or solar arrays appealing as a manifestation of renewable energy.<\/p>\n<\/a><\/a><\/a>