Healing the Harbour Foreshore the Making of Sydney’S New Headland Park
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U H P H 2 0 1 6 I c o n s : T h e M a k i n g , M e a n i n g a n d U n d o i n g o f U r b a n I c o n s a n d I c o n i c C i t i e s | 114 Healing the harbour foreshore The making of Sydney’s new headland park Julia Dowling [email protected] Barangaroo Reserve, part of the redevelopment of the former container wharves at East Darling Harbour, Sydney, NSW, is a major project in an iconic location. Originally proposed to be a hard-edged landscape which retained evidence of the site’s industrial past, dramatic changes in the NSW government’s approach have resulted in the attempted reconstruction of the natural headland that existed there at British settlement. Justification by the government for the shift in design philosophy adopted a tone of moral redemption and obligation, proclaiming that the reconstruction of a natural headland would 'heal' the foreshore and 'remove a scar' from the city, and leant heavily on the perceived virtues of restoring a natural landscape over conserving the site’s maritime industrial cultural landscape. The creation of Barangaroo Reserve reveals a peculiar icon-making process, one that throws into sharp relief the dichotomy at the heart of Sydney’s identification with its famous harbour landscape: the working industrial harbour on which the city grew and thrived, and the so-called natural landscape it replaced. It also invokes the question of what natural means in Sydney’s post-colonial landscape. By tracing the making of Barangaroo Reserve, the paper reveals that its stated meanings may not be as morally straightforward as claimed, and this raises questions for a project touted as a major new icon for Sydney. It suggests that the replacement of one type of landscape with another, in the name of a moral obligation, is replete with complexities that demand consideration of the broader meaning of the landscape and its representation over time. Keywords: landscape; restoration; urban design; cultural landscape Introduction The creation of Barangaroo Reserve is the story of a clash between competing narratives of Sydney and its iconic harbour. On the one hand, the physical fabric and form of the former container wharves of East Darling Harbour on the western side of Sydney’s CBD were described as a testament to thousands of working lives in the maritime trade which sustained the city until relatively recently. U H P H 2 0 1 6 I c o n s : T h e M a k i n g , M e a n i n g a n d U n d o i n g o f U r b a n I c o n s a n d I c o n i c C i t i e s | 115 On the other, the wharves were condemned as evidence of the destruction and vandalism industry wrought upon the original harbour landscape. This paper explores the formation of the park using the theoretical frameworks of landscape and environmental or landscape restoration. In language and intentions, the Barangaroo Reserve project, designed by Peter Walker & Partners landscape architects with Johnson Pilton Walker, ostensibly sits within the international practice of landscape restoration, in which natural landscapes are restored or reconstructed based on assumed past conditions (Elliot 1997; Higgs 2003; Foster 2005). In cultural heritage terminology, landscape restoration is really ‘reconstruction’, the practice of ‘returning a place to a known earlier state…distinguished from restoration by the introduction of new material into the fabric’ (Australia ICOMOS, Article 1.8). The discourse around such projects focuses on the moral implications of our relationship with nature, emphasising the duty to repair the natural landscapes that industrialisation and urbanisation have damaged or destroyed. In essence landscape restoration projects involve a judgement of value, of what is more important, and are therefore an expression of that value (Foster 2005). While the narrative for Barangaroo Reserve adopted the language of restoration to rationalise the removal of the site’s maritime industrial landscape, on examination the project’s justification is not as morally straightforward as claimed. This has implications for a project charged with being a new icon for Sydney, and for landscape restoration projects more broadly. It suggests that the replacement of one type of landscape with another, in the name of a moral obligation, is replete with complexities that demand consideration of the broader meaning of the landscape and its representation over time. Methods The paper explores the concepts of landscape and the moral value of nature and natural landscapes in a post-colonial urban setting using the case study of Barangaroo Reserve. The concepts are examined using the methods of discourse analysis and iconographical study. Discourse analysis provides the means of understanding how the natural headland design for the park came about, how it was justified, and what it may, in the end, mean as a landscape. Iconographical methods are used to examine how these meanings have been imprinted into the landscape as built. Archival research was used to investigate and test the claims made about Barangaroo Reserve. The Value of Nature and Landscape Landscape has been theorised as the product of the co-constitutive relationship of a physical thing in the world and our understanding of it (Mitchell 2000). This understanding or meaning is subjective, the product of our ever-changing ways of seeing and understanding the world and our place in it. It is mediated by culture and by its context in time and space (Massey 1995). For WJT Mitchell (1994, 2), the subjectivity of landscape makes it ‘an instrument of cultural power’, where its depiction and physical form can be manipulated to hide or normalise particular narratives and represent an artificial world as if it were ‘simply given and inevitable’. But to believe that a place or thing holds a single meaning at any one time can be an overly simplistic view of people’s relationship to landscape. While one narrative may dominate, or be made to dominate, this cannot control the U H P H 2 0 1 6 I c o n s : T h e M a k i n g , M e a n i n g a n d U n d o i n g o f U r b a n I c o n s a n d I c o n i c C i t i e s | 116 diversity of individual memories, attachments and experiences that may be associated with a landscape. Attempts to establish a ‘fixed and discrete set of meanings’ can be ‘inevitably altered, rendered mobile and open to alternative and even contradictory readings’ (Atkinson and Cosgrove 1998, 30). Natural landscapes are loaded with cultural meanings and values that have sought to separate them theoretically from cultural landscapes. Natural landscapes are seen as inherently better—‘healthier, more durable, more beautiful and morally superior’—than cultural landscapes (Lowenthal 2013, 5). David Lowenthal (2013, 6) likened this belief to an article of faith, rooted in Judeo-Christian theological concepts of Eden as ‘the fruitful garden of an originally perfect pristine world’. Nature itself has been theorised as having an intrinsic value, with environmental philosopher Eric Katz suggesting that the value of nature (“the ecosystemic processes of the natural world” (1995, 274)), arises from its autonomy and independence from human intention. This value is inherent and cannot be created, and once humans intervene it is lost. Therefore any human intervention into nature is a moral act, in that it instantly transforms nature into a product of human intentions and prevents it from following its ‘unplanned courses of development, growth and change’ (Katz 1993, 230). Katz’s construction of value is not without its problems. It is difficult to reconcile it with a more nuanced understanding of the pre-colonial relationship between humans and nature, for example (Denevan 2011; Langton 1996). However, it remains a foundational explanation of the intrinsic value of nature. Katz’s construction of nature’s value has the logical conclusion that natural areas have to be protected from human interference to be preserved in some kind of ‘pure’ state. Yet others believe that the value of nature can be regained and natural landscapes restored, and that the destruction wrought by development means that we have a moral obligation to restore natural areas that have been lost (Kane 1994; Higgs 2003). Landscape restoration projects are generally presented as honourable endeavours, morally beyond reproach (Elliot 1997; Foster 2005; Trigger et al 2008; Smith 2013). Jennifer Foster (2005, 336) notes that restoration projects often have ‘an undercurrent of redemptive motivation’. By restoring, we will atone for wrongs done to the environment in the past. Restoration can also be viewed as the response to an ‘inescapable obligation’ (Kane 1994, 79) to repair degraded natural landscapes. Restoration places a higher value on what the landscape was like in the past and assumes that it had some intrinsic value of more worth than other landscape forms (Elliot 1997). The dilemma of what exactly constitutes this higher value remains unresolved. If the intrinsic value of nature lies in its autonomy, as Katz proposes, then restoration cannot recover this value once lost. Restorers argue that ecological accuracy, closeness to historical form and the participation of humans in landscape restoration can recover nature’s value, and that therefore restoration is a morally justifiable approach (Higgs 2003; Light 2002). However, landscape practices have long struggled with historical felicity and the desire to make nature useful.