A national park.. city? On Chattanooga's new title
Plus: PRE-SALES!
Programming note 1: Somehow, the newsletter this morning only went out to paid subscribers (despite the fact that—see below—I just turned off paid subscriptions). Trying again; apologies to those of you seeing this twice!
Programming note 2: Last week, quietly, I paused all billing for paid subscribers to this newsletter. (Thanks to all of you for the support, BTW!) Because this mailing list is now transitioning to its new form: This is now “The Southlander,” the bi-weekly free newsletter that accompanies our paid print issues. And the first of those print issues is now available for pre-order! I’m calling this a soft launch; I’ll make a more formal announcement soon. If you were a founding supporter, I’ll be in touch about how your contribution will be converted into our pre-sale program.
I’ve talked before in this newsletter about the concept of a “national park”—how it has some problematic overtones but also some impactful advantages.
What’s undeniable is that the idea of a national park is ambitious in scale: These are large tracts of land, set aside for the longest possible period of time—forever, ideally. Back in 2017, a new foundation emerged, asking a curious question: What if we applied that ambition to the nature inside cities, too?
Thus was born the idea of a “National Park City.” The foundation’s website offers a helpful explanatory sentence: “National Park Cities are not National Parks. But they are inspired by them.” The group aims to have 25 National Park Cities by the end of this year. It’s an elaborate process: gather signatures, complete an application that includes 23 criteria. Is the city sufficiently visionary in its ambitions? Is the plan inclusive? And so on. Last month, the world’s third National Park City, and the first in the U.S., was officially named—and it’s here in the South.
Chattanooga, Tennessee, was known in the 1970s as one of the country’s dirtiest cities—tainted not just by the smoke of its famous choo choo but by toxic runoff from industrial facilities. A decade later, though, activists worked to conserve important archeological sites; an aquarium opened along the Tennessee River in 1992. Decades later, after repeatedly winning attention as an outdoor recreation hotspot, Chattanooga’s city leaders decided to apply to be a National Park City, committing to, among other steps, “guarantee[ing] everyone, regardless of age, race, or background, the chance to explore nature's wonders.”
Nowhere in the world is at this point truly “wild,” untouched by human hands. (With a few exceptions, nowhere has been for millennia, really.) Part of what sets the South apart, I think, is our personal relationships with nature: It’s harder to pretend at wildness here; even our back mountain hollers are intimate, human spaces. As I’ve been compiling stories and imagery for the first issue of Southlands, I’ve been focused—probably too focused—on the rural corners that are so embedded in this region’s identity. But I’m glad to be reminded that our cities, too, are places where people are part of a bigger swirl of being.
—Boyce
The lowdown: Louisiana edition
Major moves within the marsh
Earlier this month, Louisiana Governor Landry ordered a 90-day pause on work on the Mid-Barataria Sediment Diversion. This is a major restoration project—the largest-ever in the country, some have said—meant to allow water and sediment to bypass the levee and restore disappearing marsh. And it’s sharply divided the coast, its fishing communities especially: Some charter captains are among its most outspoken advocates, pointing toward the lush marshes in places where the river already escapes its channels; the commercial fishing industry, meanwhile, has spearheaded the opposition, over worries about how the river water will impact their bottom line.
I fear this is the end of the road for this project, though advocates fight on; later today, I’ll be tuning into a press conference about a set of polling data that apparently indicates widespread state-wide support for the project.
Simultaneously to Landry’s decision, Plaquemines Parish, the site of the debated diversion, won an important lawsuit: Chevron has been ordered to pay $745 million to compensate for their contributions to local land loss—mostly due to abandoned old oil canals, which alter the hydrology and destroy the ecology. The oil company is appealing, of course, but the ruling has implications for the 40 other, similar lawsuits that wait in the wings. And the money, if it arrives, might counter one of Landry’s stated objections to the diversion: Its rising costs. Not that this money will be spend on a diversion; politicians in Plaquemines have long been opposed to the idea.
Elsewhere, meanwhile…
Forest fights: Another lawsuit over management plans in Pisgah-Nantahala. // Oil and gas development of Conecuh National Forest, in Alabama, has many worried. // The Trump administration has released maps of what national forest land is targeted for logging—and the South is very much included.
Questions of access: A grand beach re-opening in New Orleans has been pushed back several years. //Florida legislators advance a bill to protect state parks.
Dirty delta: DDT’s deadly afterlife for the last bits of wildness in the Arkansas Delta.
Very curious about the ghost orchid story in the print mag! In the last 2000s my husband and I found a previously undiscovered slough in Big Cypress with 600+ ghost orchids and spent time documenting them. I haven't seen one blooming since we left Florida but hope to remedy that next summer.