Planning Melbourne : Lessons for a Sustainable City [1 ed.] 9780643104730, 9780643104723

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Planning Melbourne reflects on planning since the post-war era, but focuses in particular on the past two decades and the ways that key government policies and influential individuals and groups have shaped the city during this time. The book examines past debates and policies, the choices planners have faced and the mistakes and sound decisions that have been made. Current issues are also addressed, including housing affordability, transport choices, protection of green areas and heritage, and urban consolidation. If Melbourne’s identity is to be shaped as a prospering, socially integrated and environmentally sustainable city, a new approach to governance and spatial planning is needed and this book provides a call to action.

Michael Buxton is Professor of Environment and Planning at RMIT University and former head of the RMIT Planning Program. He spent 12 years in senior management in planning and environmental agencies in the Victorian Government and has written widely on urban form, peri-urban development and environmental policy. Robin Goodman is Professor and Deputy Dean of Sustainability and Urban Planning at RMIT University. She was the inaugural Director of the Centre for Urban Research at RMIT and has been an active researcher and academic for 20 years, writing extensively on planning policy, housing and urban form. Susie Moloney is a Senior Research Fellow and Lecturer in the School of Global Urban and Social Studies at RMIT University. She has worked as a planning academic, strategic planning consultant and in the Victorian Government. She has published on planning policy and a wide range of environmental issues.

Michael Buxton, Robin Goodman and Susie Moloney

aBout the authoRS

Planning Melbourne

Melbourne has had the fastest-growing population of any Australian capital city for more than a decade. It is expanding outward while also growing upward through vast new high-rise developments in the inner suburbs. With an estimated 1.6 million additional homes needed by 2050, planners and policy-makers need to address current and emerging issues of amenity, function, environmental protection, climate change and social inclusion today.

Planning Melbourne Lessons for a Sustainable City

Michael Buxton, Robin Goodman and Susie Moloney

Planning Melbourne Lessons for a Sustainable City

Michael Buxton, Robin Goodman and Susie Moloney

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Planning Melbourne Lessons for a Sustainable City

Michael Buxton, Robin Goodman and Susie Moloney

© Michael Buxton, Robin Goodman and Susie Moloney 2016 All rights reserved. Except under the conditions described in the Australian Copyright Act 1968 and subsequent amendments, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, duplicating or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owner. Contact CSIRO Publishing for all permission requests. National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication entry Buxton, Michael, author. Planning Melbourne : lessons for a sustainable city / Michael Buxton, Robin Goodman and Susie Moloney. 9780643104723 (paperback) 9780643104730 (epdf) 9780643104747 (epub) Includes bibliographical references and index. Sustainable urban development — Victoria — Melbourne Metropolitan Area. City planning – Victoria – Melbourne Metropolitan Area. Urban policy – Victoria – Melbourne Metropolitan Area. Goodman, Robin, author. Moloney, Susie, author. 307.764099451 Published by CSIRO Publishing Locked Bag 10 Clayton South VIC 3169 Australia Telephone: +61 3 9545 8400 Email: [email protected] Website: www.publish.csiro.au Front cover: Jan Senbergs Melbourne capriccio 3 2009 synthetic polymer paint on canvas 195.2 x 184.0 cm National Gallery of Victoria, Melbourne Purchased with funds donated by The Hugh D. T. Williamson Foundation, 2009 (2009.437) © Jan Senbergs/Licensed by VISCOPY, Australia Set in 10.5/12 Minion Pro Edited by Adrienne de Kretser, Righting Writing Cover design by Andrew Weatherill Typeset by James Kelly Printed in China by 1010 Printing International Ltd CSIRO Publishing publishes and distributes scientific, technical and health science books, magazines and journals from Australia to a worldwide audience and conducts these activities autonomously from the research activities of the Commonwealth Scientific and Industrial Research Organisation (CSIRO). The views expressed in this publication are those of the author(s) and do not necessarily represent those of, and should not be attributed to, the publisher or CSIRO. The copyright owner shall not be liable for technical or other errors or omissions contained herein. The reader/user accepts all risks and responsibility for losses, damages, costs and other consequences resulting directly or indirectly from using this information. Original print edition: The paper this book is printed on is in accordance with the rules of the Forest Stewardship Council®. The FSC ® promotes environmentally responsible, socially beneficial and economically viable management of the world’s forests.

Contents

Preface vii 1 City growth, sustainability and planning

1

Introduction 1 Why study Melbourne? 3 Population growth pressures 4 Is Melbourne the world’s most liveable city? 6 What type of city do we want? 8 The importance of planning for Melbourne’s future 8 Overview of the chapters 11

2 State-led planning in 20th-century Melbourne The early development of Melbourne The beginnings of 20th-century planning: the 1929 plan Post-war planning: the suburbanisation of Melbourne Hamer to Cain: years of continuity in metropolitan planning

3 The emergence of a neoliberal era in planning 1987: shaping Melbourne’s future – Cain government Neoliberalisation in Victoria: ‘there is no alternative’ Market-led planning and the planner as development facilitator Planning in crisis The legacy: from state-led planning to market-led development

4 Aspirational planning in the 2000s

13 13 15 18 21

27 28 29 32 35 36

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Managing growth: Melbourne 2030 38 Plan Melbourne 2014 41

5 Housing provision and affordability in Melbourne An increasingly divided city The situation for renters Measuring housing affordability stress What is causing the problem? Are planning charges to blame? Are planning policies to blame? The role of immigration and foreign investment What do people want? Housing affordability and purchase costs What can planning policy do to deliver affordable housing? The integration challenge

47 48 52 53 54 56 57 58 60 62 63 64 v

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6 Containing the city: urban consolidation in Melbourne Suburbanisation in Melbourne Suburbanisation and intensification High-rise development Medium-density development History of medium-density development Increased density on the urban fringe Where to now?

7 Protecting Melbourne’s green belt and peri-urban area Peri-urban areas The moveable urban growth boundary Rural land fragmentation Recent policy directions Protecting the hinterland

65 65 67 71 73 79 81 82

85 85 88 91 94 94

8 Transport choices for Melbourne

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Melbourne’s transport problems Quality of life and social inclusion Environmental and health impacts Economic consequences Transport usage in Melbourne Transport investment choices Shifting priorities

97 98 99 100 100 102 107

9 Shopping and community centres in Melbourne

109

The changing character of shopping centres in Melbourne The evolution of retail planning policy The District Centre Policy Recent retail planning policies The impacts of policies Protecting and enhancing centres

109 112 113 115 119 121

10 Valuing and protecting heritage, amenity and design quality Protecting Melbourne’s heritage What makes good design and high-quality places? Ensuring good design as the city transforms Market-driven development: from Docklands to Fishermans Bend Setting high standards for protection of heritage, design quality and amenity

11 The Melbourne land-use planning system Evolution of the Victorian planning system Change to the Victorian system New zones and the metropolitan strategy Piecemeal statutory changes

12 The need for action

123 126 133 137 138 144

145 145 146 147 150

153

References 157 Index 175

Preface

Many fine books have been written about Melbourne. The city’s history has been comprehensively explored from early settlement through times of excess and collapse. The city’s institutions have been described and analysed, particularly the history and operation of the Melbourne City Council, state governments and bodies such as the Melbourne and Metropolitan Board of Works. There is a vast body of material that analyses various sectors such as the economy, and personal reflections on the city have also appeared. Strangely, few books have investigated the operation of Melbourne’s system of spatial planning, the institutions which have managed this system and its application across a range of economic, social and environmental sectors. Spatial planning refers to the policies and regulations governing the use and development of land. A few books have investigated this system in the past, notably Brian McLoughlin’s Shaping Melbourne’s Future (published in 1992) which analysed the 1987 metropolitan strategy and its policy context, and Miles Lewis’s 1999 book Suburban Backlash, which placed disputes over urban consolidation in a historical and institutional context. Others have examined spatial policies and institutions related to particular locations, such as Kim Dovey’s 2005 Fluid City, which focused on the story of Melbourne’s Docklands development. This book intends to fill a gap in the study of Melbourne’s planning system. It draws from historical sources and analyses strategic policies from the first Melbourne plan to help critique a range of contemporary issues facing Melbourne. Its subject is the spatial planning system, with a particular focus on strategic land-use planning and the supporting regulatory system. A wide range of complex environmental, economic and social challenges underpin this study of Melbourne and these warrant further examination. This book seeks to do more than simply describe or document the current state of planning. Through an examination of specific planning issues, it exposes the urgent need for stronger and more coherent planning and for much-needed investment in urban infrastructure. It calls for a radical change of priorities and for a strengthening of political resolve. Above all, it seeks to restore purpose and conviction to planning for Melbourne, in order to preserve and enhance what is valuable and unique about this city, and to enable the city to adapt to the challenges facing us in the 21st century. Michael Buxton, Robin Goodman, Susie Moloney

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Chapter 1

City growth, sustainability and planning Introduction This is a critical period in Melbourne’s history. Melbourne is experiencing rapid growth. It had the fastest-growing population of any Australian capital city for more than a decade, with more than a million new residents added to Melbourne since the start of the millennium. The growth predictions indicate that a city of 4.35  million people in 2014 will become one of 8 million people by 2050 (ABS 2014a). This growth is fuelling a rapid rate of development in low-density suburbs on the city fringe and in high-rise apartment towers in the city centre. This model of development, coupled with resource depletion, climate change and a growing socio-economic divide between inner and outer Melbourne, presents significant challenges to government planners and urban policy-makers. Melbourne is a very different city from the one of 1.5 million that existed in 1954 when the first Melbourne strategic plan was released. Yet, over many decades and despite escalating social and environmental pressures, the willingness and capacity of governments to deal with these challenges has diminished – to the detriment of current and future generations. Melbourne’s increase in population to 2050 will mean the need to provide at least another 1.6 million homes. How this demand will be met, and the pressures that satisfying it will place on the amenity, functioning, productive capacity and social cohesion of the city, are key issues confronting the city today. Melbourne is expanding extensively outward while also growing upward through vast new high-rise developments in the inner and, to some extent, middle-ring suburbs. At the same time, medium-density development continues in earnest in the middle and established outer suburbs. Melbourne’s metropolitan area has quadrupled in size over the last 40 years to cover almost 10 000 km2 – one of the lowest densities in the world – as though governments believed that suburbs could expand indefinitely. In the decade to 2012, some 60% of the more than 600  000 new residents settled in the new outer urban growth corridors. Over 82 000 building permits were issued between 2003 and 2011 in just three growth areas, Wyndham, Melton and Hume. At the same time, urban intensification has reached levels that few people foresaw in the mid 1990s. Many people predicted that Melburnians would never embrace a culture of apartment living. However, by 2014, the population growth in the central city municipality of Melbourne was the highest of all of Melbourne’s municipalities, exceeding growth in any outer urban council area. There has been dramatic growth in the number of residents in the City of Melbourne, and the CBD, Docklands and Southbank in particular. Much of this new growth is in high- and medium-rise apartments. More than 62  800 dwellings were approved in the municipality of Melbourne between 2004 and 2013, and they were mainly apartments. Over 100 high-rise developments have been approved recently in and on the fringe of the central city, about the same as for the City of London.

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This places Melbourne at the forefront of international high-rise development. Inner urban development is placing great strain on many services. Finding childcare and school places are particular problems facing the rapidly increasing inner population. Yet, in the 1990s, the state government sold many school sites and other government land holdings, and developed select localities such as Docklands without schools and other community facilities. Such short-term decision-making and apparent lack of planning has undermined the capacity of inner urban areas to adequately provide many services to new or existing residents. The public transport infrastructure that served the city well for more than a century no longer suffices; it needs expansion, but the priority given to freeway expansion may well delay or prevent this. A radical paradigm shift is needed towards better public transport provision across the entire city and away from the ever-increasing, insatiable needs of road traffic. The type of urban growth we are seeing in Melbourne is creating serious and increasing structural problems. A growing consensus from big city advocates, new urbanists and ecological city proponents is that outer urban low-density sprawl creates significant social and ecological problems. The current phase of high-rise construction may well prove equally problematic in the 21st century. A Melbourne City Council draft housing strategy (MCC 2014) shows that apartments in Melbourne’s high-rise towers are shrinking in size. Recent apartment blocks are up to 10 times as dense as those permitted by law in some of the world’s most urbanised centres, and 55% of the city’s tallest apartment buildings contain features such as windowless bedrooms. These structures will leave a lasting legacy of poor-quality housing due to the current lack of enforceable density and height controls. They will serve their occupants poorly in a century dominated by rising temperatures, high energy prices and a shift away from traditional fuels. Better internal design alone is not the only solution. High-rise towers are the most inefficient users of energy and can create vertical gated communities of people living isolated from the public realm and each other, contributing to social and physical divisions. The twin pillars of poorly serviced outer urban sprawl and inner-city high-rise dominate Melbourne’s development, in the absence of a clear long-term vision for the future sustainability of the city. There have been other critical periods in planning for Melbourne, most notably the aftermath of the land boom era of the early 1880s, the abandonment of the 1929 plan because of the Great Depression and World War II, and the mixed fortunes of the post-war 1954 and 1971 plans. Governments were able to counter failures in city planning through incremental improvements. The urban population and area had not exceeded the capacity of the city to function effectively. However, from the early 1990s, the city entered a new era when economic growth became the central goal of urban development. This was the time when governments needed to anticipate the implications of a future radically different from the past. Population growth from the mid 1990s began to exceed the capacity of the city’s infrastructure and services to function effectively. Melbourne is moving quickly into a new condition characterised by rapid dysfunction replacing orderly linear change, because of unpredicted complex interactions between social, economic and environmental elements in the urban system. These elements are interconnected: urban sprawl into poorly serviced areas lacking jobs increases dissatisfaction and crime; failure to invest in massive new public transport services causes road gridlock, increasing the costs and frustration from congestion; replacing the city’s heritage buildings with high-rise construction destroys one of Melbourne’s greatest assets, increases citizen alienation and locates large numbers of people in areas without adequate services. Most of these problems arise from growth. The problems arising in a city of 8 million people are not double those of a city of 4 million – they are

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radically different in scale and type. By the mid 1990s, the impacts of climate change and diminishing fossil fuels were also requiring a reconsideration about city growth and the way cities were planned. Instead, the Victorian government embraced the neoliberal doctrine of reducing the role of government and public spending, and showed little interest in steering society towards the achievement of goals in the public good. This led to a transfer of many government responsibilities to the private sector and the operation of markets, and a rejection of the need for long-term strategic planning. Governments have subsequently failed to plan for future needs at a time when this is most needed. Melbourne cannot grow in any form without placing more pressure on vital ecological systems. If Melbourne is to prosper and be sustainable, this growth has to be planned under a revitalised planning and governance system. The most critical objective must be to protect Melbourne’s amenity. Amenity is not just a culture of tolerance, respect and diversity. It includes the physical services that allow the city to function effectively, such as highquality and accessible public transport, health and education systems. Amenity is also defined by the quality and appearance of the city, its parks, biodiversity and historic buildings. Melbourne was once one of the grand Victorian, Edwardian and Art Deco cities but this history, which provides so much of our identity, helping define who we are, is being demolished at an astonishing rate. High amenity has wide-ranging economic benefits and, when connected to effective urban functioning, production and equity, is a vital component of liveability. Without it, Melbourne is unexceptional. This is the challenge facing the citizens and governments of Melbourne: how are the city’s strengths to be enhanced and its functioning improved for the betterment of its population? This book examines the adequacy of government responses to this challenge and the capacity of government to anticipate and plan for change. We need to move beyond short-term electoral cycles and embrace long-term planning which ensures that decisions made today lead us towards rather than away from a sustainable future. Public concern is growing about the failure of politicians to develop effective policies to prepare for radical change. This book is intended to contribute to the debate that must occur if Melbourne is to prosper and grow to the benefit of all citizens, not just a powerful few.

Why study Melbourne? This is a book about Melbourne’s development and planning, which tells a story about broad trends in Australian and international urbanisation and the changing role of governments in shaping cities. Despite the nostalgic rural mythology which has figured prominently in the Australian national story, cities have shaped and dominated the nation’s progress. They have absorbed most of the national investment in infrastructure for more than a century and provide the focus for creative, inventive and entrepreneurial thinking and action. They are the sites for most of the nation’s industry and employment. Large swathes of Australia’s rural areas exist to service the major cities, providing the food, water, energy, tourism and other services needed to sustain city-dwellers. Australia’s cities are under-researched and they can provide rich and rewarding ground for urban studies. Melbourne does not fit into European, US or Asian prototypes. If the outer suburbs are exemplars of the world’s most extensive urban sprawl, there is no sign of the inner urban abandonment that has come to characterise many US cities. Flight from Melbourne’s inner and middle suburbs was a phenomenon of the immediate post-war era but the influx of new migrants, along with strong effective planning and gentrification, reversed the population decline. The central business district maintains its pre-eminent status. The inner

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suburbs are as densely populated as those in many European cities and these populations continue to grow. The amenity of inner- and middle-ring suburbs is high, with large areas of 19th-century and pre-war housing, functional main streets and community facilities, public transport and parks and easy access to professional employment and jobs in advanced business services. ***** Planning Melbourne: Lessons for a Sustainable City reflects on planning since the post-war era, but focuses in particular on the past two decades and the ways that key government policies and influential individuals and groups have shaped the city during this time. The book does not aim to present a comprehensive history of planning in Melbourne. Rather, it examines past debates and policies; the choices planners have faced; the mistakes and sound decisions that have been made; recent trends and current issues; and how Melbourne can survive and prosper in a century of radical change. If planning is to shape a more sustainable city, that is, one that will survive and function effectively while minimising resource use and waste, it must anticipate problems common to modern cities and those that are particular to Melbourne’s distinctive history and institutional development. Managing urban growth sustainably and effectively is a central concern for urban planning but the capacity for urban planning to drive change has been undermined, leading to growing inequality, loss of identity, service dysfunction and loss of natural resources. With each new state government, years are invested reinventing and developing policies with stated goals of managing growth and improving the city’s sustainability, yet these goals remain largely aspirational within a system that continues to prioritise market-led development over long-term investment and planning. This book is a call for stronger and more visionary leadership and action, for government to tackle the breadth of issues confronting our city. Telling the story of urban planning and change in Melbourne can also help us understand the role of both state and market in shaping and influencing public agendas, and how the pursuit of economic goals has diminished the importance of other urban policy objectives. Telling that story is the goal of this book.

Population growth pressures At the end of 2013, Victoria reached a population of 5 791 000 people (ABS 2014a). Melbourne is home to nearly three-quarters of the state’s population, while 1.5 million people live in regional Victoria. Between 2006 and 2011 Melbourne’s population grew on average 1.9% each year, or 82.5% of the state’s total. The remaining population growth was mostly in Victoria’s 10 regional towns (some 10%), with 7.6% in other regional areas. In 2011, 23.4% of Melbourne’s households consisted of one person, 32% of two people and 44.7% of three or more. At this level, the statistics suggest that couple-only households are increasing at a faster rate than either family households with children or lone-person households – 2.3% per annum compared with 1.8% and 1.6% respectively (DPCD 2012b). In the 14 years from 2000, Melbourne’s population rose by over a million people, almost one-third. ‘No city in Australia has ever added so many people so quickly’ (Colebatch 2014). Almost 2000 people a week come to Melbourne to live. Victorian employment since 2010 has increased at a much lower rate than its population, with only 90 000 more jobs compared to a population increase of 320 000 adults. Only 12 000 of these jobs are fulltime. Manufacturing has been most affected. Infrastructure improvements and

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government spending are not keeping pace with this population increase, in part because the government refuses to borrow the substantial sums needed to allow Melbourne to function effectively in the future. Inner Melbourne experienced significant growth after 2000, of 2.5% per year from 2006 to 2011. Inner Melbourne’s age profile is distinctive: some 44% of its people are adults aged 18–34, compared to the metropolitan area with 25.7%, and Victoria with 23.8% (ABS 2011). The central business district (CBD), Docklands and Southbank provide 14% of Melbourne’s jobs, with significant levels of growth in property and business services, professional services and the financial sectors. In 2001, the City of Melbourne contributed 22% of Melbourne’s total economic output; this increased to 29% in 2012 (DTPLI 2014a). While Melbourne is growing upward in inner-city areas, it continues its relentless outward spread. Between the 2006 and 2011 national censuses of population and housing, half of Melbourne’s growth (of 183 726 people) occurred in the outer suburbs or formally designated ‘growth areas’ including the cities of Casey, Whittlesea and Wyndham, Cardinia, Hume and Melton. The average annual population increase of the growth area municipalities was 4.6%, over twice the metropolitan-wide rate of 1.9%. In 2006, the growth area councils housed one in five of metropolitan Melbourne’s population; by 2011, 23%. Children made up a significant proportion of the population in growth areas at 27%, compared to 22% in the rest of Melbourne and 11% in the inner city. Sound growth projections for the state and city over the coming decades are essential in order to plan effectively for Melbourne’s growth. Victoria’s population is expected to reach 7.7  million by 2031 and 10  million by 2051, while Melbourne is expected to double its population to 8 million people by 2050 and to overtake Sydney as Australia’s largest city by 2053 (ABS 2014b; DTPLI 2014b). Overseas migration is expected to be the largest single cause of population change in Victoria, although natural increase (the excess of births over deaths) will also be significant. Melbourne can be expected to take most of Victoria’s overseas migrants and to experience high levels of natural increase, accommodating around three-quarters of the state’s population by 2051. Regional Victoria will gain residents from Melbourne, and this internal migration will be the main contributor to change in regional Victoria’s population. Victoria’s age profile will be different in 2051. The median age of the population is expected to increase from 37 years in 2011 to 41 years. The proportion of the population aged 65 years and older is projected to increase from 14% to 21%. The number of Victorians aged 85 years and older is expected to almost quadruple to over 400 000 by 2051, the greatest change for any age group. The rate of change in the number of households in Victoria is expected to exceed that of the population at large as the average household size gradually decreases over the period; as the population ages, there is expected to be a lower proportion of families with children and a higher proportion of one-person and two-person households. These trends and projections suggest several pressing questions that need to be addressed. What are the implications for the provision of future housing, transport, employment and services for 8 million people spread across a vast area? Can a city of this size continue to function effectively and, if so, what needs to be done now to ensure that Melbourne remains liveable? What role should governments play to ensure that effective planning is in place for a high quality of life for future generations and, in particular, what is the role of land-use planning in this process? But before we consider the importance of planning for Melbourne’s future, we first reflect on what makes Melbourne ‘the world’s most liveable city’ and for whom.

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Is Melbourne the world’s most liveable city? In 2014, The Economist Intelligence Unit once again ranked Melbourne ahead of 139 other cities as the ‘world’s most liveable city’. ‘Liveability’, a slippery term, has become the gold star for cities. The Economist uses 30 criteria to assess a city’s performance across the five areas of stability, infrastructure, education, health care, culture and the environment, to provide a score that measures social functioning, environmental quality and economic competitiveness. The measured variables include crime rates, climate, private schooling, parks, health care, housing and transport services. The resultant global liveability league table is elitist, defining liveability from the perspective of a group of footloose or globally mobile business executives and knowledge industry workers. Richard Florida (2004) labels this group the ‘creative class’ and considers them crucial to a city’s success. The corporate world and city governments compete for this elite group as the agents of the scientific, legal, real estate, financial, cultural, higher education and high technology industries that fuel advanced capitalism (Sassen 1991). They bring expertise, experience and innovation to a range of creative, cultural and knowledge-based enterprises. They also bring prestige and large discretionary incomes to the cities in which they choose to live. As one commentator on The Economist’s criteria for liveability put it, ‘the rankings reflect an upper-middle-class view of the world that greatly values comforts and security but has no dimension of social responsibility, diversity, equity or sustainability’ (Nelson 2011). Although Melbourne again achieved ‘world’s most liveable city’ status, not everyone shares the benefits that this implies. Following a 2012 review of Victoria’s planning system by the Council of Australian Governments’ Reform Council on Cities Committee, the Chairman, Brian Howe, noted that beyond the inner and middle-ring suburbs Melbourne’s liveability lessens significantly and that access to opportunities is diminished (ABC Radio National 2012). Liveability as defined in city marketing discourse is limited to a particular geography within the inner and middle-ring suburbs of Melbourne and is truly applicable only to those with access to all that the city can offer. In the race to become the world’s most liveable city, the day-to-day experiences and needs of those on lower incomes, often living in Melbourne’s car-dependent and under-serviced outer suburbs, are noticed less. As one resident from the outer-northern suburban area of Epping quoted in The Age observed, ‘Melbourne is liveable for people who can afford it or those who are lucky enough to grow up in an area that has all that transport … For people on the fringes who have taken out 95% mortgages, plus paying for petrol, it’s killing them’ (Dowling and Perkins 2012). Other surveys using different criteria obtain different results. Mercer’s Quality of Living survey, for example, ranked Melbourne 17th in 2012. Since 2005, The Age has commissioned three ‘liveable Melbourne’ studies to provide a more spatially differentiated assessment in its ranking of liveability in Melbourne. It commissioned Tract Consultants and Deloitte Access Economics to rank all Melbourne’s 321 suburbs (see ‘Liveable Melbourne Study’, The Age Online 2011, 2015). Fifteen criteria were developed, encompassing topographic, infrastructure and cultural measures. The measures referenced proximity to the CBD and Port Phillip Bay, proximity to a train station and other transport, access to schools, traffic congestion, tree density and policing offences. ‘Hilliness’, too, was considered conducive to liveability. The study’s authors defined ‘liveability’ as ‘the general quality of a place which makes it pleasant or agreeable for people to reside in’ (The Age, 2011). In 2011, South Yarra in Melbourne’s inner south-east was ranked number one, while Hallam in Melbourne’s outer south-east was rated last (see Fig. 1.1). The most recent study in 2015 showed that South Yarra maintained its status in the top three most liveable suburbs in Melbourne. Skye was ranked lowest, due to its lack of services and infrastructure (Lucas

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2015). The gradation from most to least liveable Melbourne suburbs aligns closely to a locale’s proximity to the central city, and access to public transport and other services. Disadvantage is spatially located, that is, the services, access and opportunity in some locations are vastly superior to those in other areas. The physical and planning factors that worsen social disadvantage include inadequate infrastructure, services and social and cultural facilities, car-based suburbs, and a separation between uses that leads to reliance on cars for daily needs and for long commutes to educational facilities and jobs. These conditions affect residents who live in many outer urban areas, particularly ‘highly vulnerable’ young people facing ‘inadequate access to employment and education due to transport gaps’, as well as an expanding ageing population and culturally and linguistically diverse communities (Robson and Wiseman 2009: 9). The expansion of the city, combined with low-density urban development and minimal investment in public transport and services, has been a recipe for serious disadvantage and vulnerability in outer Melbourne. A clear divide is emerging between an increasingly unaffordable inner region and an ever-expanding, car-dependent outer region. With this divide come distinct liveability issues in different parts of the city, as reflected in Fig. 1.1. Only governments actively engaged in improving urban planning for Melbourne at large can bring about the coordinated infrastructural development that forms the basis of a fairer, more sustainable and liveable city for all Melburnians.

Fig. 1.1.  The Age Index of Liveability map. Source: The Age Online, 24 November 2011.

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What type of city do we want? Official reports and their selective indicators of liveability, sustainability and productivity are useful in helping define the kinds of local places and wider city environments we may want. However, they remain indicators of success framed by people interested in benchmarking and comparing cities, and often are produced for marketing purposes. Building upon research for the Australian government by Auspoll, ‘My City: The People’s Verdict’, an industry-supported survey was undertaken in 2011, focusing on aspects of cities that Australian communities most value (Property Council of Australia 2011). Over 4000 people were approached across each of Australia’s seven capital cities. This survey considered the importance that residents place on particular attributes of a city and ranked a list of attributes that may make a city liveable. The survey elicited respondents’ rankings of their home city against 16 attributes. Melbourne fared well, coming third after Adelaide and Canberra (with Sydney coming last). Melburnians placed a high value on safety, health, employment and affordability, and rated Melbourne high on the cultural entertainment criteria, its appearance, design and affordability. The results indicate how people actively prioritise the important qualities in their city. A report by the Grattan Institute (Kelly et al. 2012) further extended our understanding, particularly in its review of the defining elements that make a productive and sustainable city. The Social Cities report proposed that social needs are not being adequately addressed by urban planning. Over the prior two decades, friendships and neighbourhood connections have diminished, a trend that is worsening as more people live on their own (Kelly et al. 2012). This report emphasised that the way in which we build and organise cities can help increase connectedness, notably through an efficient urban transport system and more walkable communities, with improved mobility and reduced time spent on commuting. While city design and planning will not resolve all social problems, such findings leave no doubt that ‘we need to give greater weight to social connection in the way we build and organise our cities’ (Kelly et al. 2012: 49). This involves paying more attention to accessibility and to the creation and maintenance of public spaces and community centres. Urban planning will have an increasing role to play in creating the kind of sustainable and liveable environment that Melburnians want for their city.

The importance of planning for Melbourne’s future The period examined in this book traverses the radical transformation of the role of the state, and the altered roles of cities, their functioning and place in the global economy in a post-industrial era. The idea that cities are the engines of global capitalism was reinforced during the 1980s and 1990s and this, too, changed the policy context of urban planning. Cities were acknowledged as ‘key sites for certain types of production, servicing, marketing and innovation’ (Sassen 1991: 87). Shifting from manufacturing to a service-based economy, the increasing flux in the movement of capital within and between states, and advances in telecommunications, are thought to be key factors in shaping the local–global geography. This helps to explain why those governing cities have become increasingly ‘entrepreneurial’ and concerned with attracting and retaining investment, including global transnational companies and their employees (Hubbard and Hall 1998). Governments increasingly believe that the increased internationalisation of economic activity is forcing them to devote much of their time and energy to attracting capital investment, reflecting a sense of insecurity that has perhaps heightened since the global financial crisis

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(GFC) in 2008. The GFC made clear the insecurities in capital movement and globalisation objectives, and anxieties about the role of governments in facilitating ‘development’ were heightened. Twenty-first century planners and city policy are confronted by changing urban economies and their impacts on natural systems, and the retreat from effective government intervention when this is needed most. Cities are engines of both consumption and production, with the capacity to worsen or improve key social, environmental and economic problems. At this point in Melbourne’s history it is crucial that citizens and governments alike re-examine how their city is being governed and how government decision-making affects urban amenity, functioning, production and social equity. A discourse around creating a ‘sustainable city’ permeates strategic planning documents in the new millennium but there is a profound disjuncture between planning goals and the realities that can promote or hinder their achievement. It is timely to present and closely evaluate the case for reinstating integrated land-use planning as a key function of the state as Melbourne responds to the distinctive social, environmental and economic challenges of the new millennium, especially climate change, scarcity of resources and increasing social inequities. The primary responsibility for such revaluing lies with the politicians and officials appointed to govern the city. However, ultimately, an array of business and interest groups seek to influence policy, often in pursuit of their own interests, and they share with citizens the responsibility to seek effective long-term solutions to serious problems, through the revitalisation of effective public policy. Planning in its technical sense is a codified system for regulating and approving land-use and development. A planning system can be regulatory or facilitative, designed to further the public interest or transfer power to individuals or private entities. Strategic spatial planning should form the framework for a land-use planning system, establishing the objectives, future vision, grand ideas and means to achieve them. Planning strategy seeks to achieve desirable future outcomes for land and related elements in natural and social systems. Successful strategic planning implies a strong role for government in developing a unifying and shared vision of the future, and the principles and procedures to accomplish its vision. Strategic planning policy implies breadth of intent over long time-frames. Traditionally, much strategic planning has been based on a continuance of past trends in a ‘predict and provide’ manner. Today’s planning decisions can create ‘path dependencies’ that determine ways of living for the decades to come. Thus, for example, the continuing priority given to road infrastructure over investment in public transport infrastructure imposes an abiding reliance on cars and expanding investment in roadways for everyday mobility. An effective alternative approach for strategic city planning is to anticipate a range of possible futures and the systems most required. This does not require prediction, but the anticipation of new conditions and the means to adapt to change. Such anticipatory strategic planning necessarily involves a central role for governments intervening to achieve a desired alternative future. Planning necessitates a whole-of-government, deliberative approach to urban change and the array of impacts that change generates. The delivery of strategic planning policies over extended periods requires commitment and collaboration horizontally (between different sectors) and vertically (between levels of government), particularly in the transport, land-use, community development, housing, environmental, energy and water sectors. Successful spatial strategy must be cross-sectoral, that is, integrated across areas of government and private activity and requiring all sectors to consider the impacts of proposals on other sectors. This, in turn,

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requires a policy hierarchy that identifies priorities guiding decision-making. Co-ordination of government departments and different levels of government, and aligning their work with common objectives, is a significant challenge in many areas of government policy, but particularly for land-use planning as many key planning decisions are influenced by separate ministerial portfolios. Matching policy aspirations with the necessary funding and regulatory mechanisms is crucial for effective policy implementation. Strategic spatial planning, therefore, implies public benefits that only government can deliver, and requires government co-ordination, integration and intervention. The alternative to government strategic planning is to transfer decisions about the future of cities and regions, to private agencies. But markets and related corporate structures deliver primary benefits to shareholders, often short-term, and cannot consistently achieve defined public benefits as their primary purpose. This book will relate such thinking about strategic planning to Melbourne. Plan Melbourne (issued in 2014) is the sixth Melbourne strategic plan in 25 years. It was released after a new planning system was developed that contained many measures to deregulate land-use decision-making, making it clear that real power lay with the deregulated system not a directive strategy. The discussion paper released before Plan Melbourne stated that the forthcoming strategy must ‘move away from regulation as the primary means of achieving planning outcomes’ (MAC 2012: ix). Urban planning is concerned with shaping and managing change in the built and natural environments to protect existing assets and resources and to improve quality of life. It should be developed within community and political negotiations and processes, incorporating policies that can implement a long-term vision and associated goals. Planning is as much about the social production and use of place as it is about the physical manifestation of its built form and design. As the leading British planning academic Patsy Healey stated: the motivating idea of planning activity, as it has evolved in recent years, centres on a social project for shaping the development of places and their futures, to promote better and more sustainable conditions for the many and not just the few (Healey 2010: x). Healey reminds us that we must be clear on which laudable ‘motivating ideas’ ought to be behind every decision-making process. Planning is highly contested and political. Historically, Melbourne has been susceptible to pressure from powerful interest groups. A political climate characterised by a short-term electoral cycle, economic imperatives and narrowly defined policy presents a significant impediment to long-term strategising and co-ordination. This book has emerged in response to the failures of successive Victorian governments to lead and plan for a sustainable Melbourne. It will examine reasons why governments have forgone a visionary and broad-based role of state-led planning, to the detriment of current and future generations of Victorians. It will also examine reasons for the failure to deliver on some laudable planning policies, and the continuing diffuse conceptions of ‘development’ at the expense of social equity and environmental objectives. Urban planning, if done well, can provide a critically important way for government and communities to create the types of places and environments that shape a better quality of life for all Melburnians. Unless governments rediscover and revalue this role, a Melbourne of 8 million people presents an uncertain and unsustainable future.

1 – City growth, sustainability and planning

Overview of the chapters This book is structured in two parts. In the first part (Chapters 2, 3 and 4), we review the history of strategic urban planning in Melbourne from the mid 20th century to the present day. Chapter 2 reflects on the policy and development processes from the 1930s to the 1980s, to better situate our current challenges and to identify the pathways and decisions that have led us to where we are today. Cities move through periods of stability, incremental change and crisis, and the ways that key periods in urban development and policy are shaped can fundamentally influence the way cities develop. The late 1960s and early 1970s were a period of rapid change, responsive institutional structures and visionary political leadership; from this emerged the spatial and institutional pattern that lasted until the mid 1990s. The Kennett era from the early 1990s is another critical period in Melbourne’s land-use planning history, when that government rejected 70 years of thought and action on the role of land-use planning in favour of establishing the primacy of markets. Chapters 3 and 4 are concerned with the challenges that planners faced in the 1990s and 2000s, and the legacy from the interventions of the neoliberal governments and their vision for the  city. In the second part (Chapters 5–11), we examine particular dilemmas and challenges facing Melbourne, the types of policies and decisions that have shaped responses to those challenges to date, and the processes needed to address and resolve key issues in urban development, notably housing affordability, urban consolidation, peri-urban1 growth, transport planning, activity and shopping centre planning, and improving and enhancing the urban design, amenity and heritage values needed to support a liveable, sustainable Melbourne. The critical analysis in each chapter is driven by clear objectives for planning: ●● ●● ●● ●● ●●

●● ●●

reduce social inequities through the provision of accessible and affordable housing; create a more efficient and sustainable city through urban consolidation; protect peri-urban areas and natural resources from urban encroachment; provide a sustainable transport system that reduces our dependence on cars; support vibrant, connected and economically viable shopping and community centres; value high-quality urban design, protect heritage and improve amenity; deliver an effective and participatory planning system to achieve priority goals.

In Chapter 5 we examine the need to provide diverse and affordable housing across the metropolitan area. Housing affordability means not only focusing on the provision of lower-cost housing in outer suburbs, but ensuring a mix of housing types and prices in all locations. It explores some of the actions that could be taken to increase the diversity and housing through effective urban planning that draws from strategies and approaches adopted elsewhere. Chapter 6 focuses on the importance of urban containment and increasing densities across the city. It discusses the dominant approaches to urban intensification through high density; medium density and increasing densities on the suburban fringe. The changing policy and regulatory frameworks to guide consolidation over several decades are critically examined. The chapter concludes with a discussion about the way forward if we are to achieve higher densities without losing Melbourne’s highly prized amenity and heritage values.

1 ‘Peri-urban’ areas are non-urban areas close to the city, which interact closely with both the adjacent urban area and the rural areas in which they are located.

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Chapter 7 focuses in particular on growth pressures and current patterns of settlement in outer urban and peri-urban areas. It identifies the key elements in Melbourne 2030 which sought to contain growth, in particular the imposition of an urban growth boundary (UGB), the most forthright of all the aims of Melbourne 2030. It relates the story of each movement of the boundary – four times since its inception – and the failed attempts at regulating it. Data from a range of sources is utilised to show changes in urban form at the fringe over time. This demonstrates that the proportion of growth at the fringe grew after Melbourne 2030 was released but has fallen since 2009 because of changing household preferences. The chapter explores the reasons for this failure of policy. Melbourne continues to add residential suburbs at increasing distances from the CBD, with concomitant travel distances for residents and continuing encroachment on peri-urban areas. Chapter 8 examines transport planning for Melbourne and the critical infrastructure shortages, particularly in outer areas. In a 2012 inquiry into liveability in outer areas, the issue receiving the most evidence was the inadequacy of transport. Prior to the last state election, the prospect of an inordinately expensive road tunnel (East–West link) was set to consume infrastructure spending for decades. While the project was shelved by the elected Labor government, there remains an ongoing challenge to radically shift transport priorities and spending in Victoria. Chapter 9 addresses the need to support vibrant urban centres and clustering of activities in the face of continuing pressure to allow dispersal. It examines attempts to redirect growth into activity centres in order to make the most of the many traditional mixed-use centres based around public transport. It traces the history of activity centre policy and its fate, and critically analyses this policy. Chapter 10 asserts the importance of valuing good design, protecting heritage and improving amenity, particularly in light of continuing urban densification. It analyses the legislative and broader land-use protection for heritage and environmental values, the threats to Melbourne’s heritage and the reasons for the failure of current legislative and policy arrangements. It argues that protection of amenity and heritage is critically linked to Melbourne’s future economic performance, and proposes improvements to current arrangements. Chapter 11 reviews and analyses the operation of and recent changes to the statutory planning system which have incorporated neoliberal principles. The final chapter of Planning Melbourne, Chapter 12, highlights key messages and common themes across the preceding chapters. Many of the issues in each chapter are interrelated, and together raise some fundamental questions about the role of planning in Victoria. Governments have largely abdicated their responsibility to address a wide range of issues of vital importance, including natural resource depletion, climate change and social and economic inequality. The broad objectives that underpin a responsive planning system cannot be achieved without strong and co-ordinated governance from the national to the local levels. The book concludes by emphasising how the public embraces change when given the opportunity, and is often leading the government in anticipating and responding to social and environmental issues.

Chapter 2

State-led planning in 20th-century Melbourne The story of Melbourne is one of recurrent struggles for control between those who stood to benefit from land development, and a succession of governments which oscillated between facilitating and controlling growth and, on occasion, produced and implemented highly effective policies to the benefit of succeeding generations. While some Australian colonies were founded on the convict system, Melbourne was founded on land speculation. In this chapter we present an overview of the 19th-century origins of Melbourne’s development, and the emergence of land-use planning during the 20th century, with particular emphasis on the post-war era up to the first years of the 1990s. From the embryonic plan-making in the 1930s we trace the rise of modernist planning as it emerged in Melbourne, in particular the development of the first strategic plan for Melbourne in 1954, and the plans that followed. We draw this chapter to a close at the beginning of the 1990s, a decade marked by the ascendancy of the Liberal-National Coalition government led by Jeffrey Kennett and the radical deregulation of the state land-use planning system which occurred at that time. The chapter draws from both new material and many of the fascinating and colourful accounts of Melbourne’s history and development (particularly Boyce 2011; Daley 2011; Flannery 2002; Annear 2005; Lewis 1999; McLoughlin 1992; Wright 1989; Cannon 1991, 1966; Davison 1979; Sandercock 1979; Barrett 1971).

The early development of Melbourne Before formal town planning began, development in Melbourne was repeatedly subjected to cycles of economic boom and bust. Port Phillip was settled not by government fiat but by adventurers, opportunists and those on society’s fringes hoping to profit by the theft of public land. Pastoralists, entrepreneurs and speculators quickly gravitated to the new town of Melbourne after it was founded by land-hungry settlers from north and south of the future city. Boyce (2011) argues that the rapid colonisation occurred not through the acceptance of the inevitable by authorities but through the tacit support and identification with commercial interests. Whatever the reason, rapid growth occurred, and the population increased by almost four times within 15 months and 12 times by the decade’s end (Lewis 1999). This was a true frontier place ‘instigated by small-town businessmen for … profit and glory’ (Annear 2005: 11). Fortune-seekers, criminals, the desperate and dispossessed gravitated to it. Annear (2005) writes about different perspectives held about early Melbourne and the difficulties of discovering what the common people did in a world dominated by the powerful. Sullivan (1985) concentrates on the stories of the unremembered mass. But it is the remembered few who shaped the city and the way it functions, usually for their own gain or the profit of other powerful private bodies. 13

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The story of Melbourne’s settlement is also a story of environmental destruction and the dispossession and elimination of Aboriginal inhabitants. Flannery (2002: 1) describes the settlement site before European colonisation as ‘a place of astonishing beauty’ and Melbourne’s history as one of ‘prodigious human activity and unimaginable ecological catastrophe’. The lower Yarra River was watered woodland, overhung with branches on its banks. As Fawkner’s schooner, the Enterprise, moved up river in 1835, the ‘banks of the Yarra were ringed with feathery scrub and the stream itself … glided downward to the sea in its pristine freshness and beauty’ (Garran 2008: 163). Settlers quickly cleared the vegetation and blew up a waterfall in the vicinity of the current Market Street. By the 1850s, the river was a cesspool from the effluent of industries established on its banks and from human and animal waste. By the early 1870s, when Anthony Trollope visited, ‘the city had already largely turned its back on the Yarra, drained the swamps, filled in the lakes and flattened the hills, so that Trollope knew ‘of no great town in the neighbourhood of which there is less to see in the way of landscape beauty’’(Trollope 1873: 339). Sandercock (1979: xi) comments that ‘land speculation and land scandals … have been so widespread in Australian society since the early 19th century that they deserve to be dubbed “The National Hobby”’. Speculation was rampant early, with land purchased for £54 in 1837 selling for £19 000 two years later (Flannery 2002: 1). From the formation of the colony of Victoria and beyond the occasion of the first gold rush in 1851, little more than 200 wealthy pastoralists along with a few powerful businessmen controlled the city of Melbourne and the new colony. They dominated the Legislative Council and Legislative Assembly, established in 1855 to administer the colony, and as a class maintained their power until well after World War II. In 1842 the first of Melbourne’s famous economic collapses occurred. After the discovery of gold, the population reached over 70  000 by 1854, 126 000 by 1860, 280 000 in 1880 and almost half a million by 1890 (Morris 2008: 16). The Melbourne Municipal Corporation Act had been passed in 1842, creating the Melbourne City Council. Emerald Hill was incorporated as the first suburban municipality in 1855 and was followed that year by Collingwood and Richmond. By then, the inner ring of suburbs had been settled, and by 1860 other municipalities east of the Yarra River were declared. The creation of inner urban municipalities prevented the consolidation of one large central municipality. This would prevent the integrated government of the inner urban area and leave the future of the CBD to be determined by property interests, free from the influence of residents. Melbourne’s second economic crash, in 1861, was precipitated by the wide-scale financial and land speculation and public and private spending associated with the gold rushes from the 1850s. By 1890, Melbourne was the second-largest city in the British Empire and one of the world’s richest. At its height, the economy collapsed, with calamitous social consequences. Cannon and other historians of Australia’s cities have identified the primary cause of the disaster as ‘the belief that the State should interfere as little as possible with the free operations of private capital … [and] that businessmen could do no wrong’ (Cannon 1966: 41). In the absence of regulation, rampant land speculation occurred. In this environment, the interplays between business and government extended to respected members of the government who held directors’ chairs with companies and financial institutions, many of which acted not only incompetently but corruptly. Even into the early 20th century, the ramifications of the 1890s economic depression were still being felt. Much of the central city district was reconstructed during the 1880s following recovery from the 1860s crash. Banks and building societies constructed grand buildings and ornate coffee palaces; office blocks and retail stores lined the central city grid. Great mansions

2 – State-led planning in 20th-century Melbourne

and rows of terrace houses were built in the booming inner and middle suburbs. More than 3000 factories were in full operation by the 1890s, and they flourished under the Australian colonies protective laws (Cannon 1966). As large amounts of global capital flowed freely from British investors, public and private debt grew to excessive levels. The circulation of money increased by 84% in 1888 alone, much of it ‘dissipated in the riot of mansion-building, luxurious living, and inflated development’ (Cannon 1966: 39). Banks, land banks and other lenders were unregulated. Building societies could not lend to individuals for house construction, but purchased real estate, adding to the competition and relentless inflation of land and building prices. By 1888, more suburban lots were subdivided for housing ‘than would have been sufficient for the entire population of London’ (Cannon 1991: 40). By the century’s end, Melbourne spread over 250 square miles. Easy credit was available, often inadequately secured, leading to unsustainable debt. Over half the private capital raised during the 1880s, and 70% between 1888 and 1889, was allocated to housing construction. Many financial institutions had loaned far more than the value of their deposits, encouraging home ownership by approving loans on small deposits. Once property values fell below loan amounts and incomes fell, thousands defaulted on their loans, with immediate consequences for development companies and, ultimately, financial institutions. A run on the banks led to financial collapse between 1891 and 1893 – over 20 major financial institutions closed. Unsustainable urban sprawl and unsubstantiated beliefs lay at the core of the disaster, especially the widely held conviction that property and share prices could not fall and that rising prices would always accommodate debt commitments. Nineteenth-century Victorian politicians and bureaucrats may have been exclusive and often corrupt but, between 1850 and 1890, governments used the proceeds of gold and prosperity to provide extensive public infrastructure, which still enables the city to function. One of the world’s most extensive train and tram networks was constructed in the 1880s, the first Railways Act being passed in 1880 and the first cable tramway installed in 1885. Electric suburban trains commenced in 1919 and most rail electrification was completed by 1923. The first electric trams commenced operation in 1906 and the Metropolitan Tramways Board was formed in 1918. Railways and tramways were essential to the spread of Melbourne, able to transport residents large distances and thus promoting growth. Development followed the direction of tram and rail lines, leaving the areas between for market gardens and other non-urban uses, so shaping the direction of early Melbourne. In the 50 years to 1930, nothing influenced ‘the trend of suburban development … [more] than the railway system’ (MTPC 1929: 129) The establishment and operation of all such essential services was seen as the legitimate responsibility of government.

The beginnings of 20th-century planning: the 1929 plan Town planning almost arrived officially in Melbourne in 1929 but was thwarted at the last minute, leaving the development of the city to continue largely according to the whim of individuals, speculators and development companies. Only in late 1950s was a town plan for Melbourne – the 1954 Melbourne Metropolitan Planning Scheme Report – adopted. Two related sources inspired the beginnings of city planning, which led to the production of the 1929 plan. The first was a series of urban problems, particularly overcrowding, dangerous building practices and a concern with health in slums, arising from industrial uses mixed with dwellings. The second was visions of what cities could become.

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Today it is easy to ignore the conditions which led planners to describe suburbs like Collingwood as inferior and decadent. Daley (2011: 21) has described the late 19th-century former Collingwood floodplain as a place where ‘the factory fumes and smoke from household fires combined with the mist that clung to the river’s contours to create a soupy smog that became trapped in the natural basin … The result was a noxious, stinking pall the colour of mud and with a sickening aroma of sulphur and decay’. Cities remained the world’s most dangerous places until well into the 20th century. Behind the grandeur of even Marvellous Melbourne during the 1880s lay sudden premature and preventable death. Sanitation was primitive even in the grand new suburbs. Collingwood ‘was a barnyard crowded with people’ – 17% of households kept livestock and 36% kept poultry in 1871 (Barrett 1971: 124). Keeping pigs was common until it was banned in 1880. Epidemics of typhoid, diphtheria, scarlet fever and measles were common. The city was honeycombed with cesspits of human waste contaminating the water that many households drew from wells. Despite advances in medicine and a gradual understanding of the causes of disease, cities became safer only through the provision of clean water, drainage, sewerage and waste collection and disposal services. As Cannon (1975: 154) puts it, ‘The real heroes of the age were not the general run of doctors, politicians or businessmen but a forgotten group of sanitary reformers.’ From 1866, cesspits were gradually replaced by a pan collection service and human waste dumped in parks. Water from Yan Yean in 1853 was the first step in the construction of an efficient, clean, publicly owned water supply system. Municipal baths that were built from the 1860s led to ‘Australians depart[ing] from the AngloSaxon tradition of bathing the entire body rarely, if ever’ (Cannon 1975: 163). In 1891, the Maroondah dam was constructed to supply clean water to the city. A Central Board of Health attempted to improve conditions but progress was slow, and local governments delayed the introduction of metropolitan sewerage provision for five decades until the end of the 19th century (Barrett 1971). London, in comparison, installed a sewerage system in the early 1860s. Thirty years of ‘scandalous inaction’ was a ‘sentence of death to untold thousands of people’ (Cannon 1975: 173). Eventually, as the costs of waste disposal grew and officials came to appreciate the causes of water-borne disease, local councils, with the Melbourne City Council playing the major role, supported the establishment of the Melbourne and Metropolitan Board of Works (MMBW) in 1890. This became an integrated metropolitan authority controlled by local government with responsibility for water supply, sewerage provision and treatment, drainage and, eventually, metropolitan parks and land-use planning. Melbourne had built an efficient, clean, publicly owned water supply system from the early 1850s; the MMBW began with a mission to build on this tradition of public works. In the 1880s, urban death rates in Melbourne were about the same as London’s (19–21 per 1000 inhabitants). The 13 years after the introduction of sewerage, compared to the 13 years before, showed a drop in the death rate to 12.6 per 1000 residents. A 72% reduction in typhoid mortality, a 66% reduction in diphtheria deaths and a 33% reduction in tubercular disease saved the lives of tens of thousands of people (Cannon 1975). Before 1954, the capacity for governments to control development evolved slowly in Melbourne. The Local Government Act 1915 had required submission of subdivision details to local councils, if they proposed a new street or involved lots with inadequate drainage; approval remained a formality, however. The Local Government Amending Act 1921 gave councils the power to develop by-laws to prohibit non-residential uses, define minimum lot areas and declare residential areas. Councils could regulate building height and,

2 – State-led planning in 20th-century Melbourne

through the Health Act 1915, require a street width of 50 ft. Councils acted on these powers and 27 of the 34 metropolitan councils were using them by 1929. The importation of hydraulic lift technology from the US had made possible the construction of some of the world’s tallest buildings and a height limit of 32 feet was applied to all buildings. In 1922, Melbourne gained its own planning body, the Metropolitan Planning Commission, and in 1929 its first town plan, the Plan of General Development, Melbourne. This plan expressed a new confidence and a willingness to believe in the future after the horrors, loss and grief of the 1914–18 war. Melbourne City Council expressed this confidence, stating that ‘the rapid growth of the City and the Metropolis is creating unsatisfactory conditions, which require immediate attention, and … it is therefore necessary to further regulate development on modern scientific lines’ (MTPC 1929: 16). By 1928, Melbourne’s population had reached 1 million and it was the sixth-largest city in the British Empire. The Planning Commission expressed the belief that town planning would be essential to Melbourne’s ongoing prosperity and better lives for its citizens, that random growth would lead to social problems, traffic chaos and the destruction of the assets that made Melbourne a great city. Only a detailed plan could manage development in a leading British city that was envisaged to grow as much as three or four-fold in size. The 1929 town plan recommended the creation of a new Town Planning Authority to administer a Town Planning Act. This would have created a metropolitan-wide planning authority almost 20 years before one was actually formed, and planning legislation 12 years before the Town and Country Planning Act was passed in 1944. The act proposed in 1929 would have introduced, for the first time, effective controls over subdivision. All development and subdivision would have to conform to town plans. As in the US, Britain and Europe, a professional metropolitan planning authority, planning legislation and a metropolitan-wide plan that controlled uses and development would regulate the desires of individuals and companies, in the public interest. Metropolitan-wide planning would replace the inadequate and inconsistent controls exercised by local councils. City-wide zones would be introduced, based on the mapping and description of existing land uses and with a classification of residential, business, industrial, noxious trades, mixed and decadent, and unimproved uses. Zoning would be the main means of ensuring compact and orderly growth, and separating incompatible uses. Three residential zones, two business zones and three industrial zones were proposed, each with ‘allowed’ and ‘prohibited’ uses. The plan also expressed values intrinsic to the idealistic social improvement movements of the time. Chief among these was an aversion to high-density living and mixed uses. Thus a ‘Residential B’ zone was consistent with ‘Australian ideals of housing’ (MTPC 1929). This zone would ensure the use of detached housing with a density of no more than 30 people per acre, with lots of not less than 6000 ft2 and a 50 ft street frontage. A Residential C zone was designated for areas regarded as ‘inferior’ – in the parlance of the time, ‘decadent’. The zoning proposed in the 1929 plan reflected the planners’ values of what is desirable in a city. The authors of the 1954 zones were influenced by the precedent of the 1929 plan. The zones in the 1929 plan were largely reflective of existing types of uses and densities. However, Residential A and B zones, which specified minimum block sizes, effectively excluded low-income earners from these locations. They are examples of exclusionary zones which, according to Sandercock (1979), protected the middle and upper classes from the workers by developing different categories of residential zoning. Another impact of zones is their potential to create wealth for particular interests through changes in the designation of land from lower- to higher-value uses. Sandercock (1979) pointed out that,

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in Melbourne, land speculators have always been the beneficiaries of this process because of their ability to anticipate and corruptly influence zoning changes. Despite the dominance of public transport, an emerging provision for motor vehicles was already evident by the 1920s when a detailed program of road works was proposed, for a potential population of 3.5 million. Perhaps the most visionary aspects of the plan were its proposals for protecting Melbourne’s rivers and streams from development, for introducing an extensive network of public open space along waterways and for separating urban development areas. But such a plan for Melbourne eventuated only in 1988, with the city’s first Metropolitan Open Space plan. None of the ideals set out in the 1929 plan were implemented, as the plan coincided with Melbourne’s fourth economic crash, the Great Depression, followed in 1939–45 by World War II. Only in the late 1940s did Melbourne begin to return to prosperity. To most people, town planning would have seemed an incidental casualty of the depression and the nation’s struggle for survival through world war. What did planning matter when employment and, for many, food were uncertain? To all but the most committed, the ideals of planning for a future were a luxury to be discarded amid the struggles of the present. Implementation was not an issue of cost – the cost of many recommendations would have been small – but the idealism which fed the will to plan waned and disappeared. The 1890s depression had cast a long shadow.

Post-war planning: the suburbanisation of Melbourne In the absence of a dedicated town planning authority, the Victorian Housing Commission had been given limited planning powers in 1938 under the Slum Reclamation and Housing Act. Those powers were removed in 1944 when the Town and Country Planning Act was passed, giving municipalities the power to prepare planning schemes. The following year, the Uniform Building Regulations were introduced. Among their provisions were outlines of classes of allotments. In 1949, the state government made the MMBW the metropolitan planning authority with power to devise a city-wide planning scheme within a 15  mile (24  km) radius of the central city and with a southerly extension to Frankston. The MMBW gathered all necessary data, identified current and anticipated future problems and opportunities, along with objectives and policies for Melbourne’s future. This led to the development of the 1954 plan that ushered in the era of modernist planning for Melbourne. The 1954 plan was an expression of the firm belief that planning could be scientific, rational and comprehensive, that agreement was possible on a desired future and the ways to achieve it for the benefit of citizens. Such a plan could have been developed only by a body like the MMBW, powerful and confident enough to implement its vision. At that time, the leaders of the various infrastructure authorities were so powerful that in effect they controlled the state. Services such as electricity, gas and public transport were seen as the legitimate domain of government institutions such as the State Electricity Commission, the Gas and Fuel Corporation and powerful public transport agencies. The head of the Melbourne and Metropolitan Tramways Board, Sir Robert Risson, for example, motivated by both public and institutional interest, was powerful enough to defeat a proposal to remove Melbourne’s tramway system. In 1954 Melbourne’s population was 1.4  million people and the city was the most industrialised one in Australia. Half of the workforce was employed in manufacturing, 60% of jobs were located in the central city and inner suburbs, and 57% of all jobs were within 3  miles of the city centre. Though the inner districts provided employment, the

2 – State-led planning in 20th-century Melbourne

incomes of most inner urban residents were low, and many aspired to move to newer suburbs. Melbourne’s retailing was located in 380 traditional strip shopping centres with over 16  500 shops, as well as the major markets in the city centre. Post-Victorian Melbourne had adopted the model of detached suburban houses on relatively large lots from the early 20th century. But from the late 1940s, Melbourne began to sprawl far from the city centre into low-density, detached, single-use ‘dormitory’ suburbs extending particularly to the east and south-east of Melbourne’s pre-war suburban development. The MMBW 1954 plan rested on extensive research into both local conditions and planning in other western countries. It provided mechanisms, such as zoning, for assessing development applications, bringing order to a development approval process that was fragmented and erratic. The plan considered restricting outer urban growth: Unless some control is exercised on the present unrestricted spread of the metropolis … [the cost of services] will impose an intolerable burden on ratepayers … It is therefore imperative that Melbourne’s sprawling development should be brought under control and that a limit should be placed, at least for the time being, on the extension of the urban area (MMBW 1953a: 22). However, the MMBW failed to deliver a containment plan. Had it required greater urban densities, such as those of outer London, with an average density of around 25 lots per hectare, and redirected some outer growth to the established inner districts, Melbourne’s growth trajectories and functioning would have been transformed. A range of house types and lot sizes could have evolved with higher outer suburban residential densities into a more European model of urban design, supporting a more efficient future use of the city’s public transport, but the chance was missed. The MMBW recognised the impacts of continuing the expansion of the low-density subdivisions but ‘it is not intended to define the future extent of the city’ – the preference for detached single family housing on large lots was ‘firmly established’ and ‘any attempt to impose some other form of living on the people … will certainly meet with failure’ (MMBW 1953a: 34). Instead of controlling or directing growth, the MMBW intended to allow urban growth to continue in accordance with demand, providing sufficient land over an area of 1800 km2 to accommodate a population of 2.5  million people. When the need arose, more land would be released on the urban fringes. This demand-driven philosophy led directly to escalating sprawl, in a pattern of developer-led subdivision and housing construction that has dominated outer urban development ever since, placing Melbourne in the leading group of world cities whose dubious achievement is a very low population and residential density compared to the city’s spatial spread. Public transport use declined substantially as the city spread away from rail lines into new car-based suburbs. It is ironic that the emerging post-war US city was the model admired by Melbourne planners from the British planning tradition. The 1954 plan represents an opportunity wasted, by people who knew better, to redefine the type of urban development in Melbourne and avoid a range of problems that have increasingly plagued the city since. These problems will be examined in detail in later chapters. With its rejection of the British approach of urban containment, the MMBW also decided against the delineation of green belts and satellite towns. A rural or non-urban zone would surround the urban zones, but no provision was made for preventing urban development from encroaching on non-urban areas. The Board considered the issues associated with satellite towns, anticipating critics who ‘may point to what is being attempted

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around London and near other English cities’ (MMBW 1953a: 34). The plan concentrated on planning for an existing and proposed urban area. Here, too, it departed from the British model and its regional planning approach, which integrated urban and rural planning. This has had long-term consequences. For the MMBW, ‘factors which have led in England to the development of the new towns do not operate here’ (MMBW 1953a: 34); Melbourne’s population density was much lower than that of London and urban dispersal was seen as desirable. Lewis has commented that Patrick Abercrombie, during his 1948 visit to Melbourne, had ‘seemed to take it for granted that Melbourne would follow the British model of green belts and the restriction of sprawl’ (Lewis 1999: 103). However, the 1954 plan assumed that there were no spatial constraints on development and, consequently, containment of urban spread was unnecessary. That erroneous assumption precipitated the spread of suburban development. The 1954 plan, in common with prior attempts to guide Melbourne’s growth, incorporated distinctive values about a city, in particular the benefits of low-density detached housing for its residents and the geographic separation of different land uses. The plan’s authors, although departing from key directions in British planning in the mid 20th century, were affected by the British belief that modernist planning could improve urban conditions, particularly through the influence of Frank Stapley and others such as Chief Planner E.F. Borrie, Neil Abercrombie (son of the British planner Sir Patrick Abercrombie) and John Bayly, later Chairman of the Town and Country Planning Board in Victoria. The rejection of 19th-century living conditions in cities remained a potent source for the acceptance of the sprawl countenanced in the 1954 plan. The authors compared Melbourne’s older housing with conditions in Europe, Britain and the US. They saw the plan as part of an awakening of a social conscience and broad acceptance of responsibility by western governments to ameliorate congestion and squalor. These values inevitably led them to classify most inner urban housing as ‘decadent’ (MMBW 1953b: 38), the lowest class of housing ‘unsuited for modern requirements … sub-standard … a general indication of the need for redevelopment’ and ‘approaching the end of its useful life’ (MMBW 1953b: 55). Inner allotments were regarded as well below acceptable minimum sizes, reflecting a prejudice against smaller lots. Most of the 19th-century attached housing was considered fit only for demolition as part of large-scale urban redevelopment schemes. This attitude prepared the ground for extensive demolition of Melbourne’s inner urban areas for high-rise, lower-income housing by the Victorian Housing Commission from the late 1950s. The plan prepared the ground in several other ways for fundamental changes to Melbourne’s subsequent urban form and functioning. The authors compared existing strip centres unfavourably with US car-based malls, urging systematic redevelopment to provide ‘adequate and up-to-date shopping facilities’ (MMBW 1953b: 62). This prepared the way for the introduction of the extensive mall-based retailing and bulky goods stores that proliferated from the 1990s. Similarly, the proposed extensive arterial road system served as the basis for the 1969 Melbourne Transportion Study, prepared by Wilbur-Smith and Associates, which provided the blueprint for freeways crossing Melbourne. US freeways were extolled as modern road practice. Cars were to be further catered for in large city car parks. Some important extensions to the suburban railway system were proposed and the city underground loop, for example, was eventually implemented but others, such as the Doncaster railway link, were not. The plan’s greatest failures arose from its avoidance of difficult decisions over which the planners prevaricated, and its assumptions about the desirable nature of the future city.

2 – State-led planning in 20th-century Melbourne

As the plan’s authors took the emerging sprawling post-war US city as their model, little attention was paid to how key components of a city should interact, in particular, how the rail system could effectively retain or increase its high share of metropolitan trips by limiting road construction and car parking, adopting a more compact model of future growth through a denser, more varied outer urban housing patterns, and by curtailing the development of car-dependent retail malls. Instead, planning for an expanded road system, coupled with new outer suburbs of detached houses serviced by car-dependent shopping malls, and the relocation of industry from the central city and inner suburbs, would come to define Melbourne. This quickly changed the expanding city into one of the world’s most car-based places. The lessons from the 1954 plan are clear and salutary: they highlight the importance of strategic plans to successfully anticipate future problems and opportunities and put in place measures to prevent harmful effects and promote beneficial ones. This is a daunting but essential task for strategic planners, governments and communities. We are still living with the consequences of the lost opportunity of the 1954 plan.

Hamer to Cain: years of continuity in metropolitan planning The British planning model of urban containment was for planning on a regional scale, over large interrelated landscapes encompassing established urban areas, green belts and satellite towns. Australian planners generally had developed strong affinities with British town and regional planning. The original Sydney metropolitan plan, for example, was a ‘bold master plan in the Patrick Abercrombie style, regional in scope (covering an area of over 4000 km2) and looking forward a quarter of a century’ (Freestone 1992: 71). But Australian planners demonstrated a willingness to develop their own solutions to urban growth. Satellite towns on the British model have not been adopted, for example, and in Melbourne the concept was expressly rejected. But before the 1954 plan was officially adopted in 1968, the Victorian Minister for Local Government, Rupert Hamer, moved Melbourne’s metropolitan planning away from some of the principles expressed in it and towards the British regional planning model, which included the protection of ‘green belts’. Hamer, in language similar to that used by Patrick Abercrombie and Lewis Mumford, wrote in May 1966 to the Town and Country Planning Board (TCPB) and the MMBW requesting that they report on, among other matters, the future shape of Melbourne. Key elements of the 1948 London plan and the blueprint of early British planners Patrick Geddes and Ebenezer Howard were referenced in Hamer’s instructions to his planning authorities, and in the MMBW’s and the TCPB’s responses (MMBW 1967). These were the need to contain urban growth, protect green belts and plan for satellite cities. As in the 1948 Sydney plan, satellite towns were considered but generally were not adopted. However, a significant part of the existing metropolitan area was to be redeveloped and green belts or green wedges introduced. Hamer made clear that a widely dispersed metropolis, unless carefully planned: raised a threat to the surrounding countryside … nobody could happily contemplate a future metropolis of seemingly endless suburbia spreading outwards indefinitely. It must be strongly emphasised that future planning should take full account of the surrounding countryside as a vital part of the metropolitan environment … I would urge the Board to give particular attention to the possibility of urban decentralisation with provision for ‘satellite’ towns of, say, 100,000 or even greater population each

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based on a sizeable industrial and commercial area and separated from the existing metropolis, and from each other, by broad tracts of open country, natural parkland and recreation space (MMBW 1967: 29). Hamer’s intervention underscored the prejudice of the 1954 plan against the building stock of the inner suburbs. By 1966, the Victorian Housing Commission’s replacement of large areas of the inner suburbs with high-rise, lower-income housing was well advanced. Hamer, reflecting reformist modernist influences in 20th-century planning, would have been satisfied with the demolition of much of the stock of Melbourne’s Victorian housing.

1967: the future growth of Melbourne The MMBW and the TCPB responded in 1967. The MMBW’s response, The Future Growth of Melbourne, considered three outward-growth alternatives: controlled outward growth, satellite cities; and growth corridors. The first would pose major transportation difficulties and require a minimum degree of planning direction. The MMBW adopted the principle of corridor development with limited satellite city growth in the north and west. This would allow development to proceed along major public transport routes and would protect open countryside near established populations (MMBW 1967). Development on the lines of London’s New Towns was considered but rejected as insufficient to accommodate the projected population increase. The concept was considered ‘exciting’, however, and likely to capture the public imagination (MMBW 1967). The non-urban countryside would define the outer limits of urban development between the urban corridors, protect countryside and, according to the report, provide relief from continuous building development. Its other functions were to protect areas of high natural amenity, primary production including orchards and market gardens, other rural activities and deposits of minerals and other resources, and to provide locations for major public utility installations and large institutions. The government adopted the corridor/green wedge concept as policy in 1968. 1971: planning policies for the Melbourne Metropolitan Region The MMBW further developed this position in its 1971 study, Planning Policies for the Melbourne Metropolitan Region, which proposed seven urban growth corridors separated by permanent green wedges or non-urban areas. This has set the direction and shape of urban growth of Melbourne over the last 40 years. All future urban development was to be confined to growth corridors not wider than 4–6 miles. Implicit was a significant intervention in land markets: prevention of urban development of land outside mapped boundaries, and strong new controls over rural uses and restrictive subdivision controls for non-urban areas outside the urban corridors. Physical and economic constraints on development were identified and used to help register features to be protected in the non-urban zones. The most notable addition to those features identified in the 1966 Hamer intervention were detailed environmental values, including floodways and wetlands, water quality, landscape values, native vegetation and terrain characteristics. The MMBW also recognised areas of special interest including the Yarra Valley, the Dandenong Ranges and the Dingley area, and proposed public acquisition of large regional parklands in green wedge areas. However, by continuing to avoid the mandating of higher average densities, a mix of house and lot types and higher-quality urban design, the MMBW allowed the wasteful use of urban land to continue. The subdivisions of the 1970s and 1980s were dominated by the uniform pursuit of a narrow development model – detached housing on large lots in subdivisions characterised by low connectivity, high energy use and typically, far from rail

2 – State-led planning in 20th-century Melbourne

lines. This was another lost opportunity to limit outer sprawl, and it inevitably led to continued pressures on corridor boundaries. The MMBW implemented its 1971 policies through Amending Planning Schemes 3 and 21. The MMBW controlled and administered one metropolitan-wide planning scheme, the Melbourne Metropolitan Planning Scheme (MMPS), and introduced additional controls in outer areas such as Knox and the Dandenong Ranges where local councils administered their own planning schemes. This approach reflected the Board’s confidence that it could successfully implement its policies by relying solely on the planning system. The 1971 plan was Melbourne’s first regional plan. Since then, planning for Melbourne has not been properly linked to the fortunes of the city’s extended hinterland. The MMBW expanded the regional area affected by the plan from 1800 km2 to 5029 km2, extending to Westernport Bay, the Dandenong Ranges and far to the north, south and west of Melbourne. This approximates to Melbourne’s inner peri-urban area and in 2013 was Victoria’s second most productive agricultural region; it also contains major national and regional parks, recreational and tourism facilities and environmental assets. The 1971 plan was not without detractors. It received over 4000 objections, mostly from landowners within the proposed green wedge areas, many of whom described the proposed standards as inflexible and restrictive compared to the more permissive nature of previous zoning provisions. However, at the same time, a strong coalition of support came from professional planners and architects, conservation and social support bodies, and some local councils. Unlike Sydney, which lost its green belt, the MMBW and the state government held firm and rejected almost all objections to the plan. Other policy changes reinforced this regional focus. Statements of Planning Policy were produced for the environmentally significant areas of Westernport, the Mornington Peninsula, the Dandenong Ranges, Upper Yarra Valley and the Yarra River. Broad-based regional planning authorities prepared strategic land-use plans for these areas that integrated environmental, social and economic concerns, directed by the content of the Statements of Planning Policy. These authorities were Australia’s most powerful and successful regional land-use authorities; they had been given the authority to bind the Crown, that is, state government agencies. But this power led to their demise at the hands of subsequent governments, which saw them as competitors. First to go was the Westernport authority, disbanded in the 1980s by the Cain government, followed by the Upper Yarra and Dandenong Ranges authority, abolished by the Kennett government in the 1990s.

1980–81: Metropolitan Strategy Implementation Report In 1981 the MMBW released its Metropolitan Strategy Implementation Report. This strategic blueprint built on reports in the late 1970s that considered alternative growth and urban consolidation policies. It introduced consolidation initiatives such as dual occupancy without the need for a planning permit. Its most significant policy intervention was the introduction of 15 nominated ‘district centres’, or mixed-use activity centres, as a means of assisting with urban containment. This report mainly introduced the features of what would be repeated 20 years later in the 2002 Metropolitan Strategy, Melbourne 2030: incremental peripheral growth channelled into urban corridors, an urban growth boundary preventing development in rural areas outside the corridors, and all new major retail and significant residential development concentrated into activity centres. The 1981 report was intended to implement the 1980 MMBW Metropolitan Strategy and provide the policy context for a broader range of urban consolidation and other policies in a major planning provision, Amendment 150. It aimed at curtailing urban sprawl and protecting

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areas of environmental and recreational significance. The MMBW assessed four future growth options for Melbourne: dispersal into corridors, centralised (consolidation), suburbanised (multi-nodal development) and incremental growth (a combination of other options), considered against five criteria: energy, efficiency, employment, environment and equity (MMBW 1980). Dispersal performed worst on the criteria, maximising the already heavy reliance on the private car and ignoring energy conservation. The success of the corridor–wedge strategy relied on limiting new outer urban development to nominated corridors, and maintaining inflexible corridor boundaries. It sought certainty in the location of outer urban development for a generation or more. Any variation would encourage adverse, out-of-sequence development, raise infrastructure costs and rural land prices, and reward speculation. The MMBW’s planning after 1971 demonstrates the successful use of zoning, planning policy and broader regulatory instruments to control land speculation. The delineation of urban corridors separated by an urban growth boundary ‘removed urban expectations from major portions of the Metropolitan planning area’ (MMBW 1977: 12). Other planning policies the MMBW applied, such as the prevention of car-based dispersed retailing by restricting large new stores to nominated district centres, also successfully applied planning regulation. But metropolitan planning was not always as orderly as the MMBW strategic plans proposed. During the 1970s, land speculation was common in Melbourne. One of the most notable breaches of metropolitan policy occurred in 1976 when state Cabinet approved in principle a proposal by T&G Mutual Life, in an arrangement with Lensworth Finance Pty Ltd, for a new suburb on 7000 acres of land at Mt Ridley. This site was outside the nominated northern growth corridor, on land designated as green wedge. The approval contradicted the MMBW 1971 plan and the reaffirmation of this plan in the 1974 report which rejected submissions to vary it. Sandercock (1979: 30) asked why T&G was prepared to gamble that the state government would reject a plan reaffirmed only six weeks before its approach to Cabinet, and why Cabinet was willing to approve a twice-rejected proposal when enough land existed for growth to the end of the century. The Mt Ridley affair has been repeated many times, to the present day. The truth of Sandercock’s conclusion that the ‘history of planning in Australia has been a history of the dominance of … the class … of big property owners … who have dominated our political institutions for the greater part of our history’ (1979: 26) has been demonstrated often. In 1977, an even more contentious scandal was publicised, this time arising from the Housing Commission purchase in 1973 and 1974 of 3346 acres of outer urban land in Pakenham, Melton and Sunbury. The land was purchased for $10 627 000, almost twice the amount paid by intermediaries less than a year earlier. Some land was flood-prone, large holding costs were paid and the Commission paid urban prices for land zoned for farming (on at least some land). The Housing Commission had sought land on the urban fringe in part because of the controversy caused by its demolition of large areas of inner urban Victorian Melbourne for low-income, high-rise housing. However, Sandercock argued that the Hamer government used the Housing Commission to circumvent the federal Labor government’s plan to establish land commissions. These commissions were intended to force down urban land prices through the purchase of fringe metropolitan land at rural prices. The Hamer government sought to maintain the ‘excessive profits of land speculators’ and ‘as much as any private speculators assisted in the maintenance of the land boom’ (Sandercock 1979: 43, 63).

2 – State-led planning in 20th-century Melbourne

However, strategic planning during these years achieved much. Besides corridor planning, the determination of the MMBW to maintain the dominance of CBD retailing and the introduction of planning controls to limit retailing outside existing retail centres, helped maintain functioning inner and middle-ring traditional strip shopping centres. This maintenance of inner-city retailing prevented the decay of the CBD and inner urban areas like the US model, at a time when the population of inner urban municipalities fell markedly and large numbers of people moved to new outer suburbs. Such retail policies enabled inner urban areas and the CBD to remain attractive and provided a strong basis for their revitalisation and later gentrification. It was not until the late 1980s that dispersed retailing began to proliferate in earnest outside existing centres, and by this time inner areas had again become desirable residential locations. The next chapter will examine the ways the Cain/Kirner governments acted as both the inheritor of a regulated planning system and as a precursor to a revolutionary shift to government deregulation and marketbased decision-making.

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Chapter 3

The emergence of a neoliberal era in planning The Cain/Kirner Labor governments (1982–92) continued the liberal-democratic tradition exemplified by the Hamer government. The Cain government was elected with a vision for a reforming role for government. It changed the structures and functions of government and introduced a strong policy focus. Had the Kirner government not lost the election in 1992 it might have been able to continue the evolutionary development of land-use policy, and Melbourne might be a very different city today. The gradualism and careful consideration of options characterising this tradition might have enabled the city to adapt better to this century’s coming challenges. But in 1992 there was a newly elected government, led by Jeffrey Kennett, which aimed to radically reduce the role of government at exactly the time when far-sighted planning for growth was needed. The Kennett government’s deregulation and the Bracks Labor government’s failure to implement its Melbourne 2030 strategy wasted 20 years and has left Melbourne vulnerable and ill-equipped to adapt to the challenges of climate change and resource scarcity. The Cain government was a bridge between the regulatory planning regimes of the past and the deregulated system of the present. Some key structural decisions and policy omissions of the Cain government helped lead to the crisis in governance, decision-making and impacts which afflict the city today. Chief among these were the abolition of the MMBW, the merger of the MMBW planning branch with the Ministry for Planning and Environment, and removal of Melbourne City Council’s planning powers. This reinforced the politicisation of the planning process, which affects the capacity for long-term planning today. The MMBW originally gained metropolitan land-use planning powers because of local government fragmentation. Had a greater Melbourne municipality been formed, the MMBW would never have been given planning powers. As late as 1951, a Victorian government bill to replace all metropolitan municipalities with one elected Greater Melbourne Council, and to abolish the MMBW, was defeated by only one vote in the Legislative Council. In 1967, a plan proposed by the Melbourne City Council Town Clerk, Frank Rogan, would have amalgamated the City of Melbourne with seven of its contiguous municipalities. The 1979 Bains report also examined the proposal for a greater metropolitan council. However, powerful property interests on the MCC rejected all proposals for an expanded city council, perhaps because of their concerns that expanded resident representation would seek to control CBD development. The supremacy of property interests reached its peak during the years after 1992 with ‘an absolute and undiminished determination on the part of business interests to remove the local … elements of political life from the MCC’, and after 1999 with ‘the “New Labor” trend to seek political advantage by cleaving wholly to the wishes of power business interests’ (Dunstan and Young 2010: 15).

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Others have criticised the establishment of the MMBW as the metropolitan planning authority. McLoughlin has described giving the MMBW responsibility for planning as ‘a crucial mistake’ (McLoughlin 1992). Lewis argues that the Board’s bureaucracy was a vested interest which monopolised planning. Speaking of the potential of planning to supplant laissez-faire decision-making, he states that ‘if there was a single factor which destroyed these dreams it was the delivery of the city, bound hand and foot, to the Melbourne and Metropolitan Board of Works’ (Lewis 1999: 48). However, the MMBW staff were professional planners of high quality who, after the failures of the 1954 plan, fundamentally refocused strategic urban planning. The Board was controlled by representatives of the 52 metropolitan councils and acted as an independent planning authority which integrated strategic land-use planning and the administration of a metropolitan-wide statutory plan with its other functions of sewerage, drainage, water supply and metropolitan parks planning. Many current planners and activists with an interest in metropolitan planning would do much to achieve this kind of integrated planning authority today. This chapter will examine the strategic planning of the Cain/Kirner governments and the sudden and radical shift towards deregulation from 1992.

1987: shaping Melbourne’s future – Cain government In its 1987 metropolitan strategy, Shaping Melbourne’s Future, the Cain Labor government continued its historic shift towards regenerating the central city area. Early in the tenure of this government, Planning Minister Evan Walker had begun the process of shifting Melbourne’s focus towards the Yarra River, increasing the residential component of the CBD and redeveloping areas surrounding the CBD such as Southbank and Docklands. The Cain government introduced height controls for the CBD which directed development to its eastern and western edges. It developed three overarching economic, social and environmental policies, and the metropolitan planning strategy attempted to develop a series of connections between land-use strategy and economic growth, social policy and environmental protection around a series of themes. The 1987 strategy also formed the basis of detailed urban growth corridor planning and urban intensification options with farreaching implications for the city’s urban form. The strategy’s main defect lay in its vague and general language and the lack of clear implementation mechanisms, as pointed out by McLoughlin (1992). In this sense, it differed markedly from the approach followed by policies established by the MMBW. Consequently, it was not influential. The Cain government made a series of decisions about city development which were only loosely governed by the content of the strategy or were outside its scope. One of the most significant was the abandonment of the District Centre Policy, a far-reaching decision which has fundamentally changed the structure of the city. Similarly, while the strategy reinforced the urban corridor and green wedge model, the government began the process that ended the certainty established by the MMBW over the direction of outer urban growth. From this time, a cycle of land speculation has been promoted and rewarded by the constant ad hoc variation of outer urban corridor boundaries. In developing, in 1990, the first detailed structure plans for the urban growth corridors, the Cain government significantly widened corridor boundaries into non-urban areas, particularly to the east and west of Cranbourne, including a large area between Evans and Dandenong-Hastings roads, and in Werribee South. These areas are located long distances from rail lines and are among the most difficult outer urban areas of Mel-

3 – The emergence of a neoliberal era in planning

bourne for which to provide services. There are strong local council and resident complaints at the lack of infrastructure. This was the first significant strategic alteration to the boundaries of non-urban zones. Planning policies were compromised by political decision-making that was increasingly subjected to pressure from developers and political donors, replacing the 1950s style of planning that had been based on a level of certainty and autonomy from political processes. The demise of the MMBW was a critical precondition for this change. The Hamer government had corporatised the MMBW in 1980, replacing representatives of the 52 metropolitan councils with a four-member appointed board. In 1985, the Cain government removed strategic and statutory planning from the Board’s responsibilities, transferring the planning branch to the new Ministry for Planning and Environment. Labor seemed to distrust the MMBW and its chairman, Alan Croxford, and regarded the Board as a competitor. The maintenance of the MMBW also clashed with Labor’s intention to localise the administration of planning while retaining state control over defined statewide and metropolitan issues. The Melbourne Metropolitan Planning Scheme was broken up into 52 local planning schemes. This was the major structural consequence of the 1987 strategy and the new Planning and Environment Act 1987. Although no longer Planning Minister, Evan Walker had planned for these reforms while in opposition in 1981–82. With these changes, planning became a political battleground between state political parties, state and local governments, and community groups. A widening of corridor boundaries, even while maintaining the essentials of a corridor–wedge structure, would have been unthinkable under the MMBW with its meticulous research-based policy and adherence to policy objectives. With the demise of the MMBW, the Cain government facilitated a transition that led to the radical reformism brought by the Kennett government. The Cain government had also initiated the first detailed planning for urban consolidation, for which strategic options were outlined in its Urban Development Options for Victoria Discussion Paper (DPUG 1990). The Kirner Labor government released an important but often overlooked strategic statement about metropolitan development in A Place to Live (DPH 1992). Shortly after the release of this document, the Kennett Liberal-National Coalition was elected, bringing to an end an era of strategic metropolitan planning characterised by continuity and gradual change in policy, a belief in the role of government as the legitimate planning body, and bipartisan political support within the bureaucracy and among politicians. Kennett and his senior ministers, including Planning Minister Robert Maclellan, dismantled this system, undermining the role of strategic planning in shaping the city for any purpose other than economic growth. This government apparently saw little value in metropolitan or regional planning and it failed to produce any substantial metropolitan plans.

Neoliberalisation in Victoria: ‘there is no alternative’ From the late 1980s, Victoria was in recession. The stock market crash of 1987, dramatic micro-economic reform, financial deregulation at the national level and a major reduction of grants to the states from the Commonwealth were among the critical factors that contributed to the downturn. Three financial ‘disasters’ – losses by Victoria’s Economic Development Corporation (VEDC), the collapse of the public merchant bank Tricontinental, and its absorption into the State Bank, and the Pyramid Building Society crisis – sealed the fate of the Labor administration and helped create the atmosphere of political and

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economic crisis from which a Liberal-National Coalition government emerged as the government of Victoria. The Kennett government has been described as ‘the most activist, controversial and ideological administration in 20th-century Victoria’ during a period when the ‘relentless application of neoliberal economic theory constitutes a clean break from Victoria’s long tradition of social liberalism’ (Costar and Economou 1999: vii). In this chapter we reflect on what this meant for planning, with a review of key changes, heralded as necessary ‘reforms’ during the 1990s, and the impacts on the public sector and public utilities, local government boundaries and the planning system at large. The Kennett government’s neoliberal policies drew directly from the governance model of the British Thatcher government and its emphasis on privatisation of public assets, the user-pays principle and reduced public sector services, employment and public sector debt. Government would operate on a corporate model, delivering returns to taxpayers as to shareholders, with a reduced obligation to the notion of the broader public good. This neoliberal ideology was outlined in the report Project Victoria, prepared by economists working for two market-oriented think-tanks based in Melbourne, the Institute for Public Affairs and the Tasman Institute. The basic premise of the report was that the role and size of government needed to be reduced, ostensibly to allow a more ‘enhanced’ role for the private sector. Thus: the reason the business environment deteriorated even more rapidly in Victoria seems in large part because the pump-priming and interventionist policies of the Victorian Government created a perception that government would virtually underwrite economic performance in this State … without major changes, the outlook is not encouraging. But the ‘good news’ is that adversity instils a resolve for change. The community may accept, even demand, a coherent and strategic change of the Project Victoria variety, once the choices are fully understood. Paradoxically, the wealthiest State in the once ‘Lucky Country’ may now be more able to implement real change, because there is no alternative if we are to trade our way out of the current mess (TI/ IPA 1991: 2 [emphasis added]). The report proposed that reducing the role and scope of government was a process of ‘redrawing the boundaries’ between public and private sectors by introducing competition into the supply of services, through contracting out and corporatisation and privatisation wherever possible. The base assumption of the ‘reforms’ was that ‘government failure is more, not less, of a problem than market failure’ (TI/IPA 1991: 2). The Kennett government adopted three types of change recommended in the report when it assumed office in late 1992. First, it reduced both the budget deficit and state debt through large cuts to public expenditure on education, health, welfare, housing, public transport and other areas, to improve the state’s credit rating. This resulted in extensive job losses and closures of schools, hospital wards and public transport routes. State taxes and charges were raised, favouring businesses over households. A further key strategy for reducing debt was privatising major public assets such as gas and electricity utilities. These measures halved state debt and brought in a budget surplus in 1996. The second type of change outlined in Project Victoria was to develop a more competitive economic environment for business. The government began a program of industrial reforms that included the abolition of all state-based industrial awards, replacing them with individual employee–employer contracts. New restrictions on union activities

3 – The emergence of a neoliberal era in planning

extended to attempted prevention of industrial actions. These reforms were, the government argued, necessary for attracting ‘footloose’ capital investment in Victoria. This objective resulted in an improvement in the state’s credit rating. The third step was to reorganise the public sector to improve efficiency. The Public Sector Management Act 1992 reduced the number of government departments and made substantial cuts to staffing levels, introduced employer–employee contracts, promoted cost savings through compulsory competitive tendering (CCT) and adopted a client-oriented service ethos. A small and efficient government, reorganised on corporate principles and with a substantially reduced function of managing services, was the ultimate goal. Two key factors helped the engineering of the neoliberal-inspired ‘revolution’ led by Kennett. The first was a landslide victory at the 1992 election, which gave the Coalition government 70% of the seats in the upper and lower Houses of Parliament, and complete parliamentary dominance. The second was the contrived sense of prevailing economic crisis, allegedly caused by the previous government’s ‘interventionist’ mistakes. Klein (2007) has argued that corporate forces dominate by using or manufacturing crises to impose economic ‘shock therapy’ on societies in the form of privatisation of public assets, a reduction in the role of government and its replacement by markets for public services, to form a corporate state. The results, she argues, are diminished democracies, a concentration of riches and a failure to achieve efficiency objectives and low-cost services. The public relations campaign of the Kennett government throughout the 1990s aimed to exploit a sense of crisis in the economy to legitimise its reform agenda. According to the Kennett government, the Cain/Kirner governments had left the state virtually bankrupt. The British, Thatcher-conservative model of change to planning was adopted as the blueprint for change in Victoria; all its principal elements were adopted with a combination of centralisation and economic liberalism, which some analysts designated ‘authoritarian decentralisation’ (Thornley 1991). The land-use planning regime introduced by the Thatcher government was extensively analysed during the 1990s (Thornley 1991; Montgomery and Thornley 1990; Allmendinger 1997; Newman and Thornley 1996). Attempts were made to reduce the power of local authorities through a comprehensive review and specific actions, as essential elements in a reduction in local control over land use and development. Familiar rights of participation in the planning process were reduced as the central government imposed a deregulatory planning strategy aimed at creating a framework within which market forces and developers could act. Other identifiable changes in policy included a shift from a policy framework involving regulation and a spatial plan to one based on outputs and performance indicators, a shift from direct public sector provision to one of subsidies for the private sector, a shift from public sector infrastructure provision to developer contributions, and a shift from conflict resolution by the public sector through negotiation or political process to resolution by the courts. Like the British government, the Kennett government intervened in municipal as well as state governance to impose deregulation. This general shift has been described as moving the role of governments away from that of a ‘provider’ to a ‘strategic enabler’ (Stoker and Young 1993). Although he had opposed the Cain government’s moderate restructure of local councils in the late 1980s, once in government Kennett dismissed all local councils, installed commissioners selected by Cabinet and introduced Victoria’s most radical municipal restructure, reducing the number of municipalities from 210 to 78. While both Labor and the Coalition argued that larger councils would create greater efficiencies, the Coalition insisted that councils needed to be more commercially competitive in order to improve services to the community. The core objective impelling the changes – to cut public sector

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costs in order to create the right climate for economic growth and investment – distinguished this ‘reform’ of government from its predecessors. The Planning Minister, Robert Maclellan, repeatedly criticised local government’s planning performance after elections had reinstated Victoria’s councils, warning that planning powers could be redirected from councillors to chief executive officers if councillors ‘meddled’ with planning issues (Maclellan 1997: 7). Local councils were recast as ‘enablers’ not ‘providers’ of services, which would be better achieved by the private sector. The sole criterion was that of ‘efficiency’, in effect the cutting of government costs and reducing rates. Local governments became more accountable to the state government and its ideological agenda than to their local communities. This was particularly evident in the planning arena.

Market-led planning and the planner as development facilitator The ideological and institutional scenes were set for the new type of planning policy and practice that emerged during the 1990s. Modernist planning, defined as a state-led technocratic process inspired by a top-down conception of the public good which typified the previous MMBW approach to planning, was replaced with a market model of planning. The purpose of a planning framework under this model was firmly couched in the ‘competitive global city’ discourse, where competition to attract globally competitive industries was fierce and the quality of the urban environment was understood to be increasingly important in attracting those industries and generating economic development. Reforming the planning system was regarded as critical to creating the right climate for competition, as planning, investment and job creation were inextricably linked (Victorian Liberal Party 1992). To commence the process of planning ‘reform’, Robert Maclellan appointed a committee in 1992, chaired by architect and planner Les Perrott and with four other planners from consulting firms, to examine the planning system and address options for change. The committee reported to the Minister on proposals for a new system, and in 1993 the Minister made clear his views that development facilitation was to be the focus of the new planning system, claiming that the regulatory system ignored the need to ‘facilitate economic development, which remains the state’s number one priority’ (Maclellan 1993: 3). The Perrott Committee restated this concern, arguing that ‘Victoria’s approval systems are … an impediment to development’ (DPD 1993a: 2). The new emphasis would be ‘on facilitating, rather than inhibiting or controlling’ (Maclellan 1993: 4) and ‘promoting a positive attitude (can do if … rather than can’t do unless …)’ (DPD 1993b: 6). This approach was intended to promote entrepreneurial action and reduce government intervention in business decision-making. Development would proceed under a simplified statutory planning system, which would provide certainty, efficiency and lower costs. Planning schemes, it was claimed, were too large and complex and there was too much variation between them, resulting in increased costs, uncertainty and delays. They frustrated developers and gave ‘too much weight to the views of existing residents at a cost to … facilitation of economic development’ (Maclellan 1993: 13; DPD 1993a). Minister Maclellan wished to put an end to the ‘nay-sayers’ – bureaucrats who concentrated on ‘red tape’, and third-party objectors. The legacy of this devaluing of planning is still felt today. The planning profession has never completely recovered from the attacks on its legitimacy, and now routinely incorporates pejorative terms such as ‘red tape’ into its lexicon. The recent metropolitan strategy,

3 – The emergence of a neoliberal era in planning

Plan Melbourne, states that one of the main aims for the new Metropolitan Planning Authority will be to ‘work to speed up development processes and advise on opportunities to cut red tape’ (DTPLI 2014a: 171). While all systems can be improved and made more efficient, the use of such terms reinforces the idea that many of the essential activities of planning are pointless, bureaucratic and essentially negative. The concept reinforced by Robert Maclellan, that planners are ‘nay-sayers’, has never been eradicated.

1996: Victoria Planning Provisions In 1996, the Kennett government amended the Planning and Environment Act to introduce the Victoria Planning Provisions (VPPs), which comprise a range of new standardised provisions applied state-wide. As the Minister made clear in 1993, ‘in case anyone still has any doubts, let me assure them that the new system is not just a papering over of the cracks [but] a complete reconstruction from the foundation up’ (Maclellan 1993: 11). Until this time, Victorian rural councils had developed their own planning schemes and in 1987 the Labor government had localised the former Melbourne Metropolitan Planning Scheme into 52 local planning schemes. The VPPs swept this all aside, along with any semblance of local control. The VPPs standard provisions in 1996 comprised state policy, 25 zones, 22 overlays, 31 particular provisions, 31 general provisions and 29 incorporated documents. The legislation required all Victorian councils to incorporate these provisions into newformat planning schemes, with zones and overlays selected from a standard menu of prescribed provisions. Councils could not amend the provisions and a planning authority could not, in practice, devise its own zone provisions. The new statutory regime was primarily a discretionary system in that zones allowed a large number of uses and developments to be considered, and prohibited few uses. The new schemes required councils to consider an extensive range of vaguely defined criteria in assessing planning applications. The strategic powers of local authorities were limited to developing a Municipal Strategic Statement and local planning policy, selecting from standard overlay and zone controls and applying them to particular land, and specifying schedules to several zones and overlays. The State Planning Policy Framework (SPPF) and the other standard provisions prevailed over the Local Planning Policy Framework (LPPF). A common SPPF was inserted into all schemes, but the policy contained in it was often general, non-prescriptive and omitted many important issues. The principal purpose of Local Planning Policies was to provide guidance for councils in deciding on applications for discretionary uses and developments, that is, those for which a permit is required. However, the Local Policies served as guidelines only; they could not be worded or applied in such a way that they created de facto zone requirements by way of mandated provisions such as the use of the term ‘must’ instead of ‘should’. Eccles and Bryant (1999), in their analysis of Victorian planning law, concluded that the vague and largely all-encompassing nature of the policy statements was of little help to local authorities when it came to developing their own municipal statements. The government stated that: This shift in emphasis towards strategic planning means schemes will no longer be the purely regulatory documents which most are today. Instead, they will become tools for facilitating appropriate development (DoI 1995: 1). The government provided six objectives for the VPPs: to facilitate development, reduce local variation, improve strategic planning, reduce the size and complexity of planning schemes, provide greater certainty and make planning schemes more efficient and less

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costly to administer. The new system improved strategic planning from a low base while it reduced local participation in planning decisions. The changes saw increased development, but at a significant cost. Local policy proved to be ineffective in controlling discretionary land uses because of its lower status, and the vague language used to guide development. This was identified as a problem early: local policies will not be able to take away rights given to land users under the standardised controls. So if a council believes a particular area within a zone is unsuitable for a permissible land use, it can only rely on the persuasive powers of its MSS and local policies in front of the Administrative Appeals Tribunal (AAT) to prevent the land use proceeding (Walters 1997: 34) Contrary to intentions, planning schemes quickly became larger, less certain, more complex and costly to administer than those they replaced. By 2002, the size of planning schemes had quadrupled, application numbers had increased by 52% and permit applications rose to over 60 000 per year. The cost of planning rose dramatically. Planning staff positions in councils more than doubled and appeals rose by 31.5%. Annual staff turnover increased five-fold in metropolitan council planning offices. Application processing times rose substantially. By 2002, twice as many amendments were being approved each year (Buxton et al. 2003). The new-format planning schemes did not reduce the number of zones or simplify zone types or content. The Perrott Committee’s 2871 zones in planning schemes in 1993 included identical or closely similar zone types, and had been arrived at by totalling the gross number of zones in all planning schemes resulting from the 1987 localisation of the MMBW metropolitan-wide zone controls. The 2010 Ministerial Advisory Committee into new planning zones (VPSMAC 2011) showed that systemic failure continued: in 2010 Victoria had 1579 zone schedules and 2161 overlay schedules, the average size planning schemes had risen from 134 pages in 1992 to 730 pages, and around 400 planning scheme amendments were processed per year under a system that was introduced to eradicate most amendments. The new-format VPPs therefore failed to achieve statutory planning objectives. The principle of market liberalisation was more important to the Kennett government than that of increased efficiency in planning for the city. The Kennett government appeared willing to tolerate increased complexity, costs, delays and inefficiency as long as increased levels of development resulted. Differing agendas had helped to shape the final form of policy – a range of other policy communities altered the original intentions of the Minister for Planning and Local Government. Ultimately, the new system was fundamentally flawed. On the one hand, the revised zone structure was intended to embody a philosophy of deregulation. On the other, the new schemes introduced complex new elements such as new state and local policy, overlay controls and provisions, which could be used to regulate discretionary uses. The new-format system began as an attempt at deregulation to promote consistency and simplicity; it quickly developed into a complex layered mix of compulsory and optional quasi-regulatory features. The legacy of the VPP initiative is an unprecedented level of complexity both within and between planning schemes across Melbourne. Nevertheless, the VPP framework was retained by successive governments.

3 – The emergence of a neoliberal era in planning

Planning in crisis Minister Maclellan introduced other amendments to the Planning and Environment Act 1987, most significantly the increased scope for ministerial intervention in planning issues. The amended sections 97A–97M allowed the Minister to call-in planning applications and make decisions if the application raised a major issue of policy, or if a determination might hold substantial implications for planning objectives, or if an application was deemed to be taking too long (Victorian Govt 1987). Previously the Act had required notification of rezoning applications, but the amended section 20(2) enabled the exemption of responsible authorities from notification of amendments, if this was in the ‘interests of Victoria or any part of Victoria’. Maclellan proved to be one of the most active and controversial Ministers for Planning. Previous Ministers had power to amend planning schemes and approve sitespecific amendments but this was exercised infrequently. This altered with the changes made by the Kennett government. The impacts of these changes are felt to this day through the extensive exercise of ministerial interventions and approvals by later ministers, particularly Labor’s Justin Madden and later the Liberal Coalition’s Matthew Guy. There was controversy surrounding the extent to which Minister Maclellan actively intervened in planning processes, and the nature of his interventions. He intervened in only a small proportion of appeals and planning applications, but initiated a large number of amendments to planning schemes. Maclellan’s rezonings were controversial for their scale and were repeatedly debated in state parliament during the 1990s. He constantly amended planning schemes to allow uses or developments on specific properties contrary to zone requirements, and removed or inserted clauses with general application. Many amendments incorporated multiple changes under the one amendment, so affecting multiple properties. Not only was the new planning system more flexible and discretionary than the old system, the legislative changes also reduced third-party (or public) rights to objection and appeal. Certainties were further diminished as formerly prohibited uses became discretionary uses. Community reactions to the new planning system became more apparent as the decade progressed. Planning became one of the most debated topics in Victoria, as community groups such as Save Our Suburbs emerged (see Lewis 1999). Controversy centred on medium-density development governed by the Good Design Guide released in 1995 and revised in 1998. The Guide applied to developments of two or more dwellings on a single site, not exceeding four storeys, and to single dwellings on sites of less than 300 m2. Miles Lewis commented: ‘It is no longer about good design, if it ever was, but about shoehorning the maximum amount of new development into existing suburbs’ (1999: 213). The Good Design Guide was not so much concerned with affordability, increased safety, energy and other sustainability principles as with facilitation of development (Buxton and Tieman 1999). While the Minister and government proudly proclaimed that the state was witnessing a development boom, local governments, planners and community groups rallied. Lobby groups were formed to develop alternative public conversations. At the height of the controversy in 1997, a ‘Planning in Crisis’ conference drafted a new planning charter for the Minister. The Town and Country Planning Association, a vocal professional and community body in previous decades, re-emerged, fuelled by strong community support. Alan Hunt, the last Minister for Planning under the Hamer Liberal government, spoke out against the Coalition government approach to planning: ‘planning is about a vision for the

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future … but the vision must be shared by the community at large and be based on community values’ (Collis 1997). He also warned that it was an unwise government that does not fully consult and involve the community at every stage in the process of developing vision, goals and objectives.

The legacy: from state-led planning to market-led development In the 1970s, land-use planning as a transformative and participatory practice began to be advocated. The purposes of planning broadened in that decade to include the potential to address the spatially related dimensions of social and environmental inequities. The social-democratic foundations of both the Hamer and Cain governments had broadened the functions and value of land-use planning but, in the 1990s, the master-plan approach of the MMBW and its expansion towards broader social, environmental and economic goals was replaced by a corporate management approach focused on the far narrower agenda of development facilitation. The Cain/Kirner governments included, in the planning system, welfare and redistributive goals and entrepreneurial and speculative activities that favoured the private sector. The retreat from planning for defined public benefits in Melbourne in the 1990s lessened the capacity for planners to influence the dominance of neoliberalism as the ruling ideology. The legitimacy of state-led intervention, and of policy informed by social and environmental agendas, was undermined.

Chapter 4

Aspirational planning in the 2000s During the period of the Kennett government, the Labor Party criticised a discretionary planning system developed on a philosophy of market liberalisation. Labor’s planning policy in opposition and statements early in the term of the Bracks Labor government suggested that Labor would develop a more regulated approach to planning, and govern more in the tradition of a liberal-democratic state. Labor’s 1999 election planning policy stated that the planning system had become ‘more complex [with] less certainty for all stakeholders and increased delays and costs for residents, councils and developers’ (ALP 1999: 1). This concern led Labor, when in opposition, to promise to review the VPPs (ALP 1999: 2). Labor’s aims for the planning system were outlined in a statement by the Planning Minister John Thwaites, the State Planning Agenda: A Sensible Balance, released in September 1999. This recognised other flaws in the VPPs besides inefficiency, uncertainty and increased costs. Planning Minister Thwaites (1999: 2) attacked its focus on development, arguing for a balance between economic, social and environmental objectives: ‘for too long, Victoria’s planning system has been so focussed on economic development that it has lost sight of what is important to the community and what is essential for the sustainability and liveability of this State’. Both the 1999 election policy and the State Planning Agenda contained many undertakings to adopt more regulatory practices in response to community needs. The State Planning Agenda, for example, argued that the planning system must ‘be prescriptive enough to provide certainty and consistency’. Labor’s 1999 election policy argued that a market-driven approach to planning was ‘at the core of Victoria’s planning crisis’(ALP 1999: 1, 5). It attacked the Kennett government’s ‘blind faith in allowing the market to rule at the expense of local amenity and community interests’, claimed that the experiment with deregulation had ‘failed miserably’, and promised to substitute ‘clearer and more prescriptive controls to provide greater certainty … and quicken the decisionmaking process’. Labor made a commitment to increase local control over planning decisions, stating that state-wide zones should be varied where local conditions and needs justify variation (ALP 1999: 2). But in government after 1999, Labor largely ignored its promises to reform the Kennett planning system although it did revise the medium-density code. Labor also developed a new metropolitan strategy, suggesting major changes to the neoliberal philosophy of planning. This chapter examines the major policy documents developed by Victorian state governments of different political persuasions since 2000: Melbourne 2030: Planning for Sustainable Growth (DPI 2002a) and Melbourne 2030: A Planning Update – Melbourne @ 5 Million (DPCD 2008a), released by the Labor government (1999–2010), and the Liberal-National Coalition’s 2014 strategy Plan Melbourne. These documents have formed

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the policy framework to the key planning challenges that are the concern of the second part of the book.

Managing growth: Melbourne 2030 The Kennett government’s metropolitan strategy, Living Suburbs (1995), has been described by its critics as little more than a promotional document (Mees 2003). The Bracks government’s 2002 metropolitan strategy, Melbourne 2030, attempted to revitalise the planning agenda by focusing on the important goals of environmental sustainability and affordability, issues that had been absent from planning discourse for almost a decade. It increased the level of government intervention to help guide the form and functioning of the city. Notably, this plan placed a legislated urban growth boundary around the entire urban area and introduced new regulatory zones for non-urban land in green wedges, along with a genuine green belt across 17 municipalities far from the edge of the metropolitan area. An urban growth boundary protected by the statutory planning system had existed since 1971, but any change to the 2002 plan required the approval of both Houses of Parliament. Besides protecting the newly expanded green belt, the boundary was intended to effect greater efficiency in urban land use by limiting outer growth and achieving ‘a fundamental change in the relationship of rural areas to metropolitan Melbourne … Clarifying where urban development will be allowed and where rural activities and environmental values are to prevail will enable landowners in green wedges to plan and invest with greater certainty’ (DoI 2002c: 2). The plan aimed to concentrate almost 70% of planned new dwellings within existing urban boundaries, lowering the proportion of outer urban corridor growth from 39% to 31% and increasing the proportion of dwellings in over 114 mixed-use activity centres, from 24% of new development to 41%. It also aimed to raise the proportion of motorised public transport trips from 9% to 20%. It aimed to shift some 45% of the expected corridor growth to the established metropolitan area. Melbourne 2030 proposed an increase in outer urban density of about 50%, to 15 lots per hectare, and improved urban design of new suburbs with better street connectivity, mixed-use shopping centres addressing streets and based around public transport, and more local employment. With an existing land supply in the urban corridors for around 15 years of normal growth – at densities amongst the world’s lowest – these measures, if implemented, would have provided a major new policy direction for the development of the city. The radical nature of this plan and the need to implement it, however, was not realised by the government that introduced it. Melbourne 2030 was intended to guide the city’s development for the next 30 years, bring about a more sustainable urban form, and provide for an additional 1 million people and 620 000 new dwellings by 2030. After 2000, most other Australian state governments adopted metropolitan strategies similar to the Melbourne plan. As part of the strategy development process, the Victorian Department of Infrastructure undertook two years of research and consultation, and facilitated 12 technical reports that addressed the core themes. Many ideas that had been adopted internationally emerged in Melbourne 2030, notably strategies for clustering mixed-use activities around strategic locations and containing growth through the adoption of a growth boundary. Over 500 submissions informed the content. Melbourne 2030 had been released with draft implementation plans; many key aspects of its implementation were not developed in detail in the core strategy document (Kroen and Goodman 2012). The strategic directions were reaffirmed one year after submissions had been considered, and legislation was introduced into state

4 – Aspirational planning in the 2000s

parliament to protect green wedges from non-urban uses and establish the urban growth boundary. The strategy contained nine key directions, each of which was supported by policies that detailed ‘initiatives’ such as ‘a prosperous city’, ‘a fairer city’, ‘a great place to be’. Only the direction – ‘a more compact city’ – was controversial. The lack of implementation was the strategy’s biggest failing, so it was supplemented in 2008 with the release of Melbourne @ 5 Million, intended to provide an update. One reason for this revision was the lack of broad support for long-term planning. The strategy had not been accepted by the opposition political parties or by some of the key community groups such as Save Our Suburbs, and industry support was mixed. Melbourne 2030 did not propose a program of integrated, planned infrastructure improvements for a growing city, to provide the means for a city of up to 5 million people to continue to function while maintaining a high standard of liveability; nor did it seek to gain political, industry and community support for such a program. The lack of broad support for a program of longterm works and actions rapidly condemned the plan – the sixth major metropolitan plan in 25 years – to irrelevance. The failure to develop and implement a major program of public transport extensions for the next five years had far-reaching consequences. Public transport use increased substantially after 2004 from below 9% to 12% of motorised trips, causing substantial overcrowding and a range of service difficulties. The failure to commence heavy and light rail extensions and to improve existing infrastructure eventually proved a major contributor to the electoral backlash against the Brumby Labor government. The second reason for the abandonment of the plan was the inadequacy of government decision-making processes. The government did not adopt the principles of cross-sectoral planning for its plan, that is, support for the plan across key portfolios for an integrated implementation plan with a lead agency reporting on progress to Cabinet. The Department of Infrastructure, which developed the plan, did not formulate an implementation plan until, in effect, forced to do so by its own external implementation committee and by public pressure. A cross-portfolio Cabinet committee was finally established, three years after the plan was released. This was a clear case of too little, too late. Wilkinson (2011) has described this process as ‘strategic navigation’, outlining a strategy as a process continually adapting to a changing future. Thus, Melbourne 2030 is redefined as ‘dynamic reframing of strategic priorities … [which can] open previously unseen opportunities’ (Wilkinson 2011: 596), and failure to implement policies and measures seen as advantageous by allowing for flexibility in a changing world. This is a justification for inaction, and obscures the reality of a failed implementation process for a plan with few measurable outcomes from the outset. Wilkinson’s argument also curiously discounts the managerial capacities of modern governments and the critical importance of cross-sectoral and multi-agency roles in planning effectively for the future. The findings of the 2009 Commonwealth Advisory Group on the Reform of Australian Government Administration are equally applicable to the failed administration of metropolitan strategy implementation. Most officials, that report argued, focus on their own agencies and do not engage with other departments or actively engage in multi-sectoral issues. Departments dealt with shortterm issues, not long-term strategic needs. Third, the government did not stick to its own plan, quickly breaching the plan’s principles. The only two quantified commitments were ignored. The government substantially expanded the urban growth boundary three times between 2004 and 2010, and failed to provide the necessary service improvements that would be involved in the public transport

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commitment. Two other factors affected adherence to the plan: the imprecision of commitments and the government belief that measures could be implemented over the 30-year life-span of the plan. Imprecision is fatal to implementation. The Melbourne 2030 Audit Expert Group Report (AEG 2008) commented that the strategy gave no priority to measures and that strategies written in vague or ambiguous terms could be applied in diverse ways (AEG 2008). For example, Melbourne 2030 discouraged ‘out-of-centre developments’ but stated they could be considered, ‘where it can be convincingly demonstrated’ they will be of net benefit (DoI 2002a). This wording allowed what the plan sought to discourage – bulky goods and mall-based retailing away from existing centres and public transport, thus undermining the idea of a plan based on mixed-use activity centres near public transport. The government could not bring itself to confront the big retailing companies which had the power to destroy the livelihoods of thousands of small businesses in traditional shopping centres, and so presided over an unprecedented concentration of retailing. The government also sought to encourage an increase in outer urban residential density to ‘for example, 15 lots per hectare’ (DoI 2002a). The audit report showed that net densities had risen from 10 to 12.2 dwellings per hectare but ‘there is an urgent need to increase average residential densities in Growth Areas’ (AEG 2008) through the state government mandating increased minimum average lot yields or requiring a fixed proportion of mediumdensity housing. The government refused. Such vague statements are impossible to implement. The Analysis of Progress and Findings from the 2006 Census (ABS 2007) showed that the percentage of greenfield development, instead of falling towards the objective of 31%, had risen to 48.3% of household growth between 2001 and 2006, and that only a marginal increase in activity centre dwellings was evident. The audit team dismissed the importance of this finding, claiming that the 31% figure ‘is intended to be achieved over the 30-year lifespan’ of Melbourne 2030 (AEG 2008). A lack of government understanding also contributed to the plan’s abandonment. A government cannot keep to a plan whose intents and effects it does not understand. For example, a fixed, legislated urban growth boundary was intended to ‘shift growth away from the fringe to the city’ (DoI 2002a: 1) and achieve more efficient land use. Such diversion required a change in the business plans of outer urban development companies, used to building only detached housing on greenfield sites, towards the construction of higherdensity housing in the established city. A fixed boundary was to be the main means of forcing this change. But most companies maintained normal building practices, purchased land outside the boundary and pressured an apparently compliant government to amend the boundary. Incremental, business-as-usual land development continued, dealing a fatal blow to a plan which sought radical change. The audit team highlighted the leading role of some major land development companies in controlling developable land in the growth corridors, reaffirmed the value of the urban growth boundary, and made clear that the boundary’s removal would not reduce land prices but would reintroduce uncertainty for future development. Similarly, the government showed little understanding of how to define mixed-use activity centres or how they should be redeveloped. The 2007 report showed that structure plans had been completed or were underway for 89 of Melbourne’s 120 principal and major activity centres. These plans varied considerably, took little account of built heritage and often incorporated the large-scale demolition and redevelopment of traditional shopping centres. By 2007 they had become the most controversial aspect of Melbourne 2030, with up to 900 people attending some public meetings opposing development. Underlying all these elements of the failure to implement was the increasingly dogmatic neoliberalism of the Bracks/Brumby governments and the widespread

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public perception and media criticism that the Brumby government in particular had surrendered to development interests. This perception was another factor which contributed to the election loss of the Brumby government in 2010. Melbourne 2030 included a wide range of other policies on matters such as housing diversity and affordability, quality of urban design, the necessity for integrated transport, and an extensive range of environmental policies on open space and other provision, and the energy performance of dwellings and subdivisions. The practicability of these policies was less discernible, however. While the strategy can be praised for its attempt to assert the importance of environmental sustainability and housing affordability and other social goals, the capacity and means for achieving those goals was never realised. The 2008 audit report demonstrated the failure to implement Melbourne 2030 and recommended a greater concentration on the rapid development of a small number of principal and major activity centres. In response, the government released its new policy, Melbourne @ 5 Million, in 2008. This policy introduced the notion of a polycentric city with six Central Activity Districts (CADs) – Box Hill, Broadmeadows, Dandenong, Footscray, Frankston and Ringwood – together with the existing Transit Cities (a number of nominated future major mixed-use employment centres). It also undermined the notion of an urban growth boundary: it expanded the boundary by 43 000 ha, creating a 30-year outer urban land supply at the very time that demand for urban land in growth corridors began a significant fall (from 18 000 dwellings in 2009–10 to 12 000 in 2012–13 and from 48% to 28% of new dwellings). These measures represented the abandonment of Melbourne 2030. The new policy, however, learned the lessons of implementation. It created a more ‘whole of government’ approach, formed an Activity Centres Unit, released a practice note on activity centre implementation along with a new Activity Centres zone, and commenced work on integrated infrastructure plans for the centres. It also established Development Assessment Committees to fast-track permit decisions on major activity centres and Priority Development Panels to advise on rezoning applications for centres. Some of these measures increased community opposition. The government lost power soon after, and work commenced on replacing this policy too.

Plan Melbourne 2014 In opposition, the Liberal-National parties undertook to repeal Melbourne 2030. In government, the coalition parties released a draft metropolitan strategy in 2013 and a final strategy, Plan Melbourne, in 2014. The plan’s preparation was controversial and the group appointed by the government to advise on the plan’s preparation resigned before its release. This plan might at first seem to be a radical departure from previous plans but in fact it builds on much that has come before. A new plan, Plan Melbourne Refresh Discussion Paper, was released for public comment in October 2015 by the Labor government. This discussion paper was prepared by the same advisory group which had resigned under the Liberal-National Coalition government. It states that it does not propose a comprehensive revision of Plan Melbourne, and continues much of the direction of the previous plan. Plan Melbourne proposes that an additional 1 570 000 new dwellings will need to be provided in Melbourne by 2051, with 960 000 (over 61%) in established and 610 000 (over 38%) in growth areas. This is roughly the same proportions of housing as those which Melbourne 2030 proposed to change through the use of an urban growth boundary. The growth area proportion is significantly higher than the 31% proposed by Melbourne 2030. Unlike Melbourne 2030, Plan Melbourne does not propose any figure for housing around

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activity centres, but it divides established area housing into 310 000 for the central city and surrounds and 650 000 for established suburbs. The plan proposes to meet the targets for established areas through massive large-scale development in a series of interlocking locations with complementary functions, and through large-scale suburban redevelopment and continuing development in growth corridors. Plan Melbourne does not allocate targets for development yields to large nominated sites or to municipalities. Instead, it proposes to develop a metropolitan housing map and to ensure that local planning schemes deliver dwelling yields. The failure to estimate land supply illustrates a serious problem with the strategic plan. The plan does not adequately match land supply with housing needs in nominated locations and, as a result, its effectiveness in relating supply to projected demand cannot be assessed. Also, it relies on an implementation tool – new zones – with an unknown impact. The closest Plan Melbourne comes to stipulating housing yields is to suggest that an additional 100 000 dwellings can be accommodated in expanded central city locations, 40  000 around rail stations in established areas and 30  000 around rail stations in growth areas. New zones were developed well in advance of the metropolitan strategy. The uses and developments those zones allow and prevent, not Plan Melbourne, in effect constitute much of the real strategy for Melbourne. Local councils were given responsibility for implementing the new planning zones and so can determine the scale, location and type of new suburban housing development – with unknown impacts. Large-scale urban renewal is proposed in a series of large sites surrounding the city – Fishermans Bend, City North, E-Gate, Arden-Macaulay, Dynon Rd corridor and the Flinders St to Richmond corridor. These complement existing sites at Southbank, Docklands and the CBD. There is a second layer, of national employment clusters, at Parkville, Monash, Dandenong South, La Trobe, Sunshine and East Werribee. A third layer involves nine metropolitan activity centres (adding Epping, Fountain Gate and Sunshine to the six of Melbourne @ 5 Million) and two emerging at Toolern and Lockerbie. A fourth layer is the remaining 114 former principal and major activity centres and all 900 neighbourhood centres of Melbourne 2030, industrial and health education precincts, and transport gateways (ports and airports). A fifth layer is 29 potential urban renewal precincts and sites close to heavy rail. Varying functions are identified for these layers. The expanded central city sites and national employment clusters are intended to provide knowledge and business sector jobs, promoting innovation in mixed-use commercial and residential developments. These development opportunities are placed in an emerging ‘economic triangle’ from the east through the city to the west and north. The plan intends that existing and the developing commercial-residential centres will be developed jointly with necessary infrastructure provision, including transport requirements. Plan Melbourne Refresh Discussion Paper proposes to replace the concept of an ‘economic triangle’ with that of a polycentric city. In listing every conceivable redevelopment precinct and area, this plan repeats the drawbacks of Melbourne 2030 but on a vastly greater scale. A plan should direct activity and intervene to achieve specified outcomes, after considering a range of scenarios. Plan Melbourne, like the Melbourne 2030 activity centre policy, is primarily a description of existing development opportunities, rather than a prescription for what ought to happen. The former MMBW District Centre Policy can be contrasted favourably with both: it identified 14 large areas close to public transport as suitable sites for new commercial and retail development and prevented such activity outside those centres. Plan Melbourne does not establish a hierarchy of importance among its redevelopment areas, and the intended functions of centre types are remarkably similar. Commercial activity is not restricted to

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these centres, but will be allowed in many places under the government’s new planning system. No regulatory measures governing the type of development are proposed other than the intention for development to be guided by structure plans. Despite its stated intention, this is not a plan for a polycentric (or multi-centred) city; achieving that would require the nomination of a limited number of carefully chosen locations suitable for future development, distributed across the metropolitan area. The areas nominated as national employment clusters and major renewal centres differ from each other radically, particularly in their different spatial characteristics, infrastructure support and socio-economic bases. Parkville contains a concentrated cluster of knowledge workers linked to medical, scientific, engineering and other research, is close to universities and hospitals and is well served by public transport. Many professionals live in nearby high-amenity and historic Victorian housing linked to traditional mixed-use retail centres. The Monash cluster contains scientific and knowledge-related employment but has poor-quality public transport. The Monash, La Trobe and East Werribee precincts share few of the features that characterise Parkville. Dandenong South is a location that includes a cluster of noxious industries. Sunshine is well served by heavy rail and contains a large amount of land available for redevelopment, but there is little apparent interest in office development at that location. A vast gulf has developed between employment type and location in Melbourne. Professional and business services, and high-technology knowledge employment, is located primarily in the CBD and inner suburbs where managers and employees are attracted by high-amenity historic residential and retail precincts and high-quality infrastructure and services. Only major government intervention can overcome the current pattern of cluster concentration and extend this spatial pattern to a polycentric urban model, but Plan Melbourne is content mainly to list new cluster locations and propose structure plans for new precincts and subregional planning. The same difficulty arises in generating knowledge, business and other service employment in activity centres even where large amounts of land are available, such as in the Coburg, Sunshine and Broadmeadows activity centres. Employers have shown little interest in locating such employment in the new outer urban corridor activity centres, other than retail-related jobs. Similarly, the plan assumes that designating land for industrial and other employment in outer urban growth corridors will lead to its development, although there is little such interest shown by employers other than in sectors such as warehousing. Plan Melbourne correctly identified the need to link major infrastructure provision to designated development areas. However, it contained no plans to link many of these areas through high-quality public transport. The Melbourne Rail Link proposal, now rejected by the Labor government, would have circled the western part of the CBD and connected with Southern Cross Station. It would have undermined the intent of the North–south rail link (Melbourne Metro) to connect the concentrations of professional and knowledge employment from Parkville through the CBD to South Yarra while better connecting and increasing the capacity of all parts of the radial rail system. Areas such as Arden-Macaulay, Dynon and E-Gate are poorly served by public transport connections and none are proposed to Fishermans Bend. Established suburbs must find room for 650 000 dwellings, over twice the number of dwellings provided in the large-scale redevelopment of the central city and surrounds. New planning zones are to be the vehicle for delivering more suburban development, but no detail is provided on the capacity of zones to deliver dwellings through housing types and locations. The plan does not address the comparative potential for suburban infill

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urban renewal sites, commercial zones, activity centres and the potential redevelopment under the three new major residential zones, to accommodate the proposed number of dwellings. This failure to relate estimates of housing supply to demand, is a critical defect. New urban growth areas must provide 610 000 new dwellings. Plan Melbourne notes that ‘it is no longer sustainable to accommodate most of our population and household growth by continuing to expand Melbourne’s outer urban growth areas’ (DTPLI 2014a: 61). It proposes more diverse housing types but does not regulate density, proposing only ‘a variety of lot sizes and housing types’ (DTPLI 2014a: 69). It notes that a 30-year supply of urban zoned land exists in the growth corridors but states that a permanent urban growth boundary should be established. Such a boundary existed in 2002 under Melbourne 2030 – until all major parties agreed to destroy its effectiveness. A 30-year land supply, without any mandated minimum average housing densities, renders meaningless the concept of an urban growth boundary. Unlike Melbourne 2030 before it, Plan Melbourne listed 12 major transport works, including the east–west road link, the north-east road link, the Melbourne Rail Link, improvements to existing rail, tram and bus services, level crossing separation, improved transport to growth corridors, and port expansions. Most of these projects have already been abandoned or substantially modified. The plan placed a strong focus on major road developments, and none of the proposed public transport works (other than ongoing new rolling stock) were funded. ‘Action’ on a range of important proposals was limited to ‘investigations’, particularly investigations for a tram line to Fishermans Bend, tram priority through separation on roads, and long-term proposals for rail links to Rowville and Doncaster. A particular problem for Plan Melbourne was the relationship between its policies and implementation instruments. A metropolitan strategy should establish the principles which guide the direction of instruments such as zones in planning schemes. However, the government finalised the content of new planning zones well before the strategy was produced. These zones are largely deregulatory and facilitative, and in many ways pre-empt policy on major urban issues. For example, commercial zones allow extensive retail development away from traditional activity centres, so preventing a retail policy which concentrates retailing into centres. As a result, Plan Melbourne says nothing about retailing, one of the most important urban land uses. In the absence of retail policy, the planning system prevails, the implementation instrument becoming the policy. Contradictions abound as a result. Plan Melbourne reflects the government’s faith in markets and its ideology of deregulation. Neoliberal governments, which reduce the role of government and entrench powerful corporate interests, have little need for a planning strategy which directs and regulates government. The real power lies in the planning system which deregulates, not a strategy which directs. As a result, the plan constantly substitutes vague and general language for clear commitments and regulatory measures, as did Melbourne 2030, postponing measurable commitments in favour of statements about future processes without clear criteria to determine outcomes. The key sections and principles consistently fail to follow statements about desirable policy directions with enforceable measures. One section with mixed potential impact is the section on heritage protection. The strategy promotes the importance of heritage buildings as a vital element in the distinctiveness of the city and the identity of its citizens. This refers to the use of the Neighbourhood Residential zone to protect urban heritage housing, and allows councils to introduce statutory planning protection using mandatory height controls for neighbourhood centres. It includes a review of the Heritage Act to provide for more effective heritage protection but

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allows intensive redevelopment of the CBD and major activity centres, leading to largescale loss of the city’s heritage value. The plan attempts to reposition Melbourne towards integrated planning with its hinterland by retaining the productive agriculture, biodiversity, water resources and landscapes of its peripheral area. It seeks to expand metropolitan planning to include regional planning, by redirecting some metropolitan growth into regional towns. But, like so much else in the strategy, this section relies on further work with little guidance on the likely outcomes. There is no discussion of the necessary links between regional growth, access, amenity, types of regional employment, education, improved infrastructure and other services. Despite its promise, Plan Melbourne fails as a viable strategic plan. It clearly outlines the task to be achieved via its embrace of massive population growth, but it does not show how Melbourne can grow and remain a liveable, functioning, productive and equitable city. It does not match projected new development with demand, nor show how the necessary social and physical infrastructure can be provided. Instead of providing the strategic framework for new zones to act as implementation tools, it has been pre-empted by statutory provisions. It fails to show how Melbourne can avoid becoming spatially and socially divided, or how its environmental values can remain a vital part of the city’s future. Most of all, it is not a cross-sectoral strategy. It does not adequately connect spatial planning with a wide range of other sectoral concerns, and consequently is unable to drive whole-ofgovernment policy. Its vague and general commitments will drive little and it will quickly become irrelevant. A Metropolitan Planning Authority (MPA) created out of the Growth Areas Authority (GAA) will probably implement a new metropolitan plan. The GAA was established in 2006 to assist with the planning of new growth areas. The MPA will continue the work of the GAA, on precinct planning work in growth areas, while also having a role in metropolitan land-use planning and infrastructure co-ordination. Given the origins of the MPA, there are concerns that it will continue the outer spread of the city at low densities. There have been calls for the establishment of a metropolitan planning authority for many years, but the MPA is not the independent and representative regional authority widely envisaged. Its relationship with the state planning department is unclear. It has no control over the statutory planning system. The second part of the book (Chapters 5–11) will focus on the key policies and decisions in planning from 2000 to the present. Each chapter concentrates on a key challenge confronting planning for Melbourne in the 21st century. These are housing affordability, urban consolidation, outer urban and peri-urban growth, transport planning, activity centre development and urban design and heritage protection.

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Chapter 5

Housing provision and affordability in Melbourne Few needs are more important for people’s security and happiness than adequate housing. In Australia and other market economies the public sector now supplies a very small percentage of housing, and this is directed to the most-needy categories of the population. The majority (67%) of Melburnians either own or are purchasing their own home or rent in the private rental market (26%) (ABS 2011). A very small percentage is renting in the co-operative or public housing sectors. Governments and citizens rely on the private sector to supply new dwellings. Housing affordability requires sufficient supply of a range of housing types and prices across locations. Owning a house might remain beyond the financial capabilities of some, but affordable housing for all income groups should be an achievable goal. However, in the second decade of the new millennium, the cost of both purchasing and renting is increasing relative to incomes and there is a clear shortage of housing that is affordable for low- and moderate-income groups. This chapter will examine housing supply issues in Victoria, and the planning policy improvements needed to meet the current housing affordability problem. The median house price in Melbourne rose three-fold between 2000 and 2011, from $190  000 to $500  000. Over the same period the average wage increased by about 50% ($42 500 in 2000 to $66 500). The average weekly rental for a three-bedroom home increased

Fig. 5.1.  Real house prices and income trends in Australia, 1960–2006. Source: Yates (2008: 202). 47

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by over 75%, from $190 to $340, and by 2011 fewer than one in 10 rental properties were considered affordable to those on Centrelink incomes. Further, those on low to moderate incomes looking to buy a home were largely limited to the outer urban areas. House prices have been increasing at a greater rate than household incomes for over four decades (see Fig. 5.1). During the 1970s the role of housing began to change from the primary one of providing home and shelter, to include the role of sound financial investment and protection against rent increases due to inflation. This investment dimension to housing was enhanced through changes to the Australian taxation system, notably the exemption of owner-occupied housing from the capital gains tax from 1986, and the tax benefits of negative gearing (whereby a loss on the rent–loan interest differential may be deducted from the owner’s yearly assessable income), which were increased in the 1990s (Yates 2008). These measures contributed significantly to the growing wedge between house prices for first-home buyers and the borrowing capacity of households on an average full-time wage. House prices grew and purchasing a home became increasingly difficult, especially for Australian on low to middle incomes (Yates and Berry 2011). The high number of investors in select locations, including increasing numbers of overseas investors, is contributing to the substantial and continuing rises in Melbourne house prices.

An increasingly divided city Much of Melbourne’s current metropolitan area was developed in the post-war boom years of the 1950s and 1960s as the suburbs expanded, particularly to the east and the south after constraints on building due to rationing and other war-time constraints were lifted. Rapid population growth due to immigration and the ‘baby boom’, along with the rapid growth of car ownership, led to the proliferation of new suburbs in a dramatic outward expansion of the metropolitan area. Mass home-builders, such as AV Jennings, were established in this era, specialising in estates of many houses on serviced allotments, using a standard set of designs. Many owner-builders also operated, and relatively affordable housing was built in that way. When the Whitlam government came to power in 1972, it connected many of the unserviced areas of Melbourne and Sydney to the sewerage system for the first time. The pattern of house pricing across Melbourne has altered fundamentally over time. In the early years of settlement, wealthier people moved to the established inner suburbs, primarily to the south and east of the city centre. The poorest were initially housed in inner-city slums, and many later followed the movement of industry to the working suburbs of the north and west. While the general division between the south and north of the Yarra River has persisted, notable exceptions were the established wealthy areas in parts of Essendon and Moonee Ponds, and the contrasting suburbs along the south-eastern sand-belt of Clayton, Springvale and Dandenong, where modest weatherboard houses became home to the many migrants who worked in the factories of nearby car, food, clothing and other manufacturing industries. From 1945 until the late 1970s, inner-city areas were characterised by concentrations of low-income households, and the condition of much housing stock deteriorated (Frost and Dingle 1995). This geographic division began to change with the gentrification of the inner city from the 1960s. Post-war migrants who moved into the run-down inner-city areas led the way for waves of house renovators who recognised the value of the Victorian housing stock and its prime locations. Through the decades of the 1970s and 1980s, house prices increased gradually in many of the inner suburbs to the city’s south-east and north. The overarching pattern of property prices and wealth distribution is now inner versus outer – median prices reflect distances from the

5 – Housing provision and affordability in Melbourne

Fig. 5.2.  House prices and distance from CBD, 1976 and 2010. Source: Buxton and Phelan (2015).

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CBD, with some variation (see Fig. 5.2). The configuration of households, while also variable across the city, shows distinct patterns in household type according to inner and outer locations. In inner Melbourne the largest proportion of the population are those living alone; the outer areas comprise mainly couples with children. The greatest growth in property prices has occurred in the inner and middle-ring suburbs, where the highest levels of employment, services and cultural facilities in the metropolitan area are located. Radically different types of urban form are associated with increasing social differences between inner and outer urban areas. Higher-income, tertiary-educated, professionally employed households are concentrated in inner and middlering suburbs and selected outer urban areas, while lower-income households without tertiary qualifications are concentrated primarily in outer urban areas (ABS 2006). An analysis of housing affordability in 2007 showed that locales 30–35 km from the CBD had become the city’s most affordable, likely due to distance from the city centre and the ageing of the housing stock. However, these suburbs were still unaffordable to low- and middleincome households (SGS Economics and Planning 2007). A more recent analysis, prepared as part of latest metropolitan plan (DTPLI 2014a), illustrates the income needed to afford housing in different parts of Melbourne. It clearly demonstrates that inner and middle Melbourne are unaffordable for those on moderate to low incomes (see Fig. 5.3). The ABS Socio-Economic Index for Areas (SEIFA) makes clear the general distribution of socio-economic disadvantage in Melbourne. Drawing on income, education, employment, occupation and housing data from the censuses (2006, 2011), the Index provides a

Fig. 5.3.  Housing affordability for families with children across Melbourne, 2010. Source: MAC (2012): 35.

5 – Housing provision and affordability in Melbourne

picture that is somewhat different from The Age or The Economist liveability assessments that were discussed in Chapter 1. Striking pockets of disadvantage are focused around six of Melbourne’s municipalities – Greater Dandenong, Maribyrnong, Hume, Darebin, Brimbank and Moreland (see Fig. 5.4, ABS 2006). There is generally a strong correlation of socio-economic disadvantage with areas that are rated as less liveable due to shortfalls in basic infrastructure and services. SEIFA affirms the evidence of other studies. The State of Australian Cities 2014–15 report described an urban Australia that was divided between those in dense inner-city areas with access to high-wage jobs and quality services, and those living in sprawling outer urban areas without adequate services or ready access to higher-paid employment. The report also found that housing prices had risen disproportionately in relation to proximity to city centres, causing cities to fracture along lines of income, education levels and access to services (DIRD 2015). It is clear where the disadvantages are concentrated across Melbourne, and it is clear which areas are home to the most vulnerable populations (ABS 2006; Robson and Wiseman 2009; OS/ISDC2012). Without substantial government policy intervention, such disparities in the health and well-being of suburbs and their communities will become further entrenched.

Fig. 5.4.  Socio-Economic Index for Areas, showing disadvantage in Melbourne, 2006. Source: ABS (2006).

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The situation for renters There is clear evidence of affordability problems within the private rental sector, which accounts for about 26% of all Australian households (Beer et al. 2007; ABS 2011). The costs for renters increased throughout the 2000s as the shortage of affordable rental accommodation continued to grow (Wulff et al. 2011). While the supply of private rental housing across Melbourne increased between the national census years of 2001 and 2006, this occurred mainly at the upper end of the market. By 2006, the nation-wide shortage of affordable dwellings for those on the bottom 25% of incomes exceeded 70  000, in stark contrast to ‘surpluses’ discernible from the previous two censuses. A study of social inclusion nationally in 2012 suggested that the proportion of low-income private rental households expending over 30% of their income on housing approached 50% between 2005 and 2010 (ASIB 2012: 60). However, the Council of Australian Governments, the peak intergovernmental forum, found that the situation had worsened for the lowest 10% by income; ‘rental stress’ (the proportion spending more than 30% of income on accommodation, which affected some 50% in the 2007–08 financial year) approached two-thirds by June 2010 (COAG Reform Council 2012). Researchers for the Australian Housing and Urban Research Institute reported that 87% of low-income private rental households in Melbourne in 2006 were unable to obtain affordable housing (Wulff et al. 2011). By then, lowincome renters were no longer in a few concentrations of the inner and outer suburbs but were increasingly dispersed across the outer metropolitan area and at a distance from the city centre (Randolph and Holloway 2007). The substantial recent supply of high- and medium-rise apartments has been targeted primarily at short-term renters, such as visitor and student accommodation, international use and temporary housing for young persons. This supply has done little to alleviate housing stress for lower-income residents or to provide more affordable housing for newer households forming from established suburbs. Figure 5.5 shows the growth in the median weekly rental for a three-bedroom house across select metropolitan municipalities between 2002 and 2012.

Fig. 5.5.  Changing rental affordability, three-bedroom house, 2002–12. Source: MAC (2012: 35).

5 – Housing provision and affordability in Melbourne

Measuring housing affordability stress Many Australians are experiencing a housing affordability crisis. In the new millennium, Australia’s growth in house prices far exceeds growth in income, and the diminishing affordability is most severe for low and moderate income groups. Affordability in housing research is often measured by calculating the ‘median multiple’, which is the median house price divided by the gross (i.e. total) annual median household income. Before 2000, median house prices in Australia were ‘affordable’, at approximately two to three times median household income. In the first decade of the new millennium the median multiple escalated in Australia to more than five times median income, as it did in Ireland, New Zealand and the UK. Melbourne experienced a median multiplier of 8.4; Sydney’s was 9.2. Comparing household income with house price is the most common measure of assessing housing affordability stress. A dwelling is considered affordable if the cost of paying rent or mortgage does not exceed 30% of household income (Gurran 2011: 256). Using this measure, about 24% of Australian households were experiencing housing affordability stress in 2012 (Burke et al. 2012).

Fig. 5.6.  Housing stress across metropolitan Melbourne. Source: DTPLI (2014): 56.

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Alternative measures of affordability have been devised to give more nuanced insights into the stresses indicated by the broad figures derived from the national Census of Population and Housing. Burke and colleagues proposed that residual income, which calculates income remaining for housing costs after other typical household expenditures are deducted, offers a more accurate picture of affordability. By this method, more than onethird of the lowest 40% of households by income experience housing affordability stress (Burke et al. 2012), a markedly higher level than the affordability stress recorded by the income ratio measure for low-income earners. This method also identifies lower rates of stress among higher-income earners. It reveals, further, that households of family groups are more likely to face great difficulties with affording the housing they need, due to their distinctive expenditure patterns. By 2012, these abiding trends had coalesced in public discourse as a housing affordability crisis, with clear spatial implications: for families in Melbourne with incomes between $40 000 and $80 000, the only choice for house purchase is in the outer suburban extremities, areas of relatively low amenity and little or no public transport provision (Burke et al. 2012). In 1994, households on an average income could purchase a dwelling within 10 km of the CBD: this changed to 24 km in 2000 and 40 km in 2009 (Victorian Govt 2013: 57). Drawing on ABS 2011 census data, Figure 5.6 illustrates the variation in affordability across the metropolitan area.

What is causing the problem? There are multiple reasons for the housing affordability crisis in Melbourne. Governmentsponsored financial incentives have increased demand for housing, stimulated construction activity and contributed to escalating house prices. The main incentives have been the introduction of the state government’s first home buyers grants of up to $7000 introduced in 2000, that rose to $14 000 in 2008–09 and recently reduced to $10 000 only for newly constructed houses; tax incentives for investors, such as negative gearing, introduced in

Fig. 5.7.  Housing loan applications by state. Source: Pickering (2013), drawing on ABS (2011) data.

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1989; and in 1999 a 50% tax discount on a capital gain derived from property assets (Weller and Van Hulten 2012). The housing building industry played a key role in lobbying for the first home buyers grant, which initially benefited purchasers and stimulated the home construction industry. Over time, however, the first home buyers grant inflated house prices by increasing demand and by being added to the cost of house–land packages, to the disadvantage of later market entrants. Ultimately, it did not address the housing affordability problem (Pickering 2013). Figure 5.7 shows the short-term boost in loan applications for first home buyers after each grant was introduced. It also illustrates that current new home purchases in most states, including Victoria, are at their lowest since the early 2000s. There is no doubt that the grants have benefited the property industry but have also contributed to ‘dwelling price volatility, a quick rise while it is in place followed by slow growth or falling prices after it is removed’, which was evident during 2009 and 2010 (Pickering 2013). Those who buy new homes find that, once the grant has been removed, their property may be worth less than the purchase price. Housing market factors have contributed to spatial disadvantage. The type and range of housing provided has not adequately met Melbourne’s housing needs, and shortfalls in supply in middle-ring suburbs were pronounced in a period of escalating population growth and attendant demand for both rental and owner-occupied accommodation. Outer urban housing, predominantly built as large detached houses on large lots, unnecessarily increases the price for many home buyers. Little housing diversity is evident in new outer suburbs, forcing many new home buyers to buy more expensive and larger houses than required. There is a significant mismatch between the increasing size of outer urban houses and average household size. Between 1990 and 2008 outer urban houses grew by 39% (Goodman et al. 2010), reaching a mean size of 245 m2 (James 2011) – larger than mean housing size in any other country (Santow 2009). At the same time, average household size has been in decline and is projected to continue decreasing, to below 2.3 people by 2026 (ABS 2009–10). House lots in growth areas reduced a little in size on average, but sizes of the houses increased both in floor area and average number of rooms. Large houses accounted for 44.7% of the market in 2007, a dramatic increase from 16.9% in 1990 (Goodman et al. 2010: 46). Detached housing made up around 90% of new houses built

Fig. 5.8.  New housing construction and change in population. Source: Yates and Berry (2011).

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and the proportions did not change significantly between 1990 and 2008. There had been a shift from three- to four-bedroom dwellings as the normal dwelling size on the fringe. Most of new dwellings (91.1%) contained three or more bedrooms, those with four or more bedrooms comprised 52.4% of the total (Goodman et al. 2010). A common claim is that housing costs are rising, thus lowering affordability, because demand is not being met (Productivity Commission 2004). Some commentators have suggested that supply constraints contributed to price rises for broad-hectare land inside Melbourne’s urban growth boundary as developers became obliged to compete for remaining land parcels (Birrell and Healy 2003; Birrell et al. 2005b; HIA 2008). National Housing Supply Council figures (NHSC 2010) suggested that the net dwelling supply gap across Australia increased from 23 400 dwellings in 2002 to 178 400 dwellings in 2009 (DIT 2011: 152). The federal government accepted this view; the 2012 State of Australian Cities report (Commonwealth of Australia 2012) concluded that a substantial deficit in supply of housing exists in Australia. Yates and Berry (2011) argue that the construction of new houses has fallen short of Australian population growth (see Fig. 5.8). An important contributor to the debates on housing supply has been the National Housing Supply Council (NHSC), established in 2008 to monitor housing demand, supply and affordability in Australia (abolished by the Coalition government in 2013). In its first report, the State of Supply 2008, the NHSC identified a deficit of 85 000 dwellings in Australia. This report, and the figures on housing shortfall, have been questioned by some commentators. Soos (2012: 1, 2) claimed that the alleged shortage was ‘complete fiction’ and that the NHSC was a body ‘stacked with industry and former government professionals’ and that there was in fact an oversupply of housing by 2011. Sayce and Keen (2011) maintained that the NHSC figure was based on a methodology that included large numbers of people who did not have the financial resources to enter the property market. In more recent reports, the NHSC utilised a concept of ‘underlying demand’ and increased its estimate of the housing shortage to 185 000 in 2011. Australian housing markets are more segmented than many of the figures would suggest, and it is quite possible in cities such as Melbourne for there to be sufficient provision of some types of housing, notably new housing on the urban fringe, but a shortage of housing in other areas where there is high demand, particularly the middle-ring suburbs. Not all housing is interchangeable; a more nuanced understanding of housing markets is required.

Are planning charges to blame? Developers have traditionally argued that planning costs increase the cost of new housing and prevent cheap housing from being built (UDIA 2008: 7). As a proportion of total development costs, government taxes and charges are similar for all major cities – around 10% for greenfield areas and 11–13% for infill areas (URBIS 2010, cited in DIT 2011: 156). Construction costs in Victoria are cited as another factor inhibiting development (UDIA 2008) but Melbourne has costs similar to those in Adelaide and Perth, with Sydney and Brisbane slightly cheaper (DIT 2011: 157). The rising cost of land, on the other hand, certainly contributes to house prices (DIT 2011: 155). So, while there has been growing concern, particularly from the development industry, about the impact of planning regulations and other government taxes and charges on the cost and affordability of housing in Australia, such costs are not the most important factor affecting the price of housing, costs in bringing land onto the market, or land supply. Dawkins and Nelson (2002: 10), in a US study looking at the impact of urban containment policies on house prices, commented that:

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Since housing producers are likely to vary the type and style of housing to economise on regulatory costs, we should not draw conclusions about the effect of urban containment policies without examining the dynamics of the entire housing market. In practice, it is almost impossible to separate the impact associated with planning regulation on housing costs from the influence exercised on housing costs by the additional amenity achieved by those initiatives and regulations (Gurran et al. 2008b). This is the case in both central and peripheral locations. Thus, urban containment policies such as management of outer urban growth or the configuration of urban consolidation around public transport and walkable activity centres need not contribute to house prices if supply is deliberately intensified in locations across a broader metropolitan area (Dawkins and Nelson 2002).

Are planning policies to blame? From around 2003, a range of critics began to argue that regulatory planning costs led to adverse impacts on housing affordability (Productivity Commission 2004; Menzies Research Centre 2003; Moran 2005; Cox 2005). Moran (2006: 4) summarised this claimed causal connection between planning systems, government management of land supply, and land price increases: Invariably [Australian planning systems] reduce the quantity of land that is available for conversion into housing … If Australia were applying the liberal systems to development that prevail in Texas for example, a house/land package price would at least halve. Australia’s ration-induced high prices for new developments on the periphery lift prices throughout the city. From this perspective, planning policies that limit the outward spread of cities are the main cause of rising house costs, suggesting that urban containment strategies are inhibiting the goal of housing affordability (Beer et al. 2007; Moran 2006, 2008; White and Allmendinger 2003; Nelson et al. 2002). However, various international studies have shown that land-use regulations, such as the use of urban growth boundaries, do not increase land price where land is available in a wide number of locations or where policies produce greater densities and a variety of house sizes and types (Nelson et al. 2010; Pendall 1999; Ihlandfeldt 2007; Glaeser and Ward 2009). In their review of the price impacts of urban growth boundaries, Nelson et al. (2007: 93) reinforced the importance of an integrated approach to land supply, and concluded that urban containment turns out not to limit land supply ‘in the large majority of situations where urban containment is applied’ (Nelson et al. 2004; Pendall 1999). This reinforces the findings of similar Australian studies (Buxton and Taylor 2011). Land supply increased where higher average lot densities in the same market released more building lots, and urban containment increased inner urban development. Many cities accompanied urban containment with proactive affordable housing policies such as inclusionary zoning and housing programs, and mandated increased minimum density targets. Nelson and colleagues (2007), in a wide-ranging study, also pointed to other factors that limited the impact of urban growth boundaries on land prices, particularly, making available additional land on the urban fringe, requiring higher densities on the fringe, and expediting development projects. The degree of demand elasticity (i.e. the ability of housing consumers to substitute one location or housing product for

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another) is the single most influential factor in house price formation, especially at the metropolitan scale (Nelson et al. 2002). In their evaluation of the relationship between land price and the introduction of an urban growth boundary for Melbourne, Buxton and Taylor (2011) concluded that no causal relationship could be shown between land price changes overall and the introduction of the growth boundary. Similarly, Costello and Rowley’s (2010) examination of the impact of land release on land and house prices in suburban Perth over a five-year period found only a weak relationship between land supply and changes in house pricing. Some suburbs receiving large quantities of land saw housing affordability decline at a much faster rate than others with no new land supply. The determinants of housing affordability are rather more complex than rates of land release alone. Costello and Rowley (2010) were seeking to clarify the argument that increasing land releases to add to supply will lead automatically to lower prices of new house and land packages. However, as the authors noted, this argument overlooks the fact that new housing adds only a small increase to total stock at any time, and therefore its potential impact on existing house prices is minimal (Costello and Rowley 2010: 7–8). This supports Gurran’s (2008: 108) conclusion that, as new housing accounts for as little as 2% each year of the entire housing stock in Australia, continuing to augment the urban fringe cannot resolve the housing affordability problem, which affects an entire metropolitan area. Gurran also detailed the many housing submarkets that make up the metropolitan market at large, and showed that releasing land at the fringe will not necessarily reduce house prices in other parts of the metropolitan area. There are, in effect, different housing markets for the fringe, middle and inner suburbs, and a shortage of housing in one area might occur alongside a glut in others. Construction costs are lower for greenfield locations than higher-density infill sites, which enhances the attractions of development at a distance from the centre, for many developers (DIT 2011). However, greenfield development is more expensive in aggregate, when the real costs – including those for infrastructure including power, water, increased transport and health costs and greenhouse gas mitigation – are properly accounted for in the city’s development outlays (Trubka et al. 2008). The cost differences in developing the fringes and infill locales are striking: for 1000 dwellings, there is a differential of over $340  million ($309  million and $653 million  respectively) (Trubka et al. 2008: 3). The economic case for a planning emphasis on infill rather than greenfield development is clear. According to a City of Melbourne report in 2009, which explored population growth and urban development options, if the next million Melburnians were located within existing developed areas, the Victorian community would effectively be saving $110 billion over the succeeding 50 years (City of Melbourne 2009: 9).

The role of immigration and foreign investment The housing affordability problem has contributed to a more general debate about the question of a desirable population size and the role of migration in urban growth and planning. According to Weller and Van Hulten (2012: 26), ‘in Australia in 2009, national policies promoting immigration and capital inflows produced a housing affordability crisis across Melbourne’. However, the fact that more people come to live in our cities does not explain why we should not be able to house them, nor does it explain why housing supply may not be keeping up with demand unless it is accepted that the costs of increasing city size are so high that a society such as Victoria cannot afford them. With different

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urban policy settings and priorities it might be possible to meet the costs associated with urban development, both the necessary infrastructure and services, and the social and environmental impacts. Approved foreign investment in residential real estate doubled to $34.7  billion in 2013–14 from $17.2 billion the previous year; $25.8 billion was spent on new dwellings, up 200% in a year, while investment in existing houses rose 32% to $7.7 billion. China is the main source of foreign investment in Australian real estate, doubling to $12.4 billion in 2013–14 from $5.9 billion in 2012–13 (FIRB 2015). The federal government has introduced new rules for foreign investment in Australian property including a $5000 application fee for property under $1 million, rising $10 000 for every $1 million in the purchase price. A new register will trace the origin of foreign investment in residential and agricultural property and increased fines will apply for non-compliance. The Foreign Investment Review Board considered over 24 000 proposals for foreign investment in 2013–14, double that of the previous year, and rejected two. New Chinese investment in the Australian housing market is forecast to rise to $60 billion in the six years to 2020, over double the level of the previous six years (Credit Suisse 2015). Concern has been expressed at the potential for money laundering by Chinese investors breaching Chinese government foreign currency rules to invest corruptly obtained funds in Australian property (West 2015). Sometimes a distinction is made between foreign investment and foreign ownership, but both affect Australian residential property markets. Foreign investment initiates most new high-rise apartment construction in Melbourne and Sydney and investors own a significant proportion of individual apartments and, more recently, houses, concentrated into defined spatial areas. A preference by overseas investors for high-rise residential buildings is determining an urban form unsuited to the needs of most Melbourne residents. Victorian governments have seemed unwilling to resist this investment trend (Thistleton 2013). Melbourne is attracting such a high level of investment because of liberal foreign investment rules, a facilitative building code and lack of height controls, and an investor desire for diversified foreign property portfolios. This has led to significant land speculation, with some CBD land prices doubling in two years, and pressure on house and other property prices in selected suburbs. Higher land prices and construction costs are reflected in higher apartment prices. Investment trends could lead to both an oversupply of inner-city apartments and further housing price rises in the suburbs, and the vulnerability of an overpriced housing market to a Chinese property and share market crash. An important result of unregulated costly highrise construction and investor-initiated price escalation of existing houses is the low proportion of first home buyers activity (only 12.7% of total loan approvals). Governance factors, particularly those which lead to regulatory uncertainty, can increase development costs. Victoria’s land-use planning system since the late 1990s has been based largely on discretionary uses, not on the certainty provided by either prohibitions or allowing uses without a permit. Vagueness in the terminology in planning provisions is common, leading to differing interpretations and associated and costly conflict, formal appeals, delays and high holding costs for land. Governments Australia-wide have responded by sometimes allowing major developments and uses without the need for permits, notification to residents or processes of appeal. In an uncertain policy environment, developers will tend to place resources and funds into ‘rent-seeking’ activities (Ball 1999), such as lobbying and consultant reports that are not directly related to the provision of housing but that add to the costs. Alternatively, policy and planning provisions that unambiguously outline permitted and prohibited uses can provide clarity and reduce costs.

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What do people want? The extent to which developers position themselves in relation to government strategic planning policy was investigated in a study carried out by the Australian Housing and Urban Research Institute (Goodman et al. 2010). This research found that developers generally contend that the amount and type of housing they produce is determined by market preferences, and that outer urban consumers prefer low-density, detached homes in new suburbs (Goodman et al. 2010: 61). Housing supply generally does not primarily reflect government strategic planning policy priorities. Local government planners interviewed for the study viewed this differently, with one respondent suggesting that ‘although developers might think they are delivering what markets want, consumers are not able to choose options they are not offered or don’t know about’ (Goodman et al. 2010: 59). The notion that supply is simply responding to demand has also been challenged. The State of Australian Cities 2014–15 report pointed to the two predominant locations for city growth, low-density housing on the urban fringe and high-density housing in city centres. Semi-detached houses and apartments in Melbourne increased from 24% of total housing in 2001 to 41% in 2011. It concluded that, ‘while land release on the urban fringe may have once been a valid strategy for boosting the supply of affordable housing, this approach may be increasingly problematic’ (DIRD 2015: 41). A 2011 report by the Grattan Institute on factors that can influence housing choices, suggests that the two predominant types of housing do not match emerging consumer wants or needs, and that people are prepared to make trade-offs around their priorities on convenience, safety, price and size. Once these variables were accounted for, the report concluded, ‘there are large shortages of semidetached homes and apartments in the middle and outer areas of both Melbourne and Sydney’ (Kelly et al. 2011: 2). There is little doubt that the demand for alternatives to the detached housing form is increasing, and that location and access are of increasing importance in shaping decisions about where to live. The National Housing Supply Council in 2011 noted two significant trends that suggest that a greater diversity in housing is needed. First, households of single people or couples without children are projected to grow in number at a far greater rate than those of families with children, and in all regions. Second, most regions will see a greater increase in demand for flats, apartments and townhouses than for detached houses (NHSC 2011: xv). Randolph (2004: 491) similarly outlined a disjuncture that can arise between social needs and the dynamics that emphasise a narrow range of housing stocks: New suburban housing developments are increasingly marketed to a very limited range of households, with little variety in housing choice and tenure. The communities being produced are therefore imbalanced, and will continue to be so, for estates of large single dwellings will be difficult to re-tool in later years for smaller households. The penchant for flat developments around town centres is leading to similarly imbalanced community outcomes, with comparably limited housing choices, this time for rental. Some characteristics of the housing market in Melbourne can be seen in other western countries. The house-building industry in Britain, for example, analysed extensively by Ball (1999, 2003), shows a lack of innovation, particularly when compared to Europe. The British industry maintains ‘traditional’ designs and production methods, to concentrate on proven profitable market segments, and adjusts its land accumulation strategies and interactions with planning authorities accordingly. Few building companies seek to

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expose, let alone persuade consumers to adopt, alternative housing products, and consumers faced only with a standardised housing stock are consequently regarded as displaying conservative preferences for housing design. Mortgage lenders, for their part, tend to support potential future saleability and are cautious about lending for alternative subdivision designs or to individuals for alternative housing types. The low rate of innovation worsens the impact of low supply elasticities. Housing supply is regularly affected by skills shortages and rising costs for the services of tradespeople, further driving up the costs of housing production at precisely those periods when demand is greatest. Uncertainty within the industry about rates of profit promotes a tendency to command a premium above and beyond normal rates of return, so as to maintain sufficient revenue to withstand a downturn. The relatively easy entry and exit of builders and developers, as well as inevitable competition from the existing housing stock, also adds to housing costs. All these aspects of the British housing sector are evident in the Melbourne housing market. The level of demand elasticity is, some argue, the single most influential factor on house price formation, in particular when the metropolitan scale is studied (Nelson et al. 2002). In the mid 1990s the Australian Urban and Regional Development Review pointed to the development industry’s imposition of ‘rigid conservatism’ in outer urban housing design (AURDR 1995: 127), a comment of enduring relevance to Australia’s major cities: Houses often face inwards behind garage doors and are separated from work places and retail centres. Movement is largely restricted to the road network and is dependent mainly on private vehicles. Substantial distances must be travelled to reach even geographically near destinations. This pattern has determined a generation’s expectations of subdivision layout and housing type rigidly designed for a certain block size, and has reinforced conservative attitudes by the development industry of what will sell. Market choice is locked into a conservative and mutually reinforcing set of seller and buyer expectations. A concentration of the development industry around a small number of large development companies can also restrict the choice of housing products available to consumers (Evans 2004). The Melbourne house construction industry is segmented into largely detached outer urban, medium-density infill housing in middle-ring suburbs, and highand medium-density housing in inner suburbs. Melbourne’s outer urban housing market has been dominated for decades by a limited number of large companies. This market concentration had implications for undermining the aim of the 2002 metropolitan strategy, Melbourne 2030 (Buxton and Scheurer 2005) to shift a high proportion of planned outer urban growth to activity centre locations (DoI 2002a). Some researchers have challenged the suggestion that we are moving away from the ‘Australian dream’, suggesting that although changing demographics might indicate a neat correlation between single-person households and heightened demand for smaller dwellings, there is ‘little evidence yet that Australians really want a long-term future in two bedroomed flats’ (Randolph 2006: 484). Indeed, it would appear that apartment living remains a transitory phase for many people who will later move to a medium-density dwelling, a house in the suburbs or perhaps one outside the city. According to the 2011 Australian Census of Population and Housing, despite an average household size of 2.6 people per dwelling, about three in four Australians live in detached housing with three or more bedrooms, while one in 10 and one in seven live in semi-detached and apartments/ units respectively. In Melbourne the trend is similar: in 2011 the number living in detached

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homes approached four in five, one in 10 in semi-detached, and somewhat more than one in 10 living in an apartment, flat or unit. It seems likely that the investment market will play a significant role in determining the rate of new residential development as well as its scale and location, not necessarily the ‘perceptions and demands of households looking for homes to buy and live in’ (Randolph 2006: 483). The challenge is to better understand these diverse dimensions to housing needs, and to ensure that planning policy is developed to ensure that they are met effectively. This will require more variety in terms of dwelling types and locations so that people obtain the housing type they want and can afford. As a study conducted by the City of Melbourne (2009) showed, Melbourne can house its growing population in existing areas while still saving the Australian dream.

Housing affordability and purchase costs A simple comparator – house price/rent to income – has served well in defining housing affordability but with the imperatives of the second decade of the century to live sustainably, reduce energy demand and minimise the impacts of rising energy and fuel costs, affordability is concerned with more than house price or rent. Governments continue to expand housing on the urban fringe on the basis that house prices there will be affordable. The evidence is mounting that residents in outer areas are the hardest hit by rising fuel costs or interest rates (Dodson and Sipe 2008; Kelly et al. 2012; Moloney and Goodman 2012). The serious shortfalls in public transport add to vulnerabilities of Melburnians in the outer areas (see further discussion in Chapter 8). Another factor compounding affordability for residents is the operating cost of larger houses. Gains in energy efficiency through building code regulations are outweighed by the growth in house size over recent years. Despite the introduction of the 5-star building code regulations in 2005, which comprised minimum thermal performance standards, water-saving measures and the requirement to install either a rainwater tank or a solar water heater, energy use in new dwellings was nearly 6% higher than those of existing dwellings. By 2007 Victoria’s emissions from energy use in new housing were increasing by 532 000 t of CO2 per year (Wilkenfeld and Assoc. 2007). The energy drain from lighting was addressed with a new 6-star standard which, from May 2011, limits lighting energy usage in new homes. The star rating system has no impact on the size of the housing constructed. Between 2001 and 2008, Victoria’s electricity use grew by 7% per year on average (DHS 2008). The burgeoning usage of domestic appliances was critical to the escalating energy demand. Usage of reverse-cycle air-conditioning increased from 40% to 57% between 1996 and 2007. Wilkenfeld and Associates (2007: 5) concluded that ‘a major driver for increasing emissions from lighting, and a restraint on reductions from heating and cooling, is the increasing size of dwellings – the average new dwelling is estimated to have a 30% larger net conditioned floor area than the average existing dwelling’. They recommended placing ‘some restraint on floor areas’ (Wilkenfeld and Associates 2007: 9). More recently, a study found that there is a positive correlation between house size and number of energy-consuming appliances (Newton 2011). The perceived higher resale value of larger homes and the way that the construction costs of new homes are calculated per m2 appear to be key factors promoting the demand for larger homes (Moloney and Goodman 2012). Pears (2011) analysed data which compared house size with cost/m2 and concluded that larger houses appear to be better

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value for money when marketed as a cost/m2 because fixed costs that are independent of house size can be spread over the larger floor area. Pears concluded that buyers rarely factor in the long-term costs of maintenance for larger houses or the costs involved in heating and cooling them. A survey by the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development supported this conclusion (OECD 2011): Australians are the least likely among western countries to consider energy use when buying a home, and the most likely to leave appliances on standby or use cars for short trips. Making accurate, ongoing costings of maintaining and servicing larger homes explicit at the time of purchase through a mandatory disclosure system might shift buyers’ understanding of the true value of purchasing a larger home (Moloney and Goodman 2012). The challenge is to change the priorities of home buyers and home builders, and how we assess and rate large or small and unsustainable or sustainable houses. Bigger houses are considered to be lower risk in terms of resale.

What can planning policy do to deliver affordable housing? Providing a broader mix and type of housing through planning regulation is a more effective planning response to achieve greater affordability than is continuing to release land for development on the city fringe. A 2010 National Urban Policy Discussion Paper by the federal government endorsed the need to direct future housing towards infill. It acknowledged that the comparative cost of directing and investing future growth to infill areas is not straightforward, ‘on balance there appear to be greater overall benefits in favour of infill over greenfield’ (DIT 2010: 23). This redirection of new housing supply will happen only as a result of direct government policy. Planning policy must insist that the housing mix for new infill housing include a greater proportion of modest-sized and cheaper housing. Prescribing where housing can and cannot go and regulating for a proportion of new housing to be affordable are two crucial steps in addressing the affordability and sustainability challenges.

Inclusionary zoning Inclusionary zoning is the mandated requirement that a certain proportion of new housing achieves social outcomes, such as affordable housing. Proportions of lower-priced housing are often mandated by approval authorities for developments above a certain size or in certain locations. Governments can also contribute funds or empower not-for-profit companies. Cost structures are affected by land price, location and the size of the development, developer profit and unit price. Inclusionary zoning is more effective in a more regulatory land-use planning environment. For example, permissive zoning provisions which do not control development height, limit the capacity of approval authorities to negotiate over incentives to vary height restrictions in return for an affordable housing component. A lack of height controls bids up the land price component of developments, increasing the difficulty of providing a proportion of lower-priced housing. South Australia is the only Australian state that has introduced a form of inclusionary zoning, with a target of 15% of housing constructed in larger developments being affordable. This figure includes 10% as affordable and a further 5% designated for households with high needs (Govt of South Australia 2005). These targets are introduced through rezoning processes and are delivered through new models of lower-cost home purchase (Davison et al. 2013). Mandatory zoning measures can be supplemented by incentives and penalties. It appears clear that ‘mandatory affordable housing requirements deliver a far

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greater affordable housing outcome than do voluntary schemes based only on incentives or concessions’ (Gurran et al. 2008a: 106). In the UK, planning requirements for affordable housing have become steadily accepted, priced into the costs of land acquisition; they contribute some 60% of all affordable housing completions (Gurran and Whitehead 2011). Inclusionary zoning measures are used internationally in many cities or countries.

Integrated financial policies The success of planning policies aimed at social housing objectives such as affordable housing is affected by broader government financial policies. Policies such as negative gearing and capital gains taxation rebates provide substantial subsidies to investment in higher-priced housing and multi-unit construction aimed at higher returns. Where property is regarded as a major source of wealth through growth in value and other returns, the investment and property industries will resist forms of government intervention which may diminish those returns. Regarding the provision of housing primarily as a social benefit, as in some European countries such as Germany, will result in lower house price increases, potentially less spatial differences in price, and a more amenable environment for the provision of affordable housing measures such as inclusionary zoning.

The integration challenge As Australian policy-makers have become imbued with a neoliberal ideology, they have become ever more reluctant to prevent Melbourne becoming entrenched as a city spatially segregated according to income and other social characteristics. Many factors affect social segregation. As the variation in price of housing increases between suburbs according to distance to the CBD, social groups become all the more spatially segregated according to their income, education and the location and type of services and employment. Housing choice is a critical factor in avoiding the exacerbation of such spatial divisions. Unless lower-priced housing is available for lower-income groups in the inner and middle-ring suburbs, social division will continue to grow, with serious future consequences for the city. Many cities have not foreseen these consequences, to their cost and peril, and now are facing high levels of disaffection, increasing crime, and the waste and costs that arise from exclusion. Melbourne cannot afford the hard road back from such dysfunction. An associated problem is the need to provide affordably priced medium-density housing for the large numbers of children of middle-income households in established suburbs who will wish to form their own households in the coming decades. Both the main housing choices offered to this large emerging group – ever-smaller and more expensive inner urban apartments, and large detached and poorly serviced outer urban houses – are likely to be regarded as increasingly unattractive. In a classic case of market failure, the producers of housing have shown that they cannot meet this integration challenge. Only government intervention through policies long proven elsewhere can succeed. Integrated policies are the keys to spatial integration, by co-ordinating financial, social and planning policies at federal, state and local government levels. At the moment, government has never been less integrated; thus, gaining co-operative policies across governments and between government agencies will require leadership and strong pressure from an informed community.

Chapter 6

Containing the city: urban consolidation in Melbourne Suburbanisation in Melbourne A unified metropolitan-wide approach to land-use planning helped Melbourne avoid the fate of inner areas of many US cities, where urban abandonment and loss of industrial employment from the 1960s led to widespread city decay. A similar flight to suburbs in Melbourne in the 1950s and 1960s left inner areas largely to successive immigrant groups and low-income residents. Land values remained stable or fell and, as late as the 1980s, despite two decades of incremental gentrification, house and land values were comparable to those of many outer urban areas. Every inner and middle-ring suburb lost population in the 1970s and 1980s, some by up to two-thirds, and CBD and inner urban employment also fell substantially. Between 1991 and 2001, twice as many housing units were constructed in outer Melbourne as were built in the inner and middle-ring areas, and over 80% of Melbourne’s population growth occurred in outer suburbs (Buxton and Tieman 2004). But by the mid 1990s, CBD and inner urban population and employment had begun to rise substantially. Coupled with strong policy interventions to promote the revitalisation of the old inner areas from the early 1980s, unified metropolitan-wide governance and regulatory land-use policies were powerful factors contributing to the maintenance and improved functioning of Melbourne’s inner urban fabric. For example, they prevented the uncontrolled proliferation of large regional shopping malls and out-of-centre retailing as competitors to the CBD and existing strip shopping centres. Now, extensive housing development and population increases are occurring both in the inner and middle-ring suburbs and in all new outer urban growth corridors. Melbourne’s suburbanisation dates from the turn of the 20th century, when the Victorian city with its attached terrace houses gave way to detached houses on large lots. The spread of suburbs began in earnest in the 1940s after the end of World War II. Increased population, the availability of housing credit, changing housing preferences and the fostering of low-density housing by the planning authority all fostered the spread of suburbs. This phenomenon has been characterised as ‘urban sprawl’, a term with pejorative connotations and of disputed causes and effects (Johnson 2001; Paül and Tonts 2005; Troy 1996). Generally, urban sprawl can be conceived of as detached housing with low population and housing density constructed on single lots at or beyond the edge of a metropolitan area. It is accompanied by commercial shopping malls, segregated land uses, a high degree of automobile dependency, and low availability and use of public transport (Robinson et al. 2005: 51; Daniels 1999; Ewing 1997). A further defining feature of suburbanisation is that ‘the population maintains strong social and economic connections with the metropolitan area, often commuting to work in the city’ (Fisher 2003: 553). A common characteristic is 65

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the high level of consumption of land compared to population density (Bullard et al. 2000; Robinson et al. 2005; Theobald 2005: 292; Ewing et al. 2002). There are numerous international examples of this phenomenon. This adequately defines the type of development in Melbourne’s new outer suburbs. The housing densities of the new suburbs being built on the fringe remain low by international standards but have slowly increased to about 15 lots per hectare. Generally retailing, community and civic services are provided in widely spaced shopping malls, requiring extensive car use, and there is little local employment. Most new housing built is large and detached with little diversity, poor public transport or other services and inadequate physical and social infrastructure (Goodman et al. 2010). Melbourne’s most important contribution to policy on suburban development is its adoption of the linear corridor model, initially through the 1971 plan, Planning Policies for the Melbourne Metropolitan Region, which identified seven urban corridors. Planning in 1989–90 reduced these to three, while the 2002 metropolitan strategy, Melbourne 2030, adopted four: the Berwick-Pakenham, Whittlesea, Hume and Werribee corridors. The 2008 Melbourne @ 5 Million update increased this number to five by connecting Caroline Springs to Melton. All the corridors have been extensively widened and some connected in a significant example of planned sprawl focused on nominated areas, compared to unplanned fringe expansion on the dispersed US model. The reasons proposed for the corridor model were lower infrastructure costs from sequential development, the provision of rail-based public transport services, and certainty in land release within defined boundaries to reduce or eliminate land speculation. The confinement of outer urban development to growth corridors, however, was not accompanied by mandated density and design requirements in the new suburbs. The one exception was a brief period from 1990–92 when the Labor government mandated a minimum average density requirement of 15 lots per hectare as part of its approvals for new corridor structure plans. This doubled the average density of new development and provided the basis for substantial land savings coupled with improved urban design. The requirement was removed by the Kennett government’s Robert Maclellan in 1993 in his first major decision as Planning Minister. This decision was perhaps one of the greatest lost opportunities in the modern history of planning for Melbourne. Increasing residential density inside the growth corridors, even to moderate levels by international standards, would have seen the same land supply gains as those achieved by continually expanding the urban growth boundary from 1990 to 2013 (Buxton and Scheurer 2007). Some commentators have argued that suburbanisation has led to Melbourne functioning not as a single-centred but as a multi-centred metropolis, functionally connected through an ever-widening commuter belt. On this analysis, the elements associated with dispersal are that central city employment is proportionately declining, manufacturing has relocated to outer suburbs, employment and housing have dispersed, and outer urban population has grown. This has led to dispersed commuter patterns: shorter circumferential trips within the outer suburbs have replaced longer radial trips to the central city and led to lower work trip times (O’Connor 2011; O’Connor and Stimson 1994, 1996; Brotchie et al. 1993). O’Connor (2011) pointed out that only about one-third of employment is located in the CBD and immediate surrounds, and that half of all jobs are located over 13 km from the CBD. Most work and other trips, he argued, are local and regional and by car, pointing to the need for regionally focused transport systems to many destinations. He did not necessarily advocate the establishment of multi-purpose dispersed centres of the ‘edge city’ US type described by Garreau (1991), where office, retail, service jobs and

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sometimes public institutions and housing are concentrated (usually around freeways). In Melbourne, most suburban employment is located out of traditional centres; the repeated and unsuccessful attempts to establish a poly-centric city in Melbourne will be described in Chapter 9. The concept of regionally self-contained suburban areas implies the need for better regional transport networks. Mees (1995), in contrast, argued that the advocates of dispersal commonly confuse growth with decentralisation. The central city of Melbourne has increased employment and its relative importance as a thriving cultural centre over time, and, as the metropolitan population and area increased, the central city share of population and jobs fell proportionately. Mees argued that ring freeways are unnecessary because evidence showed that there are few long-distance circumferential journeys, rather a pattern of short radial journeys. The types of employment, housing and services differ radically across parts of the metropolitan area. Chapter 5 showed that almost all professional and advanced business service and knowledge-based jobs are located in the inner city, along with expensive and high-quality housing, and that vast income differences are associated with different spatial areas. Relatively few jobs are available in growth corridors, and high unemployment is a feature of many suburbs.

Suburbanisation and intensification Urban consolidation is commonly defined as an increase in population and/or dwellings within an existing urban area to make the maximum use of that area. The debate over the costs and benefits of urban consolidation has perhaps never been more important, given the importance of sustainability principles as a basis for planning in the new millennium, and the growth pressures on cities and their hinterlands. The benefits of consolidation policies extend beyond environmental grounds. Broadly, the gains can be classed as improved economic efficiency in the use of urban infrastructure, land and buildings, reduced development costs, better utilisation of existing facilities, structural benefits through improved access to employment and services, and greater diversity in population and housing (Neilson Associates 1985). To this list can be added other tangible benefits such as the conservation of land and resources by limiting outer urban expansion (Breheny 1996), the reduction of energy use through energy-efficient buildings and less reliance on private vehicle use (ECOTEC Research 1993; Owens 1986; Banister 1992), greater social interaction (Jacobs 1961; Katz 1994) and increased housing affordability. Societies that consume less land for urban purposes tend to use infrastructure more efficiently, consume fewer resources, and transfer more investment to productive public and private uses. The post-war spread of Australian cities up to the 1990s exceeded 1 million hectares at a cost of $4.2–5 billion annually, compared to the $3–5 billion invested annually in new manufacturing plant and equipment (AURDR 1994, cited in Buxton et al. 2006: 54). Planned growth along corridors, even in their broadened form, has led to substantial infrastructure savings. For example, a rather more policy-driven, interventionist approach under the Melbourne 2030 policy could have reduced vehicle trips by 12% and travel time by 23% over a period of 25 years, and delivered savings in housing construction and infrastructure to a present value (net) benefit of between $25 billion and $43 billion (Spiller 2006). Newton (2000) argued that all forms of strategic regulated planning designed to deliberately channel and concentrate additional population and industry into specific areas outperform laissez-faire development when supported by upgraded transport infrastructure. These analyses of urban development scenarios revealed that the

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compact model delivers the lowest output of CO2 emissions due to greater use of public transport and fewer vehicle kilometres travelled, with emission savings of 11 500 t each day. Greater compactness also results in lower pollutant emissions of volatile organic compounds (VOC), oxides of nitrogen, carbon monoxide and sulphur dioxide. Cervero and Gorham (1995) showed that reduced car travel by residents of mixed-use centres served by multiple transport modes leads to lower air emissions compared to similar day-to-day activities in car-based, single-use suburbs. Masnavi (2000) found lower car use overall in higher-density, mixed-use suburbs. Typically, households in higher-income inner areas of Australian cities own fewer cars per capita than households in the outer suburbs, and they use them less for work commutes. But urban consolidation poses new challenges. Claims about the benefits of consolidation have been subjected to close scrutiny by urban researchers over the past two decades. Searle (2003, 2004) and Troy (1996) have identified constraints in the capacity of the urban fabric, such as limited infrastructure, to accommodate increased densities. Poor design of town centres, inadequate public transport connections, employment location and building design can see car use and traffic congestion grow. Higher density may produce uneven results in the affordability and diversity of housing (Burke and Hayward 2001; Yates 2001) and, as liveability diminishes, so do opportunities for, and commitments to, local social interactions. Melbourne’s inner and parts of the middle-ring suburbs are being transformed rapidly into a radically different urban form – a high-rise metropolis. For over 50 years, high-rise office towers have come to dominate much of the CBD. But from the early years of this century, high- and medium-rise residential towers have become the major force in urban redevelopment. Inner Melbourne is the scene of a speculative frenzy where boundaries to acceptability are constantly tested by developers, architects, planners and builders. The suddenness and scale of this change has left policy in its wake. There is little effective planning regulation to govern the height, scale, design, environmental performance, location and appropriateness of buildings in the CBD and adjoining areas, nominated development areas, or commercial and mixed-use zones. This lack of regulation has led to a land price bidding war in which some prices per m2 have doubled in a few years, and developers propose ever-higher buildings to recover costs. Only in 2014 were height controls introduced even into historic suburban residential zones, and in 2015 interim planning controls were introduced for the CBD and Southbank along with some height controls in Fishermans Bend. No effective strategic planning framework governs this development process and the new metropolitan policy, Plan Melbourne, says nothing about high-rise development. At no time in the history of the city since the 1880s land boom era have decisions on growth been made so comprehensively by the development industry. For decades, most new high-rise development has been located in the CBD, most medium-density development in the middle-ring suburbs and most detached housing growth in growth corridors on the urban fringe. Demographic trends across Melbourne pre-1991 showed a steady decline in the populations of middle and inner suburban areas. However, during the 1990s, this trend was reversed, particularly in inner suburbs. Every Melbourne municipality grew between 2003 and 2013 though at different rates (Table 6.1; Fig. 6.1). Growth has been greatest in the six growth area municipalities (Wyndham, Casey, Melton, Whittlesea, Hume and Cardinia) which accounted for 362 719 (49%) of all new dwellings during this period. The four inner suburbs (Melbourne, Port Phillip, Yarra and Stonnington) grew by 94 455 dwellings (13%), the 13 middle-ring suburbs by 179 090 (24% of the total), and the eight established outer suburbs by 104  580 dwellings (14%).

6 – Containing the city: urban consolidation in Melbourne

Table 6.1.  Municipal population growth 2003–13 Municipality

2003–13

Area

Municipality

2003–13

Area

Wyndham (C)

93 842

GA

Bayside (C)

9280

Middle

Casey (C)

76 464

GA

Banyule (C)

7162

Middle

Melton (C)

59 072

GA

Hobsons Bay (C)

6004

Middle

Whittlesea (C)

57 046

GA

Manningham (C)

4103

Middle

Hume (C)

42 268

GA

Brimbank (C)

26 045

Outer

Cardinia (S)

34 027

GA

Melbourne (C)

50 493

Inner

Greater Dandenong (C)

19 667

Outer

Port Phillip (C)

18 331

Inner

Frankston (C)

18 077

Outer

Yarra (C)

13 478

Inner

Mornington Peninsula (S)

16 640

Outer

Stonnington (C)

12 153

Inner

Maroondah (C)

9398

Outer

Moreland (C)

23 399

Middle

Yarra Ranges (S)

6610

Outer

Nash (C)

19 661

Middle

Knox (C)

5871

Outer

Darebin (C)

19 086

Middle

Nillumbik (S)

2272

Outer

Glen Eira (C)

17 703

Middle

GA total

362 719

49%

Maribyrnong (C)

16 786

Middle

Inner total

94 455

13%

Kingston (C)

16 495

Middle

Middle total

179 090

24%

Whitehorse (C)

15 688

Middle

Outer total

104 580

14%

Boroondara (C)

13 255

Middle

Grand total

740 844

100%

Moonee Valley (C)

10 468

Middle

C = City; S = Shire, GA = growth area Source: Buxton and Phelan (2015), drawing on ABS (2014a).

Most municipalities grew gradually and evenly during this time, and medium-density housing construction to three storeys dominated the debate over urban intensification until about 2005. However, the municipality of Melbourne, covering the CBD and some adjoining areas, grew faster than any other Australian municipality in the year to June 2013, faster even than any of the outer urban growth areas. The City of Melbourne population rose by 11 029 in 2012–13, higher than the outer urban City of Wyndham at 10 759 and Casey, with 7476 people (ABS 2014a). The CBD population rose 22.7% to 29  000 while Docklands and Southbank each grew by 15%. Other inner areas are also growing strongly; for example, Abbotsford by 19%. Most new dwellings are apartments in high- and medium-rise buildings. The Melbourne municipality remains the focus for high-rise development, with annualised building approvals of almost $1.3 billion in the first half of 2013–14. Across the metropolis, in the first half of 2013–14, high-rise approvals reached a record annualised

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rate of $4.8 billion, up from $3.5 billion two years earlier. Such investment is now spreading to the inner urban municipality of the City of Yarra, where annualised apartment approvals rose 255% to $491 million in the first half of 2013–14, up from $138 million the previous year. Apartment development in the middle-ring suburbs of Toorak, South Yarra, Kooyong and Armadale has reached $500 million annually, and the Cities of Port Phillip and Moonee Valley also attract significant investment (ABS 2014a; Schlesinger 2014). This trend was unpredicted as recently as 15 years ago. It has profound consequences for the future functioning and amenity of the central city, inner urban areas and entire metropolitan area. This chapter will examine the three different approaches to urban intensification occurring in three general spatial areas – inner areas, established suburbs and the growth corridors. Plan Melbourne nominates new dwelling targets and building types for these three spatial areas to 2051: 310 000 mainly high- and medium-rise apartments for the CBD and inner suburbs, 450 000 medium-density infill for the established suburbs, and 410 000 mainly low-density detached houses in the growth corridors. Advocates of high-rise towers argue that high-rise development limits outer urban sprawl. However, inner urban high-rise development does not reduce the spread of Melbourne because occupants of housing in the three areas differ in age, income, education levels, occupation, lifestyle and housing preferences. CBD apartments are largely occupied by a relatively transient renting population of students, visitors, international residents and young adults (Birrell and Healy 2013). New home buyers intending to raise families have tended to move to growth corridors where a relatively large house can be purchased for

Fig. 6.1.  Population change 2003–13. Source: Buxton and Phelan (2015), drawing on ABS (2014a).

6 – Containing the city: urban consolidation in Melbourne

about the price of a small one-bedroom inner urban apartment. Different development companies subdivide land and build to these three markets according to different business models, with few companies catering to more than one market type. Consumer preferences are routinely determined by the suppliers of housing, with development companies providing little housing diversity within the dominant types built for each of the three areas. Despite claims that developers cater to demand, high- and medium-rise development in Melbourne is determined not by consumer preferences but by investor decisions about profit and other returns – ‘an investor rather than an occupier driven boom’ (Birrell and Healy 2013). People are forced to choose between the limited types of housing provided.

High-rise development The combination of strategic failure and a facilitative planning system has led to a fundamental and historic shift in the location, scale and type of development in Melbourne. Over 362 high- and medium-rise developments containing 58  000 apartments were approved in the municipality of Melbourne in 2012–14 or proposed for the following fiveyear period (MCC 2014), compared to 22 605 apartments actually completed in 2010–12 (Birrell and Healy 2013). This scale takes Melbourne into the big league of international high-rise approvals. Outside Asia, few cities compare with this scale of high- and mediumrise development. In 2011–12, 40 apartment towers as high as 108 storeys were approved or awaiting approval in the CBD and inner Melbourne, accounting for 30 000 proposed new apartments (Dobbin 2013). Significant concentrations occur, for example, 7800 apartments built in one block at the western end of the CBD bounded by La Trobe, William, Bourke and Spencer streets. In late June 2014, the government approved three high-rise buildings including a $900 million 319 m 100-level building at 79 Southbank Boulevard, a 75-level tower at 452 Elizabeth St and a 54-storey tower at 84–90 Queensbridge St. This approval was reminiscent of the approval on ‘Super Tuesday’ in late February 2014, when the government approved five towers to be built at a cost of $557  million. Another 21 towers of 27–38 storeys have been approved or are being considered in the Montague precinct in South Melbourne. This trend has led to warnings about an oversupply of apartments, with a cascading effect of lower rents and property values through the market in other locations (Zigomanis 2015). Large numbers of apartments are located in six initial redevelopment sites identified by the government, and incrementally on other sites. For example, 3500 new apartment dwellings have been approved in Victoria St, Richmond under the Priority Development Panel process, established in 2010. Medium-rise development of four to 12 storeys is emerging as a significant contributor to apartment construction, particularly along arterial roads, in strip centres and on infill sites. This trend also reflects changing cost structures and market demand. Much of this redevelopment is occurring through incremental, unplanned redevelopment initiated by investors in a context of market-oriented governance. One emerging trend is the incremental advance of housing apartment blocks of seven to 12 storeys along the Victorian-era strip centre shops, gradually changing heritage buildings to facades or removing them. Governments can encourage urban consolidation by identifying development sites and setting rules for their development. The Melbourne 2030 strategy, for example, identified 1210 such sites with potential to accommodate as many as 88 000 dwellings, over 57 000 of which were in 15 inner municipalities (DoI 2002a). Plan Melbourne identified 21 large sites around the CBD, categorised into national employment clusters, major redevelopment sites (such as Fishermans Bend, E-Gate and Arden-Macauley) and major activity areas,

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with the potential capacity for at least 180  000 new dwellings on current development trends. Typically, many such sites are large, empty or under-utilised in either public or private hands, and are often former industrial sites. However, neoliberal governments prefer to encourage developers to identify and develop sites, removing restrictions on development in a process which is largely developer-initiated and controlled. In identifying large potential development sites, the government has generally removed any rules for their development. No design standards have existed other than minimum construction standards in the National Construction Code, although discretionary design standards are beginning to be introduced into areas such as Fishermans Bend. This is the largest brownfield site, a 250 ha area where at least 80 000 residents will live (see also Chapter 10). About 90% of the site was situated in the City of Port Phillip, which has draft design guidelines for energy efficiency, water recycling and open space. However, the Coalition government extended the Capital City zone from the CBD to this area. This removed any regulatory controls and substituted the state government for Port Phillip as the approving authority. This deregulated zoning created considerable private wealth at the public expense, gifted speculative profits and substantially increased the value of land, requiring the government to pay higher land prices for public amenities and the public to pay higher dwelling prices. The Coalition government’s subsequent master plan set no mandatory height controls, in effect inviting developers to set height standards over two-thirds of the area. In the Capital City zone, the state government must consider all building applications over 25 000 m2, a rule which has encouraged applications to exceed this size. The Coalition Planning Minister approved 36 new projects for 15 139 new dwellings in 1514 storeys, and was the responsible approval authority for another 51 planned projects able to produce a further 18 463 dwellings in 1828 storeys. No rules governing these approvals have been available, and no information on the process was available until 2014. There was no public right of comment. The lack of regulation has led to speculation and induced high land and apartment prices, which in turn have decreased housing affordability, detrimentally affecting both renters and potential market entrants. High-rise development leads to high per capita residential energy consumption (Myors et al. 2005) unless extensive energy efficiency measures are used. Some studies show highrise apartments use 30% more energy than detached dwellings (Blundell 2010) because of extensive common areas such as foyers, car parks, lifts, plant and equipment and the lack of individual meters. Water use and greenhouse gas emissions are higher per person than in both medium-density and detached dwellings (Blundell 2011). High-rise towers in Melbourne continue this pattern, built to the basic Building Code of Australia Section J standards. The City of Melbourne’s 5-star Green Star policy and the National House Energy Rating Scheme average 6-star standard do not apply to ministerial approvals of buildings over 25 000 m2. As a result, no green star towers are located in the CBD, Southbank or Docklands, and Melbourne’s tallest towers are ‘in a race to the bottom’ (Arnell 2014). The design of apartments is leading to a wide range of detrimental impacts. Small, poorly designed apartments affect health (Marmot 2010), a perception supported by inhabitants. Only 16% of recent apartment developments were rated as good by respondents; none were in the high-rise category (City of Melbourne 2013). An often-overlooked design factor detrimentally affecting health is noise impact between apartments. The building code allows substantial noise transmission between apartments. Some middleincome purchasers are now negotiating higher standards of noise control at the construction stage. A City of Melbourne study showed that of 20  000 apartments in 100 developments, 96% are two-bedroom and smaller, 40% of one-bedroom apartments are

6 – Containing the city: urban consolidation in Melbourne

less than 50 m2 in size, and that larger apartments are generally penthouses. A quarter of apartments contained windowless bedrooms with no access to natural light. The density of some developments is 5000 dwellings per hectare, up to four times the density allowed in Hong Kong and New York, and 10 times the density allowed in London. Another serious result of this building type is that Melbourne is the sixth least affordable city in the world for housing purchase, with only 2% of apartments affordable to service workers and lowerlevel administrative staff within a 56 min commute of the CBD, and only 24% for nurses or teachers. Only 1% of Melbourne municipality’s private rentals are affordable to the poorest 25% of workers (City of Melbourne 2014). A broadening consensus of opinion is arguing that the massive scale of high-density living, coupled with the widespread extent of inadequate construction, is a national problem that exposes large numbers of apartment owners to unacceptable risks and high remedial costs. A Docklands fire caused by defective cladding, recalls of electrical cabling and crumbling concrete ‘surprise few in the industry … [given] price driven performance … [with] 85 per cent of New South Wales apartments … defective on completion’ (Raff 2015). Draft Better Apartment Design Guidelines by the Government Architect (OVGA 2014) propose new mandatory standards to improve apartment design. These would include minimum apartment sizes of 37 m2 for a studio apartment, 50 m2 for a one-bedroom, 65  m2 for a two-bedroom and 90  m2 for a three-bedroom apartment, minimum ceiling height, minimum storage space and 2 m deep balconies above ground floor level. Mandatory design, environmental and social standards can improve the quality of apartments but do not overcome the fundamental problems that high-rise residential towers pose. High-rise towers are not needed to gain significant increases in density, as attested by some of the world’s densest and highest-amenity cities that prosper as low- and mediumrise settlements. They lead to significant off-site impacts, such as windy streets and sunlight exclusion. They separate residents from street life and each other in secure enclaves which feature their own services and comforts. The controlled environments of forests of glass and concrete are anti-city, the ultimate privatisation of space, obliterating the complex interactions between inhabitants that have always defined the successful traditional city.

Medium-density development Medium-density development was Melbourne’s most contentious form of residential development from the 1970s to the early 2000s. This takes the form of any type of attached housing, such as single or double-storey terraces, units, flats or apartments to four storeys. Recently, the statutory definition has been extended to a height of four storeys in Victoria. Medium-density housing includes townhouses attached or detached on the same block; when detached, townhouses are not counted as multi-unit dwellings by the Australian Bureau of Statistics, so complicating the process of data gathering. A fundamental change in housing preferences occurred during the 1990s in Melbourne, towards medium-density housing. The introduction of medium-density residential codes in various forms helped facilitate a boom in multi-unit housing. Multi-unit approvals rose from 1704 in 1990–91 to 12  362 in 2002–03, a seven-fold increase, while new detached housing commencements in 2003 were the same as in the late 1980s, at around 23 000 a year. Large numbers of new, large detached houses are being constructed in the middlering suburbs, replacing smaller detached houses that often have heritage value. Mediumdensity development has occurred largely as incremental, opportunistic infill development

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anywhere across the metropolitan area, but primarily in the inner, middle-ring and bayside suburbs, and close to some outer urban rail stations. The codes broadly failed to facilitate metropolitan-wide urban consolidation. Most has occurred through the conversion of building uses, such as former industrial sites (see Fig. 6.2), and the demolition of existing housing and redevelopment of housing sites. In recent years, medium-density housing has accounted for about 30% of all residential development. Melbourne 2030 anticipated the construction of 170 000 new dwellings within existing residential zones by 2030, totalling 28% of all new housing. Plan Melbourne proposed that 650  000 new dwellings will be required in established suburbs by 2051. Most suburban redevelopment is likely to be medium-density housing because of building costs and emerging housing preferences for new households, from established suburbs. Birrell et al. (2012) argued that the 241 111 new households aged 25–34 which will form from 2011–21 are unlikely to wish to settle permanently in small high-priced medium- to high-rise apartments because they will wish to form families by their mid 40s. Equally, many are increasingly unlikely to move to housing on the urban fringe. Raised primarily in established suburbs across the metropolitan areas, this young cohort is already showing signs of turning away from outer urban housing which is inadequately

Fig. 6.2.  Kensington Banks, a former industrial brownfield redevelopment. Source: Photo by M. Buxton.

6 – Containing the city: urban consolidation in Melbourne

served by infrastructure and is located far from employment and the city centre. Location will be more important than house size for this group. The only other viable option is medium-density housing in established suburbs stretching from the central city and inner suburbs to the outer growth corridors. Melbourne dwelling building approvals ranged from 24 775 to 45 736 each year in the 10 years to 2011–12. The demand for outer urban housing fell substantially after 2009–10. More multi-unit dwellings are now being approved than new detached houses, at 27 564 compared to 20 378 in 2014–15. Significantly, 8782 detached dwellings, or (43%) were approved in the established city, mainly by house-tohouse replacement. Over 19 000 multi-unit dwelling approvals were apartments, almost all in the inner and middle-ring suburbs. Yet substantial numbers of multi-unit dwellings are being approved for the established suburbs. Almost all Melbourne’s townhouses (6089 dwellings and 2120 apartments to three storeys) were approved in these suburbs, equalling the number of inner-city high-rise and almost equalling outer urban detached housing (ABS Buildings Approvals data, various years). Clearly, housing options are being taken up by the emerging young demographic in established suburbs, and proper planning can ensure an increased range of housing options in established suburbs to 2050. It is instructive to compare residential development projections in the US – the paradigm of triumphal suburban development coupled with inner urban decay – with the trends in Melbourne. Nelson (2013) reviewed surveys on housing preferences to show that most Americans prefer small houses on small lots with short commutes. The new US generation, he argued, no longer wants a car-dependent suburbanised nation. New preferences will lead to the reconstruction of decayed inner urban areas, former industrial sites and commercial areas into mixed-use areas with low-rise, medium-density housing linked by mass transit. This trend will push low-income households to the suburbs, turning urban blight into suburban blight. Already house values on the suburban fringe have plummeted and values in metropolitan centres, including degraded inner areas, will increase most. Houses away from centres are unlikely to rise in value and ‘there may be little or no demand for homes in exurban or suburban fringe areas of slow-growing or stagnating metropolitan areas. Current occupants of those homes may need to walk away from them’ (Nelson 2013: 27–28). There have been concerns that the target of 650 000 new dwellings in established areas cannot be met because of regulatory restrictions imposed by new residential zones, leaving only the options of small inner urban high-rise apartments or outer urban housing. The most regulatory zone, the Neighbourhood Residential zone, prevents the construction of medium-density housing by limiting development to one additional dwelling or the number listed in a schedule. The General Residential zone allows medium-density development, while the Residential Growth zone allows medium-rise development. Plan Melbourne envisaged that the Neighbourhood Residential zone will be applied across 50% of Melbourne’s residential areas. The City of Glen Eira was the first municipality to apply the new residential zones, using the Neighbourhood Residential zone for 80%, the General Residential zone for 19% and the Residential Growth zone for 1% of residential land. This high use of the Neighbourhood Residential zone was used as a model by some councils and resident groups opposed to further development, but has been criticised by supporters of urban intensification. The Property Council of Australia (2013b: 1) commented that ‘the restrictive components of the new zoning arrangements will no doubt please local activists who would like to freeze dry Glen Eira, but they effectively torpedo numerous local revitalisation opportunities and lock out higher level investment’. Kelly and Donegan (2013: 20), commenting on the extensive use of the Neighbourhood Residential zone, similarly claimed

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that ‘if this pattern of councils locking down most of their neighbourhoods continues, nearly all new housing will be built in Melbourne’s outer suburbs and on the urban fringe’. While the use of the Neighbourhood Residential zone in some of these councils is high, they still retain many areas for redevelopment for housing. Only 20 Melbourne local councils submitted their own proposals for the application of the new residential zones. The General Residential zone was applied as the default zone to the remainder. Buxton and Phelan (2015) have shown that there is no lack of land in suburban areas for redevelopment while also retaining historic and high-value housing and commercial areas. Most Melbourne housing will be available for redevelopment, with the Neighbourhood Residential zone being restricted mainly to heritage housing already protected by relevant overlay controls, such as Heritage and Neighbourhood Character overlays (see Fig. 6.3). The Number of building approvals for dwellings, June 2005 to March 2015 40000 35000 30000 25000 20000 15000 10000 5000 0

Exisng city

Growth areas

Source: ABS Building Approvals, Australia - cat no. 8731.0 Proporon of building approvals for dwellings, June 2005 to March 2015 80% 70% 60% 50% 40% 30% 20% 10% 0%

Exisng city

Growth areas

Source: ABS Building Approvals, AustraliaBuxton - cat no. 8731.0 Fig. 6.3.  Reformed residential zones. Source: and Phelan (2015).

6 – Containing the city: urban consolidation in Melbourne

potential for suburban redevelopment should be assessed against total land supply in all zones, not just the area affected by the Neighbourhood Residential zone. Considerable suburban areas are available for redevelopment, in commercial zones, small and larger infill sites, around activity and nominated redevelopment centres, along transport corridors and in other residential zones. Some councils, such as Greater Dandenong, have zoned large areas as Residential Growth, allowing extensive redevelopment. Lower redevelopment opportunities in areas of high heritage value are more than offset by appropriate opportunities elsewhere. Plan Melbourne, however, did not relate land demand to supply, failing to show where land was available in the metropolis to provide for the targets for future dwelling growth. This has created uncertainty and difficulties for councils in allocating new residential zones. The new zones should have been the way to implement land supply targets outlined in the strategy, but they were released before Plan Melbourne and in effect have become the strategy (see also Chapter 4). Large-scale redevelopment will nevertheless have to occur, to reach the target of 650 000 additional dwellings. Some scenarios have proposed ‘big city’ rebuilding projects to achieve this. One approach has suggested redeveloping 6693 ha along inner-city transit corridors, or 3% of metropolitan land, which could house 1 003 950 people at 180 people per hectare or 2 476 000 people at 400 people per hectare (Adams 2010). In targeting these specific areas for housing development, which comprise only 7.5% of existing land in adjoining municipalities, this approach argued that Melbourne’s suburbs would become areas of stability with little need for development behind arterial roads, would curtail further extension to the urban growth boundary and provide some affordable housing (see Fig. 6.4). However, this proposal has been challenged by the Department of Transport (2009), which modelled the implications of different urban forms on transport energy use and greenhouse gas emissions. The more effective approach, it argued, is to direct development towards a small number of major transport nodes (‘activity centres’) rather than distribute it along major transport corridors (2009: 177). Woodcock and Dovey (2009) modelled ways to achieve the Melbourne 2030 proposal that 255  000 new dwellings be built in activity centres over three decades, a doubling of the rate of infill in the 1990s. They identified 6300 ha of developable land in activity centres, or adjacent to tram, rail and bus routes with a potential to accommodate 600 000 people at density of 100–200 people per hectare. Land in activity centres comprised 57% of the total. This is a similar approach to that of the earlier Victorian government Urban Villages Strategy, which suggested that an additional 750 000 people could be accommodated in about 900 activity nodes across the city (Energy Victoria et al. 1996). Over 500 000 people could also be accommodated in governmentidentified infill sites. These three categories of development would require about 7.5% of metropolitan land (Adams 2010). Other studies, such as the investigation of the potential of older middle-ring ‘greyfields’ (Newton et al. 2011) have identified the potential for large-scale redevelopment in established areas, by replacing extensive tracts of existing low-density detached housing with a denser urban form. Melbourne’s greyfields suburbs are defined as the ‘ageing, occupied residential tracts of suburbs which are physically, technologically and environmentally obsolescent’ (Newton et al. 2011: 81). At the local level, some municipal councils have identified infill sites and modelled development options for them, providing the capacity for significant infill. Large areas in outer suburbs on under-utilised land close to rail stations are capable of redevelopment. All these are large-scale redevelopment proposals that would cause detrimental impacts. The transit corridor proposal would lead to one of the largest loss of heritage

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Fig. 6.4.  New developments along Lygon St, Brunswick, and High St, Northcote. Source: Photos by S. Moloney.

6 – Containing the city: urban consolidation in Melbourne

buildings in a short time-frame in Melbourne’s history, with almost 35 000 buildings liable for demolition (many with no heritage value). Buildings on the Heritage Register would be protected but these are few, and half the buildings protected by the heritage overlay would be demolished, a substantial loss. In addition, history suggests that once ‘big city’ redevelopment commences, initial preservation considerations are ignored. The activity centre proposal excludes buildings protected by heritage overlays, but many structure plans do not protect the heritage of some of Melbourne’s most important 19th-century streetscapes. The transit corridor model would lead to major pressure on tram services and massive cross-town car use, and the greyfields proposal would lead to extensive further car use. The greyfields assumption that substantial amounts of housing in established suburbs is obsolete and in poor condition, is questionable. Many claimed social benefits are spatially located and so potentially limited. For example, redeveloping transit routes would comparatively disadvantage jobs and services in dispersed suburban areas by further concentrating urban opportunities. All such proposals should be subject to an evaluation framework that compares the marginal costs and benefits of different urban form options.

History of medium-density development The history of medium-density policy for Melbourne provides an instructive case study of the fate of successive government promises. From the early 1970s until the early 1990s, medium-density development in the metropolitan area was controlled by the municipal councils’ ‘flat codes’ These were non-statutory local attempts to direct and manage the design, location and density of medium-density development, and the attempts varied between councils. Such informal local policies were possible because, under the former Melbourne Metropolitan Planning Scheme (MMPS), multi-unit development required a planning permit. The MMBW had introduced dual occupancy provisions into the MMPS through Amendment 150. These provisions were continued in the Regional Sections of all planning schemes after 1988, when local planning schemes replaced the MMPS. These were codes that today would be called ‘local variations’, but they operated in the absence of mandatory state-level policy requirements. Many codes controlled land in a municipality by differential density standards, using density limitations to discourage development in certain areas. The codes were generally upheld by the appeals body, provided they did not seek to prohibit development and were worded in precise terms. The Victorian Code for Residential Development (Multi-Dwellings) (VicCode 2) was introduced into Victorian planning schemes in 1993. Metropolitan councils were required to have regard to its provisions in cases where a planning permit was needed for three or more dwellings or for a dual occupancy in any urban zone or on reserved land. Non-metropolitan councils were not required to use the Code. By mid 1994, considerable opposition to VicCode 2 had developed (Eccles 1995). Considerable media attention led the government to recognise that the Code was ‘found wanting in certain aspects, particularly those related to the impact of medium-density development on the more traditional suburban neighbourhoods’ (DPD 1995: 1). As a result, in July 1995 the state government introduced the Good Design Guide for Medium-Density Housing (DPD 1995). A redraft of VicCode 2, the Guide applied when an application for a planning permit was submitted for the use or development of two or more dwellings on a site. Exceptions were allowed for a moveable dwelling unit, one not exceeding four storeys or one dwelling on a lot less than 300 m2, for extensions to such dwellings and, in the metropolitan area, the use or development of a residential building such as a boarding house. Councils were required to consider

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the Guide in deciding applications for all medium-density developments in appropriate zones. The density criterion was the sole prescriptive and quantified technique in the Good Design Guide, and it could override subjective, non-mandatory elements such as neighbourhood character (Element 3), and state and local planning policies. Element 1 of the Good Design Guide, which concerned density, also referred to the need for diversity in urban character and higher densities on large sites. Criterion E1.C3 encouraged development close to public transport and other facilities and ‘diversity’ allowed for a density of 200–300  m2 per dwelling, depending on lot size and street frontage. Higher densities were permitted for sites within a radius of 7  km of the GPO or on allotments larger than 2000 m2. This approach provided incentives for higher densities on larger sites or sites in inner areas. At the same time, it encouraged dispersed incremental redevelopment as it permitted medium-density housing to occur randomly throughout residential areas. The Kennett government promoted house sizes and types that better matched population changes and individual and community needs, and stated that it would increase the supply and diversity of affordable housing, help limit outward urban growth, locate denser housing closer to public transport, and reduce the wasteful use of infrastructure and energy costs (DPD 1995: 1). The public opposition continued, however. One public meeting, organised by the resident group ‘Save Our Suburbs’ at Hawthorn Town Hall on 24 February 1998, attracted over 1000 people (Lewis 1999). In opposition, Labor was critical of the Kennett approach and promised an alternative to medium-density housing, observing in 1999 that ‘the “use-by date” of The Good Design Guide … has expired’. It promised to provide ‘clearer and more prescriptive controls’ (ALP 1999). Labor also rejected the ‘Kennett government’s blind faith in allowing the market to rule’, saying that its experiment with deregulation had ‘failed miserably’ (ALP 1999). Instead of allowing medium-density development anywhere in residential areas, Labor promised to ban it in some areas, and to redirect development to activity centres (ALP 1999; Thwaites 1999). Standardised mandatory rules would no longer be applied across urban areas (ALP 1999). However, in government, the Labor government from August 2001 used its mediumdensity code, ResCode (DoI 2001), to apply uniform, mainly discretionary, standards to all residential zones. This powerful statutory tool favoured dispersed instead of concentrated medium-density development and did not promote better integration of mixed-use development around activity centres and public transport. ResCode applied to buildings of up to three storeys (raised to four storeys in 2013) on any land in Residential 1 and Residential 2 zones, or in Mixed Use zones and Township zones. The Code introduced mandatory standards over four categories of application – ‘dwellings not requiring a permit’ and ‘single dwellings’ (Clause 54), ‘multiple dwellings on a lot’ (Clause 55), and ‘subdivision’ (Clause 56). New single dwellings that required only a building permit were not affected by the new approvals system, continuing to fall under basic standards specified in the Building Regulations for building height, setbacks, overlooking, overshadowing, and access to daylight and private open space. A building surveyor issued an approval if an application conformed but, if a proposal did not meet a standard, the local council was obliged to consider the application. Any appeals against a council decision were to be made to the Building Appeals Board. The need for a planning permit for a single dwelling arises only if a site falls within a planning overlay, for example, a heritage control overlay. Such permit applications must meet 20 standards under Clause 54, including the basic 14 standards and others concerning neighbourhood character, siting and design, and energy efficiency. A single dwelling

6 – Containing the city: urban consolidation in Melbourne

on a lot less than 500 m2 also requires a planning permit. Clause 55 applies to more than one house on a lot, and it referenced 34 standards. These add standards such as parking provisions for multi-unit development. Clause 56 applies to residential subdivision. Clauses 54, 55 and 56 all contain objectives, the need for a design response and decision guidelines. An important feature of the multi-unit approval system is its promotion of the trend to larger-scale and higher-rise forms of dwellings. Buildings over four storeys are governed not by ResCode but by a far less regulatory code for higher-rise development. This has promoted industry avoidance of ResCode through more multi-storey and apartment-style buildings. An increasing proportion of approvals thus falls outside the scope of the medium-density code. In 1995–96 the Good Design Guide applied to just over 80% of multi-unit development approvals in Melbourne, but by 2001–02 ResCode applied to 62% and by 2002–03, when Melbourne 2030 was introduced, it applied to only 43% of multiunit development approvals. Despite some new standards and a different format, ResCode continued most of the characteristics of the Good Design Guide and did not alter the subdivision controls of VicCode 1 or require increased density in outer urban growth corridors. Both the Guide and ResCode sought certainty and consistency through local government assessment of applications against common standards but this has not been achieved, due to the discretionary nature of much content, the uncertainty arising from use of qualitative measures, and the lack of clear criteria. The Bracks Labor government’s rhetorical criticisms of deregulation changed little in practice. ResCode substantially maintained the Kennett government’s approach to medium-density approvals, even removing the site density controls of the Good Design Guide. Labor introduced a Residential 3 zone, enabling suburban residential height controls, but it was used rarely by councils. Only in 2013 did the Coalition government’s new residential zones finally implement the long-considered restrictions on development in high-amenity residential areas, limit height and direct development away from some residential areas.

Increased density on the urban fringe A third approach to intensification is increasing the average residential density in greenfield developments on the urban fringe. Plan Melbourne proposed that 610 000 new households be built in urban growth corridors by 2051, accounting for 40% of new residential development, a substantial increase from the more regulatory aim of 31% of Labor’s Melbourne 2030 plan. Australian state governments have persisted in permitting development on the fringes of the capital cities at densities that are among the lowest in the world. The Kennett government repealed the density requirement of at least 15 lots per hectare on average in the outer urban growth corridors. This wasted an opportunity to reduce the inefficient use of urban fringe land and to contain Melbourne; instead governments have continued the traditional approach of wasteful use of outer urban land that has been followed since planning in Melbourne commenced. The weak Melbourne 2030 undertaking to increase average densities in urban corridors (‘for example to 15 lots per hectare’) was never implemented, with average densities in 2008 still only 12.5 per hectare (AEG 2008). By 2013, the Growth Areas Authority still sought average densities only up to 15 dwellings per hectare. There is considerable potential for increasing the number of dwellings per hectare in urban growth corridor municipalities. Lot yield scenarios on the same area of land show

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potential dwelling intensification at increased densities from 180 382 dwellings at 10 dwellings per hectare in 2004, to 201 962 dwellings at 12.5 lots per hectare (an increase of 11%), to 237 841 at 15 dwellings per hectare (+32%), to a projected 295 275 at 20 dwellings per hectare (+64%) (Buxton and Scheurer 2005). This last scenario would have prevented the need for the 2010 expansion of the urban growth boundary by 43 000 ha, while providing better urban design and greater housing choice and affordability through a mix of lot sizes and building types. Current density ratios remain well below the averages for greenfield development in most countries. For example, the UK White Paper on urban development argued that the average density of 25 dwellings per hectare ‘squandered land’ and compared unfavourably with the 35–40 average for older suburbs in British cities, and the densities attained in other countries (DETR 2000: 43). Highly significant land savings are evident from even moderate density increases.

Where to now? The actual pattern of urban consolidation in Melbourne – a concentration of multi-unit development in the inner areas and the shift towards high- and medium-rise apartments – is not the model of consolidation proposed by Plan Melbourne or its predecessor Melbourne 2030. The continued reliance on a relatively unregulated market-based provision of housing will lead to urban consolidation characterised by incremental higher-rise large developments in inner suburbs with little regard to housing affordability or dwelling diversity. Smaller-scale dispersed development throughout the metropolitan area will have limited impact on levels of diversity or affordability. It has proved difficult to attract higher residential densities to activity centres outside the inner ring of suburbs, although there are signs of increased recent activity. Increased regulation and other government interventions will be needed to ensure greater diversity, accessibility to public transport and increased densities outside the inner suburbs. High-rise development separates residents from streets, often in formally controlled enclaves, in contrast to the interaction on streets promoted by traditionally dense low- to medium-rise cities. The off-site impacts, low quality and poor design of large numbers of Melbourne’s high-rise residential buildings bodes badly for the city’s future if improvements are not mandated for new buildings. The high-rise model is promoted by a powerful network of high-rise and big-city advocates. New towers are a symbol of urban corporate domination, fuelling serious land speculation and reducing housing affordability. Financial and property interests, the construction industry and high rates of foreign investment are, in effect, deciding the urban form of large areas of Melbourne. A lack of regulation provides an artificial stimulus to destroy the city’s existing urban fabric. High-rise is not necessary for increased urban density, and the existence of different housing markets means that high-rise does not reduce the spread of outer urban suburbs. One of the great failures of urban consolidation policy in Melbourne has been the inability of state and local governments to protect the city’s historic fabric while seeking to increase urban densities. Medium-density statutory measures have included consideration of amenity and urban character, but strategic policy has ignored built heritage as an important factor. Labor’s 2002 policy, Melbourne 2030, promoted structure plans which presumed that all land within plan boundaries could be redeveloped. As a result, historic Victorian-era shopping centres are gradually being demolished or retained only as facades. New permissive commercial zones will further this trend. Large areas of Melbourne’s inner suburbs will be gradually redeveloped under consolidation policies adopted by

6 – Containing the city: urban consolidation in Melbourne

successive governments, yet these are already the most compact areas with the city’s highest heritage value. The concentration on inner and middle-ring suburban redevelopment has been driven, in part, by the market reality that apartment building costs have often made larger multi-unit constructions less competitive in outer areas. Much intensification has already occurred in inner areas, through the reuse of existing buildings such as former industrial areas, and there is capacity for much further intensification while protecting the existing historic fabric. But policy and its planning application seems to be promoting urban intensification at any cost. Inner urban densities continue to grow, but there is no comparable mandated improvement to either design or density levels in outer urban areas. Without government regulation, dwelling densities will not increase significantly in the vast outer urban greenfield growth corridors. Only some 7% of dwellings in most outer areas are part of multi-unit developments. Allowing the urban fringe area to continue to be developed at current densities would waste increasingly valuable resources. Establishing a clear regulatory framework and setting high standards for design would reduce negative community reactions while providing certainty over the location and acceptable types of intensified development that developers, community and local government seek. Urban consolidation policy will fail if policy confusion persists, where some signals seek urban consolidation while others seek urban dispersal through low outer urban greenfield densities. Policy confusion between consolidation and dispersal highlights the lack of consistent overall strategic direction that is inevitable in a deregulated market-based approach to planning. Without stronger government regulation and other interventions, this confusion will create a multi-centred, outer urban metropolis based around regionally self-contained suburban areas functionally connected by freeways through an ever-widening commuter belt, coexisting uneasily with expanded high- and medium-rise inner urban housing. Neither outcome is consistent with the future shape and operation of Melbourne, as outlined in the metropolitan planning strategies of successive governments.

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Chapter 7

Protecting Melbourne’s green belt and peri-urban area Peri-urban areas Peripheral urban (peri-urban) areas on the edges of urban centres, are the regions into which cities expand (Burnley and Murphy 1995) or which cities influence (Houston 2005). All Melbourne’s outward suburban growth therefore takes place in peri-urban areas. The green belt, which includes green wedges between corridors of growth established in the 1971 plan, was an early recognition of the values of Melbourne’s inner peri-urban region. Suburban dwellers would have easy access to non-urban land with a range of recreation and health benefits. Large regional parks would be established in the green belt, and environmental and agricultural values protected. Areas of high significance including the Dandenong Ranges, Yarra Valley and Mornington Peninsula would be maintained. This work anticipated the later recognition of the benefits to human health and culture from urban green belts that protected rural landscapes, recreational opportunities and a wide range of food-producing activities (Giles-Corti et al. 2012). Melbourne’s peri-urban region consists of two belts of non-urban landscapes and towns around the city (see Fig. 7.1). The first or inner belt extends from the metropolitan urban growth boundary to the outer rural boundary of the 17 municipalities which form the Melbourne green belt, encompassing over 8829 km2. This inner area includes such environmentally significant landscapes as the Mornington Peninsula, the Dandenong Ranges and the Yarra Valley. The outer belt includes eight municipalities and other regional cities and townships, covering over 15 000 km2 and extending over a range of landscapes from mountain forests, woodlands and lowland forests, cleared farming land and coastal areas. Melbourne’s peri-urban area extends up to 150 km from central Melbourne to include the regional townships of Geelong (population 180  000), Ballarat (population 92  000) and Bendigo (population 86  000), containing in total some 750  000 people. Population and housing growth in peri-urban regions of Melbourne have been higher than those of many parts of metropolitan Melbourne for over a decade. Population and housing growth far exceed employment growth, leading to high commuting levels (ABS 2007). Over half of the commuters are employed in Melbourne. There are several ways to define or characterise the highly dependent and dynamic relationships between urban and peri-urban areas. An urban perspective will define periurban areas in relation to the influence of a nearby metropolitan area, with peri-urban land seen as an impermanent urban land bank awaiting transformation into suburbia (Friedberger 2000), or as the ‘residual zone’ (Pryor 1968: 205). From this perspective, cities provide employment and recreational and other services to the peri-urban population, while peri-urban land provides recreational opportunities, tourism and a range of other 85

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important services to the city. From a rural perspective, the principal influence on periurban change may be declining returns from agricultural activity rather than the pressures exerted by the nearby urban centre. Rural areas are seen as resilient, not as ‘a fragile shell just waiting for the impact of urban invasion’, and urbanisation as a weak force, which can move into adjacent rural areas only when a vacuum is created by an emptying of the countryside and by agricultural transformation (Bunce and Walker 1992: 54; Walker 1987). A third perspective sees peri-urban landscapes as situated between suburbs and the truly rural hinterland, suggesting a distinct settlement pattern, neither urban nor rural but an interface, a transitional zone (Audirac 1999). Some urban theorists see the change in peri-urban areas as orderly and predictable (Burnley and Murphy 1995), occurring through changes to hierarchical, concentric urban rings, describing the structure of mono-centric cities based on distance from the city centre, and exploring urban expansion, zonal structure, income segregation, commuting and mixed-income housing on the urban–rural periphery (Nelson 1990; Hart 1991; Conzen 1969). Yet others regard the peri-urban as heterogeneous complex mosaics of haphazard and discontinuous land uses (Allen 2003), with a multi-functional land-use pattern or ‘a polyglot of landscapes’ (Nelson 1999: 137), rendering the model of clear concentric rings obsolete (Daniels 1990).

Fig. 7.1.  Melbourne’s peri-urban regions. Source: Buxton et al. (2011).

7 – Protecting Melbourne’s green belt and peri-urban area

Melbourne’s size and growth exert a constant influence on its peri-urban area. Constant expansion of the urban growth boundary since the late 1980s indicates that governments and planners have regarded the peri-urban area as land awaiting development. This expansion – not an inherent incapacity in agricultural and other industries to sustain rural production – has been the major influence on non-urban areas. Urbanisation clearly is a powerful not a weak force. Left to market forces, there is little sign that land-use change in Melbourne’s peri-urban area would be orderly. Without government intervention, land use comes to resemble a mosaic, subdivided into a range of lot sizes from urban to rural-residential, creating demands for allotments and housing products determined by land owners and developers. Parts of the immediate edge of the Melbourne metropolitan area are reminiscent of those of US cities, with ‘a jumble of rural, urban and suburban, light industrial and high-tech landscapes … mixed-use-developments featuring hotels, office and recreation space, convenience retail, shopping malls and cultural centres, and undeveloped farmland’ (Audirac 1999: 13), along with warehouses, motels, franchised outlets, hobby farmers, gated communities and mobile home parks. The value of agricultural production from Victoria’s peri-urban region exceeds its land share. While accounting for around a quarter of the state’s land, the region nominally provides about 16% of the agricultural production value each year although the true figure may be double this because agricultural statistics do not count the value of small-scale produce. The inner Melbourne area, or green belt, is Victoria’s second most productive agricultural region. The agricultural output per hectare is the highest in Victoria, over three times greater than that of any other region and four times the state average (PPWCMA 2004). It produces 40–50% of the state’s fruit, over 90% of strawberries, cauliflowers, asparagus and herbs and over 70% of broccoli, lettuce and raspberries (Sinclair et al. 2004). Five municipalities in Melbourne’s outer peri-urban belt contribute 6% of Victoria’s $7.5 billion farm business turnover, a figure which is increasing. Seven of eight major Melbourne water storage facilities are located in the peri-urban area. These areas also provide habitat for more than half of Australia’s threatened native species (Yencken and Wilkinson 2000). There is a long history of government regulation to protect the values of Melbourne’s green belt and broader peri-urban area. Arguably the most successful example in Australia is the green belt policy for Melbourne between 1971 and 1992. The MMBW introduced statutory protection for Melbourne’s non-urban areas, corresponding with the current inner peri-urban area, to implement the 1971 Melbourne plan. This led to strong subdivision controls providing for minimum lot sizes for new subdivisions of up to 80 ha. The state government introduced policy protection for two peri-urban regions in 1971, the Westernport Bay and Mornington Peninsula, and the Upper Yarra Valley and Dandenong Ranges. New planning authorities were created to plan for the integrated land use and management, and the social and economic development, of the two regions, with power over state and local authorities. The new authorities were required to develop regional strategy plans in accordance with state policy and special legislation, and to ensure the implementation of those plans through the relevant authorities and land-use planning schemes. A long-standing though varied growth boundary and powerful rural planning zones have helped maintain rural landscapes since the late 1960s. This urban growth boundary, now legislated, is both permanent and flexible, depending on the characteristics of the adjacent rural land. It has been flexible where adjacent to the nominated growth corridors. But it has changed little around the Mornington Peninsula, Dandenong Ranges, Upper Yarra Valley, Heatherton-Dingley, Werribee South and important parts of the lower Yarra Valley near suburbs such as Eltham and Park Orchards. This inflexibility has enabled

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the inner peri-urban zone, or the green belt, to retain its capacity for innovative agriculture and other rural land uses and to continue to fulfil a range of valuable functions, in particular agricultural production, native habitat protection, water and other natural resource extraction, as well as allowing for recreational uses and tourism. These policies and plans were interventionist, seeking alternative futures to the dependence on past development trajectories and policy directions. They limited development to defined urban boundaries, protected rural uses, landscapes and environmental features, restricted rural residential development, and regulated land subdivision and development. These plans anticipated future threats to the distinctive socio-ecological systems of each region and sought to prevent harm from those threats. Land fragmentation and development were identified as the main threats to the future of the Upper Yarra Valley and Dandenong Ranges region, extending from the eastern edge of metropolitan Melbourne over an area of around 2500 km2. In the late 1970s, more than 60% of 17 273 rural lots did not contain dwellings and 42% of the 43  334 urban lots were vacant, with the potential to double in number through subdivision (Loder and Bayly 1980). The regional planning authority and some local councils supported by state governments restricted future subdivision and dwelling development on those lots. The removal or limitation of the development expectations of property holders effectively controlled land speculation, protected environmental qualities and improved the capacity of agriculturalists to maintain returns and invest in innovative practices. This kind of regional planning is rare in Australia.

The moveable urban growth boundary Adoption of the urban growth corridor–green wedge principle in the 1971 strategic plan seemed to settle the direction, if not the type, of Melbourne’s growth. Confining outer urban growth to linear corridors would protect rural areas between them and in a broader green belt, but governments failed to adhere to the plan. The failure to adopt higher urban densities for new suburbs led to high consumption of corridor land and pressure to vary corridor boundaries. Governments were unable to resist rezoning ever more outer urban land to cater for forecasts of population increase. This path-dependent approach has defined Melbourne’s planning and led to increasing impacts on the values of the inner peri-urban zone. Initially, the Cain Labor government in 1990 added 7600 ha of green wedge land to the Werribee urban corridor, and 3300 ha to the south-eastern urban corridor. A general move away from state government strategic planning occurred during the 1990s, and led to the loss of land from green wedges. Between 1996 and 2002, over 4000 ha of non-urban land in green wedges was approved for residential subdivision or related urban uses (Buxton and Goodman 2002). The former Kennett government had created 1369 residential and rural residential lots in the environmentally significant Upper Yarra and Dandenong Ranges region, excising about 800 ha of land from the green wedge (Buxton and Staindl 1999). The most radical element of the 2002 Melbourne 2030 plan was its legislated growth boundary and expanded green belt. This was intended to shift up to 45% of business-asusual growth from the urban fringe to the established metropolitan area, primarily to mixed-use activity centres, and to significantly raise outer urban housing densities. The urban growth boundary was intended as the main means of gaining greater efficiency in urban land use. The Victorian government passed the Planning and Environment (Metropolitan Green Wedge Protection) Act in May 2003. This defined an urban growth boundary and green wedges, required ministerial approval before councils could initiate planning scheme amendments, and required parliamentary ratification for any change to the growth

7 – Protecting Melbourne’s green belt and peri-urban area

boundary and subdivision controls in 17 fringe area planning schemes. However, powerful parliamentary regulatory control proved no obstacle to breaches of the Act. The major political parties acted together to continually expand the boundary: in December 2003 by 1610 ha, in November 2005 by 11 132 ha (increasing the size of urban corridors by 34%), and in 2010 by 43 000 ha. These expansions removed all incentives to transfer metropolitan growth and to encourage the more efficient use of urban land. As a result, planned new corridor dwellings rose from 180 000 in 2004 to 225 000 in 2005 (a net residential density of 11 dwellings per hectare), to 284 000 in 2008 (12.5 net dwellings per hectare). Why did the attempts to restrict urban expansions and change the nature of suburbanisation fail? A metropolitan plan based on market intervention contradicted the government’s ideology of deregulation. The resolution of this contradiction was the failure to implement the plan. A plan which sought to shift market preferences and housing supply required an understanding of land markets. Different developer groups cater to Melbourne’s three distinctive land markets in inner areas, established suburbs and growth corridors. The Melbourne 2030 plan required greenfield companies to modify long-established business plans and extend operations into unfamiliar construction types by shifting about 45% of their activity to the established city, and by increasing average residential density in greenfield development. The companies were not prepared to do this. Instead, the development industry devised a simple and sustained alternative narrative about Melbourne’s future. Peak development groups such as the Property Council, development companies and other influential pressure groups such as the Institute of Public Affairs claimed that increased population growth, coupled with the urban growth boundary’s constraint on outer urban land supply, caused a land shortage and drove up land prices. Cox (2005: 57), for example, surmised that ‘Australian urban areas have adopted so-called “smart growth” or “urban consolidation” policies that ration land … Rationing raises prices and rationing land raises house prices’. Early in 2003, the Urban Development Institute, the Housing Industry Association and other development groups and commentators claimed that the introduction of the urban growth boundary in 2002 led to a 30% increase in the price of land on the urban fringe (Millar 2004; Underwood in Ketchell 2003). Moran (2005: 26) claimed that ‘The Melbourne 2030 Strategy has essentially replaced zoning as the determinant of costs. Soon after the UGB was introduced, land bought inside it, say, around Whittlesea, was selling at some $600,000 per hectare where previously before the boundary de facto rezoned it as housing it cost $150-200 per hectare.’ The government quickly responded, and in 2003 announced it would expand the boundary around growth corridors to provide ‘a guaranteed 15-year supply of land for development that will be released as needed’ but would otherwise retain the boundary (Delahunty 2003: 1). Most of the land adjoining the four urban growth corridors had been purchased or optioned by development companies (DPCD 2008b). These companies then pressured the government to amend their rural land zonings to an urban designation (Millar et al. 2007). For example, in 2005, Jayaland Corporation sought approval for a major housing development in Rockbank in Melbourne’s north-western green wedge between Caroline Springs and Melton (MacroPlan Australia 2005). Similarly, in 2007, developer Delfin Lend Lease lobbied to extend the urban growth boundary in Kalkallo north of the Hume growth corridor area for a $4.5 billion project with 13 000 lots or 35 000 people. The Melbourne @ 5 Million Investigation Areas included both sites as part of Melbourne’s growth corridors (Victorian Govt 2008). By 2008, Department of Treasury and Finance analysis reinforced the developer narrative. This department drew on the 2006 national census data to argue that population growth was increasing at such a rate in

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Victoria that Melbourne’s population would reach the expected 2030 increase of 1 million households by 2024, with serious consequences for land price and supply. Instead of maintaining its strategy of redirecting growth, in 2010 the government returned to a policy of incremental suburban expansion, justified by evoking an artificial crisis. The new strategic plan, Melbourne @ 5  Million, formally included changes to the growth boundary. The Baillieu Coalition government then expanded the boundary still further, by another 6000 ha in 2012, providing a 30-year land supply at a low residential density. The results of this failure to implement the 2002 plan were soon evident. By 2008, the proportion of outer urban land development, instead of falling to the 31% of new development proposed under Melbourne 2030, had risen from 39% to 48%, while average housing densities had increased only marginally from 11 to 12.5 lots per hectare (AEG 2008). The provisions of Clause 56 of planning schemes, aimed at reducing car-dependent urban design, were being largely ignored. In effect, the 15-year guarantee turned the urban growth boundary from a constraint into a signal to developers about where to make money, reinforced land speculation in the hope of windfall gains when the boundary was extended, and increased land price through an expected growth in urban values. Progressive expansions of the urban growth boundary, not the introduction of a legislated boundary, were a major cause of the price increases. The processes of land release by the government reinforced community perceptions of land scarcity. In Victoria, governments identify land designated as ‘future urban’ but the process of land release is controlled primarily by a limited number of large development companies which own or otherwise control most of the greenfield land inside the growth boundray (AEG 2008). The control of large areas of land by so few development companies has led to claims of uncompetitive behaviour, such as land banking and price control, in some of the outer urban areas (Millar et al. 2007). Almost 70  000 lots were zoned and approved for residential development in the growth corridors in December 2009 but only 1400 were for sale, 23 000 were available in the Whittlesea corridor and only 400 had been put on the market (Oliver Hume Research 2010). Property interests have long exercised a strong influence over the process of land release. At the height of the Kennett government, a Property Council (1996) press release commented: Rob Maclellan, Victorian Planning Minister, gave the property industry an early Christmas present announcing a bold package to streamline the State’s Planning System. By adopting 90% of the proposals in the Property Council’s blueprint – Planning for Change, Victoria has secured its reputation as the nation’s leader in planning reform … the package simplifies Victoria’s development control system [and] members can expect reduced approval times, lower holding costs and greater flexibility for developers. The constant expansions of the boundary were a triumph for the developers whose publicity campaigns fostered a narrative of imminent crisis, price rises and unaffordability. A fall in outer urban housing demand occurred soon after the government announcement of an expansion of the boundary. The urban growth boundary did not cause an escalation in outer urban land price (Buxton and Taylor 2011); there was no lack of designated or zoned land supply. Colebatch (2003) has pointed to the impact of low interest rates and taxation arrangements on property prices. Purchasing power, flexible lending policies, the first home-buyer grant scheme and increased local council requirements underpinned the moderate rise in land and construction prices before and after the introduction of a

7 – Protecting Melbourne’s green belt and peri-urban area

legislated boundary (DSE 2003). Strong demand for housing was also partially driven by Commonwealth taxation policy mechanisms, such as the negative gearing and capital gains tax provisions (Productivity Commission 2004). When the influence of these factors diminished with the global financial crash in 2008, demand for outer urban housing fell. This reversion to the business-as-usual model, coupled with state and Commonwealth financial policies and subsidies that foster outer urban development, make a boom and bust housing cycle more likely, placing lower-income house buyers at great risk. Mortgage debt in Australia reached $1.2 trillion in 2012 (85% of GDP), while $53 billion in property subsidies and tax concessions (Soos 2012) is fuelling land speculation. A housing glut quickly emerged in the growth corridors, worsened by the Brumby and Baillieu governments’ accelerated land release of 51 000 zoned lots. A record 35 000 unsold houses existed in 50 suburbs on Melbourne’s fringe in June 2012, representing over 60% of the total available in the state (SQM Research, cited in Vedelago and Houston 2012). A planned five-year supply of 75 000 lots at 126 existing housing estates in growth areas had quickly become a nine-year supply (Vedelago and Houston 2012). The effective abandonment of the growth boundary was among the most serious failures of metropolitan planning in Melbourne. There was no need for panic by governments. Demographic trends change in the short term, but a key purpose in strategic planning is adherence to a long-term vision that will accommodate shifting needs over time. Many cities world-wide have been able to achieve certainty of investment, development, infrastructure protection and amenity protection by agreement between political parties, governments, industry and community on a plan that is implemented over long time-frames. Melbourne is not one of these cities. The urban growth boundary was expanded five times between 2004 and 2013, and the original growth corridor broadened. Every new strategic plan made fundamental changes to the previous one. The politicisation of planning has undermined long-term, evidence-based planning in the community interest. Such shortterm horizons make long-term infrastructure planning and integrated land-use-transport planning for a city of 6–8 million people impossible. Incremental, reactive, sectoral decision-making at the whim of politicians and powerful private interests will make Melbourne a dysfunctional, socially divided city with increasingly severe impacts on productive capacity and amenity. Only a return to an integrated planning body, separate from state government and with the power to plan for the long-term future of the city, can remove strategic decisions on land use from the realm of short-term political imperatives.

Rural land fragmentation The potential for change in the peri-urban region of Melbourne limits future adaptability and reduces the region’s resilience. Fragmentation in land ownership is the key factor in this process, of fundamental importance in a complex network of interacting variables and reciprocal relationships. Existing rural lots with development potential, the dormant legacy of past planning decisions, are a potential timebomb for peri-urban areas. Their existence indicates that a policy position of doing nothing is not an option if existing periurban values are to be maintained. Land fragmentation takes two forms – small lot rural landholdings and urbanisation. These will now be considered. In the inner peri-urban zone, or green belt, there are an estimated 60  000 rural lots without dwellings (DoI 2002a). In eight outer peri-urban municipalities, there are dwellings on only about half of the 53 629 rural lots. There are tens of thousands more in and around the regional cities of Geelong, Ballarat and Bendigo. Rural subdivision capacity

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Fig. 7.2.  Rural–urban interface, Pakenham. Source: Photo by S. Moloney.

7 – Protecting Melbourne’s green belt and peri-urban area

further increases the potential for small rural lots. Dwellings can be expected on most of these lots by 2040, with development pressure greatest in areas closest to Melbourne and along major transport corridors (Buxton et al. 2011). This potential for dwellings has complex implications for the future of agriculture, water supply and biodiversity (see Fig. 7.2). For example, the construction of a further 16 252 dwellings on rural lots in 14 periurban catchments would increase the capacity of farm dams on these lots by more than one-third (68  262  ML). This interruption to groundwater flows would seriously reduce stream flows. Most remnant native vegetation in rural areas is located on lots of 40+ ha; such lots make up 28% of the rural land of the outer peri-urban zone. Intensified rural development on small lots leads to greater pressures from grazing, on trees and understorey plants, on soil compaction and consequently on vegetation loss. Larger lots are a significant component of the peri-urban region’s future, allowing the maintenance of future options for a vibrant agricultural sector and the protection of landscapes and biodiversity. In an era of global climate change, the attention of governments and planners is turning to ideas of resilience in planning, designing for the future and unanticipated changes in natural systems. Resilience refers to the ability of ecological systems to resist change and maintain structure and function by absorbing shocks (Walker and Salt 2006; Alberti and Marzluff 2004). Rapid fundamental change through development causes great stress to peri-urban systems, threatening their ability to adapt until they move to a new state, such as when a rural landscape changes to an urban one. Government control over land use has helped the rural land of the urban periphery to withstand the pressures exerted by adjacent urban areas and adapt to both the global and local pressures affecting agriculture and other uses. The peri-urban area does not exhibit the characteristics of a distinct settlement pattern. Many peri-urban areas are classically rural, including agricultural land of high value immediately adjacent to suburban areas. In coming decades, new influences such as climate change, water shortages, the rising importance of localised food production and the depletion of natural resources such as oil will alter perceptions and values of peri-urban landscapes as communities and economies adjust to emerging food, farming and transport systems. This century, cities that relate to their peri-urban hinterlands will be the most adaptive to fundamental changes, through the retention of natural resources that help build resilience to system shocks. A precautionary approach to development is the most prudent, so that future options that may be needed are not eliminated now. It is becoming increasingly likely that future generations will need to take advantage of these options. The Melbourne peri-urban area is a complex socio-ecological system with many interacting elements. Elements such as land development, agricultural use, natural environments and climate change operate at different levels. Systemic shifts can produce catastrophic impacts requiring radical new policy directions, as illustrated by the disaster of the bushfires in Melbourne’s peri-urban area on 7 February 2009, when 173 people died and 2133 houses were destroyed. The high rate of peri-urban population increase and the addition of thousands of detached dwellings to small rural lots, many close to vegetation, placed many people within a ‘colossal fire flume’, as such events are described by fire historian Stephen Pyne (1998). The 2009 Victorian Bushfires Royal Commission (2010: 249) understood the need for governments to anticipate future social consequences from past practice, stating that ‘to rebuild without any real thought being given to the future management of bushfire risk is to fail to learn from experience’. Vacant rural lots in high fireprone areas are a timebomb awaiting the next conflagration, illustrating the need to severely limit development. Government support for continuing the incremental building of houses in such areas seems irresponsible.

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Recent policy directions The fate of green wedges from the late 1990s is largely a story of reversion to the incremental erosion of the peri-urban area, due to the application of neoliberal ideology to periurban planning. The Kennett Liberal-National Coalition government introduced deregulated rural zones for the Melbourne peri-urban area in 1996. All zones contained a large number of discretionary measures: the principal zone, the Rural zone, contained only three prohibited uses. A general move away from state government strategic planning occurred during the 1990s and this led to the broadening of the urban growth corridors, expanding the urban growth boundary and losing land from green wedges. The 2002 plan, Melbourne 2030, implemented new regulatory rural planning zones for the Melbourne green belt and developed a strong policy approach aimed at protecting hinterland resources, but revised rural zones in 2013 removed many regulatory controls. The Rural Living zone reduced the minimum lot size for subdivision and construction of a dwelling from 8 ha to 2 ha. In the Rural Conservation zone, significant conditions restricting group accommodation, residential hotels and restaurants were removed and the requirement that such uses could be approved only in conjunction with agricultural uses was deleted. Some other prohibited uses were made discretionary. Plan Melbourne proposed to investigate an agricultural food overlay to protect high-value agricultural land, and to identify, protect and manage strategically significant agricultural land. The plan also undertook to develop peri-urban town plans in order to increase the supply of land for housing and attract population growth, to increase business and residential densities, infill and employment opportunities in regional cities, and to examine infrastructure improvements. Such policies could begin a regional planning approach that better links Melbourne with its hinterland. Implementation provisions and detail, however, are inadequate.

Protecting the hinterland Melbourne’s peri-urban hinterland is a vital element in the city’s future functioning. The integrated planning of metropolitan and peri-urban areas recognises the potent influence of a city on its nearby rural areas, and the vital importance of the rural for the future of the urban. This recognition will require regional planning to closely integrate the functioning of regional cities and towns, and rural areas, with the Melbourne metropolis. It could result in the shifting of a substantial part of the population increase planned for Melbourne, to regional cities. Lewis Mumford (1961) wrote of the impacts that removing boundaries to space had on time and urban functioning. The new suburban form held out the dream of easier communication and time-saving travel, but achieved the opposite. Once suburbs breached their original limits, they became ‘enveloped by the conurbation’ merging with the ‘purposeless mass congestion of the big metropolis’ (Mumford 1961: 575–595). Mumford’s words were prophetic for a world where 7 billion people will live in extended urban areas. In such a world, cities that protect their hinterlands will enjoy a decided advantage. Their citizens will not need to rely on the vicarious experience of digitised images to use, enjoy and benefit from nature. These citizens will be healthier, happier and better able to adapt to impending and far-reaching global change. Melbourne currently enjoys the advantages of a functioning hinterland, and loses these advantages at its peril.

Chapter 8

Transport choices for Melbourne A fundamental challenge for contemporary urban planning is managing the consequences of decades of planning and building the city around cars, and planning for a less cardependent future. Over the last 100 years the car has completely altered the form of our cities, enabling a much greater dispersal of houses, jobs and services than would have otherwise been the case. Melbourne’s urban area has expanded greatly during this time, giving the city a vast geographical footprint. Urban dispersal of this kind was reinforced then shaped by car dependency. Most new outer urban areas are very poorly serviced by public transport. New housing and retailing are built far from train or tram systems and are reliant on private cars due to infrequent bus services, where such services exist at all. Most of these new suburbs offer little transport choice and their residents have had to accept almost complete car dependency, with the resultant social, economic and environmental problems. Car-dependent urban form was fostered by plans from the early 1970s, most notably the 1969 transport plan prepared by Wilbur Smith and Associates. Although suggesting some public transport improvements, this plan proposed an extensive system of freeways as the best form of transport for a modern dispersed city. Most of the freeways have been built in the decades since. Governments have continued to prioritise the building of new freeways and roads over the provision of public transport. The Melbourne East– West Link was the latest, and most expensive, mega road project advocated by the previous Coalition government but was rejected by voters in the 2014 state election. The Labor government has pledged not to proceed with the freeway, although the previous government had hastily signed contracts before the election. The election campaigns highlighted transport investment choices more than any other in history, and Victorians rejected the massive freeway project. Melbourne has now reached a point where investment in public transport is critically important. The inadequacy of current public transport provision for a city of 4.3 million people, expected to grow to 6–8 million is patently clear. The city will cease to function effectively without massive investment in transport infrastructure. The 372 km of existing track was largely constructed in the 1880s and predominantly electrified in the 1920s. Only in 2008, after several studies and plans, was funding provided for a regional rail link, minor extensions on rail lines to South Morang and Cranbourne East, further electrification, new train purchases, improvements to lines and signalling, and the commencement of planning for a north–south underground rail link. To remain a liveable city, a major mode shift from cars and trucks to public transport will need to be achieved by redirecting large-scale investment from freeways to public transport infrastructure, and increasing both rail and road expenditure to new outer suburbs. To make claims to genuine liveability, and to avoid increasing congestion and exacerbating the differences between inner and

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outer suburban areas, Melbourne’s public transport provision needs to be exponentially increased and brought up to the best international standards. Integrated land use and transport planning is the co-ordinated allocation of resources to achieve complementary transportation and land-use outcomes. Integration requires consideration of the reciprocal effects of transport and land-use decisions and occurs around principles that are commonly agreed: increased urban densities around highquality public transport, a mode shift from private vehicle use to mass transit and public transport freight movement, and priority for spending on public transport over road construction. For years planners have acknowledged the importance of integrating transport and land-use planning, yet in reality planning for new transport and urban development is fragmented. Most new residents continue to be located in dispersed housing in dormitory suburbs where land uses are separated and cars are needed for mobility. Retail shopping malls are located on arterial roads, not close to train stations (if they exist). Few local or regional jobs are available. Integrating land use and transport planning also means that the significant inner urban brownfield redevelopments, such as Fishermans Bend and E-gate, must be provided with high-quality rapid public transport. Leaving transport provision until years after suburbs have been created condemns residents to the expense of car dependency, and adds to the unsustainable and unacceptable levels of traffic congestion Melbourne currently experiences. No amount of freeway-building can solve this problem. Only the provision of good-quality public transport services will suffice. The benefits of reducing car use extend well beyond alleviating traffic congestion. The negative health impacts of limited daily exercise are now understood, as obesity rates rise and social isolation affects people without cars who live in places with minimal public transport. As the city population grows, traffic congestion and long commuting times become an unwelcome part of everyday experience. Road travel is a significant contributor to greenhouse gas emissions and energy use, and is the second highest cost for households in many of the outer urban areas. While the overwhelming number of trips are made by car, recent figures for journeys to and from work have shown a clear trend towards public transport usage, particularly train travel where it is available, and a growing interest in ‘sustainable mobility’, that is, travel by public transport, walking and cycling. Melburnians are not necessarily culturally wedded to their cars; they will make choices in their own best interests, if given viable alternatives. In this chapter we highlight the patterns and causes of increasing car usage in Melbourne, and discuss key strategies required to redress the problems. The Australian Bureau of Statistics reports that lack of access to public transport is one of the main reasons people why use cars to get to work or study. ‘In 2012, of adults who travelled by passenger vehicle to work or study, over a half (53%) stated that a lack of public transport services (at all or at the right or convenient time) was one of the main reasons for not taking public transport’ (ABS 2013: 3). The inadequacy of public transport infrastructure is a major political issue, and political parties are presenting their proposals for the type of infrastructure improvements needed. The main debate has been around the decision to build the East–West Link freeway, with additional controversies surrounding possible rail extension projects.

8 – Transport choices for Melbourne

Melbourne’s transport problems Many of the planning challenges raised in this book are exacerbated by the population growth and physical expansion of Melbourne in recent years. A growing population is creating both road congestion and crowding on public transport. It is clear each day to the commuters on any one of Melbourne’s main public transport routes that the system is under pressure and that further investment is needed to increase services in the morning and afternoon peak hours in particular. Other economic and demographic pressures have added to the congestion. Growth in the central city workforce, for example, and the gentrification of the inner suburbs, have seen more white-collar workers wanting to commute into the city each day. There is a range of impediments to more frequent train services during peak hours. The train signalling system needs updating. More sophisticated systems utilise electronic tracking to ensure a safe distance between trains, allowing multiple trains in designated sections at the one time. This allows a greater number of trains to be run on the network concurrently, and therefore increases passenger-carrying capacity. New signalling is being trialled. The Public Transport Users Association (PTUA) has contended, however, that the primary reason why more frequent train services cannot be scheduled is a lack of available trains due to a failure to purchase new rolling stock (PTUA 2009). A further impediment is the 180 ‘at-grade’ road crossings within the metropolitan area. Efficient rail systems do not require traffic to be stopped at level crossings every time a train passes. Level crossings create additional pressure from the many road transport advocates not to increase train frequencies, as doing so would also increase traffic delays. The cost of replacing level crossings is high, adding significantly to the estimates of the cost of new train lines to be built, as current policy is not to allow any more at-grade crossings. The Labor government is proceeding to act on its 2014 election promise to remove the first 50 of these level crossings (Andrews 2014). Nine level crossings are being reconstructed in a major rebuilding of the Dandenong line. Melbourne’s transport system is a radial one focused on trips into and out of the CBD. It has long suffered from a shortfall of cross-town services to link these radial train and tram lines. Bus services have expanded, notably via ‘Smart Bus’ routes, to tackle this problem, but their reach and frequency are inadequate at present. Furthermore, as Mees (2000, 2009) pointed out, services need to be co-ordinated so that buses connect with train services and a change of mode does not have to add greatly to trip time. Only this standard of service will provide the incentive for shifts between travel modes, needed to make a serious impact on Melbourne’s car dependency. Public transport provision is at its worst in the new suburbs of the urban fringe. Public transport in most cases is a single bus service, often provided not at the time of development but several years later. One justification for the delay is that services will only be viable once there is a sufficient number of residents. However, the time delay creates disadvantage and entrenches habits of car use which can be hard to break. Without public transport, residents are forced into far greater levels of car ownership and car dependency than are residents in the inner and middle-ring suburbs. During a parliamentary inquiry in 2012 into liveability in outer suburban Melbourne, inadequate transport infrastructure was the issue on which the Committee received the most evidence (Outer Suburban/Interface Services and Development Committee – OS/ ISDC 2012: 280). Casey City Council’s submission referred to the significant shortage in

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that region: 70% of Casey residents travel by car to work, only 5% use a train service, and less than 2% use buses, cycle or walk. The Committee stated that: planning for transport services and infrastructure has not received sufficient priority in Melbourne’s land-use planning over recent decades. While this is true of planning for both new road and public transport infrastructure, planning for public transport infrastructure has been a particular blind spot. The effects of this ‘blind spot’ in Melbourne land-use planning have been and continue to be felt most acutely in Melbourne’s outer suburbs (OS/ISDC 2012: 291). This under-investment in transport infrastructure in the local government area is a long-term problem (OS/ISDC 2012: 281). The importance of public transport in improving liveability was emphasised in the report and one recommendation was ‘That the Victorian government’s metropolitan Melbourne plan includes a focus on public transport infrastructure provision as a central tenet of Melbourne planning policy’ (OS/ISDC 2012: Recommendation 4.26). There has been such a long-standing lack of investment in new train lines for Melbourne, particularly to its fringe, that any new investment will take time to deliver benefits. The development of some of Melbourne’s rail lines has been discussed, lobbied for and analysed since the latter part of the 19th century. Davison et al. (1987: 223) found the following extract in the Parliamentary Debates of 1888, concerning a proposed train line to Doncaster: ‘My Dear Giles’, an anguished local member wrote to the premier and minister for railways, ‘the people of Doncaster are plaguing the life out of me to get a survey of the proposed line from Canterbury to Doncaster. Can you inform me when you are likely to undertake the survey?’ A train line to Doncaster has been the subject of numerous studies over many years yet it remains a long-term ambition and never a current government priority. It was recommended in the Metropolitan Town Planning Commission’s plan of 1929, again in 1969 and again following the Russell review in 1991. The estimates of costs for new rail lines are extraordinarily high. The PTUA compares the $80  million per kilometre price for the South Morang extension to the $12  million per kilometre spent on comparable lines in Perth (PTUA 2009: 34). In Perth, if rail projects to outer areas have been delayed or postponed, a frequent and efficient bus service is provided. The parliamentary inquiry proposed that the government invest in ‘bus rapid transit’ as well as ‘light-rail transit’ as ‘sound short-to-medium term’ options to improve public transport access and use in outer areas (OS/ISDC 2012: 285). The report recommended that a key to implementing this would be to identify and preserve suitable corridors for the proposed new bus and lightrail systems during the land-use planning process (OS/ISDC 2012: 289).

Quality of life and social inclusion There is ample evidence of the negative impacts of car dependence on residents, particularly in outer suburbs with little local service provision and no significant level of local employment. Long commuting times dominate the lives of many outer urban residents. The lack of transport alternatives increases the social exclusion of those already at a disadvantage, for

8 – Transport choices for Melbourne

example, the sections of a community that do not or cannot drive, such as teenagers or the frail and elderly. Residents of outer suburbs are the most vulnerable to rises in petrol prices (Dodson and Sipe 2008). Better public transport provision and urban design that encourages walking, cycling and the use of public transport can address forms of social exclusion caused by physical, geographical and economic barriers (Church et al. 1999). A study by researchers from the University of South Australia examined the lives of residents of 10 different Australian suburbs, including three in Victoria, and concluded that the experience of commuting dominated the lives of many of the interviewees (Williams et al. 2009: 15). Most of those interviewed were from new estates in the outer suburbs, and their long hours of commuting were time taken from more important pursuits such as spending time with their families. The study showed that women in particular found that the necessity to work far from their homes and children placed them under stress. For many women, working within a reasonable distance of children’s schooling or care locations was important, so they could participate in events and be available in cases of illness. Commuting was often seen as the enemy of valued family time together, and as expensive (Williams et al. 2009: 15). As a consequence, women in particular are more likely to settle for jobs closer to home, below the pay and status they could attain if they were prepared to travel further. Many chose to live in the outer suburbs because of the cheaper cost of new housing, yet the restricted job choice might quickly eliminate that advantage. As the authors noted, ‘It seems that it is very hard to remedy poor transport planning after a suburb has taken root. Many workers (particularly women) reduce their days at work, cut back their employment or find they must “downshift” in terms of careers, skills and promotional opportunities when they find the commuting cost of quality jobs is just too high in both time and money’ (Williams et al. 2009: 16).

Environmental and health impacts The Australian transport sector contributes 16% to total national greenhouse emissions (some 80 million t of CO2 annually) and 90% of it comes from road transport (ALCTF 2012: 6). Emission control and fuel efficiency have improved dramatically but cars remain the substantial contributors to air pollution. In part, this is due to the increasing popularity of large cars such as 4WD vehicles, and the use of features such as air-conditioning. Hybrid and electric cars are unlikely to provide a significant reduction in greenhouse emissions in the short term, because they are too expensive to become mainstream. As the PTUA has pointed out, for these ‘green cars’ to make a difference they would have to be purchased by millions, an unlikely occurrence (PTUA 2009: 10). The environmental impacts of road vehicles would remain substantial even with reduced emissions and energy use. Roads and car parking occupy up to 40% of a city’s space. Apart from the expense in the construction, and their contribution to extending the outward growth of the city, impervious surfaces greatly increase the ecological problems of waterways, with heightened flooding patterns and diminished subsurface water quality. In contrast, an urban form that encourages more walking and cycling and provides better public transport can contribute greatly to the health of a community and to its environment (Pucher and Dijkstra 2003). Obesity rates are a useful indicator of health outcomes from car dominance. Research shows that there is an inverse relationship between obesity and sustainable mode use, highlighting that the US, Australia and Canada have the lowest sustainable transport rates and figure in the world’s top four obesity rates (Bassett et al. 2008: 806). The New South Wales government found recently that an additional 30 min

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spent in a car each day translates into a 3% increased chance of obesity (NSW Govt 2011). Reducing car use also reduces pollution from car exhausts, which affect rates of asthma, bronchitis, leukaemia and lung disease (Woodcock et al. 2007; Pucher and Dijkstra 2003).

Economic consequences The Heart Foundation’s Healthy Spaces and Places report identified the potential savings of households reducing their transport expenditure. Transport costs comprise the second highest expenditure category for households – more, on average, than is spent on housing. While some 18% of household income is spent on food, more than 15% goes on transport (Heart Foundation 2009). There are many social and economic costs associated with car use, caused by congestion. However, the strategy of attempting to recoup such losses by increasing traffic flow through road building has failed repeatedly. Such a strategy fails to account for the additional savings that accrue, for example, from the health benefits of walking or cycling to and from public transport stations (Fentem 1994; Mees 2009). Alternatives to the car can be provided in cost‐effective ways that will increase the economic and social vitality of a city (NYCDT 2009). More space is available for uses other than private transport if road space is allocated with the aim of allowing the maximum numbers of people and quantities of goods to access the city simultaneously (Parkhurst 2003). The introduction of traffic‐free cycling and walking paths alongside Britain’s A259 road, between Seaford and Newhaven in East Sussex, saw an increase in usage from 17 000 trips in 2004 to 63 000 in 2005 (Sustrans 2005: 5). In addition, when only restricted vehicles (buses and trams) are allowed, a far greater number of people can be brought to a CBD. Travel time will fall as competition for road and parking spaces falls. All these improvements and benefits for the individual have concomitant social benefits. Retail spending also benefits from increasing levels of foot traffic in a city. The European Federation for Transport and the Environment reviewed evidence from across Europe on the economic benefits of road transport. It cited a study of 38 cities across Germany which found that the cities with above-average retail performance had belowaverage car use (European Federation for Transport and the Environment 2001). The report also found no positive link between the provision of car parking and the level of spending by shoppers. This evidence points to the beneficial effects of reducing car travel and provision within town centres. A similar study of six Swedish cities reviewed retailing figures before and after various pedestrianisation measures were introduced to the main streets of each city (Sandahl and Lindh 1995). The only city to introduce significant pedestrianisation showed the largest increase in retail turnover and the largest rise in the rating of ‘attractiveness’ by visitors. Other factors, such as improved public transport accessibility, came into play but the study was conclusive that pedestrianisation had the greatest impact of any factor (Sandahl and Lindh 1995). One British study showed that appropriately placed pedestrian zones in city centres boosted foot traffic by 20–40%, and retail sales by 10–25% (Hawkes and Sheridan 2009).

Transport usage in Melbourne The national ABS Census of Population and Housing is the easiest means of tracking changes to transport usage for travel to and from work, but it does not provide data on how people moved around the city for other purposes. Public transport usage is likely to be higher for commuting than it is for the less predictable trips, such as for shopping or recreation. Mees

8 – Transport choices for Melbourne

and Groenhart (2012) tracked trends in choice of transport mode commuting, comparing journey to work figures from 1976 to 2011. Melbourne had the largest increase in driving as a means of journey to work of any of the seven capital cities (apart from Hobart), and the largest falls in public transport and walking. However, in the last two decades of the 35-year period, commuting by public transport in Melbourne increased from its lowest level (of 12.2% in 1996) to 16.8% in 2011, with the use of trains growing towards the level of 1976. As in most Australian cities, employment in the central and inner city of Melbourne has been rising (BITRE 2012), and this has placed more pressure on central city parking availability, thereby providing greater incentive for workers to use public transport: Although recent rail patronage growth rates have probably been overstated, the fact remains that Melbourne has experienced a significant revival in public transport usage rates since 1996. The fact that mode share is still well below the 1976 figure suggests that there is ample scope for building on this revival (Mees and Groenhart 2012: 22). Melbourne’s transport providers have been unprepared for even this modest growth. Overcrowding on peak hour train and tram services is common, and can discourage commuters who are forced to wedge themselves into stuffy carriages during morning and afternoon journeys. Crowded, unpleasant or inconvenient transport services will only be used when there is little choice. In some respects, walking is the most important means of transport; it is the most available means, and it is involved at some point in almost every trip made within a city – to or from a bus stop, for example, or to and from the parking place at a local supermarket. In aggregate, such travel on foot is important. If, for example, everyone drove rather than walked to their train station, the external effects from increased congestion, noise, pollution and accidents would be highly deleterious, and the increase in fuel consumption would be significant. Energy use and pollution are not simply proportional to the number of kilometres travelled. Short trips and those in congested areas with many stops, starts and accelerations can easily require higher energy costs per kilometre travelled than many longer car trips (Rietveld 2000). In the early decades of the 20th century, few people owned cars; motorists simply parked at the curb, where they had formerly tethered their horses. With mass motorisation, not enough curb-side spaces existed. Cities responded with zoning ordinances that required off-street parking, which expanded as urban planners assumed it to be a universal need. Free parking has long been assumed to be a right of car ownership, and this has contributed to the proliferation of car ownership and usage (Shoup 2005). Thus, parking affects both transportation and land use; it is a key link between transport and land-use policy, but its effects are often overlooked or misunderstood. The connection between urban problems of congestion, pollution and sprawl and parking policies is often overlooked, as parking is seen as a right. In large cities, particularly in Europe, parking fees are adopted mainly to force users to choose public transport. Melbourne’s rates of cycling, for commuter travel, are low but have been growing in recent times. The 2011 census revealed that as many people travelled to work by bicycle in Melbourne as travelled by bus. For a variety of reasons, cycling is not regarded by many in Australia as a serious alternative means of commuter transport. It appears to be considered appropriate only for the young and the fit, and perhaps better suited to men than to women. Cities like Copenhagen have cycling usage rates of around 30% of total trips, with

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participants across both genders and a wide age range. While the suburbs of that city may not extend as far as those of Melbourne, the cycling rates in even the inner suburbs come nowhere close to that. A key issue for Melburnians may well be safety, or at least the perception of safety. Providing cycling infrastructure such as dedicated bike lanes as well as design treatments to make places where cars and cyclists mix safer, can have marked benefits. A full costing analysis might consider the high membership costs of gymnasiums where people exercise on stationary bikes, and how these weigh against the savings of time, money and health costs that cycling for work and everyday travel brings.

Transport investment choices Despite persistent calls for more investment in public transport and mounting evidence of the negative impacts of car usage, governments have continued to direct disproportionately large amounts of funding into road building. However, the election of the Andrews Labor government in December 2014 demonstrated the public’s rejection of further massive investment in freeways over rail projects. Choices around investment in transport for Melbourne became a major political issue with the decision of the Baillieu/Napthine Coalition government, announced in June 2014 following the report from the East–West Link Assessment Committee, to approve the building of the first eastern phase of the East– West Link. The first stage of 6 km included a 4.4 km tunnel which was to join the end of the Eastern Fwy, just west of Hoddle St, with City Link in Flemington. A further stage would join the Western Ring Rd at Deer Park, which would complete the 18 km freeway. This was a very controversial proposal. The widespread opposition grew steadily, uniting a coalition of affected inner-city councils, community and resident groups, environment and public transport lobby groups. When the East–West Link Assessment Committee held public hearings in March and April 2014 it received 1430 objections, and daily reports of all proceedings were reported on the East–West Blog (http://eastwestlinkblog. com/). Councils such as Yarra, Moreland, Darebin, Moonee Valley and Nillumbik were involved in the campaign against the East–West Link. Prior to its election in December 2010, the Liberal-National Party Coalition had pledged to undertake a broader range of public transport projects, including the rail line to Doncaster, and it denied suggestions that it planned to build the freeway extension. On coming to government, however, the decision was made to proceed with what would have been the most expensive transport project in Victoria’s history, costing $6–8 billion in its first phase but estimated to be considerably more, perhaps as much as $15 billion, by the time of its completion. With federal backing from a government whose leader has suggested that roads, not rail, are the business of government, it seemed clear that investment in roads had again triumphed over investment in public transport. Prime Minister Abbott stated that ‘the Commonwealth government has a long history of funding roads. We have no history of funding urban rail and I think it’s important that we stick to our knitting, and the Commonwealth’s knitting, when it comes to funding infrastructure in roads’ (Carey and Gordon 2013). There was real concern that the scale and cost of this project would for many years prevent other significant transport improvements from proceeding. The freeway tunnel was proposed in the 2008 report by Rod Eddington, who was tasked specifically to look into options for improving east–west transport links in Melbourne (Eddington 2008). That report recommended the link, along with a suite of public transport investments. The report’s first three recommendations were focused on further additions to the rail system,

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including the Metro Rail project which would include a 17 km rail tunnel and new stations (discussed later in this chapter). However, Eddington also advocated the freeway link, despite estimating it would return only 50c for each $1 it cost. There were continuing disputes over the actual cost–benefit analysis of the East–West Link project. The Baillieu/Napthine government claimed that the project would produce a return of $1.40 for every $1 invested, based on consultants’ modelling: ‘The project is clearly of high economic worth, with a BCR [benefit–cost ratio] of 1.4, having over $1.4 billion of net economic benefit and an internal rate of return of 9%’ (Victorian Govt 2013: 7). This estimate included agglomeration benefits which are considered to stem from increased business concentration, and connectivity which might follow from infrastructure investments. Infrastructure Australia was reported to have told a Senate Committee that, without these wider and more intangible economic benefits, the benefit–cost ratio was only 0.8 (Gordon 2014). The government did not publicly release the full business case for the project, although more details became available following public pressure and a series of leaks to the press. The Age newspaper’s analysis of the financial modelling suggested in 2013 that the project was underpinned by a predicted growth in toll road use over the next 30 years, resulting from increased wealth and the reduced cost of petrol and CBD parking rates. The assumption is that, as wealth increases, people will value their time more and will be prepared to pay road tolls rather than use non-toll roads. This led to a predicted traffic volume 15% higher by 2031 than there would otherwise have been, had this methodology not been used (Gordon 2013). The Baillieu/Napthine government claimed that such a range of benefits would flow from the freeway tunnel construction that it deserved to be the government’s first priority. The benefits included reducing reliance on existing roads and the M1 freeway, reducing travel times for east–west trips, improving freight access to the port, and relieving congestion and reducing costs that such congestion causes businesses and the economy (Linking Melbourne Authority 2013: 15). It claimed that the freeway would cut travel times from the Eastern Fwy to City Link to seven minutes. However, there was dispute about the vehicle numbers that would use the tunnel, as the CBD, not the west, would be the primary destination from the eastern suburbs. The government had said that 80 000–100 000 cars a day would use the East–West Link, claims which former Premier Napthine had said were ‘sound, solid and if anything conservative’ (Lucas 2013). The new metropolitan planning strategy, Plan Melbourne, promoted the use of the Port of Hastings and claimed that the East–West Link would enable greater flow of freight between it and the Port of Melbourne. This justification did not feature prominently prior to the launch of Plan Melbourne in October 2013, where the former Planning Minister Matthew Guy suggested that anyone opposing the project would be guilty of allowing the Port of Brisbane to overtake Melbourne in a national freight role (Guy 2013). A Comprehensive Impact Statement (CIS) was released in October 2013, allowing a very brief time for community responses. This document (with 20 chapters, a map book and 18 separate appendices) failed to actually compare the project’s benefits regarding congestion and travel times with those which could be gained by spending the money on alternative projects and investment in public transport. However, the CIS did clarify how disruptive the construction of the project would be to Melbourne’s inner north for up to five years. It also indicated that 105 houses and 34 commercial premises would be demolished for its construction, and that ultimately 2 ha of public open space would be sacrificed. Most of this would be in Royal Park, which would lose 1.36 ha, while parts of Debneys Park, Ormond Park, Holbrook Reserve and Moonee Ponds Creek Linear Reserve would also be lost.

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Colebatch (2014) questioned why the East–West Link should be considered so pressingly important as to take priority over every other alternative for years into the future, suggesting that the Victorian government was reluctant to fund both the East–West Link and the Melbourne Metro Rail project because it was fearful of losing its AAA credit rating by increasing its debt, and that the choice of the road project over that of rail had been made purely for political reasons: Sadly, it seems clear that the Coalition has made the east-west link its top transport priority, not because it would be the most effective way of spending $8  billion on solving Melbourne’s transport problems, but because it sees it as an issue to wedge Labor, at federal and state level, between its inner-city and outer-suburban voters.

Fig. 8.1.  Melbourne Rail Link. Source: Public Transport Victoria, www.ptv.vic.gov.au.

8 – Transport choices for Melbourne

A lobby group, the Public Transport Users Association (PTUA), has long argued that very large and extremely expensive projects are not the way to improve Melbourne’s transport and reduce congestion. Smaller but possibly more effective projects are being overlooked because of the political attractiveness of the mega-projects. For example, it is claimed that every level crossing in Melbourne could be upgraded to completely separate road and rail for less money, enabling trains to be run more frequently while not causing major delays to road transport. Similarly, the much-studied, long-campaigned-for Doncaster rail line could be built for far less money than the East–West Link; this would enable eastern suburbs residents travelling into the city or beyond to relieve traffic on the existing Eastern Fwy. Despite the East–West Link’s high priority for the Baillieu/Napthine Victorian government, Infrastructure Australia listed an underground rail extension, the Melbourne Metro Rail project, as a higher priority, deeming it ready to proceed. The previous federal Labor government had pledged $3 billion contribution to the Metro rail project, a major point of difference between Labor and the Coalition in the 2013 federal election. The Abbott government subsequently withdrew its commitment of $74 million for preliminary work. Plan Melbourne listed the commencement of the East–West Link in 2014 as a short-term goal, whereas the commencement of the Melbourne Metro Rail project was listed for delivery in the medium term and its completion in the long term (DTPLI 2014a: 73, 75). The Melbourne Metro Rail project will involve the construction of two 9  km rail tunnels to provide an underground link between the Sunbury and Pakenham/Cranbourne lines, from South Kensington to South Yarra beneath Swanston St in central Melbourne. It is intended to increase rail capacity on the whole metropolitan rail system into and out of the CBD and, like the East–West Link, requires a massive investment. The Metro proposal includes the opening of five new stations at Arden, Parkville, CBD North, CBD South and Domain, and will cost $9 billion. The twin tunnel proposed will enable the untangling of the lines through the CBD and allow more efficient use of the existing underground loop. The Metro link will also enable the reorganisation of trains from the northern suburbs and those that currently run through Caulfield in the east, creating four independent rail corridors. In May 2014 the Baillieu/Napthine government announced that it supported an alternate rail extension project, called the Melbourne Rail Link (Fig. 8.1). Its major claimed advantage was that it would be less disruptive during construction and would include a rail link from Melbourne Airport to Southern Cross Station. It was estimated to cost $8.5–11 billion. It would have separated the major rail lines before they reach the city, but it contained a shorter underground extension and included new stations at only Domain and Fishermans Bend (at the northern Montague end of the precinct), while the Metro proposal also proposed stations at Arden (North Melbourne) and Parkville, which would service the University of Melbourne and Parkville medical precincts (Fig. 8.2). The Napthine government suggested that the advantage of Rail Link over the Metro Rail project is that it would reduce the disruption of tunnelling under Swanston St, which it claimed might be disrupted for up to five years. The Coalition’s plan included a longoverdue but unfunded rail link to the airport, which the Baillieu/Napthine government claimed it could afford to include due to the savings from less underground construction. The Andrews government has returned to supporting the Melbourne Metro Rail project. It commenced initial investigations in 2015, with construction not due to start until 2018 (Melbourne Metro Rail 2015). An additional point of comparison regarding the rail plans of the previous Napthine government and the current Andrews government is their differing plans for additional

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port capacity for Victoria. The Napthine government had supported the adoption of Hastings as a second container port for Melbourne. The ALP opposed this and before the election supported the investigation of a new port near Geelong, known as Bay West (ALP 2014: 57). The Napthine government’s choice to further develop Hastings was one of the justifications for the East–West Link and it would have had significant implications for metropolitan rail services. When fully operational, it was estimated that the Port of Hastings would have generated 1.5 million B-double trucks (or 50 000 freight trains carrying 90 containers per train) annually (Parsons and Van Duyn 2014: 8). The Port of Hastings would need to be connected via the Dandenong line, currently Melbourne’s busiest passenger line. The frequency of passenger services would relegate freight trains to running at night time only, as they are slower and larger. The use of the line at night would in turn limit maintenance which normally occurs at night, which would constrain freight traffic even further. Melbourne Port is the largest container port in Australia and therefore needs to be linked to the national rail grid. The national grid is now on standard gauge tracks, but Melbourne metropolitan rail remains broad gauge. The connection to the national grid in Melbourne is through the western suburbs so, if Hastings was to be developed, the Dandenong line would either need to be made dual gauge or a dedicated freight line would have to be built. Either option is a major expense. Neither of the two rail extension options has considered or included details of how rail freight to a new port might be managed.

Fig. 8.2.  Map of Melbourne Metro. Source: Public Transport Victoria, www.ptv.vic.gov.au.

8 – Transport choices for Melbourne

In 2015, the Andrews government deferred a decision on both the location and timing of a new port until after the establishment of a new body to oversee major infrastructure priorities, to be known as Infrastructure Victoria. Investigation of alternatives for a second port will be one of the new body’s major priorities.

Shifting priorities It is to be hoped that the imbalance between spending on roads in comparison to public transport in Melbourne will be addressed by the Andrews government, and that investment in public transport will start to take precedence. The city’s poor record of commitment to its public transport, the growth of investment in road infrastructure and the continued expansion of housing further from the city, effectively combine to render many suburbs and their residents entirely dependent on cars for their mobility, generating further road congestion and a recurrent cycle of investment in more roads. Mees and Groenhart (2012: iii) have argued that: Australian cities, while lacking the urban density of European cities, can achieve European-level mode shares by providing European-quality public transport, along with substantially improved conditions for pedestrians. State and territory governments need to change their transport policies, which remain dominated by road building. They also need to create effective capacity for transport governance, management, planning and research to ensure that investment in sustainable transport delivers value for money. The Federal government’s Infrastructure Australia agency proposes a national debate about public transport: we agree, but argue that this debate must include public transport’s role in reducing the need for major investment in urban roads. Public transport is funded both through taxation and user-pays contributions. There is limited progressive ticket pricing, apart from discounts such as for students and pensioners. We need wide-scale change to public policy priorities – the neglect of infrastructure investment had assumed that public transport would become largely irrelevant, except as a welfare measure for the poor. We now know this not to be true – the most efficient modern cities run on efficient rapid transit. If services are regarded not as welfare for the poor but as critical to the competitive economy in the 21st century, then standards must be raised and maintained. Car dependency is not good for our health, wallet or environment, but reducing it even gradually is proving very difficult. Many factors prioritised road building over public transport improvements in Melbourne. Government plans reflected and fostered the value placed on personal mobility offered by the car, and the mistaken belief that cars could effectively link ever-spreading suburbs and the city. Institutions failed to anticipate future needs and reverse key urban and transport trends. Governments adopted an ideology that avoided public spending and transferred public costs and debt directly to citizens. Road lobby groups became an industry, and after the demise of the MMBW there was no dedicated planning body to promote integrated land use and transport planning (Stone 2009). The determination by the previous Baillieu/Napthine government to build the East– West Link and replace the original north–south rail route illustrated all that was wrong with transport-related decision-making in Victoria. The community and political backlash to the East–West Link, which helped bring the Andrews government to power, highlights

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that Melburnians care deeply about the way their city is developing and that decisions like this ought not to be made in the absence of a balanced and sound economic, social and environmental justification. The best-functioning world cities long ago gained consensus from all levels of government, political parties, business and community on integrated transport and land-use planning policies and programs, and adhere to these over the long term. But there is no such consensus in Victoria, other than freeway construction originally proposed in 1969 and incrementally implemented. The Napthine government changed its priorities within a single term, and ultimately paid the political price. Planned investment to achieve a functioning city over long time periods is impossible under such an approach. Proceeding with the East–West Link would have set back the possibility of a more sustainable transport system by decades, because of its expense. The project contradicted accepted transport wisdom and international experience that building more freeways neither solves congestion nor improves liveability. Other priorities must now include the continued improvement of existing rail infrastructure, such as track and signal upgrades and level crossing removals, improved rail infrastructure and planning for additional rail service extensions starting with Mernda, providing the long-awaited light rail service to Doncaster, further extensions to the tram network, conversion of parts of the tramway system to light rail, provision of new trams and planning now for extensive additions to regional rail services including additional track and services to major regional centres, and the train line to Melbourne Airport. Some proposals are for major projects, but many should be considered as part of regular upgrades that maintain the quality of service. Underpinning each decision, however, must be a commitment to provide an adequate level of service to all Melburnians no matter which part of the metropolis they live in, and to bring the city’s infrastructure up to the standards now seen in many other cities throughout the world. .

Chapter 9

Shopping and community centres in Melbourne Melbourne is the shopping capital of Australia, famed for its central city area of highfashion retailers, its street-front shops lining the city grid around the central Bourke St Mall with its large department stores, the Emporium home of many international retailers, and its arcades that date from the 19th century to the present. However, residents of wider Melbourne have traditionally visited local suburban centres most frequently. These have often been the community hubs of neighbourhoods, crucial parts of the suburbs they service, based around a train station or stretching along a main street, and providing more than shops. There are workplaces, venues for meeting friends, enjoying a meal, visiting a bank, post office or library, or catching a movie. A rich legacy of such centres has sprung up with little formal planning, under multiple ownerships and with a wide mix of uses and many changes. The North American style of shopping mall, introduced to Melbourne in the 1960s and 1970s, has come to dominate suburban shopping and, along with stand-alone ‘big-box’ stores, is the major form of retailing in the new growth areas on the urban fringe. As a result, many older suburban shopping centres have lost their traditional retailing functions and thousands of small businesses in them have relocated or disappeared. Historic pre-World War II architecture in many older centres is threatened by dispersed commercial and medium- or high-rise housing. This chapter examines Melbourne’s shopping centres and the policies and interventions that have sought to influence them. We investigate the purpose of these policies, their success or failure, and ask whether the private sector and market demand can be allowed to dictate the form and function of retail centres. Planning policy documents in Australia often refer to mixed-use centres as ‘activity centres’, containing a range of community and business facilities and functions apart from retailing. In this chapter we refer to them as ‘shopping centres’.

The changing character of shopping centres in Melbourne Many of Melbourne’s significant early shopping centres operated during the latter part of the 19th century in inner suburban areas such as Chapel St in Prahran, Smith St in Collingwood and Lygon St in Carlton, among many others. The opening of the first Melbourne Myer department store in Bourke St in 1911 paved the way for other large retailers to expand into the central city and, in the decades of growth and specialisation that followed, the CBD became Melbourne’s pre-eminent, specialist shopping centre. For many Melburnians, a day shopping ‘in town’ was a favoured outing. While the city remains the single largest shopping centre in terms of retail floor space, large suburban centres, usually serviced by trams and trains, thrived and for most of the 20th century a retail hierarchy operated across the metropolitan area. People bought their everyday necessities from a nearby shop, often the 109

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ubiquitous ‘milk bars’ dotted at regular intervals throughout the inner and middle suburbs. Shoppers would travel slightly further to a local shopping centre for the week’s food and groceries and other necessities, and would be prepared to travel further to a larger centre or perhaps ‘into town’, where a greater choice was available, for more specialised or luxury items. At the mid-point of the 20th century, retailing was housed in 380 traditional strip shopping centres which contained over 16 500 shops, and in major city markets (MMBW 1953a). However, the hierarchical order was altered with the arrival of US-style shopping malls from the 1960s. These were designed at a scale intended to replicate, in a suburban setting, the range of goods traditionally available only in the central city. And they were designed for customers with cars. The first was built in 1960 by the Myer Corporation at Chadstone, some 19 km from the city centre. Located away from public transport or any existing centre infrastructure, it heralded a new era in shopping, responding to the post-war growth in car ownership. Other centres followed throughout the 1960s and 1970s, strategically spaced from one another across the middle ring of Melbourne’s suburbs. These malls share distinctive characteristics. In contrast to traditional centres, they are car-based even though served by bus, their ownership/management is in the hands of a corporation, they are designed as internally focused and separated from the street, they are commonly large in scale, and they have a tendency to expand. Their car-friendly intent is obvious from the site layout of very large buildings surrounded by even larger car parks. Their sheer size would prevent their location in the heart of most existing shopping centres near public transport, though there are notable exceptions such as Ringwood’s ‘Eastland’. The original shopping mall in the US was designed by architect Victor Gruen, an Austrian immigrant to the US, who wished to recreate the feel of a European town market square in a suburban US setting. Gruen felt that an internal mall, with the cars parked outside, might recreate the pedestrian atmosphere he recalled in Europe. The irony would not be lost on at least some visitors to the shopping mall. A sea of vehicles, often jockeying for a parking spot and often without clear and safe pedestrian walkways, discourages people from remaining on foot for long. Gruen later regretted his invention and the copies that had sprung up across the US, seeing them as a ‘monument to consumerism’ devoid of community. At the end of his life he returned to Europe a disillusioned man (Csaba and Askegaard 1999: 37; Coady 1987). Car-dependent shopping would seem to be compatible with the daily habits and activities of a city such as Melbourne, given the dependency of the city on motor vehicles. However, significant numbers of people do not or cannot drive themselves – namely young people below licensing age, the elderly and people with illnesses or disability. The accessibility of shopping centres to the broadest range of people is therefore a matter of social equity, affecting how centres function as retail outlets, particularly those selling food and other necessities, but also for the other social and economic services they alone provide. Important environmental imperatives should also be factored into retail policy. Reducing car usage and car dependence should figure in goals for retail planning in order to promote lower greenhouse gas emissions and other pollutants. Road congestion caused by the growth of the city’s population and the tendency of commuters to drive alone is costing the city dearly in reduced efficiency in the use of the road infrastructure. The frustration of the individual consumer is palpable, and mall-based retailing contributes substantially to weekend traffic congestion. At the same time, public transport use is increasing as the previous chapter detailed, with metropolitan train patronage rising by 94% between 1998 and 2011 (DTPLI 2012a). Planning policy that encourages the development of mixeduse activity centres can, by design, reinforce the beneficial location of new retailing and office-based employment in places that are accessible by public transport.

9 – Shopping and community centres in Melbourne

In traditional shopping centres, businesses are owned and operated separately. In shopping malls, the centre management identifies desirable retail uses, selects the tenants, sets the leasing arrangements and rates, and regulates trading hours. Centralised control has advantages. The mall can promote itself as a whole, and ensure that at least minimal safety and other socially desirable standards are maintained. Most shopping malls appear to have a very similar range of shops, often franchised chain stores, and an anchor store of a supermarket, discount department store or department store at one or both ends of the mall. This sameness does not allow local communities to express difference or identity in the way that traditional, multi-owner shopping streets frequently can and do. Many traditional shopping centres offered a greater variety of shops, businesses and social activity than are available in malls and, arguably, more opportunity for small businesses to start operating in less-costly premises. Despite the expansion of shopping malls, Melbourne retains a strong and growing central city, evident in retail floor-space occupancy rates and the level of employment it provides. However, the stand-alone corporate shopping mall is now almost the only form of retailing being constructed in the new growth areas on the urban fringe of Melbourne, with few variations around a standardised basic form, and existing shopping malls in established suburbs continue to expand. Changes to the size of shopping malls can be identified because the Property Council of Australia produces an annual directory of corporately owned retail centres for each state. However, there is no way to definitively measure the retail floor space of traditional multi-owned shopping centres as this information is not uniformly collected. The ABS retail census which used to collect detailed information on retailing throughout Australia has not been conducted since 1992. At that time, the Property Council (then known as BOMA) began to gather information on the proportion of all corporately owned retailing.2 Table 9.1 shows that, in 1993, there were 134 corporately owned shopping malls in Melbourne with a total retail floor space of 1  803  805  m2. This accounted for 26% of Melbourne’s total retail floor space. Most (1 641 271 m2) was situated in the outer urban areas. Only 12% of total retail floor space in the CBD was corporately owned and only 6% of retail floor space in the inner suburbs was in corporate malls. Nine of Melbourne’s malls Table 9.1.  Number and size of corporate shopping malls in Melbourne, 1993 and 2008

Zone category CBD

No. of No. of Retail floor Retail floor corporate space (m2 ), corporate space (m2 ), 1993 2008 malls, 1993 malls, 2008

Increase in number

Change in floor space (m2 )

% increase in floor space

9

96 942

17

170 473

8

73 531

76%

11

65 592

16

114 522

5

48 930

75%

Remainder of metropolitan area (Melbourne s.d.)

114

1 641 271

154

2 728 557

40

1 087 286

66%

Total

134

1 803 805

187

3 013 552

53

1 209 747

67%

Inner suburbs

Source: Goodman and Coiacetto (2012).

2 Further details on this work can be found in Goodman and Coiacetto (2012).

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were located in the CBD, with 11 in the inner suburbs. By 2008 the number of corporate shopping centres in Melbourne had increased by 53 centres, or 40%, to a total of 187. Of the additions, 40 were located in the outer urban areas where the majority of new housing was constructed. However, the floor space of corporate retail had increased by 67%, or 1 087 286 m2, to a total of 3 013 552 m2 across the city. This reflects the extension of many existing centres and perhaps that new centres are larger than those previously constructed. Most of the increase occurred outside the CBD and inner city, but the CBD gained most growth in relative terms – an additional 73 531 m2 of corporate retail floor space (a 76% increase) between 1993 and 2008. Much of this came from two very large developments, Melbourne Central and the QV centre. If we were to assume no significant net increase in the traditional form of individually owned, street-based shops, the proportion of corporate retail floor space for Melbourne in 2012 can be estimated at around 38%, a considerable increase from the 26% in 1993. This occurred while planning policy attempted to limit the growth of car-based malls. Other Australian cities have far less traditional retailing left. Brisbane, for example, currently has around 62% of its total retail floor space within shopping malls (Goodman and Coiacetto 2012).

The evolution of retail planning policy Melbourne’s first official planning scheme, produced in 1953 by the MMBW, included the idea that select suburban activity centres should be targeted for future growth. Five nominated centres were intended to relieve pressure on the CBD, then suffering from overcrowded public transport services, particularly in peak periods. These centres would form concentrations of new shops, office-based employment and other services, and would ‘offer to residents of the locality many of the facilities of the central city area under more attractive conditions nearer to their homes’ (MMBW 1953a: 53). The centres were all located around train stations and were spaced geographically around the metropolitan area. ‘Dispersal’ was a major theme in the Melbourne Metropolitan Planning Scheme of 1954, partly in response to pent-up growth pressures associated with a post-war boom in population and to the concern that a highly concentrated city was an easier target for bombing in war time. The Scheme actively promoted the concept of the US shopping mall, which had not yet arrived in Australia, and included photographs of two malls. The planners were trying to come to terms with the rapid growth in car ownership, though at that time no particular disadvantages to the growth were considered: The increasing use of the motor car has given the house wife in particular and the shopper in general a greater degree of mobility and independence, thus enabling advantage to be taken of shopping facilities over a wider area and permitting a more discriminating choice of venue. Overseas this is resulting in the establishment of centres designed to cater for the car shopper, in association with which there must necessarily be ample provision for car parking (MMBW 1953b: 62). Thus, while little was done to assist the build-up of the five suburban centres it named, the MMBW encouraged the arrival of Melbourne’s first US-style shopping mall in 1960. The problems of traffic congestion and lack of car parking in the central city had not escaped the notice of the Myer Emporium. Myer built an 800 car parking lot in the city in 1953 to provide for the growing number of shoppers arriving by car (Marshall 1961).

9 – Shopping and community centres in Melbourne

However, Kenneth Myer, son of the company’s founder, returned from a period of study in the US convinced that the future lay in the new model of suburban shopping mall (Marshall 1961: 228). His brother Baillieu had worked for Macy’s in the US and had visited several suburban retail developments (Davison 2004). In 1958 the Myer Corporation bought a 30 acre site from the Convent of the Good Shepherd in Chadstone, about 19 km from the CBD. The site was selected because it had easy access by major arterial roads, was a sufficient distance from the CBD to access a new customer base and not detract from the flagship Bourke St store, and had sufficient land for at least 2500 car spaces (Marshall 1961: 229). The site, located to the south-east of the CDB, also faced the direction of greatest suburban expansion. The city expanded outward at a rapid pace during the 1960s and early 1970s, but this was also a period of new awareness of environmental challenges such as fossil fuel dependence and air pollution, and a heightening of public interest in urban issues. Unemployment was also rising, and enthusiasm for the shopping mall was giving way to concerns at the implications of the expansion of such centres for the viability and vitality of the CBD. Melbourne’s planning authority, the MMBW, again turned its attention to the idea of concentrating new growth into existing centres, and ones served by public transport. The District Centre Policy grew from this approach, as first outlined in the MMBW’s Metropolitan Strategy of 1980 and the Implementation Strategy released the following year.

The District Centre Policy The District Centre Policy was arguably Melbourne’s most concerted attempt to direct new offices, shops and services into existing centres and curtail the spread and wider dispersal of such facilities to car-based locales. A comprehensive justification for the policy referenced the gains for transport choice and social equity, employment, community development and environmental conservation issues, notably to: ●● ●●

●● ●●

●● ●● ●●

make better use of the existing rail network; reduce the number of single-purpose trips taken, by encouraging mixed-use centres; provide equity of access to retailing through public transport; increase local job and business opportunities through the synergies attached to large centres; provide a social focus for the community; reduce fuel consumption through a reduction in car usage; and contribute to a reduction in congestion in the CBD.

The policy was not one of strategic intent alone; with it came regulatory strength implemented by Amendment 150 to the Melbourne Metropolitan Planning Scheme, administered by the MMBW. A key regulatory measure was to permit exemption from planning approval for retail and office developments of up to 4000 m2 if they were located in a designated centre; those over 5000 m2 had to locate within a nominated centre. Initially 14 centres were named, with the intention of this expanding to 20 in time. Centres were selected on the basis of straightforward criteria: the amount of retail floor space, the range of retail, commercial and community facilities, accessibility by public as well as private transport, and their ability to grow. All the centres were adjacent to a train station. None of the stand-alone, corporate shopping malls were considered appropriate as District Centres.

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The mandatory location of all large new offices and shops in one of the centres placed the government at odds with some significant business interest and lobby groups. In particular, it meant that the large corporate shopping malls could not expand their floor space by more than 5000 m2. This was a brave attempt to achieve some important planning goals by directing the activity of the private sector. But, viewed as market interference, it was resisted strongly from the moment it was adopted. In 1982, a new Labor government was elected, led by John Cain and with architect Evan Walker as Minister for Planning. The Labor Party had been out of office for 27 years and gained power with a significant reform agenda. It was keen to be seen as a responsible and moderate government and did not want an immediate confrontation with the business sector. Pressure to abandon the restrictions on shopping mall expansion within the District Centre Policy began almost as soon as the policy was announced. The policy inevitably brought the government into direct conflict with the owners of large shopping malls, the most prominent of which was Myer. Minister for Planning Evan Walker was the subject of considerable lobbying from Myer, which wanted to double the size of both Chadstone and the Northland malls, contrary to the District Centre Policy. The Minister and his department tried to convince Myer to invest in nearby district centres instead of expanding its malls. Walker recalled later that Myer claimed that land ownership patterns within district centres made it impossible for Myer to expand there even if the company had wanted to: ‘We continued to say – that’s our policy and we don’t believe it’s impossible for you. They became very hostile and upset about that’ (Walker 1993). The Ministry for Planning even proposed a joint venture for a new retail development, between itself and Myer. The proposal entailed the government supplying Myer with the land, which could be acquired using the MMBW’s acquisition powers (Australian Financial Review 1982: 6). This was also apparently unacceptable to the large retailer and the government later agreed to an increase of 25% of floor space for the Myer-owned centres, accepting the argument that the malls needed a certain level of growth to remain financially healthy. This concession did not alleviate the pressure from Myer, however. In frustration, the company sold its shopping centres to the Gandell Corporation and continued only as tenants (Walker 1993). The Myer Corporation was involved, albeit belatedly, in perhaps the most well-publicised breach of the District Centre Policy. This was not over a shopping mall expansion but the national corporate headquarters proposed for the former Toorak Drive-in site in Toorak Rd, Tooronga, initially for G.J. Coles and then for Coles-Myer after the two companies merged. While planning policy prohibited the location of the headquarters on a stand-alone site away from a district centre and public transport, the government eventually capitulated, in part because of the suggestion that the headquarters might otherwise be moved to Sydney (Cain 1993). The official explanation was that approval was given because it was not a speculative development and the owners were to be the end users (Logan 1986). Cain considered, with hindsight, that the government was ‘bluffed’ and should have stood its ground (Cain 1993). After the original plan was approved, the ColesMyer merger saw the plans for the headquarters expanded considerably from those initially approved and the resulting 16 000 m2 black glass building served to remind many involved of the capitulation to corporate pressure. Logan (1986: 6) believed that the District Centre Policy underestimated the power of large corporations: ‘Such giant retailers are in the powerful position of being able to play off planning agencies against those in other states’. In 1989 the government released its Activity Centre Policy, which in effect was an

9 – Shopping and community centres in Melbourne

acknowledgement that the private sector had continued to invest around the stand-alone shopping malls. The new strategic direction was one of working with local governments to better integrate those centres into their local context and improve public transport access. There was no mention in the policy of trying to further restrict out-of-centre developments. In 1990 the government commissioned an independent review of the District Centre Policy and its findings, known as the Moodie Report, criticised both government and planners: the government’s support for the policy had been inadequate, ad hoc and underresourced, local government ought to have been involved in the selection of centres and support for them by local government had been inadequate and variable (Moodie 1991). The review also found that transport policy and investment had not been aligned to support the aims of the District Centre Policy, which would have been essential to its success. Freeway construction had continued throughout the 1980s and there had been little improvement in public transport services connecting with district centres. The review concluded that the state government should widen its commitment, in terms of resource allocation to, and awareness of, the policy across government departments and agencies. While the government adopted some of the recommendations in the Moodie Report through its release in 1992 of the ‘Cities in the Suburbs’ Activity Centre Policy, it had little time to implement them before the change of government in that year. The incoming government under the leadership of Premier Jeff Kennett primarily concerned itself with development and ways of facilitating growth. It was reluctant to restrict the expansion of any form of development. Many aspects of planning practice were privatised or subjected to compulsory competitive tendering. From the outset, the public portrayal of planners by both the Premier and the Planning Minister seemed to be one of interfering bureaucrats who stifled business initiative (Nankervis 1999; Buxton et al. 2005). The last vestiges of the District Centre Policy were officially abandoned by the incoming government, along with the notion of directing the location of large retailers or preventing the spread of shopping malls. Southland doubled in size under Kennett’s Planning Minister, Robert Maclellan, and massive expansion occurred in other centres such as Chadstone and Ringwood. ‘Big box’ retailing began in earnest with a massive expansion of bulky goods stores outside existing activity centres. Retailing policy was eradicated and decisions on the form, scale and location of the industry were, in effect, privatised and handed to large retailers. The District Centre Policy was judged by some to be a failure, an experience that no doubt played on the minds of state government planners when they next considered the place of shopping malls in public planning policy, over a decade later.

Recent retail planning policies The story of Victorian retailing policy is one of inconsistency and contradiction. Over the last 35 years, five retail policies and two abandonments of these policies have severely hampered the orderly development of Melbourne’s retailing, to the great benefit of large retailing companies. Policy appears to have surrendered to the permissive practices of deregulated zones, at great cost to traditional retail centres. Governments have allowed large retailers to impose a retail experience unrecognisable to the Melburnians of 40 years ago, dependent on driving to stand-alone malls and bulky goods stores instead of to shops within walking distance of most homes. None of this was planned except perhaps by the powerful beneficiaries of this lack of effective and consistent government policy.

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A central feature of the Labor government’s 2002 metropolitan plan, Melbourne 2030, was the focus on activity centres, a now familiar component of metropolitan planning. These centres were to be the sites for new growth, specifically the recipients of 41% of new housing to 2030, in effect a redirection of growth as fringe development was slowed and outward expansion limited by an urban growth boundary. The benefits from vibrant activity centres were recognised. Centres were to be ‘the focus for services, employment and social interaction in cities and towns. They are where people shop, work, meet, relax and live’ (DoI 2002b: 3). Six key planning objectives were articulated for all activity centres. These were to: ●●

●● ●●

●● ●●

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reduce the number of private motorised vehicle trips to and from activity centres by concentrating activities that generated high numbers of (non-freight) trips in highly accessible locations; encourage economic activity and business synergies; broaden the mix of uses appropriate to the type of centre to serve the needs of the population; provide focal points for the community at different geographic scales; improve access by walking, cycling and public transport to services and facilities for local and regional populations; and support the development of the Principal Public Transport Network (PPTN) (DoI 2002b: 5).

These were similar to the objectives of the District Centre Policy, and to this extent Melbourne 2030 was a return to the earlier locational policy. There were critical differences, however. The first was the unprecedented number of centres, with 114 centres named and categorised by size into a hierarchy from the CBD into 25 principal, 79 major and 10 specialised plus a plethora of unnamed neighbourhood centres. This was more a description of the current structure of Melbourne’s commercial and community centres than a policy prescription for which centres were suitable for future development (Goodman and Moloney 2004). A further change was that all the large corporate-owned shopping malls were included, thus avoiding confrontation over restraints on their future growth. Far from limiting the growth of the stand-alone mega-malls, the new policy encouraged their expansion, suggesting ambivalence if not confusion on the government’s part. Melbourne 2030 stated clearly that ‘stand alone single uses do not constitute activity centres’ (DoI 2002b: 3). Nor did the shopping mega-malls fit with the ideal mixed-use centre, one ‘usually well-served by public transport, they range in size and intensity of use … They are not just shopping centres, they are multifunctional’ (DoI 2002b: 3). With regard to their design, the Melbourne 2030 strategy was emphatic: Many planners and designers argue that internalised (inward looking), stand alone, mall-based developments are inconsistent with a sustainable urban form … A development sited in the middle of a large car park, with poor public transport services, inconveniently located bus stops and poor walking and cycling connection to the surrounding community, is designed primarily to service car uses (DoI 2002b: 36). Yet all such large centres in Melbourne were included as principal activity centres, and subsequently chosen as primary sites for the future growth of Melbourne. Unlike the District Centre Policy, the Activity Centre Policy within Melbourne 2030 did not come with regulatory power. The main means available for implementing the

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policy were ‘structure plans’ to be developed for each centre by local government. These were to specify strategic aims for each centre, as well as more detailed indications of the centre boundaries and sites for suitable development. Over time, it was thought, when the structure plans were incorporated into existing planning schemes they would guide the development of the centres. However, such plans cannot retain the broad functions of traditional centres if government allows big retailers to massively expand and disperse retailing outside such centres. Government policy allowed the apparently unrestrained development of the large decentralised shopping malls and of dispersed bulky goods stores to threaten the very existence of strip shopping centres: Melbourne 2030 discourages out-of-centre development by giving preference to incentre and edge-of-centre locations for new development. Such out-of-centre proposals will only be considered where it can be convincingly demonstrated that the proposed use or development is of net benefit to the community in the region served by the proposal (DoI 2002b: 10). Similar statements were inserted into the State Planning Policy Framework of all Victoria’s local government planning schemes. However, the vagueness of the language used, such as ‘discourage’ and ‘give preference to’, did not rule out the approval of out-of-centre developments, and gave a clear indication to proponents of developments outside of activity centres that they could argue a net benefit from the proposed use or development in accordance with Clause 12.01–2 of state planning policy. In 2007 an Expert Audit Group led by Rob Moodie (Professor of Public Health, University of Melbourne) was established to conduct a review of Melbourne 2030 to meet the commitment for a review of Melbourne 2030 with public participation every five years. The review report noted that, although supporting policies had been put in place slowly over the prior five years, such as amendments to the State Planning Policy Framework, too much implementation depended on the development of detailed structure plans for centres. After five years, 89 principal and major centre structure plans were either completed or in progress. These were variable in content and many lacked sufficient detail to provide guidance for decision-makers. The Expert Group also highlighted a lack of clarity in the means of integrating the structure plans into the statutory approval system. Most significantly, the report called for concentration on a few centres, as far too many had been selected for development, and suggested that a single entity – an Activity Centres Authority – be charged with responsibility for implementation including selecting a limited number of centres, setting their boundaries, actively involving itself in their promotion and co-ordination, and further ‘identify[ing] potential redevelopment sites or locations where site assembly is feasible’ within activity centre boundaries (Audit Expert Group 2008: 38). The December 2008 release of Melbourne @ 5 Million, an official update to the original strategy, fundamentally shifted the direction of activity centre policy once again by introducing yet another category of activity centres to supplement the others. Six ‘new’ Central Activity Districts (CADs) – Box Hill, Broadmeadows, Dandenong, Footscray, Frankston and Ringwood, each of which were designated District Centres in the 1980s, along with the Transit Cities program which had commenced just before Melbourne 2030 – were to become mini-CBDs in the suburbs and supplement the CBD. With the addition of Geelong in 2011, the CADs were renamed Central Activities Areas (CAAs). Melbourne was to become a polycentric (or multi-centred) city:

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Six new Central Activities Districts will provide: similar services and functions to central Melbourne, such as commercial, retail, highly specialised personal services, entertainment, education, government and tourism; significant employment concentrations; high quality, well designed, living and working urban environments (DPCD 2008a: 11). The effect of the policy and the associated documentary provisions, such as design guidelines on the creation of 17 new activity centres, were considered in a 2007 study that assessed progress with the centres that had been developed since the launch of Melbourne 2030 (Goodman and Coote 2007). This study demonstrated that the strategy was having little impact on the location or design of new centres or their transport provision. While the vision of a more sustainable urban form was clear in the policy documents, there were trenchant problems translating these into tangible outcomes. The impasse appeared to lie in a lack of regulatory strength, leaving outcomes to be determined through negotiation between local government planners and developers, and resulting in variable quality and inconsistency in decision-making. A more recent investigation, with a particular focus on the location of new housing rather than retail or commercial development, also found that Melbourne 2030 appeared to have had very little impact on directing development into the nominated activity centres (Goodman et al. 2010). The amount of new housing located within 1 km of a principal or major activity centre had, on average, declined to less than 20% of total new housing being built by 2007. Only a few activity centres, located close to the CBD, had experienced a growth in new housing and in the form of apartments. The report’s findings suggested that this marginal growth was probably attributable to market forces and gentrification processes rather than to government planning policy (Goodman et al. 2010). The Melbourne @ 5 Million aim of creating a second tier of urban centres with services and functions similar to those of central Melbourne, was unlikely to be successful. Melbourne’s CBD is dominant as a centre for employment, retailing and civic and recreational functions; it is inevitable that the CADs would remain second-order centres with very significantly different functions. Employment in the City of Melbourne, for example, increased by 10.6% in just two years between 2004 and 2006 and by 14% (more than 50 000 new employees) between 2006 and 2008, compared to 5.2% for metropolitan Melbourne (MCC 2008). The profile of employment in Footscray, to take the example of one designated CAD, is very different from that of the CBD where business, finance and public administration dominate. The largest single proportion of Footscray’s workforce is in education – some 20%, with 14% in community services and only 2% in the finance and insurance industries (CSES 2010: 46). A 2008 report into Melbourne’s western suburbs concluded that ‘analysis of the current Footscray CAD identified a multitude of challenges to be overcome to create a centre with CBD-like functions’ (CSES 2010: xi). Some advanced business services are provided across the range of activity centres in the inner and middle suburbs, but these are dispersed and not necessarily within the nominated CAAs. The implication of the policy was that a significant number of jobs should be moved from the city to the nominated suburban CAAs. ‘Moving from one CBD to a number of CBD-like centres will reduce congestion and enable people to spend less time commuting to and from work and more time with their family’ (DPCD 2008a: 9). There was, however, no indication of what policy or procedural means could be utilised to effect the intended changes. An expectation that a government strategy might bring about this change without significant market intervention through both incentives and disincentives, was fanciful.

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Much of what is referred to as the tertiary employment sector workforce – including higher-order job-holders in finance, law and business services – wish to be located in the CBD or a select few inner suburbs such as Kew (Brain 1999). Much of the additional central city employment in this sector will be located in Docklands. It is also questionable whether reducing job concentration in the CBD would be beneficial to Melbourne’s overall sustainability. The central city has by far the best public transport access and the highest commuting rates by public transport, of all centres. The move of jobs to suburban locations without a major increase in public transport expenditure would in all likelihood result in higher car dependence because of the radial nature of our public transport system. In addition, the economically robust CBD offers many other values which are the envy of cities around the world. It has liveliness, expansive shopping, an increasing bar and restaurant culture, and civic assets such as the State Library, Parliament and Federation Square, cultural and nearby recreational precincts which cannot be replicated. Indeed, for several decades many aspects of public policy from both state governments and the City of Melbourne have aimed at reinforcing the strengths of the CBD and increasing its share of residents. The extensive public and private investment in the arts precinct, Docklands, the Museum and the revitalisation of the small streets and laneways are all testament to this. Melbourne @ 5 Million appeared to contradict this concentrated effort. Planning policy should aim to curtail dispersal and concentrate new development into a more limited number of centres, rather than trying to reduce the role of the CBD, undermining the basic principle underlying centre policies in all their guises. It makes good sense to cluster retail, commercial and social infrastructure and services together in places that are readily accessible to many people by a range of transport means. Plan Melbourne’s embrace of a polycentric city involved identifying a range of centres categorised differently, with little explanation of their relationships with each other. Employment clusters were identified at East Werribee, Sunshine, Essendon Airport, Parkville, the CBD, La Trobe University, Monash University and Dandenong South, continuing the Melbourne @ 5 Million approach. Beneath these, a large number of activity centres were identified, continuing the broad-scale approach taken in Melbourne 2030. How these centres are to be related to the large-scale development proposed for the CBD and the 10 large redevelopment areas immediately surrounding the CBD, was not explained. No suggestion was provided on the size of proposed clusters, what would happen in each, or when local activity centres might transform to major ones. Polycentric innovation clusters – Monash-Clayton, Essendon Airport and Parkville biosciences precinct – vary significantly from each other. Only Parkville has reasonable public transport facilities. Essendon Airport is a large out-of-centre retailing precinct and is an undesirable location for such retailing. Large freight and logistics clusters are located along fringe metropolitan freeways, a similarly undesirable trend. Plan Melbourne was silent about out-of-centre retailing. New deregulated commercial zones were introduced without the opportunity for public comment before Plan Melbourne was introduced, with far-reaching impacts on traditional retail centres (further discussed below). The real planning power in Victoria seems to lie in these deregulating zones, making a planning strategy which regulates retailing impossible.

The impacts of policies Dispersed retailing in malls and bulky goods stores has fundamentally changed the function and type of shops in most of the existing strip centres – those centres of diverse activity

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and interest around pedestrian attractions much loved by residents. Supermarkets dominate the provision of household food and other basic necessities, and their dominance has led to the decline of many independent butchers’ shops, delicatessens and greengrocers. Supermarket and associated stores have become the ultimate ‘category killers’, dominating vast categories of goods and even services including food, liquor, clothing, household utensils, white goods, electrical goods, toys, hardware, even services such as insurance. The two supermarket chains, Coles and Woolworths, now account for over 70% of all Australian households’ expenditures on food purchases, the highest degree of concentration in the world. Several underlying factors have driven out stores such as food, hardware, clothing and book sellers from the traditional centres of activity across the suburbs. Competition policy, as interpreted through planning policy, has given the supermarkets, bulky goods stores, malls and concentrations of factory outlet stores an unfair advantage over smaller stores by allowing big retailers to gain planning approvals on cheaper land, far from that occupied by small retailers on commercial land in activity centres. Planning policy is never neutral, and competition policy has become de facto planning policy in providing locational advantage coupled with economies of scale. Small retailers in existing centres have also been affected by liberalised ‘in-centre’ planning policies, which allow higher-value uses to raise rents, helping make traditional retailing uncompetitive. Cafes and restaurants tend to pay higher rent than other uses, turning large sections of many centres into coffee and eating strips. The range of activities once typical in most of Melbourne’s local government areas has further diminished as banks and other traditional services have concentrated their shop-front services, and closed many suburban branches. The new Victorian commercial zones will increase these pressures on rent by allowing high-value uses, including restaurants and bars, without the need to apply for a planning permit. Large stores and associated smaller shops will also be allowed away from centres, often without needing permits. The future of broadly based retailing in Melbourne’s much-loved traditional shopping centres is bleak. Under current policy, most centres will become the location of café, restaurant and take-away food premises, boutique and specialised stores, and personal services. In addition, they will be redeveloped extensively into mixed-use commercial, office and residential areas, losing their historic architecture and, with it, much that defines Melbourne as a special city. These increasing pressures threaten the rich variety of retailing across the metropolitan area. Significant sections of many traditional centres lie vacant. It makes no sense for planning policy to promote the intensification of urban activity in walkable mixed-use traditional centres while allowing big retailers to essentially force residents to drive large distances for almost all their weekly shopping. Equally concerning is the design of new outer urban standardised shopping centres, corporately owned and supervised, not always located near the streets where people live. The corporate shopping mall does not countenance much change over time, or incorporate the incremental accretions of owner-occupied strips as they take on the colours and textures of the communities they service. Malls seem like quasi-fortresses – their backs to the streets, separate from the fabric of the suburb and often behind high walls or windowless facades. The corporate owners control the space, determining access and what is marketed and sold. They represent the ultimate in privatised space in a city. Identifying key components to planning for retail centres for the present and future entails a clear idea of the role and importance of shopping and community centres in the life of our city and its residents. From this should follow a commitment that all residents

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need to have access to a range of goods and services, including social and recreational, which centres can provide, regardless of where people live or if they can drive and own a car. We conclude this chapter with four key measures needed in planning for Melbourne’s retail centres.

Protecting and enhancing centres The vastness of the construction and infrastructure in existing centres places them at the forefront of economic investment in Melbourne’s suburbs. This combination of public and private assets should not be allowed to go to waste. The first key measure is that existing centres need to be enhanced by protecting them from the further expansion of major shopping malls and out-of-centre ‘big box’ retailing, while fostering local retail trader associations and helping them to work on improvement plans. Large developments which will attract people to locations out of traditional centres and away from public transport should be prohibited through planning scheme provisions or legislation. Large retailers complain that that they cannot find suitable sites of sufficient size within existing shopping centres. However, land for supermarkets is found in existing centres. Sites for the larger retailers are available in or near centres but the mega-store developers prefer lower-priced industrial or commercially zoned land elsewhere. State and local government planners need to address this through negotiation and a strategic package of incentives and disincentives and, where necessary, allow the expansion of centres at their edges. Government offices and related services should continue to be located in the suitably sized mixed-use and public transport-oriented centres. Second, locating residential redevelopment on suitable infill sites around centres where the strategic need for renewal or redevelopment is clearest, could reinforce the viability of existing centres. Local councils, for example, own valuable real estate in most centres in the form of car parks. Such spaces could be deployed as part of the investment and development strategy for the centres. Third, the architecture of traditional centres should be protected as a vital part of Melbourne’s continuing amenity and liveability, and ‘facade development’ prevented. Planning should aim to use all parts of existing buildings including shop-top areas, mandating height controls at current heights, controlling land speculation and limiting rents. Finally, planning provisions should prevent new centres being built as standardised corporate malls, and ensure that these and larger retailing stores in centres have active street frontages, and, where appropriate, a proportion of individual shops which can be bought or leased independently. There should also be public spaces for general use. These policies can be achieved through explicit planning requirements, much tighter design standards and more direct involvement of planners and urban designers in the detail of centre proposals. Currently, the locations, designs and uses are determined by retail developers and not by planners or elected officials, and there is little or no community contribution. Shopping centres are too important to the functioning of the city and to the lives of residents to be left entirely to the market. These critical arenas for the public life of the city must receive more attention from policy-makers, and our invaluable traditional shopping centres must be protected and enhanced. The world is full of generic corporate shopping malls. Melbourne is fortunate to have retained many lively and diverse multiowned traditional centres, a heritage which ought not to be taken for granted. These must be protected if Melbourne is avoid becoming just another nondescript city.

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Chapter 10

Valuing and protecting heritage, amenity and design quality Melbourne identity Keith Dunstan summed up the importance of heritage to a city and its populace in remembering the Melbourne he had loved and lost. He wrote: I’m old enough to have gnashed in anger over a great many down-comings … the one that put a tear into … [old Jim Whelan’s] eye was the Colonial Mutual at the North West corner of Elizabeth street. He claimed this was number one. His company never wrecked any building as magnificent as this … Up beyond Russell Street there were the Melbourne Mansions. The Mansions had style, a touch of discreet Mayfair. Wealthy graziers from the Western District were the main occupants. Always they stayed through from the Grand Final until the Melbourne Cup. In 1962 this was replaced by the CRA Building, a graceless pile which looked like an ice-cube tray standing on end (cited in Buckrich 2005: 239). Looking down Collins St from Queen St, Dunstan recalled the ‘Paris End’ of the street and the well-dressed suburbanites who sat at cafés in the dappled shade near the hotels, residences, consulting rooms and shops which once rose behind street trees. All this was replaced by two towers which turned inward from the street. Dunstan was one of many whose identity was bound up with the buildings, streetscapes, landscapes, natural areas and public spaces of an era and its associated history of human activity. He was attracted to the beauty of the structures and the way they blended with the public spaces. The buildings were impressive, imposing, resplendent in telling of the great land boom period of the 1880s, the opulence resulting from gold discoveries. They embodied a history of others who preceded him, those who had designed and built the city and those who had used it, the rich and poor, the artists, workers, shoppers and other citizens, telling of their striving, failures and achievements. The scale of the buildings impressed but did not dominate. This inheritance would be passed on to new generations, maintaining a sense of continuity. Dunstan felt part of something bigger, longer-lasting than himself. He was at home in this city. This binding of personal identity with heritage needs no explanation to the inhabitants of thousands of old cities, towns, villages and landscapes across the world, and is often resolutely protected. Such an attachment provides at least some sense of the tribal identities bound up in natural landscapes. Dunstan’s description of the process of destruction of the Melbourne he loved suggests that demolition dismayed him by gradually substituting alienation for satisfaction, in the process attacking his sense of who he was. Many millions of people have experienced such a sense of loss and are experiencing it now from the

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unprecedented pace of city rebuilding and destruction of communities in many parts of the world. The legacy of 19th-century and early 20th-century buildings, street patterns, parks and boulevards are a defining feature of Melbourne’s character and identity, contributing to its status as one of the world’s most liveable cities: Heritage is an essential part of the present we live in – and of the future we will build. It is passed on to us, and it is the inheritance we pass on to future generations. What we do today – how we plan, manage and change the city – will be part of our legacy. Heritage places, objects and stories give our lives meaning and purpose, as individuals and as communities. They create a strong and enduring sense of community identity (City of Melbourne 2013: 5). Ashworth explains this less tangible contribution of heritage to place identity: ‘there is the explicit idea that history endows places with a distinctive identity. It transforms spaces into places through its inherent quality of uniqueness’ (Ashworth 2013: 187). Between 1850 and 1890 governments used the proceeds from gold and prosperity to provide the extensive public infrastructure that has made such a significant contribution to the form and function of the inner city. We are indebted to this era for the city’s extensive train and tram networks and for the character of Melbourne’s world-famous shopping strips, rows of Victorian terraces and architecture like the Windsor Hotel, the Royal Exhibition Buildings and Block Arcade. The parks and open spaces surrounding the central city and dotted throughout the inner suburbs are a legacy of Governor Charles Latrobe’s 19th-century vision of a ring of parks around Melbourne. They include Royal Park, Princes Park, Flagstaff Gardens, Royal Botanic Gardens, Fitzroy Gardens, Treasury Gardens, Carlton Gardens and others. Over time, these parklands and open spaces that play such a critical role in Melbourne’s amenity have come under pressure from development. There have been notable losses of parkland, for example in the building of the National Tennis Centre site in Swan St parklands, at Royal Park and the buildings of St Kilda Road and Royal Parade, in large-scale sales of public land. Melbourne’s parks have been repeatedly regarded by governments as either sources of funds or as free land for public buildings such as hospitals, recreation and entertainment facilities and commercial uses. The parkland lost through such misuse is irreplaceable. Local councils often follow this bad example, alienating open space bequeathed to their care. Beyond the inner city, the middle-ring suburbs include large areas of Federation and California bungalows in leafy streetscapes dotted with parks and gardens. Melbourne’s suburbs are home to a diverse mix of cultural communities who have shaped and influenced their character over decades. The protection of urban heritage and amenity provides many tangible benefits to a city’s inhabitants. There is clear evidence of the relationship between amenity and real estate values, and of strong connections between amenity and a sense of well-being and good health among inhabitants (Eyles and Williams 2008). The cities that top the tables of best places to visit and live (e.g. Seattle, Boston, San Francisco, Edinburgh) consistently reflect high-quality environmental amenity and established heritage reputations (Ashworth 2013: 189). The economic value of heritage preservation can also be measured through the tourism, cultural industries and cultural production that a heritage-rich city generates, and the value of heritage as an element which attracts innovative investment, professional and business services, and creative activities to highamenity locations.

10 – Valuing and protecting heritage, amenity and design quality

The provision of quality public open and green spaces is critical to Melbourne’s amenity and there is growing evidence of how important these spaces are in contributing to physical health and a sense of well-being, particularly in increasingly dense cities (Giles Corti et al. 2012). Research shows that access to and inclusion of green streetscapes and open spaces within neighbourhoods improves levels of physical and social activity, improves mental health and is recognised as a key factor in creating healthy cities (Giles-Corti et al. 2014). The quality of green space is also important. While some areas may have ample open space, they have fewer amenities and facilities, making them less attractive to a broad range of people. It is critically important in planning for a sustainable and healthy city that we protect and enhance open spaces and streetscapes and preserve the layered heritage embedded in Melbourne’s buildings and places. The extensive losses of Melbourne’s heritage shows that we cannot take these amenities for granted. Protecting them requires planning and strong intervention. Melbourne has already lost a great deal of its Victorian and Edwardian grandeur and open spaces due to commercial development and increasing urban intensification in the inner city. Without adequate regulations to protect what remains, this process will continue. The loss diminishes Melbourne’s high liveability status, with detrimental economic and social impacts. While an increase in housing densities is necessary and inevitable if Melbourne is to accommodate a growing and changing population, urban intensification must be pursued in ways which retain the valued attributes that define Melbourne’s distinctive character, for present and future generations. Understanding, defining and protecting the city’s heritage is an ongoing process. Community activism, particularly in the 1960s (O’Hanlon and Luckins 2005), exemplified by ‘black bans’ on work and the battle to save the Regent Theatre by the Builders’ Labourers’ Federation, National Trust and various community groups drove the development of heritage and environment legislation. The 1990s saw another round of intense battles as community groups formed to protect their suburbs from what they considered to be inappropriate development, in the wake of changes to the planning system under the Kennett government. Lewis (1999) examined the emergence of the Save Our Suburbs (SOS) community coalition, and an era in which the ‘orthodoxy’ of urban intensification was rewarding developers to the detriment of the communities and ‘attacking the much-vaunted liveability of Melbourne or directly assaulting some of the values held most dear by the citizenry’ (p. 7). He proposed an alternative, the Town and Country Planning ‘Charter for Planning’ and a SOS Policy, to guide future planning in Victoria (Lewis 1999). Community support for the issues influenced the downfall of the Kennett government, but there is still great uncertainty about ‘inappropriate’ development and how to prevent the destruction of the city’s valued heritage. Below, we provide an overview of the legislative framework for heritage protection in Victoria, including the Heritage Act 1995 and other planning controls, and the serious inadequacies in the current system. We reflect on the recent Windsor Hotel planning saga as emblematic of current concerns over heritage protection in Melbourne (see Box 10.3). We then examine more broadly the meaning of ‘good design’, urban vitality and amenity, particularly in relation to public spaces and places. We reflect on the experience of developing the Docklands, the major reclamation project of 190 ha of industrial space which commenced in 1990s, and the lessons it provides for future large-scale precincts such as Fishermans Bend. This is followed by some reflections on the nature of urban intensification more generally, and issues of design quality and height limits along transport corridors. We conclude with some lessons learned, and suggestions for future directions.

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Protecting Melbourne’s heritage The regulatory system designed to protect the city’s heritage has serious shortcomings. The Heritage Act and the land-use planning system, including the heritage overlay mechanism that councils use to protect local heritage, are both deficient. These statutory inadequacies can lead to unsatisfactory decision-making processes and outcomes. Large numbers of heritage buildings continue to be destroyed to make way for new developments (see http:// melbourneheritage.org.au/ for current examples). While the demolition of some heritage buildings may involve the retention of facades, according to the National Trust ‘facading is generally a poor heritage compromise’ (NTAV 2012: 12). The Trust considers that the current system for heritage protection has weaknesses and is open to discretionary decisionmaking, partly due to a lack of clear decision-making guidelines (Roser 2012). The controversial decision to permit a high-rise extension to the Windsor Hotel illustrates how deficient the heritage protection system can be, how the few existing height regulations can be ignored and, more importantly, how economic considerations can be used to justify the destruction of Melbourne’s prized heritage assets (see The Windsor Hotel Saga, Box 10.3).

The Heritage Act, Heritage Council and Heritage Victoria In 1974 the Hamer government introduced the Heritage Act to protect the built form of certain structures. The primary purpose of the Act is to ‘provide for the protection and conservation of places and objects of cultural heritage significance and the registration of such places and objects’, along with establishing the Heritage Council of Victoria and the Victorian Heritage Register (Heritage Act 1995 Sch. 1.1). The Heritage Council comprises 10 members appointed by the Governor in Council on the recommendation of the Planning Minister. Council members include representatives from a range of professional backgrounds such as archaeology, history, architecture, property management and planning (see http://heritagecouncil.vic.gov.au/). Its main roles are to add places or objects to the Register and to advise the Minister on the state’s cultural heritage resources and on steps for protecting and conserving them. A range of assessment criteria is used to determine what should be included on the Heritage Register (see Box 10.1). The categories cover heritage places, heritage objects, places included in the World Heritage List, archaeological places, archaeological relics, historic shipwrecks, historic shipwreck relics, and protected zones. The Heritage Register contains over 2200 places and objects considered of state significance and over 130  000 of local significance; the latter can include public halls, schools, churches and parks. Listing on the Register does not mean they cannot undergo change or development; it means that alterations or demolition require a permit. Heritage Victoria, responsible for administering the Heritage Act, is the state government’s principal cultural (non-indigenous) heritage agency and sits within the state planning department. It works with the Heritage Council but is separate from it. Heritage Victoria is responsible for deciding permit applications for sites on the State Heritage Register. Those on the local heritage register require approval from the relevant local authority. The stated purpose of Heritage Victoria is that it: identifies, protects and interprets Victoria’s most significant cultural heritage resources. It advises private owners, local and State government, industry and the general community on heritage matters. Heritage Victoria’s aim is to make heritage identification, protection and management accessible and easily understood (DPCD website: http://www.dpcd.vic.gov.au/heritage/about/heritage-victoria).

10 – Valuing and protecting heritage, amenity and design quality

Box 10.1: Heritage Register inclusion criteria (2) In determining assessment criteria for inclusion of places and objects in the Heritage Register under section 8(1)(c), the Heritage Council should have regard to the following matters(a) historical importance, association with or relationship to Victoria’s history; (b) good design or aesthetic characteristics; (c) scientific or technical innovations or achievements; (d) social or cultural associations; (e) potential to educate, illustrate or provide further scientific investigation in relation to Victoria’s cultural heritage; (f) importance in exhibiting a richness, diversity or unusual integration of features; (g) rarity or uniqueness of a place or object; (h) the representative nature of a place or object as part of a class or type of places or objects; (i) methods of establishing the extent to which land or objects nominated for inclusion in the Heritage Register in association with a registered place or a place nominated for inclusion, are integral to the cultural heritage significance of the place; (j) any other matter which is relevant to the determination of cultural heritage significance. Source: Heritage Act 1995 (Vic), s. 8.2.

A permit decision made by the Executive Director of Heritage Victoria can be overturned by the Heritage Council on appeal. Key weaknesses

The continual loss of significant heritage buildings and places, particularly in the CBD, is testament to serious weaknesses in the current system. The demolition of the art deco Lonsdale House in 2010 to accommodate the new Myer Emporium generated outrage in the community and sparked the formation of the Melbourne Heritage Action group, which now lobbies for stronger heritage protection controls in Melbourne. This group argues that ‘the current powers of the Planning Minister are too broad; that the Heritage Council of Victoria is not doing enough to defend Melbourne’s heritage; that the development community are not doing enough to adaptively reuse heritage buildings and that the City of Melbourne needs to prioritise heritage protection’ (http://melbourneheritage.org.au/). One of the key deficiencies in the Heritage Act is that it allows economic viability to be considered as a factor in allowing the demolition or alteration of a building listed on the Historic Buildings Register. Section 73(1)(b) of the Act requires Heritage Victoria to take into consideration ‘the extent to which the application, if refused, would affect the reasonable or economic use of the registered place or registered object, or cause undue financial hardship to the owner in relation to that place or object’ (emphasis added). This gives developers a powerful basis on which to argue for the destruction of heritage. Such a provision would be better excluded from an Act that is focused on heritage protection. Another

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weakness is that, while buildings and places are well-defined for protection, broad streetscapes and landscapes are not. The Act concentrates on individual buildings of high heritage value, not on a body of buildings or other structures of historical significance. This means that the vast bulk of structures of heritage significance are excluded from its protection. Landscape significance is largely ignored. For example, a decision to subdivide the Emu Bottom estate (home to Victoria’s oldest surviving colonial homestead) illustrates how a building can be protected but not the surrounding landscape which provides the building’s context and is valuable in its own right. The lack of clear decision-making guidelines associated with the Heritage Act is another key weakness, and this leaves open the opportunity for much discretion and poor decision-making (Roser 2012). Another concern is the lack of third party objection and appeal rights.

Planning controls to protect heritage Alongside the Heritage Act, planning schemes are used to protect heritage but these also contain significant weaknesses. At the local level, councils are responsible for recording and protecting places of value to their local community. They have the power to issue planning permits for the use and development of heritage places, under the Planning and Environment Act 1987. Policies and guidelines for protecting the character and heritage of the built environment exist within the statutory land use framework (see Box 10.2), along with local area heritage controls to protect particular parts of the city. Many local councils have undertaken heritage studies and implemented heritage strategies. According to the National Trust, the standard of these studies, usually prepared by an experienced heritage consultant, are generally high, but not all have been implemented (Roser 2012). In the early stages of these studies the community can nominate sites and Box 10.2: State Planning Policy Framework Sch. 15 – Built Environment and Heritage Planning should ensure all new land use and development appropriately responds to its landscape, valued built form and cultural context, and protect places and sites with significant heritage, architectural, aesthetic, scientific and cultural value. Creating quality built environments supports the social, cultural, economic and environmental wellbeing of our communities, cities and towns. Land use and development planning must support the development and maintenance of communities with adequate and safe physical and social environments for their residents, through the appropriate location of uses and development and quality of urban design. Planning should achieve high quality urban design and architecture that: •• Contributes positively to local urban character and sense of place. •• Reflects the particular characteristics, aspirations and cultural identity of the community. •• Enhances liveability, diversity, amenity and safety of the public realm. •• Promotes attractiveness of towns and cities within broader strategic contexts. •• Minimises detrimental impact on neighbouring properties Source: State Planning Provisions Framework, s. 15.

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places of potential heritage significance. Those nominated are then assessed to determine their significance and whether heritage protection is warranted at a state or local level. The assessments include a written history and description of the place, its condition and a statement of significance, which outlines what is important and why. Places that are determined to have heritage significance to a locality are then protected by a heritage overlay within the local council planning scheme. The definition of a heritage place states that it could include ‘a site, area, building, group of buildings, structure, archaeological site, tree, garden, geological formation, fossil site, or other place of natural or cultural significance and its associated land’ and can be of state (or national) or local significance. Heritage overlays include places of local significance as well as places listed in the Victorian Heritage Register. Under a heritage overlay, a planning permit issued by the local council is required for a range of actions including subdividing land, demolishing or removing a building or part of a building and externally altering a building. The need for a permit can extend to painting controls and tree removal controls. Key weaknesses

The use of a heritage overlay to provide planning protection to heritage structures in local planning schemes under the Planning and Environment Act, has significant weaknesses. First, the overlay provision is a weak discretionary statutory measure. Its wording is vague, general and subject to interpretation by a local council or by the Victorian Civil and Administrative Tribunal. Its capacity to protect heritage value can be undermined by determined applicants who challenge the importance of heritage protection. As a result, large numbers of buildings that were thought to be protected under the overlay have been demolished or substantially altered. Second, councils often misapply or fail to use the overlay. As a result, it has been applied unevenly. Use of the overlay must be justified via heritage studies by professional consultants, which can be expensive. The cost of studies often deters their use. Use of the studies vary between councils, leading to the inconsistent identification of buildings of heritage value. A council’s use of the overlay must be justified before a panel that may include members who may be unsympathetic to heritage values, and is bound by overly legal measures. These factors often conspire to exclude many areas of high heritage value from the protection of the overlay provisions. The new planning zones released in 2014 provide inconsistent measures for the protection of heritage values. The new Neighbourhood Residential zone has been applied broadly across suburban residential areas with high heritage or amenity value. This zone provides an 8 m default control on residential building height and limits the number of dwellings on a lot to two. This will tend to prevent demolition of existing heritage housing for multiple lots and, in this sense, the zone provides de facto heritage protection. However, the zone does not prevent house-for-house replacement. Thousands of existing houses are being demolished annually for new larger dwellings, particularly in inner and middle-ring suburbs where heritage value is highest. The zone has been inconsistently applied across Melbourne and many areas of high heritage value remain unprotected by its use. Other new zones, however, may well lead to the demolition of many significant buildings. Of particular concern is the impact on Melbourne’s Victorian-era shopping strips of replacing the former Business 1, 2 and 5 zones with the new Commercial 1 (C1) and 2 (C2) zones. No height controls are included in these new zones. Structure plans may affect some areas with commercial zoning but these usually do not contain mandatory height provisions. The C1 zone allows a wide range of uses without the need for a permit. Besides retail premises and shops, the C1 zone allows a cinema, office (with floor area controlled

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by a schedule) and accommodation as-of-right. Only four uses are prohibited. All other uses not as-of-right are allowed, subject to permit. Applications to subdivide land, construct a building or carry out works are exempt from notice unless they are within 30 m of a residential zone. The translation of B1, B2 and B5 to C1 may intensify the large-scale demolition of historic shops and shopping strips, or the construction of medium-rise, mixed-use development behind facades, for a broader range of retail, office, residential and other commercial uses with few restrictions. Similar provisions apply in the new Commercial 2 zone.

Box 10.3: The Windsor Hotel saga – ‘a symbol of our concern for heritage’ In May 2009 plans for a 15-storey tower on the rear portion of Melbourne’s historic Windsor Hotel were announced by its owners, the Halim Group. The tower proposal, to be designed by local architects Denton Corker Marshall, would include 150 new hotel rooms at a cost of $150 million. It included the partial demolition of the former Hard Rock Cafe on the corner of Bourke and Spring Sts. The announcement provoked a strong response from many in the community, with the chief executive of the Victorian branch of the National Trust, Martin Purslow, stating, ‘This proposal is over twice the statutory height limit under Melbourne’s planning scheme. It says the statutory height limit is to preserve the scale of the Bourke Hill precinct, and that’s the bloody reason we have these limits’ (Houston 2009). The Windsor is one of Melbourne’s oldest and most prized buildings. It was designed by architect Charles Webb in two stages, in 1884 and 1887 (see Fig. 10.1). It was classified in 1972 by the National Trust as a building of high significance, being acknowledged as ‘a building of distinctive architectural character and historic importance’ (NTV 2010). The 2009 Windsor development proposal generated significant community backlash and a ministerial scandal, and cast serious doubt over the planning process and the strength of regulations intended to protect Melbourne’s built heritage. While this was not the first time the Windsor had been the subject of development applications, it was the first time that a government chose to allow development pressures on the site to override heritage values. There had been two previous attempts to redevelop the building; on each occasion, the government had intervened to protect it. The first application was in 1976 – the Hamer government bought the building to stop it being developed into a casino. The second was in 1990 – the Cain government rejected plans to change the hotel into a boutique department store. Each time the same debate emerged; the government had to weigh the concerns of private developers and business interests against the importance of protecting Melbourne’s heritage for the wider community. Some months after the first announcement of development plans in 2009, the story took a significant turn. In February 2010 the Planning Minister, Justin Madden, was accused of planning a sham public consultation process over the future of the site (Millar 2010). A leaked document from the Minister’s office, obtained by the ABC, allegedly suggested that the government should release the report of an advisory committee recommending approval of the Windsor proposal then use negative public reaction as grounds for rejecting it. This episode fuelled community cynicism about decision-making processes, in particular community engagement processes.

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Fig. 10.1. Windsor Hotel. Source: Photo by S. Moloney.

The Minister was strongly criticised but denied any decision had been made about the project (Millar 2010). A month later, in March 2010, Heritage Victoria issued a heritage permit for the project, then valued at $260 million, but with 18 conditions including reducing the height of the new building. Meanwhile, a parliamentary inquiry had been set up to investigate the leaked document and planning processes involving the hotel. An independent auditor had been appointed by the Minister to oversee the planning process. Again, the National Trust Victorian branch CEO strongly criticised Heritage Victoria for ‘not standing up for this historic site and precinct’ (Rood 2010a). The following day The Age reported that the Minister had also

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approved the permit, stating that under the terms of the permissions required under the Melbourne Planning Scheme ‘there was no reason why a permit should not be granted’ (Rood 2010b). As is required under the Heritage Act, s. 73(1)(b), both the Minister and Heritage Victoria had considered whether ‘reasonable economic’ use of the site would be affected. The decision prompted a public protest outside state parliament. The issue had attracted national interest and the protest group was addressed by the leader of the Australian Greens, saying ‘This isn’t just Melbourne, it’s Australia’s heritage’ (AAP 2010). In June 2010, the National Trust made an application to the Supreme Court for review of a decision made by VCAT on 27 May 2010, which had ruled that no permit was required under the heritage overlay for the development of the Windsor even if it extended to 26 storeys, as long as it remained within the site’s boundaries. VCAT was not required to take into account the effect of the proposed development on the whole Bourke Hill heritage precinct. After a year of advocating against the $260 million redevelopment, the National Trust lost its Supreme Court battle on 22 September 2010. According to the initial permit, work on the Windsor was due to start by November 2012. In the intervening time the developers sought heritage approval for their amended plans, which involved changes to the northern annexe on the Bourke St corner. This process, they claimed, required a further one-year extension to the permit as they were not yet ready to start construction. The Liberal government Planning Minister, Matthew Guy, refused to extend the permit period, which, the developer Abi Halim said in an article in The Age, ‘was clearly aimed at stopping the Windsor’s $285 million development’ (Halim 2012). He went on to say, ‘For four decades, successive owners of the Windsor have tried to find a way to restore the hotel to its former grandeur in a way that was commercially sensible while enhancing the heritage of the hotel and respecting its neighbourhood. The hotel needs about 300 rooms to be profitable’ (Halim 2012). The Halim group appealed to VCAT for an extension to the permit, which was approved until January 2015 with a completion date of 10 January 2017, a decision that overruled the Planning Minister (AAP 2012). Almost two years later, in August 2014, in a dramatic turn of events, VCAT ruled against an extension to the permit. In the intervening period the government had changed the planning policy and controls in the Bourke Hill Precinct and introduced a mandatory height limit of 23 m well below the 93 m height limit allowed by the permit. Deputy President of VCAT Helen Gibson stated in her decision that these changes to planning controls ‘are very important factors that weigh strongly against a decision to extend the permit … and that no permit would or could be granted were a fresh application to be made today’ (VCAT 2014). What does the story of the Windsor Hotel tell us about the state of heritage protection in Melbourne? It illustrates that development pressure will always be a threat to heritage and that the system of controls for protecting heritage needs to be safeguarded and strengthened. Allowing short-term economic proposals or commercial concerns to override the preservation of Melbourne’s heritage, and to trade off heritage values for a commercial operator’s profitability, is not appropriate. The Windsor decision exposed the problems in the Heritage Act. The Windsor story is a testament to the importance of clear and unambiguous regulations that prioritise heritage over economic considerations.

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In the remaining sections of this chapter we turn to the question of what constitutes good design and how, as higher-density development continues, we need a system that can ensure high standards of design, amenity and heritage protection. We reflect on the perils of market-driven development, as typified by the Docklands, and ask whether the same mistakes will be repeated at Fishermans Bend.

What makes good design and high-quality places? International and Australian research consistently shows that good urban design and architecture leads to improved liveability. Liveability is enhanced through increased safety and security, increased community participation, improved walkability, strengthened cultural identity and by fostering community pride. Well designed, liveable places become centres of social and economic activity creating sustainable, long-term returns on initial investments (OVGA 2011). Questions about what constitutes a ‘sense of place’ and what influences attitudes about places are shaped by our cultural background, life stage and emotional connections to places and communities, how we use places and our historical associations with them. Here we are particularly interested in reflecting on the public realm, encompassing those spaces and places we use and move through outside the privacy of our homes and workplaces. The ‘public realm’ includes not only public buildings and public spaces such as streets, parks and squares but also the form and appearance of privately owned places, often defined in terms of urban character. Buildings and land may be privately held but exercise powerful public impacts through their appearance and off-site effects such as shading and increased wind severity. Many city workers have reason to feel these impacts while struggling up windy, shaded, bleak city streets on winter days. Admired and unappreciated impacts lead to a widely held sense that the public has a stake in privately owned places, and this broadens the concept of ownership. This is the ethical basis of legislative and other statutory controls which often seek to limit private-sector decision-making over the development and operation of structures and places. Defining the qualities of public places and urban character has become a key concern in planning and urban design (Dovey 1999, 2005, 2010). This concern has been reflected through ‘neighbourhood’ character studies. Dovey and others examined both the social and physical elements that constitute urban character, and planning codes, and had interviews with residents (Dovey 2013). This research revealed that definitions of ‘urban character’ are difficult to reduce to a set of physical elements (ie. height, density and mix) as described in regulations. Urban character is a rather more slippery concept and ‘can come to mean what different interests want it to mean’ (Dovey 2013: 267). The mix of physical and social aspects of public spaces includes both tangible and intangible elements in the form of physical features and sensations and feelings. The Project for Public Spaces in New York, a not-for-profit planning, design and educational organisation, defines successful places in terms of their ‘sociability’, ‘uses and activities’, ‘comfort and image’ and ‘access and linkage’ (www.pps.org). Tangible measures employed to quantify some of these elements might include pedestrian traffic, building conditions, land-use patterns and street life. Successful places are considered to be accessible, wellconnected, safe, sittable, charming, useful and welcoming. These elements and attributes

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of successful places reiterate themes from a large literature on the reflections and debates about what makes places or precincts people-friendly, vibrant and interesting. One of the most influential analyses on cities and places was written by Jane Jacobs, The Death and Life of Great American Cities (1961). Its attack on US post-war city planning, characterised by slum clearance, expressways and sterile shopping centres, remains influential. Jacobs argued the need to understand how cities, neighbourhoods and streets work in the daily realities of their residents, because ‘this is the only way to learn what principles or planning and what practices in rebuilding can promote social and economic vitality in cities, and what practices and principles will deaden these attributes’ (1961: 4). She attacked the prevailing wisdom that was driving urban renewal projects across the US from New York to San Francisco. She was highly critical of planners and city builders who were preoccupied with how a city ought to look, not how it actually works or is experienced. Jacobs talked of the need for planning to nurture and catalyse a ‘close-grained diversity of uses that give each other constant mutual support, both economically and socially’ (1961: 14). She was interested in how people experience and use the street, neighbourhood and public parks, and outlined a set of principles for promoting diversity and vitality in city building.

Box 10.4: Victorian Urban Design Charter The Urban Design Charter is a commitment by the Victorian government to make cities and towns in Victoria more liveable through good urban design. The Charter identifies the following principles as essential qualities for the functioning of good public environments, in making places that are valued and significant for those who use them. • Structure: organise places so their parts relate well to each other. • Accessibility: provide ease, safety and choice of access for all people. • Legibility: help people to understand how places work and how to find their way around. • Animation: stimulate activity and a sense of vitality in public places. • Fit and function: support the intended uses of spaces while also allowing for their adaptability. • Complementary mixed uses: integrate complementary activities to promote synergies between them. • Sense of place: recognise and enhance the qualities that give places a valued identity. • Consistency and variety: balance order and diversity in the interests of appreciating both. • Continuity and change: maintain a sense of place and time by embracing change yet respecting heritage values. • Safety: design spaces that minimise risks of personal harm and support safe behaviour. • Sensory pleasure: create spaces that engage the senses and delight the mind. • Inclusiveness and interaction: create places where all people are free to encounter each other as equals. Source: DTPLI (2015).

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For instance, she argued that precincts must serve more than one purpose, and they must be able to attract a range of people for a variety of reasons at different times of the day. She also advocated for short blocks with mingled buildings of different ages and conditions, to allow a variety of different business uses and interests, and sufficient population density to ensure vitality is maintained. Jacobs was particularly critical of slum-clearing and highrise housing projects, which at the time of her writing were widely supported planning practices. She believed that if cities and neighbourhoods were to succeed, then the people who live and use them must have a voice in setting the policies that shape their surrounds. Considered an urban activist, Jacobs called for residents to foster and nurture what she called the ‘intricate mingling’ and ‘sidewalk ballet’ of the city. Jan Gehl, the Danish urban designer and theorist who has been influential in shaping the direction that the City of Melbourne has taken in recent years, also emphasises many of these themes (City of Melbourne 2004). When Gehl talks about ‘places being for people’, he means urban design that prioritises active public spaces and pedestrian and cycling movement in order to reduce the impact of cars on our cities and to improve overall vitality. He emphasises that four key characteristics – mixed-use, human scale, diversity and affordability – are critical to good design and planning (Gehl Architects 2010). Victoria has several statements and guidelines that aim to define the elements of good urban design. The Victorian Urban Design Charter, for example, sets out key principles for good urban design (see Box 10.4). While some of these terms are straightforward, the concepts can appear quite technical or abstract. For example, we would not ordinarily walk through a precinct or streetscape and think ‘this is quite legible’ or ‘animated’. We might, however, feel that a place is easy to move around, well-signposted, welcoming and with lots going on. Responses to urban design are highly subjective, generating a range of responses depending on factors such as age, gender and culture. As cities have strived to differentiate themselves and attract tourist and investment dollars, the design of city spaces and civic buildings through international design competitions have become popular, particularly since the 1990s. The design for Melbourne’s Federation Square was created in this way. It is also a useful example of urban design that has polarised the community. There is sometimes a disconnection between the urban design ‘vision’ and the lived experience of a place. In Federation Square, for example, the paving is complimented for its visual appeal but criticised for being difficult to move along (especially by those in wheelchairs or wearing high heels). This reflects Jacobs’ point about the need to better understand how people live and use a place, in order to better inform planning and design. In the UK, the now dismantled Commission for Architecture and the Built Environment (CABE) played an influential role in shaping debate and policy around planning and the built environment. CABE has left an important legacy, having influenced and trained many practitioners in the field, some now working in Australia, as well as generating highquality reports, guides, training programs and case studies freely available to urban designers, planners and architects all over the world (www.cabe.org.uk). Similar to CABE, the Office of the Victorian Government Architect (OVGA), established in 2005 by the Bracks government, aims to provide ‘leadership and strategic advice to Government in relation to architecture and urban design’ (www.governmentarchitect.dpc.vic.gov.au). The OVGA is primarily concerned with Victoria’s public buildings and the infrastructure that contributes to public spaces. It states that good design is not just about the aesthetic improvement of our environment but also whether a design ‘improves quality of life,

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equality of opportunity and economic growth’ (OVGA 2011). It lists a set of good design principles and the value or benefit of each, for example: ●●

●●

●● ●●

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Principle: Community and user involvement – Value: ‘fit for purpose, responsive outcome’. Principle: Retain and integrate cultural heritage – Value: ‘history, memory, understanding of and continuity with the past’. Principle: Accessibility – Value: inclusiveness. Principle: Ecological sustainability – Value: environmental, social and economic sustainability, recurrent cost savings. Principle: Appropriate orientation, responsive siting, natural light and ventilation – Value: a healthy living and working environment, delight and comfort, reduced energy use for heating and cooling.

For a full list of Good Design principles, see http://www.ovga.vic.gov.au/images/documents/01_Good_Design.pdf. Design guidelines have proliferated in recent years, ranging from Design Charters to the release of the Commonwealth government’s Urban Design Protocol – Creating Places for People (Australian Govt 2011). Guidelines are useful for practitioners in setting out principles for good design, but they are not enforceable without legislative backing. Alexander Cuthbert (2011: 220) argued that ‘so many vested interests exist that it is questionable whether design guidelines have any capacity to control aesthetics or to set standards of design that are democratic and free of vested interests’. Urban design outcomes are informed by a range of statutory and non-statutory measures including state and local planning policy statements, height and setback regulations, neighbourhood character and heritage overlays. Given the proliferation of frameworks and principles, why are poor-quality urban designs approved? According to the OVGA, a range of pressures and challenges work against good urban design outcomes, particularly the need to show that investment in good-quality design will yield value for money. The OVGA advice to local governments is that in order to achieve ‘high quality development and obtain this lasting value, design consultancies should be selected based upon the quality of service they can provide, rather than lowest fee’ (OVGA 2009). The OVGA also highlights some challenges for local governments, such as pressure from local constituents, the need for strong visionary leadership and the need to attract and retain skilled and experienced design expertise. An important aspect of ensuring good design is an effective process, that encompasses a wide range of expertise and representation. Other indicators of a good design process include: ●● ●● ●● ●● ●●

responsiveness to community views; increased skill level; a multi-disciplinary approach with improved communication across sectors; greater community awareness and engagement; and political receptiveness (Bell 2005: 372).

Urban design is necessarily collaborative, involving those working in land-use planning, urban design, heritage, environmental management, asset management, economic development and transport planning. The need to evaluate and assess progress on design outcomes is also important, and has not always been done well in the past (Droege 2004). Gehl’s work with the City of Melbourne is perhaps an exception to this, and has been instrumental in

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guiding design decisions resulting from the City of Melbourne’s Places for People surveys of public spaces in 1994 and 2004. The Docklands waterfront development is one case of major project work that effectively illustrates how a poor planning and design process can lead to deficient design outcomes, in this case across all four of Gehl’s characteristics of effective public spaces – mixed-use, human scale, diversity and affordability (see later).

Ensuring good design as the city transforms In Chapter 6 we examined the nature of different forms of urban intensification in different parts of the city and highlighted the current rapid transformation of inner Melbourne as a high-rise city. This recent boom in residential skyscrapers is transforming the entire landscape and character of the CBD and its surrounds. Urban intensification is taking many forms, from large-scale developments like that proposed for Fishermans Bend to smaller-scale multi-unit developments, and medium-rise apartment blocks of four to 10 storeys appearing along traditional strip shopping streets. With the advent of the new commercial zones there is little doubt that key shopping strips will be further transformed, leading to extensive cumulative destruction of buildings of heritage value. The proliferation of incremental medium-density developments as opposed to planned developments during the 1990s generated a groundswell of community reaction and organised campaigns (Buxton and Tieman 2004; Lewis 1999). While some medium-density developments have been praised for their design and sensitivity to surrounds, numerous planning decisions have allowed inappropriately high, inadequately designed buildings. Some elements of ‘poor design’ can be measured clearly, for instance height and setback. However, changes to urban character also raise the distinction between physical and social elements of urban character. Dovey et al. (2009: 38) argued that, while planning schemes and reports emphasise physical elements to define neighbourhood character, such as the style of housing and streetscapes, ‘the ways character is experienced by residents and constructed in development struggles defy such separation of the social from the physical’. The impact of increasing densities has broader implications for residents’ perceptions or sense of place. Dovey’s interviews with residents of Camberwell highlighted the feeling that the proposed development for Camberwell Station was regarded by a changing local population as a threat to the ‘comfort zone’ and ‘modest character’ of the suburb (Dovey et al. 2009: 38). More recently, similar sentiments have emerged as local newspapers report on the community response to the implementation of the new planning zones: Residents are outraged at what is happening under Glen Eira’s new residential zones … Their street was once so highly prized for its character that the council offered advice on suitable exterior paints. Penang St. is now zoned General Residential Zone where a three-storey skyline cannot be challenged (Kellett 2014: 5). One resident in another street stated that ‘You can’t just put a four-storey building in the middle of a residential street … at what point did the council decide that the residents don’t matter?’ (Kellett 2014: 5). The emergence of Save Our Suburbs in the 1990s as a coalition of resident groups reacting to what they considered inappropriate development came largely in response to VicCode 2, the Liberal government’s medium-density housing code. This code established 12 criteria dealing with aspects such as site layout, streetscape character, density, overshadowing, energy efficiency, open space, visual privacy and parking. VicCode 2 removed the

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requirement of uniform setbacks, which allowed multi-unit developments to be built closer to the street and adjacent property lines. Planning Minister Maclellan stated: ‘Councils do not have to agree to any development that they don’t want to. It is absolutely wrong for a council to agree to a development if it doesn’t think it fits into the suburb or which isn’t appropriate or good design’ (Neales 1994, cited in Lewis 1999: 187). As Lewis argued, the reality was that VCAT could overrule a council refusal by applying state policies on increasing densities. Despite a series of changes to the design code over the years (see Chapter 6 for more detailed discussion), this situation still prevails. The central message for planning that emerged from the Save Our Suburbs phenomenon during the 1990s and 2000s was that weak regulations and vague policy statements create room for undesirable development decisions and fuel fear and uncertainty in the community. A weak regulatory approach to planning has created a legacy of community scepticism regarding the role of planning – it is sometimes seen as primarily a vehicle for developers and investors to make money. Lewis (1999) explored the issue of impacts on property values, and cited evidence that higher-density developments devalue property by 3–9% (Powell 1997, cited in Lewis 1999: 161). He argued that preventing incremental development will protect suburban heritage housing and broader amenity. An alternative approach is planned development or medium-density development targeted to specific locations, usually on larger sites, and shifting from a commercial use to a residential use. One of Lewis’ central findings was that ‘if incremental development could be made more like planned development, it too would become less controversial’ (Lewis 1999: 162). This suggests that a review of the medium-density code, ResCode, and the code for higher density is needed to ensure that high-quality design standards are used when extensive redevelopment occurs. Highquality design rules will be important to prevent community alienation from ad hoc construction associated with the cumulative redevelopment of sites. Such codes should include on-site and neighbourhood open space well beyond what is currently provided. One serious concern about proposals to redevelop activity centres and transport routes is how to ensure that Melbourne’s highly prized shopping strips are protected from medium- and high-rise development. In order to better understand which aspects of developments were less acceptable to the community Woodcock et al. (2012), presented focus groups with a series of images of urban intensification options along tram routes, including images of ‘before and after’ streetscapes showing developments of varying heights, setbacks and take-up. They found that developments that were four storeys with 60% take-up and a setback were the most acceptable option (Woodcock et al. 2012: 69). Participants equated increased bulk and height, for example, with a ‘loss of community’ or the creation of a ‘standardised community’, an inhospitable street with a ‘loss of intimacy’ (Woodcock et al. 2012: 71). This reinforces the importance of stronger regulations to control height limits and setbacks, although setbacks can lead to facade development.

Market-driven development: from Docklands to Fishermans Bend The resurgence of interest in urban design and the concept of ‘place-making’ is perhaps a belated response to market-driven design and development, and the generation of inadequate quality buildings and public spaces. Higher-density, high-rise developments may reap greater returns for investors but not fulfil the requirements of a quality development or place. Much has been written about the decline of the public realm as city spaces are increasingly commodified and privatised (Graham and Aurigi 1997; Miles 2010; Dovey

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2010; Gehl Architects 2010). Legislating against uncontrolled social interaction ‘creates a vision, an illusion perhaps, of a deeply homogenised public of flawless consumers, an environment in which all is well and in which the reality that the public realm has itself been reduced to a commodity is hidden’ (Miles 2010: 169). Despite the imperative for cities to differentiate themselves from other cities in order to attract visitors and investment, many cities are replicating similar types of development. High-end commercial and residential precincts are replacing old industrial and waterfront areas around the world, targeting the cashed-up market where luxury restaurants, hotels and designer shopping are prized. According to Miles (2010: 175), this is the impact of consumption on the city and it is undermining the ‘legibility of place’.

The Docklands development In this light we now review Melbourne’s Docklands development and consider lessons for future developments. The Docklands waterfront development began in the 1990s and was a major project under the Kennett government. ‘For state governments, waterfront renewal is often the centrepiece of metropolitan promotion and part of the overall densification agenda’ (Oakley 2011: 222). According to McGuirk (2005: 60), these sites are about delivering a competitive ‘quality of life’ based on amenity, culture and place-making. The approach to the Docklands development has also been described as ‘big bang’ planning, with large-scale rapid planning and development processes, which are very much in contrast to the slow, iterative and participatory approach advocated by Patrick Geddes and Jane Jacobs (Searle and Goodman 2011). Such major developments are largely consistent across the world in that they are driven by the market, where the state acts as the facilitator or development manager. They are often delivered through public–private partnerships and managed by quasi-government developers. David Harvey argued that, in adopting this approach, ‘the public sector bears all the risk and corporate sector reaps all the profit’ and ‘business interests get to write the legislation and to determine public policies in such a way as to advantage themselves’ (Harvey 2006: 26). This seemed to be the case with Docklands in Melbourne. The planning process was often sidestepped, with plans replaced by vision statements and development agreements between the government and developers that excluded public engagement or scrutiny. Cuthbert argued that over the last 20 years ‘the alignment of neo-corporatist ideology in both the state and private sectors has encouraged short-to-medium term, project-based planning practice, based on businessplan-led urban design rather than policy planning’ (Cuthbert 2011: 234). During the 1980s and 1990s, the Victorian government’s Major Project Unit initiated and began the redevelopment of Southbank and the Docklands and began the transformation of the waterfront and areas along the Yarra River close to the CBD. The Docklands development process has been criticised for failing to deliver an integrated, well-designed and inclusive precinct. After 15 years, the outcomes and deficiencies of this market-driven project vindicate those who argue that good planning and design ought to be open, democratic and based on a community-driven vision. Docklands today is not what the original designers of the 1980s intended. The original plans for the Docklands, set out in the 1989 Ministry for Planning and Environment publication Melbourne’s Docklands: A Strategic Planning Framework, envisioned something more in tune with Jacobs’ ideas on good design. The proposal was for scales primarily of two to four storeys, with mixed-use developments, a mix of housing styles, and tenure to accommodate a range of incomes and the provision of public housing. It was to be developed in stages and iteratively. Preserving and integrating heritage into the design was a key feature. The 1980s vision for the Docklands differs starkly

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from the high-rise corporate offices, up-market apartment buildings and wind tunnels that now characterise the site. The departure from the original intentions date from when the Kennett government came to power. That government created the Docklands Authority (later restructured and named VicUrban and, in 2012, the quasi-government3 developer, Places Victoria), to facilitate the parcelling and sale of land to developers. A new plan was devised to divide the 190 ha site into seven precincts, each to be developed separately, with extensive scope for developers to initiate design concepts. Melbourne City Council was excised from the planning and design process, while the broader community was ignored and excluded. There have been several accounts and notable trenchant critiques of the development process and its failings (Dovey 2005; Oakley 2011). One commentator has

Fig. 10.2.  The waterfront, Docklands. Source: Photos by S. Moloney.

3 A quasi-government organisation is a hybrid organisation with both government and private-sector legal characteristics.

10 – Valuing and protecting heritage, amenity and design quality

gone so far as to say the Docklands redevelopment represents ‘the total corruption of any credible planning process’ (Ogilvy 1998: 36). With both the community and Melbourne City Council excluded from input into the development of the Docklands, the outcomes and challenges that now face the largely derided development highlight why participatory processes are so important in planning and good design. In the Docklands’ 10-year review, significant issues were identified around poor-quality spaces between buildings, and the lack of social and community infrastructure and open spaces (VicUrban/City of Melbourne 2010). Providing services to meet the needs of an estimated population of 9000 residents and 19 000 workers has become paramount in the next decade of development (see Fig. 10.2). The first phase of consultation found that Melburnians were polarised in their views of the Docklands as it is today, describing it as ‘amazing’, ‘vibrant’ and ‘innovative’ or, less favourably, as ‘lifeless’, ‘disconnected’, ‘isolated’ and ‘windy’’ (VicUrban/City of Melbourne 2010: 6). Of particular concern were the disconnection between the Docklands and the CBD, limited or low-quality public transport, roads, pedestrian and bicycle connections, poor way-finding signage, traffic congestion, and conflicts between cars, bikes and pedestrians. An important element in good design is active street frontages: in Docklands it was found that about three in four street level facades were passive or inactive (Docklands News, March 2011). As for the future of Docklands, Jan Gehl and his Danish team were employed in 2010 by Places Victoria and the City of Melbourne to assist in guiding the next 10 years of its development in an effort to undo past mistakes, provide for the needs of the Docklands community, better integrate the precinct into the city, and make it more pedestrianfriendly. Some of the significant challenges included the predominance of large-scale buildings, the small variety of physical and social interactions, variable quality pedestrian environment, access and connections, difficult microclimatic conditions, and a limited diversity of user groups within each district (VicUrban 2010). The Gehl strategy focuses on ‘creating a fine grain and human scale’, with four supporting strategies: 1) Support public life, 2) connect to the water, 3) create a public space network and 4) focus on mobility and connections (VicUrban 2010: 2). In 2013, Gehl stated that he is critical of high-rise towers as a planning solution. He said, ‘The residential tower is the lazy architect’s answer to density, my interest is “cities for people” not “cities for developers” and not “cities that make traffic happy”’ (cited in Edgar 2013). There are obvious lessons for future developments in reflecting on the Docklands experience, the largest single urban development project Melbourne has seen. First, the exclusion of the public and local council from planning processes removed the opportunity for broad community support for the design and planning. Planning that is open, inclusive and transparent is essential to improved design and sense of place, and must replace the exclusive ambits of confidentiality agreements between developers and government that sometimes occur in these types of projects. ‘The ‘instant city’ approach to redeveloping Docklands has delivered streetscapes that critics say are ‘run-of-the-mill buildings exclusively for people with buckets of money’ (Millar 2006). This could have been avoided had the government contributed public funds and taken a lead role in a community-driven design and delivery process, rather than selling parcels of land, often below their real values. A second lesson is the importance of design for the human scale, limiting heights and focusing on quality public spaces between buildings as much as on the buildings themselves. The third lesson concerns the need to protect existing heritage (Searle and Goodman 2011). Docklands has few remaining heritage buildings and the remains are not necessarily protected. The fourth lesson is that a market-driven approach to development

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will not of itself achieve high-quality, inclusive, sustainable and affordable outcomes for the wider community. The government must co-ordinate and impel the process, define necessary requirements and contribute the necessary funding to achieve goals. The market, in contrast, will tend to seek the most cost-effective approach that yields the highest shortterm returns. Docklands, which largely comprises high-rise apartments, is unaffordable for most people. If we want vibrant and interesting cities then we need to plan for more inclusive and affordable housing. Providing affordable and diverse housing was never a part of Docklands post-1993 planning.

Fig. 10.3.  Fishermans Bend proposed development site. Source: DTPLI (2012b).

10 – Valuing and protecting heritage, amenity and design quality

Fishermans Bend: repeating the mistakes? State governments have been slow to learn the profound lessons from the Docklands experience. The rapid growth in high-rise towers across the CBD and Southbank attests to the continuation of instant ‘big bang’ outcomes and the lack of high-quality design standards and sustainable and affordable outcomes (see also Chapter 6). The development of Fishermans Bend is continuing the approvals processes and development trends so evident at Docklands (see Fig. 10.3). The previous Coalition state government announced in 2012 the rezoning of 240 ha of land – larger than Melbourne’s CBD – at Fishermans Bend. The site is to be divided into four mini-suburbs in Port Melbourne and South Melbourne and accommodate 50 000–80 000 residents. The Planning Minister at the time described it as a ‘Grand CBD’ strategy for Fishermans Bend, and envisaged building heights of 100 m and more (Pallisco 2012). Commentators have been quick to warn against creating another ‘soulless’ place like Docklands. The City of Melbourne Lord Mayor, Robert Doyle, stated that Docklands was so badly planned ‘it could be used as a blueprint for what not to do when planning infrastructure in Fishermans Bend’ (cited in Wright 2012). In Melbourne, arguments about how our city should grow have traditionally pitted planners and communities (often represented by local government) against developers. Docklands demonstrates why it makes good commercial sense for these opponents to work together. People prefer to live and shop in areas that are varied and interesting, that feel safe and look pleasing. When the planning fundamentals are sound, everybody wins (The Age Editorial 2012). On 5 July 2012, the then Minister for Planning effectively removed the entire Fishermans Bend precinct from the jurisdiction of local authorities, which includes the City of Port Phillip (Montague, Wirraway, Sandridge) and the City of Melbourne (Lorimer) (see Fig. 10.1). The area is now governed by the same zone as that applied to the CBD, the Capital City zone (CCZ), a highly permissive zone. Rezoning the area before the completion of a structure plan which specified development parameters increased the value of the land: speculators, investors and developers made hundreds of millions of dollars in windfall gains overnight. This gain will be passed on as a cost to the purchasers of housing, adding significantly to the price of dwellings. Land for public facilities, such as roads, public transport, parks and community services must now be purchased by the government and councils at substantially higher prices. For example, retaining open space after the entire site was rezoned now involves a possible $340 million cost to buy highly valued private land for that purpose (Vedelago and Lucas 2014). As the responsible authority for Fishermans Bend, the Planning Minister is in charge of decisions on planning permit applications over four storeys, 60 dwellings, 10 000 m2 in floor space or with a development value of more than $10 million. The City of Port Phillip, in a media release, expressed alarm at the rezoning; it had spent two years developing a structure plan for the Montague precinct (City of Port Phillip 2012). But under the newly applied CCZ, all major developments can be approved by the Minister and the normal amendment process, which involves notification of owners and occupiers, does not apply. In February 2014 the Metropolitan Planning Authority was given the task of finalising the Fishermans Bend Strategic Framework Plan and Design Guidance (MPA 2014), released five months later. This formed the statutory planning framework to guide land-use planning decisions and was incorporated into the Melbourne and Port Phillip Planning Schemes in the Schedule to Clause 81.01. The document was described as a ‘simplified long term planning framework to guide urban renewal’ and it avoided ‘wherever possible the use of overly prescriptive requirements or controls’ (MPA 2014: 5).

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The design guidelines set out in the Strategic Framework Plan appeared to reflect some learning from the Docklands experience. They outlined a framework for urban development based around four key elements ‘that push the creation of place to its forefront’ (MPA 2014: 3), that is, a street network, sustainable transport, open spaces and a ‘series of places’ – vibrant connected activity centres. They emphasised that development proposals ‘need to be sensitive to liveability and scale at street level and avoid repetitive and monolithic forms’ (p. 24). The MPA also established a Design Review Panel for Fishermans Bend to ‘examine the merits of significant development proposals … to improve design quality, achieve best value and ensure that each project realises its full potential contributing positively to Fishermans Bend’ (p.  46). However, these design objectives, standards and height were discretionary, which allowed developers to repeat the Docklands experience. The new Labor government has increased the size of Fishermans Bend from 250 ha to 455 ha and from four precincts to five, introduced interim mandatory height controls of 18 and 40 storeys over large parts of the site, and added a new employment district with no height controls. It has also introduced a process to improve the quality and design of high-rise towers. However, these heights and the number of existing high-rise approvals prevent the adoption of a medium-rise built form of a more European model, that would offer diverse and attractive housing choices to existing Melbourne residents. The dominance of high-rise buildings presents a significant challenge to the notion of a human-scaled community. Under this regime of quasi-regulation, marketdriven development will prevail. This very often leads to serious social and environmental impacts. For example, the lack of regulated percentages of affordable housing through inclusionary zoning will severely limit housing affordability and diversity.

Setting high standards for protection of heritage, design quality and amenity In this chapter we have touched upon some of the key design, amenity and heritage issues facing Melbourne as it continues to grow. Much of what qualifies Melbourne as a most liveable and unique city stems from its gold rush history. The grand buildings, parklands and boulevards of ‘Marvellous Melbourne’, along with the Victorian-era tenements, laid the foundations for the vibrant inner city we know today, which features a human-scaled urban form that is rich in texture, diversity and interest. We should protect what remains of this heritage. The story of the Windsor Hotel illustrates the long-running battle to protect this city’s heritage from development pressures. Such stories highlight the precariousness of the system that protects our heritage, and how politics and profits can combine to destroy the elements that make this city unique. Cities are the result of both the creative and destructive power of capital, but, if the profit motive is not to overwhelm the public interest, governments must do more than encourage – they must plan, direct and provide. For all parties involved – developer, council and community – certainty is crucial in preventing and alleviating disputes, and avoiding protracted appeals processes. Policy statements must be supported by strong regulations that leave no doubt where development can occur, and what height, design and heritage standards prevail. The legitimacy of the planning system has sometimes suffered from backroom deals. Parts of Melbourne are changing as an important dimension of a growing city. Growth, however, should not mean the destruction of heritage and amenity. Ultimately, the lesson from the extensive destruction of Melbourne’s heritage of buildings, structures, open space and environmental values, is that only mandatory provisions and enforceable regulatory systems designed to protect heritage can prevent the continuation of incremental loss.

Chapter 11

The Melbourne land-use planning system Planning policy at its best leads to long-term spatial plans which outline a vision for the future and how to achieve it. If a city or region is to grow, effective policy will specify the direction and type of urban growth, and link spatial policies with those in other sectors such as transport, infrastructure, and social and natural environments. Land-use planning regulatory systems should be subordinate to strategic policy, implementing long-term directions and functional connections clearly outlined in strategy. Such systems provide the legal, administrative and policy framework to guide and control decisions on land uses and developments, and so are an important factor helping to determine the way cities function. They express values and ideologies held by governments and interest groups on the proper role of government. Planning systems can express a strategic approach, implementing metropolitan and regional strategies, or they can replace strategy, in effect acting as a substitute for long-term policy directions. Since the 1990s, neoliberal governments, seeking to limit the role of government, have adopted weak metropolitan strategies or have failed to implement policies, or both, instead introducing planning systems designed to deregulate. Such systems have become de facto metropolitan strategic documents, and undermine, contradict or act as a substitute for a metropolitan strategy.

Evolution of the Victorian planning system The Victorian land-use planning system has evolved over the last 50 years as a story of tension between central and local control over planning decisions. From the implementation of the 1954 plan until 1987, one planning scheme operated over the entire Melbourne metropolitan area, the Melbourne Metropolitan Planning Scheme (MMPS). This was developed and administered by the independent planning authority, the Melbourne and Metropolitan Board of Works. On 1 July 1985 the Cain Labor government transferred the MMBW planning branch to the Ministry for Planning and Environment, and centralised political control of planning. Rural local councils, however, were able to develop and administer their own planning schemes, albeit subject to government approval and the advice of the Town and Country Planning Board. In 1981, the Town and Country Planning Board was merged with the Department of Planning. The Town and Country Planning Act 1944 and the Melbourne Metropolitan Planning Scheme introduced the structure of the planning system which largely remains to this day. Planning schemes were separated into three sections governing uses and developments: those not requiring permits, those requiring permits, and those prohibited. In the progressive development of the planning system during the 1970s and 1980s, other elements that are now part of the administration of planning were introduced and refined. These included third party appeal rights, a tribunal for hearing appeals against planning 145

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decisions, and independent panels to hear submissions on planning scheme amendments. Other legislation with links to planning, dealing with such matters as environmental regulation and the subdivision of land, were also enacted. The Planning and Environment Act 1987 significantly changed Victoria’s planning system in three ways. It required, for the first time, every council in the state to adopt a planning scheme, it devolved the administration of metropolitan planning to local councils, and it made some changes to planning schemes. Implementation of this Act fundamentally changed the administration of planning by localising the MMPS controls. In 1988, the government discontinued the MMPS and allocated its zones to planning schemes for each metropolitan municipality, in effect developing 52 separate metropolitan planning schemes in a policy-neutral manner and a standardised format. Metropolitan local councils assumed most of the powers formerly held by the MMBW and gained the same planning powers as those held by non-metropolitan councils, administered their own planning schemes comprising a state, regional and local section, and were able to develop the direction of local zones subject to government approval. The state government maintained control over state and regional policy and over approval of scheme amendments subject to the advice of independent panels, and held general legislative and overall control through the Planning and Environment Act 1987. The election of the Kennett Liberal-National government in 1992 led to a reversal of this trend towards local control over local planning issues. In 1996, the government amended the Planning and Environment Act to introduce the Victoria Planning Provisions. These reasserted the principle of central control for the whole of the state. They substituted state-wide standardised planning provisions, developed by the state government, for all existing local metropolitan and rural planning schemes. The content of these provisions has been described in Chapter 3. The Victoria Planning Provisions were the first attempt in Australia to systematically deregulate the content of planning schemes using a neoliberal model of governance. Most Australian state governments deregulated their land-use planning between 1996 and 2009. Most states, including Victoria, have completed or are embarked on a second round of deregulation. In 2005 the state and territory planning ministers endorsed the leading practice model developed by the Development Assessment Forum, which comprises representatives of governments, the development industry and planning and design professions. That model emphasised greater private-sector involvement through self-assessment of applications and planning scheme amendments, standardised planning provisions in local council planning schemes, professional decision-making under delegation and certification of compliance, substantial reductions in third-party rights, professional determination of applications through the use of codes, and a reduction in prohibited uses and the need for permits. States are progressively introducing these principles into planning systems.

Change to the Victorian system By 2010, there was general agreement that the Kennett government’s 1996 planning system was inefficient and costly, and created great uncertainty in planning outcomes. These unintended consequences occurred because the 1996 system increased discretionary uses, reduced prohibited uses, relied on general and often vague decision guidelines and included complicated layered provisions to be considered in deliberations on permit applications. In 2011 the Baillieu Coalition government commenced a revision of the system to further reduce regulatory control by allowing more uses without the need for permits and

11 – The Melbourne land-use planning system

governed by codes, reducing the number of prohibited uses and the level of control over uses allowed subject to permit and, consequently, reducing resident rights of comment and objection. An advisory committee undertook the first comprehensive review of the Victorian planning system since the Perrott Committee report led to the introduction of the Victoria Planning Provisions in 1996. The advisory committee report was no endorsement of the Development Assessment Forum model. The report attempted to improve efficiency by reducing the number of permitted uses. It supported code assessment without notification or third-party rights but only for minor buildings and works, not land uses, and in a complicated grading of application types. It referred any changes-to-use tables in planning schemes or provisions such as overlays, to a future audit. The report supported the role of local councils in the administration of planning. Councils acting as Responsible Authorities were ‘a fundamental part of the Victorian planning system that should not change’. It wanted growth area councils, not the Growth Areas Authority, to prepare precinct structure plans. It supported third-party rights as ‘an important component of Victoria’s planning system’. It opposed the authorisation of private individuals to prepare planning scheme amendments and saw no scope for limiting third-party involvement in the amendment process (Ministerial Advisory Committee 2011: 56–57). However, the report failed to address ways to solve the complexity of the structure of multi-layered controls and alternatives to the Planning Provision components.

New zones and the metropolitan strategy While the advisory committee generally reaffirmed the existing system, making cautious recommendations to review zones with local government and community groups, the government was developing radical new zones in a parallel secretive process. In mid 2012 it released draft new deregulatory zones. Over 2000 submissions were received on these proposals. In response the government established a new advisory committee, which reported in December 2012 on the final content of new residential zones, giving support to the intent of the zones. The large number of submissions had little impact on the government’s intentions. The new zones demonstrate that the real power lies in the regulatory planning system. A metropolitan strategy should guide the direction of zones and other instruments in the planning system by establishing agreed principles and mechanisms to implement them. However, the Baillieu government finalised zones before the work on the metropolitan planning strategy was released. Governments that reduce the role of government and entrench corporate interests have no need for a planning strategy that directs development. The real power will lie in zones that deregulate, not in a strategy which directs. The final zones, released progressively throughout 2013, are the most radical review of the Victorian planning system ever undertaken. They will lead to fundamental changes in the way Melbourne operates, change the fabric of the city and its hinterland, and remove an extensive range of citizen rights. The new zones: ●● ●●

●●

●● ●●

replace three residential zones with three new residential zones; replace the Business 1, 2 and 5 zones with a new Commercial 1 zone, and the Business 3 and 4 zones with a new Commercial 2 zone; extensively alter the Rural Conservation zone, Green Wedge A zone, Farming zone, Rural Activity zone and Rural Living zone; change the Mixed Use zone, Township zone and Low-density Residential zone; and change the Industrial 1, 2 and 3 zones.

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The Neighbourhood Residential zone introduced strong regulatory controls over multi-unit dwellings. The number of dwellings on a lot can be specified in a schedule and must not exceed two, if none is specified. Maximum building height can also be specified in a schedule; if a schedule is not used, the maximum height is 8 m. The General Residential zone is intended to be the predominant residential zone. Residential height, but not the number of dwellings, can be controlled through a schedule. There is no height restriction on a non-residential building in either zone. Office and shop uses are prohibited in both zones, but many retail and other commercial uses are allowed without the need for permits. A large number are allowed subject to permit, including food and drink premises, taverns and hotels, further increasing processing costs and uncertainty. The Residential Growth zone is intended to apply near commercial areas and is highly permissive, excluding office and industry but allowing an extensive range of commercial uses, many without the need for a permit. It contains few prohibited uses. The zone encourages an undefined ‘scale of development’ as a transition zone between more intensive development and restricted housing growth. The Mixed Use zone becomes the second most permissive zone in the standard provisions. It has only five prohibited uses, allows substantial as-of-right retail, office and other commercial uses, and allows industry, office, retail and an extensive range of other uses, subject to permit, alongside residential uses. The Mixed Use zone has been used widely for office use in traditional residential areas in inner suburbs, displacing residential use, through a misapplication of the zone. However, extensive residential development remains in the Mixed Use zone and substantial new higher-density residential development is occurring. Given that almost no uses or developments are prohibited, this intensification will cause future conflict over uses such as entertainment and other industries, taverns, bars, nightclubs, offices and some retailing, which are incompatible with residential uses. Similarities between zones and categories of zones reorient the original purpose of planning zones, that is, to differentiate between the application of land uses regarded as appropriate to the land and in relation to each other. New zones express the planning ideology that the allocation of land uses should be constrained as little as possible – that as many land uses as possible should be allowed in as many locations as possible. This ideology will have important consequences not only for the amenity of residential areas but for the functioning of the city. The Commercial 1 (C1) zone replaced the Business 1, 2 and 5 zones. It allows a wide range of uses without the need for a permit. Besides retail premises and shop, the C1 zone allows a cinema, office (with floor area controlled by a schedule) and accommodation asof-right. Only four uses are prohibited. All other uses not as-of-right are allowed subject to permit, including industry, unrestricted office and shop uses. Applications to subdivide land, construct a building or carry out works are exempt from notice unless they are within 30 m of a residential zone. The translation of B1, B2 and B5 to C1 will lead to other difficulties. In a B5 zone, a shop was prohibited but in the C1 zone retail premises and shop are as-of-right. This means that many B5 areas outside existing commercial centres may become used for retail purposes in inappropriate locations, instead of for offices. The Commercial 2 (C2) zone was applied to land formerly zoned Business 3 and 4. The broader range of allowable uses will compete with and further undermine the functioning of existing strip centres. Areas zoned B3 and B4 are generally out-of-centre locations away from public transport and are extensive on a metropolitan scale. In the former B4 zone, a shop was prohibited but the conversion to C2 allows a supermarket in the Melbourne metropolitan area up to 1800 m2 and additional shops on the same site up to 500 m2 in total floor area

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without the need for a permit, with greater floor areas subject to permit. The C2 zone also allows a cinema, food and drink premises to 100  m2 (including gambling venue, tavern, nightclub), restricted retail premises (a discount store), shop (with a supermarket to 500 m2), industry, office, warehouse and sizeable supermarkets, as-of-right. The zone removes the ability to restrict the maximum floor area for an office, restricted retail premises or lighting shop. A shop, supermarket, retail premises and food and drink premises without restriction are allowed subject to permit, except that a supermarket outside the Melbourne metropolitan area must not exceed 1800 m2. Applications to subdivide land, construct a building or carry out works are exempt from notice unless within 30 m of a residential zone. The C2 zone also allows accommodation subject to permit except for a dwelling, so allowing a wide range of accommodation options to locate away from public transport and facilities. C2 zone lists only five prohibited uses: some accommodation, hospital, intensive animal husbandry, major sports and recreation facility, and motor racing track. All other uses are allowed. A striking feature of the new commercial zones is their similarity, including retail, supermarket, office and accommodation uses. There is no possibility of a hierarchy of activity centres under the two new commercial zones. Many areas formerly zoned B3, B4 and B5 would not have been included in business zones if retailing had been allowable. However, they will now be converted to commercial uses competing with town centres. This will substantially reduce the allowable differences between large and small retail centres and limit the designation of non-retail commercial areas. Another impact will be encouraging the trend by councils to use the Activity Centre zone with its own range of allowable uses. Important similarities also exist between the C1 and C2 zones and the Residential Growth zone.

Fig. 11.1.  Traditional shopping strip, Glenhuntly Rd, Elsternwick. Source: Photo by S. Moloney.

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The substitution of the two new commercial zones for the business zones will allow extensive dispersed retail and other commercial development to undermine the function of existing strip centres. In addition, the C1 zone will intensify the construction of medium-rise, mixed-use development behind facades for a broader range of retail, office, residential and other commercial uses with few restrictions, possibly leading to the destruction of the Victorian heritage of large numbers of strip retail centres (see Fig. 11.1). Coupled with competition from out-of-centre retailing, the broader range of uses in the C1 zone may, over time, lead to the conversion of strip centres into medium-rise office and accommodation structures. This undermining of existing retail centres will be accelerated by changes to the industrial zones. Amendment VC88 in January 2012 greatly widened the scope for allowable goods to be sold in the industrial zones under the definition of restricted retail, and removed floor space restrictions. In Industrial 3 zone, for example, supermarkets up to 2000 m2 and shops up to 500 m2 may be developed. These impacts could be multiplied within an industrial precinct. This will encourage large retail chains to locate their major premises in such locations. None of these uses will require notification. These commercial developments will mean the amount of industrial land actually available for industry may reduce over time. The property industry understands the significance of these changes and claims them as ‘a key Property Council win’ (Property Council of Australia 2013a). It claims that the new zones will ‘unlock’ 870 ha of land in the Commercial 1 zone and 3400 ha in the Commercial 2 zone in Melbourne and almost 2000  ha combined in regional Victoria, will provide more opportunities for bulky goods retailing and mixed residential, commercial and industrial uses, will broaden the range of uses allowed without a planning permit, and remove floor space restrictions. Melbourne’s green belt has been a major competitive strength for the city, protecting vital rural assets essential for the long-term adaptation of the broader city to fundamental change. At the last minute, the government retained existing controls over commercial uses such as residential hotel, conference centre, group accommodation and restaurant in the Green Wedge zone, but removed these controls in the Rural Conservation zone and in other rural zones such as the Farming zone. This will allow the inappropriate spread of commercial urban-related uses into extensive areas of rural land around Melbourne. Further subdivision will be encouraged in some rural zones.

Piecemeal statutory changes The new planning zones represent a system-wide change, with potentially profound impacts. The Bracks Labor government had introduced new rural zones to improve rural planning for green wedges in 2003 and for other rural areas in 2006. These arose from a strong policy context, replacing the highly permissive Rural zone introduced by the Kennett government which contained only three prohibited uses and prevented proper rural planning. However, the Bracks Labor government failed to understand the need to align the planning system with its new planning policy, Melbourne 2030, as an essential element in implementing strategy. As a result, planning policy was never properly implemented. Only towards the end of its term, did this government implement measures, albeit piecemeal, to commence adoption of key policies. Ad hoc measures with little policy context or justification proved to be inadequate substitutes for systematic implementation. Priority

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Development Panels, instead of local councils, assumed control over large rezoning applications. They considered development applications for rezoning on matters of state or regional significance, key development sites, major activity centres, transit cities, sites with structure plans, sites of a substantial scale, or sites which raised complex issues. Development Assessment Committees were intended to supplement council consideration of permit applications and fast-track decisions in 20 principal activity centres, six Central Activity Districts, the CBD and central Geelong. Councils were to process applications, while Development Assessment Committees gave advice to the Planning Minister. But that process was never adopted. In February 2013 the Baillieu government’s Planning and Environmental Amendment (General) Act replaced the Development Assessment Committees with Planning Application Committees, which could be established to work with a council or group of councils on complex planning matters. The Act also introduced more liberal planning rules, such as allowing councils to amend a permit granted by the appeals body VCAT and to extend a permit, making it easier to commence an amendment process and remove a s. 173 (contractual) agreement, and lessening the powers of referral authorities. In 2012, the Liberal Coalition government showed that it understood the relationships between policy and systems, and the power of zones to achieve unstated political land-use objectives. This time, the planning system was not to implement policy but was to act as a policy substitute. Plan Melbourne did not state a policy intention of making inner Melbourne into a high-rise city but the Capital City zone, with almost no controls on height or other uses, is nevertheless leading to that outcome. The plan does not make specific mention of retail policy, but the Commercial zones entrench the power of large retailers by enabling them to build extensive outlets and to enlarge malls far from public transport and traditional centres, despite the plan’s emphasis on reinforcing walkable mixed-use traditional shopping strips. By default, the zones constitute the real planning strategy. All these changes to the rules governing state planning systems, whether systematic or ad hoc, assume an underlying motivation: to reduce the strength of land-use planning regulations, to lessen the contributions of local communities, objectors and local councils to planning decisions, and to empower developers. This is recognised in the advocacy of developer organisations, such as the Urban Development Institute of Australia and the Property Council of Australia, and the opposition of community groups such as the Better Planning Network of over 250 groups that opposed to the New South Wales government Green Paper (Kelly and Donegan 2013). They are the result of decades of the politicisation of planning in locating the independent advisory role of planning agencies within state planning departments, imposing onto local government deregulated standardised planning systems intended to facilitate development, and ministerial intervention in planning decisions. All this represents a paradigm shift in Australian land-use planning.

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Chapter 12

The need for action Fundamental change, variable and unpredictable in type and extent, will affect cities in the coming decades. These changes will include rapid population growth, global economic instability, climate change, resource depletion and increasingly polarised and economically divided communities. Change will likely be non-linear, not occurring in incremental predictable steps providing time to react, and its effects will be greater than perceived causes, so becoming potentially catastrophic. The way that Melbourne and indeed all cities are planned and managed is critically important to their capacity to anticipate, adapt to, and prosper in the face of emerging challenges. Melbourne’s problems will increase exponentially as its population doubles to a planned 8 million people by 2050. Such growth will significantly transform the city we know today. Access to affordable and sustainable housing options, access to jobs and services, the provision of public transport, quality open space and the protection of heritage will be among the most important challenges facing governments. How well we plan for the future will determine whether the city will prosper or slide into dysfunction. This book is a call to revalue and reinvigorate the role and importance of urban planning in creating a better future for Melbourne and its inhabitants, and has emerged in response to the apparent failure of successive Victorian governments to plan decisively. Since the 1990s state governments have opted for a market-led approach, which has diminished the legitimacy and efficacy of state-led planning for a sustainable future. Without effective and decisive long-term planning, the current growth model will continue to dominate, to the detriment of future generations. This model is allowing the continued outward spread of the city, placing at least 1.5 million more residents in car-dependent, high-energy consuming suburbs without proper services or the prospect of satisfactory local or regional employment. The inner urban ‘gold rush’ of high-rise residential development will leave Melbourne with an unpalatable legacy of many poor-quality high-rise buildings, some built to the lowest standards on every criteria, which few people will want to live in or to own. New households forming from the middle band of established suburbs face an undesirable choice – either lower-cost poorly serviced housing on the ever-extending urban fringe, or high-cost, high-rise and ever-smaller apartments in the inner city close to most services. Already, Melburnians in increasing numbers are rejecting outer suburban development, as demonstrated in the falling demand for growth corridor housing. In common with many other countries, a range of medium-density, lower-cost and more diverse housing types and sizes are needed where most people live now – in the established suburbs. Meeting this emerging housing need will require the government to identify the various sources of land supply and match these effectively to types of demand. There is no mention of this overriding approach in any recent government strategic plan for Melbourne. 153

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Embarking on a task such as matching housing demand to supply or, even more radically, limiting and redirecting population growth from Melbourne, would be a novel approach for recent Victorian governments. In recent decades, many governments have changed the way they govern – not necessarily for the better. Neoliberalism has swept the world, diminishing the role of government and, in land use, relegating government to largely being a facilitator of development. In Melbourne, this transformation in the role of government began with the Kennett government in 1993. Almost every claim made by its proponents has proved to be unfounded, including those related to planning. However, in one sense it has been remarkably successful. It has promoted unprecedented development of the dwelling types that Melbourne does not need, and has generally disenfranchised citizens from effective participation in decision-making processes. Governments which adopt a laissez-faire approach to governing cannot anticipate fundamental change and associated system shocks. Allowing decision-making by powerful corporations, big business and large developers will primarily promote their interests, not always leading to policy and action in the interests of the broader citizenry. Only the rejection of the failed neoliberal model can start a comprehensive discussion on the best way for Melbourne to prosper. This book has examined the influence that spatial planning can exert on the way a city and its region functions, on who exercises power and who gains and loses from decisions. Many commentators have pondered whether government planning for land uses is an expression of dominant wielders of capital, power and influence, or whether effective planning can challenge entrenched power elites. It seems clear that the Ballieu–Napthine Coalition government made fortunes for development interests, particularly through its zoning and development approvals for high-rise towers and the stores of large retailers, and that its motivation to protect heritage housing in its eastern metropolitan heartland may have had more to do with fostering political advantage with its affluent supporters than with protecting important heritage values. Similarly, the Brumby Labor government rewarded speculative development capital by destroying the concept of a fixed urban growth boundary. Yet governments have often intervened by using spatial planning – that is, government control over uses and developments on land and water – to limit private gain in the defined public interest. The Hamer and Bracks governments’ long-term protection of Melbourne’s green belt from new development is one of many examples of governments intervening in the public interest. In this book we identified a set of key planning challenges facing Melbourne. Each chapter emphasised what we argue are the key priorities for planning: ●●

●●

●● ●●

●●

●●

●●

reducing social inequities through the provision of accessible and affordable housing (Chapter 5); creating a more efficient and sustainable city through urban consolidation (Chapter 6); protecting peri-urban areas and valuing Melbourne’s hinterland (Chapter 7); investing in a sustainable transport system that reduces our dependence on cars(Chapter 8); supporting vibrant, connected and economically viable shopping and community centres (Chapter 9); valuing high-quality urban design, protecting heritage and improving amenity (Chapter 10); and ensuring an effective and participatory planning system to deliver on priority goals (Chapter 11).

12 – The need for action

Focusing on these issues and priorities, we have examined the range of policies and government decisions over the years that have directed Melbourne towards or, sadly often, away from achieving strategic goals. Land use is not a sector isolated from all other government sectoral activities. Planning for land uses will never be truly effective as a tool to limit detrimental private gain and achieve beneficial public outcomes unless it is fully integrated with economic, social, environmental and natural resource sectors. The failure to achieve such sectoral integration has been the greatest failure of land use policy since the mid 1990s. This trend must be reversed urgently, with new structures of government and a public service reawakened to its responsibility to the public. Achieving this change may require considerable re-education of political attitudes. Strategic planning in Melbourne has a long history. The relative effectiveness of early plans was lost from the late 1980s, to vagueness and lack of implementation. Effective longterm planning must clearly prioritise values and outcomes. There are three key values. First, the importance of access to affordable and sustainable housing options. Second, the importance of retaining Melbourne’s remaining stock of heritage buildings and its broader amenity including environmental assets such as open space and clean air, but also factors such as accessibility to jobs, services and sustainable transport. Third, preserving and improving the city’s connections with a functioning hinterland. Heritage and amenity are at the root of almost everything of value in a city such as Melbourne, attracting tourism, capital investment and jobs, maintaining health and providing an identity which distinguishes the city as unique. Cities which protect their rural hinterlands and develop regional connections already display the enormous advantages they will retain over less prudent competitors. Melbourne is in the process of tipping rapidly into a new state characterised by major uncertainties from population growth, changes in climatic conditions and the global economic system. Whether this state will be one of dysfunction or continued liveability depends on the capacity of the state, federal and local governments to plan in an integrated way for a vast new network of services, infrastructure expansions and creative and adaptive opportunities. The opportunity for action should not be squandered by short-term decision-making in the interests of a few at the expense of the many. There has never been a more critical time for this city. Further delays in taking action will disproportionately increase future difficulties in achieving change.

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Index

Abercrombie, Patrick 20, 21 Activity Centre Policy 114–15, 116 activity centres 12, 23, 38, 40–5, 57, 61, 79, 80, 82, 88, 109, 110, 112, 115–20, 138, 144, 149, 151, see also district centres; shopping centres affordable housing 6, 11, 41, 47–64, 67–8, 80, 82, 142–3, 144, 153, 154–5 definition 11 lower-income high-rise 20, 22, 24 see also diversity, housing; divided city; liveability; Melbourne 2030; renters airports 42, 105, 108, 119 amenity 4, 43, 45, 54, 73, 124–5, 139, 148, 154–5 definition 3 improving/protecting 11–12, 22, 81, 91, 121, 128–9, 133, 138, 144 pressures on 1, 37, 70 regulations and 9, 57, 82 see also liveability; open space apartments 1, 2, 59, 60, 61–2, 69–75, 82, 118, 137, 140, 142, 153 design of 72–3 renters in 52, 70 see also building design; high-rise development Baillieu government 90, 91, 146–7, 151 Baillieu/Napthine government 102–3, 105, 107 bikes see cycling biodiversity 3, 45, 93 Bracks government 27, 37–8, 40–1, 81, 135, 150, 154 Brumby government 40–1, 91 building design 2, 48, 60–1, 68, 72–3, 79–83, see also urban design bushfires 93 Cain/Kirner governments 23, 25, 27–9, 31, 36, 88, 114, 130, 145 capital 1, 4, 9, 15, 31, 58, 144, 154 gains tax 48, 55, 64, 91 investment 8–9, 155 cars 18, 48, 68, 102 environmental impacts 99–100 parking 20–1, 101, 112–13 reducing 100, 113, 116, 121, 135, 154 reliance on 7, 9, 11, 19, 21, 24, 63, 66, 79, 90, 95–8, 107, 75, 110, 153 see also District Centre Policy; public transport; road traffic CBD (Central Business District) 14, 27, 28, 59, 68–73 and activity centres 117–19, 151 and employment 5, 43, 65, 66, 111–13 175

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and heritage 45, 127 residential 1, 137, 143 retail in 25, 109 transport 97, 103, 105 see also liveability; sustainability, urban Central Activity Areas (CAAs) 117 Central Activity Districts (CADs) 41, 117–18, 151 climate change 1, 2, 3, 6, 9, 12, 27, 93, 153 community development 9, 113, 116 engagement with 10, 37, 103, 130, 133, 136, 138–39, 140–1 identity 124, 128 voice 29, 35–6, 39, 41, 64, 75, 80, 83, 102, 147, 102, 107–8, 125, 127, 130, 133, 137, 151 see also participatory planning; Save Our Suburbs; Windsor Hotel community centres 8, 11, 120, 154 commuter belt 66, 83 commuting 7, 66, 68, 73, 75, 85, 110 cycling 101 public transport 97 compact cities 17, 21, 39, 83 conservation 24, 67, 113, 126 cycling 96, 98, 99–100, 101–2, 116, 135, 141 District Centre Policy 28, 42, 113–15, 116, 117 district centres 23, 24, 28, 42, 113–15, see also activity centres; shopping centres diversity cultural 3, 6, 7, 124 housing 11, 41, 44, 55, 60, 66, 67, 68, 71, 80, 82, 142, 144, 153 in public space 127, 128, 134–5, 137, 141 retail 121 divided city 1, 45, 48–51, 91, 153 Docklands 1, 2, 28, 69, 72–3, 125, 137, 138–44 employment 5, 119 East–West Link 12, 44, 95, 96, 102–8 ecological systems 3, 14, 88, 99, 136 education 3, 6, 7, 42, 45, 50–1, 64, 70, 99, 118 employment 3, 5, 8, 24, 32, 50, 65, 112, 144 access to 7, 30, 50–1, 66, 67, 68, 75, 85, 99 in activity centres 41, 110, 116, 118 in CBD and inner suburbs 5, 18, 43, 65, 66, 67, 101, 111–13 national clusters 42–3, 71 regional 45, 94, 153 type and location 4, 38, 43, 51, 64, 67, 119 energy consumption 2, 3, 22, 24, 35, 41, 62, 63, 67, 72, 77, 80, 96, 99, 101, 136, 137, 153, see also greenhouse gas Fishermans Bend 42, 68, 71–2, 125, 137, 138, 142, 143–4 and public transport 43–4, 96, 105

Index

foot traffic see walking Footscray 117–18 freeway 2, 20, 67, 83, 95–6, 102–3, 108, 115, 119, see also cars; East–West Link; road traffic freight 96, 103, 106, 119 gated communities 2, 87 Gehl, Jan 135, 136–7, 141 gentrification 3, 25, 48, 65, 118 Good Design Guide 35, 79–81 Great Depression 2, 14, 18 green belt 21, 23, 38, 85, 87–8, 91, 94, 150, 154 British approach to 19–20, 21 see also green wedge; peri-urban areas; urban growth boundary green wedge 21–4, 28, 29, 38–9, 85, 88, 89, 94 zone 147, 150, see also green belt; growth corridors greenfield development 40, 56, 58, 82, 83, 89 greenhouse gas 58, 72, 77, 96, 99, 110, see also energy consumption greyfields 77, 79 Growth Areas Authority 45, 81, 147 growth corridors 1, 22–4, 28–9, 38, 40–4, 65–8, 70, 81, 83, 85, 87–91, 94, 153 Guy, Matthew 35, 103, 132 Hamer, Rupert 21–2 government 24, 27, 29, 35–6, 126, 130, 154 health in cities 6, 15–17, 30, 51, 58, 72, 85, 94, 96, 99–100, 107, 124–5, 136 heritage loss of 2, 40, 71, 73, 77–9, 82–3, 137, 150 valuing/protecting 11, 12, 44–5, 77, 80, 121, 123–33, 134, 136, 138, 139, 141, 144, 153, 154–5 Heritage Act 44–5, 125–8, 132 Heritage Council (of Victoria) 126–7 Heritage Victoria 12, 126, 127, 131–2 high-rise development 1–2, 59, 68–73, 74, 81, 82–3, 109, 137, 138, 140–4, 151, 153–4, see also apartments; Docklands lower-income high-rise 20, 22, 24 hinterland 67, 147 connection to city 23, 86, 93, 94, 154 protecting/valuing 94, 155 see also peri-urban areas; rural areas; urban fringe; urban growth boundary housing, affordable see affordable housing Jacobs, Jane 134–5, 139 Kennett government 11, 13, 23, 27, 29–31, 33–5, 37–8, 66, 80–1, 88, 90, 94, 115, 125, 139–40, 146, 150, 154 Lewis, Miles 20, 28, 35, 125, 138 liveability 3, 6–8, 12, 37, 39, 51, 68, 95, 97–8, 108, 121, 125, 128, 133, 144 definition 6 see also amenity; road traffic, congestion; urban intensification

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local government 29, 35, 60, 75–7, 79–81, 82, 102, 115, 117, 118, 121, 124, 136, 137–8, 141, 143–4, 149 coordinated involvement 7, 12, 64, 83, 88, 155 and heritage protection 126, 128–9 Melbourne City Council 2, 14, 16–17, 27, 58, 119, 136–7, 140–1 planning powers 16–17, 23, 33–4, 42, 44, 145–7, 151 restructuring of 31–2, 146, 151 Maclellan, Robert 29, 32–3, 35, 66, 90, 115, 138 Madden, Justin 35, 130 medium-density development 1, 35, 37, 40, 61, 64, 69, 70, 73–5, 82, 137–8, 153 history of 79–81 see also Good Design Guide; Save Our Suburbs; urban intensification medium-rise 1, 52, 68, 69–71, 74, 75, 82–3, 109, 130, 137–8, 144, 150 Mees, Paul 67, 97, 100 Melbourne 2030 12, 23, 27, 38–42, 44, 61, 66, 67, 71, 74, 77, 88–9, 90, 94, 116–18, 119, 150 Melbourne@5Million 39, 41, 66, 89–90, 117–19 Melbourne City Council 2, 14, 16–17, 27, 58, 119, 136–7, 140–1 Melbourne Metro Rail project 103, 104–5 Melbourne Metropolitan Planning Scheme 1, 2, 13, 15, 18–22, 28, 112, 145 Metropolitan Board of Works (MMBW) 16, 18–25, 27–9, 32, 36, 42, 79, 87, 107, 112–14, 145, 146 Metropolitan Planning Authority 33, 45, 143–4 middle-ring suburbs amenity/liveability 3, 4, 6, 124 housing 1, 50, 55, 56, 58, 60, 61, 64, 65, 68, 70, 73–5, 77, 83, 129 shopping centres 25, 110 Ministry for Planning 114 Ministry for Planning and the Environment 27, 29, 145 motor vehicles see cars National Trust 125, 126, 128, 130–2 neighbourhood 8, 109, 134–5, 137 centres 42, 44, 116 character 79–80, 128, 133, 136, 137 neoliberal ideology affects on planning 27–36, 37, 94 and Victorian governments 3, 11, 40, 44, 64, 72, 145, 146, 154 Office of the Victorian Government Architect (OVGA) 135–6 open space 18, 22, 41, 72, 103, 124–5, 141, 143, 144, 153, 155 Metropolitan Open Space Plan 18 participatory planning 11, 31, 34, 36, 133, 139, 141, 154 community engagement 10, 103, 130, 133, 136, 139, 140–1 public consultation 36, 38, 130, 141 third party appeals 32, 35, 128, 145–7 see also community

Index

peri-urban areas 12, 23, 85–8, 91–4, 154 definition 11, 85–6 see also hinterland; urban fringe; urban growth boundary Perrott Committee 32, 34, 147 place 10, 39, 133–5, 137, 138–9, 141, 144 and heritage 124–9 making 138, 139 sense of 131, 137, 141 Places Victoria 140, 141 Plan Melbourne (2014) 10, 33, 41–5, 68, 70, 71, 74, 75, 77, 81, 82, 103, 105, 119, 151 Plan of General Development, Melbourne 2, 15, 17–18, 98 planning definition 9–10 and deregulation (neoliberalism) 3, 10, 27–8, 30–6, 37, 44, 72, 80–2, 83, 89, 94, 115, 119, 139, 145, 146, 147, 151 integrated land-use (and transport) 9, 10, 20, 28, 39, 45, 57, 87, 91, 94, 96, 107, 108, 155 regional 20, 21, 23, 45, 87–8, 94 statutory 12, 28, 32, 33–4, 38, 44, 128, 143, see also VPPs strategic 3, 9–10, 11, 21, 23, 24, 25, 28, 29, 33–4, 45, 60, 67–8, 71, 88, 91, 94, 155 for sustainability 4, 8, 9, 125 see also Melbourne 2030; Plan Melbourne; plans; sustainability; zones Planning and Environment Act 1987 29, 146 amended 33, 35, 146, 151 Planning Policies for the Melbourne Metropolitan Region 2, 22–4, 38, 66, 85, 87–8 plans, for metropolitan Melbourne 1929 (Plan of General Development, Melbourne) 2, 15, 17–18, 98 1954 (Melbourne Metropolitan Planning Scheme 1954) 1, 2, 13, 15, 18–22, 28, 112, 145 1971 (Planning Policies for the Melbourne Metropolitan Region) 2, 22–4, 38, 66, 85, 87–8 1980/81 (Metropolitan Strategy and Implementation) 9, 23–4, 113–15, 116 1987 (Shaping Melbourne’s Future) 28–9 1995 (Living Suburbs) 38 2002 (Melbourne 2030) 12, 23, 27, 38–42, 44, 61, 66, 67, 71, 74, 77, 88–9, 90, 94, 116–18, 119, 150 2008 (Melbourne@5Million) 39, 41, 66, 89–90, 117–19 2014 (Plan Melbourne) 10, 33, 41–5, 68, 70, 71, 74, 75, 77, 81, 82, 103, 105, 119, 151 population growth 4–5, 14, 65–7, 69, 155 and housing 55–6, 62 and land-use 19–20, 88–90, 125 and migration 3, 5, 48, 58 planning for 17, 18, 21–2, 44, 62, 88, 94, 112, 154 rapid 1, 2, 45, 93, 153 and traffic 96, 97, 110 see also growth corridors ports 42, 44, 106–7 productivity 1, 8–9, 45, 67, 124 agricultural 22, 23, 45, 87, 88, 93 public good 3, 32, 36

179

180

Planning Melbourne

public realm 2, 128, 138–9 definition 133 public space 8, 18, 22, 121, 123–5, 133–5, 137, 141 loss of/inadequacy of 103, 138 public transport 15, 18–19, 95–108, 119, 143 and amenity 3, 4, 7–8, 54, 62, 99, 153 and commercial zones 148–9, 152 and corridor development 22, 66 investment in 102–8, 154 and mixed-use centres 12, 38, 40, 42–3, 68, 80, 110, 113–16, 121 outer suburbs 62, 65–6, 82, 97, 98–9 shortfalls 2, 9, 30, 39, 44, 64, 68, 95–9 see also activity centres; East–West Link Public Transport Users Association (PTUA) 97, 98, 99, 105 rail 6, 15, 19, 22, 28, 42–4, 66, 74, 77, 97–9, 101, 107–8, 109, 110, 112, 113, 124 extensions 20–1, 39, 44, 95, 96, 98, 102–3, 104–6, 108 renters 47–8, 52, 55, 60, 70, 72, 73, see also affordable housing ResCode 80–1, 138 resident groups see community, voice; Save Our Suburbs resilience 91, 93 retail 19, 23–4, 38, 42–3, 44, 95, 100, 109–21, 129–30, 148–51 bulky goods stores 20, 40, 115, 117, 119–20 malls 20–1, 40, 65–6, 87, 96, 110–17, 119–21, 151 strip 19, 20, 25, 65, 71, 110, 117, 119–20, 124, 129–30, 137, 138, 148–49, 150, 151 suburban shopping centres 109 see also activity centres; District Centre Policy; public transport; Melbourne 2030; shopping centres road traffic 2, 17, 97, 102, 103, 105 congestion 6, 68, 95–7, 100, 101, 103, 105, 108, 110, 112, 113, 118, 141 energy use and pollution 24, 96, 99–100, 101 rural areas 3, 11, 19–20, 24, 86–8, 94 councils 33, 145–6 fragmentation 91–3 protecting 22, 23, 38, 85, 155 zones 19, 89, 94, 147, 150 Save Our Suburbs 35, 39, 80, 125, 137–8 shopping centres 11, 19, 25, 38, 40, 65, 82, 109–12, 116–17, 120–1, 154 malls 20–1, 40, 65–6, 87, 96, 110–17, 119–21, 151 strip 19, 20, 25, 65, 71, 110, 117, 119–20, 124, 129–30, 137, 138, 148–9, 150, 151 see also retail slums 15, 48 Southbank 1, 5, 28, 42, 68, 69, 72, 139, 143 spatial disadvantage 6–7, 50–1, 55, 98–9 State of Australian Cities reports 51, 56, 60 State Planning Policy Framework 33, 117, 128, see also planning, statutory

Index

suburban fringe 11, 75 sustainability in housing 62–3, 142–3, 153 and transport 96, 99, 107, 108, 144 urban 2–3, 4, 6, 7–11, 38, 41, 44, 67, 116, 118, 119, 125, 133, 136, 154–5 tourism 3, 23, 85, 88, 118, 124, 155 Town and Country Planning Act 1944 18, 145 Town and Country Planning Board 20, 21–2, 145 trams (tramway system) 15, 18, 44, 77, 79, 95, 97, 101, 108, 109, 124, 138 Transit Cities 41, 117, 151 transit corridors 77, 79, 151 urban consolidation 11, 23–4, 29, 57, 65–83 definition 67 see also sustainability urban containment 11, 12, 19–20, 21, 56–7, 81, see also urban growth boundary urban corridors see growth corridors urban design 19, 41, 68, 72, 79–80, 82–3, 123 good 8, 12, 35, 125, 127, 128, 133–41, 143 improving and enhancing 11, 38, 66, 93, 144, 154 retail 110, 116, 118, 120, 121 and transport 90, 99, 102 see also building design; Good Design Guide Urban Design Charter 134–5 urban fringe development 1, 12, 19, 24, 40, 56, 57–8, 66, 68, 74, 76, 81, 83, 88–9, 91, 153 housing affordability 58, 60, 62, 63 retail 109, 111 transport 6, 97–8, 119 see also hinterland; peri-urban areas; urban growth boundary urban growth boundary 23–4, 38–9, 44, 56, 58, 77, 85, 116 expansion of 12, 40–1, 66, 82, 87, 88–91, 94, 154 urban intensification 1, 28, 69–70, 75, 81–3, 125, 137–8, 148 urban renewal 42–4, 121, 134, 139, 143 urban sprawl 2, 3, 15, 19–21, 23, 51, 65–6, 70, 101 definition 65 see also road traffic VCAT (Victorian Civil and Administrative Tribunal) 132, 138, 151 VicCode (Victorian Code for Residential Dwellings) 79, 81, 137, see also Good Design Guide Victorian Heritage Register 79, 126–7, 129 VPPs (Victoria Planning Provisions) 33–4, 37, 147, see also planning, statutory; zones Walker, Evan 28, 29, 114 walking 98, 101, 135, 100, 110 communities 8, 57, 96, 99, 100, 103, 115–16, 133, 120, 151

181

182

Planning Melbourne

water 14, 18, 45, 154 quality 22, 99 saving 62, 72 supply 3, 16, 28, 58, 87, 88, 93 waterfront 137, 139, 141, see also Docklands Windsor Hotel 124, 126, 130–2, 144 zones 17, 33–4, 37, 42, 43–5, 68, 74, 75–7, 79–81, 82, 100, 115, 119–21, 126, 129–30, 137, 146 Activity Centres 41, 149 Business 129, 147, 148–50 Capital City 72, 143, 151 Commercial 129–30, 147, 148–50, 151 General Residential 75–6, 137, 148 Green Wedge 147, 150 heritage overlay 76, 79, 80, 126, 129, 132, 136 Industrial 147, 150 Low-density Residential 147 Mixed Use 147–8 Neighbourhood Residential 44, 75–7, 129, 148 non-urban 19, 22, 24, 29, 38, 85–6, 87–8, 93, 94, 147, 150 Residential A and B 17 Residential Growth 148, 149 Rural Conservation 94, 147, 150 Township 147 see also rural areas, zones