Pan-Indianism and Authenti(city): Refusing Colonial Borders

Urban indigenous spaces may be characterized by tangible and intangible cultural phenomena including art and architecture. Following Canada’s Truth and Reconciliation Report in 2015, Canadian municipalities have pursued various paths toward inclusion of Indigenous voices in city planning. This paper examines manifestations of Indigenous cultural presence in the city of Edmonton, home to the second largest and growing urban Indigenous population in the country. In the development of a mature postcolonial civic identity, both formal and informal interventions into public space can support transformative, dialogic, cross-cultural encounters. But do civic investments in visible and discursive media promote or undermine genuine representational sovereignty and reconciliation in the ongoing context of Indigenous struggles for social and economic equity? The discussion is situated in an analytical framework including the right to the city, biopolitics and media ecology. Indigenous presence in public art and urban spaces are discussed with reference to both sanctioned or sponsored and informal, transient public art, murals, graffiti and constructions in everyday space and on sacred ground in the city. It concludes with analysis of a new, award-winning multi-media “Indigenous Experience” installation in the city’s touristic heritage park in the context of the calls to action of the Truth and Reconciliation Report of almost ten years ago.

To provide a scientific basis of green space planning and construction of the plant diversity for Zhuji and other cities which in similar climate type, plant diversity, community structure, and soil nutrients were studied in four types of urban green space: parkland, residential green space, natural woodlots, and Accessory greenbelt, of Zhuji City, Zhejiang Province. Analysis included use of the Shannon-Wiener and Simpson's indexes. Results showed that the study area included species from 51 families of 100 genera and 170 species; indigenous tree species from 49 families with 88 genera and 107 species accounted for 62.94% of the total species. Tree species revealed a greater number of Cinnamomum camphora; shrub species were predominantly Pittosporum tobira and Camellia. Compared to the three other kinds of urban green space, natural woodlots had the lowest similarity, but similarity with shrub species was much higher. No differences in tree species diversity among the four types of urban green spaces were found; the Shannon-Wiener index and Simpsons index were about the same: a ranking for Shannon-Wiener diversity was parkland （1.46）＞residential green space （1.45）＞natural woodlots （1.37）＞work-unit attached green space （1.29）; whereas, the ranking for Simpsons index was residential green space （0.67）＞parkland （0.66）＞work-unit attached green space （0.60）＞natural woodlots （0.58）. For community structure, tree species in natural woodlots were densest with a smaller average DBH resulting in fewer understory shrubs; tall trees in parklands contributed to the lowest density and the greatest average DBH. The highest content of organic matter was in natural woodlots followed by the Accessory greenbelt, parkland, and residential green space. Therefore, urban green space should increase the use of fine native species and the variety and number of shrub species, and fertilization management specifically in the future.［Ch, 1 fig. 9 tab. 25 ref.］

The Future of Latin American and Caribbean Cities: Urban Bias and Political Fragments in Place

In Native American literature, there is a discourse that solely focuses on the relationship between Indigenous people and the land. This relationship is vital to understanding the traditions, rituals, storytelling, and practices of Native Americans. The presence of settler colonialism changes the relationship, effectively changing the nature of cultural and spiritual relationships as well. Indigenous literature provides examples of the modern relationship Native people have with their land; an example of this is Leslie Marmon Silko’s Ceremony and Tommy Orange’s There There Despite modernity, assimilation, and ways of life introduced by settler colonialism, Native people maintain a relationship to the land, whether on a reservation or in an urban space. The relationship, as well as their traditions and rituals, changes between Ceremony and There There. This research aims to illuminate the relationship in conjunction with the concepts of cultural hybridity, sovereignty, and a third space.

Reviewed by: Community-Based Participatory Research for Health: Advancing Social and Health Equityed. by Nina Wallerstein et al. Sarena D. Seifer, MD Key Words Book review, community-based participatory research, health equity Community-Based Participatory Research for Health: Advancing Social and Health Equity 3rdEdition Editors: Nina Wallerstein, Bonnie Duran, John G. Oetzel and Meredith Minkler ISBN: 978-1-119-25885-8 San Francisco: Jossey-Bass; 2017 480 pages For readers who turned to this book review for the bottom line, let me state it upfront. Community-Based Participatory Research for Health: Advancing Social and Health Equityis an essential resource for both novice and experienced community- based participatory research (CBPR) practitioners and a comprehensive text for teaching CBPR. The paragraphs below attempt to explain why. That the book is in its third edition in 15 years speaks volumes both in terms of the maturity of the field and the continuing demand for guidance from its leading experts. The title itself reflects the field's evolution, going from simply Community-Based Participatory Research for Healthto a focus on process and outcomes to the current emphasis on action that dismantles injustice and achieves equity, not only in communities but also in the conduct of the research itself. Researchers who view CBPR as a strategy for recruiting minority participants into clinical trials will quickly realize from the book's Introduction that their understanding is not only wrong but completely antithetical to its core tenets. Readers of this third edition will be challenged at every turn to interrogate their own practice to ensure they are maximizing the community impacts of the research and not inadvertently contributing along the way to the inequitable conditions that CBPR aims to upend. For example, case studies illustrate how racism, power, and privilege can manifest within a CBPR partnership; how to anticipate and recognize such situations; and, most important, how to collaboratively resolve them. One of the book's appendices calls on CBPR practitioners to examine their individual power and privilege through a structured process of critical self-reflection, and another invites cultural humility. The decade since the book's last edition has witnessed an explosion both in studies employing CBPR approaches and in studies ofCBPR. The editors have done a tremendous job of integrating this evidence base into the book, including our latest understanding of the ingredients of a high-functioning CBPR partnership and its impact on individual and community capacity, health outcomes, and policies. Partnership principles and a conceptual framework for CBPR are presented not as set in stone, but as adaptable tools for planning, collective evaluation, and ongoing reflection. Case studies provide just enough context and detail to demonstrate the critical issues that arise in CBPR partnerships and extract generalizable lessons learned. Chapters that [End Page 219]identify promising practices derived from an array of participatory intervention designs in diverse settings and communities help readers to understand the complete cycle from partnership formation to improved health outcomes and policy change. Four chapters are devoted to ways in which CBPR can impact policies that advance such goals as environmental justice, food security, an equitable criminal justice system, and healthy urban housing and public space. A conceptual model for understanding the pathways between CBPR and healthy public policy provides a helpful way to articulate a partnership's policy goals and develop strategies for achieving them. The importance of evaluating CBPR partnerships and outcomes is evident from the attention paid to the topic both in the main body of the book and in appendices that cite publicly available and validated assessment instruments. This updated edition also includes for the first time access to a companion website featuring lecture slides of conceptual and partnership evaluation content and resources from appendices that can be used as tools for classroom teaching and for individual and partnership-focused professional development. Questions posed to readers at each chapter's conclusion help to reinforce main points and prompt critical analysis and reflection. Although these can be answered by the solitary reader, they lend themselves well to group discussion in a classroom or within a CBPR partnership. Responding to the question of whether having community residents take the lead in data collection...

In 1922, a ‘Symphony of Sirens’ was performed by the sounds and movements of human crowds, machine guns, cannons, factory sirens, airplanes, hydroplanes, trains, battleships and a steam-whistle machine across the spaces of Baku, Azerbaijan. Conceived well beyond the conventions of revolutionary festivals, the Symphony manifested 1920s avant-garde aspirations for a radical unity of the arts, technology and urban space. Furthermore, the location of the Symphony was notable: Baku was a city on the edge of the former Russian empire, and Azerbaijan had only two years prior been incorporated as a Soviet Socialist Republic. Connecting with several core tenets of the Soviet socialist and avant-garde movements, the 1922 ‘Symphony of Sirens’ can be interpreted as an avant-garde expansion of Soviet internationalism. The ways in which the Azerbaijani metropolis activated this bricolage of art, space and politics is significant, not least because the spectacle condensed a wide range of practices and ideas from Taylorism, proletarian politics, the artistic avant-garde and Azerbaijani culture. The spectacle's composition and location also had an outward impact, manifesting a geographical imagination that shaped the region's cultural and political identity and extended the possibilities of design practice.

The ‘paperless arrest’ scheme is a detention regime in which motion and documentation are central to crime control and community protection. This article interrogates paperlessness as a political fantasy for policing alongside the routine documentary practices of police administration, including their effects on the movement of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people. Operative since 2014 in Australia’s Northern Territory (NT), the paperless arrest scheme provides police with the power to take an individual into custody for up to four hours if they believe, on reasonable grounds, that the individual has committed, or was about to commit, an infringement notice offence. This article frames paperless arrests as an instance of preventive detention continuous with the long-term regulation of alcohol consumption by Aboriginal people, in relation to racialised norms of public propriety in urban space. It considers preventive detention beyond issues of legality and efficacy, examining local and material relations that organise the everyday governance of preventive detention in Northern Australia.

This essay draws on ethnographic research with Aboriginal Australians living in the parks and bush spaces of a Northern Australian city to analyze some new governmental measures by which remoteness comes to irrupt within urban space and to adhere to particular categories of people who live in and move through this space. To address this question in contemporary Northern Australia is also to address the changing character of the Australian government of Aboriginal people as it moves away from issues of redress and justice toward a state of emergency ostensibly built on settler Australian compassion and humanitarian concern. It also means engaging with the mediatization of politics and its relation to the broader, discursive shaping of such spatial categories as remote and urban. I suggest that remoteness forms part of the armory of recent political efforts to reshape Aboriginal policy in Northern Australia. These efforts leverage remoteness to diagnose the ills of contemporary Aboriginal society, while producing remoteness itself as a constitutive feature of urban space.

As urban centres are increasingly the predominant sites of human activity, neglect of Indigenous-municipal relationships has far reaching consequences affecting all our lives. This article asks how cities, in their relationships with Indigenous people, can look beyond uncertainty about their existing legal obligations to build relationships that may serve as the basis for subsequent legal agreements. The article focuses on activities led by Indigenous people taking place in an urban park space in Toronto. It examines the municipal government’s response and its more recent approach to relationship building, arguing that recognition of Indigenous law is necessary for an Indigenous-municipal relationship centred on reconciliation.

The aim of this article is to reflect on and share the findings of the Networking Event ‘Give us Space: Augmented public space geographies in the changing public/private relationships.’ The Event addressed emerging spatial issues in the production of the public realm of contemporary cities. This topic has been at the centre of the discourse on urbanism in both humanities and social sciences for decades, reflecting the increasing interest in spatial problems that have contributed to the crisis of public life in the socioeconomic, cultural and political spheres. The recent pervasion of spatial privatisation and public sphere mediatisation processes require a refoundation of this discourse. The discussions addressed some of the key areas of concern raised by the New Urban Agenda (NUA) related to open space, focusing on socio-spatial problems in the pervading production of semi-public spaces in contexts of rapid urbanization. Using a comparative urbanism perspective that highlighted the expanding role of digital geography, it elaborated upon specific Sustainable Development Goals of the UN 2030 Agenda for Sustainable Development. These are the goals concerned with good health and well-being (3), reduced inequalities (10), sustainable cities and communities (11), and partnerships for the goals (17). The event created a platform for knowledge exchange and networking amongst stakeholders. This aimed to 1) build capacity in both research and practice; 2) identify problems, limitations, and opportunities with respect to the various actors and stakeholders of urban public space; 3) highlight issues concerning less advantaged groups in society: children, youth and elderly, ‘differently-able,’ indigenous people, marginalized genders, migrants and socioeconomically deprived people.

In Latin American cities, indigenous peoples' presence is often overlooked: symbols and iconographies either exclude them as a minority or ‘memorialise’ them as part of a distant past. Through ethnographic observation, walking and visual narrative analysis, and adapting Charles Hale's constructions of indigeneity, this article examines the different representations of indigeneity in urban public space in Santiago de Chile. It interrogates its forms and multiple meanings and the ways in which these are challenged and appropriated by current indigenous artistic production and activism, highlighting the struggle to emphasise contemporary, hybrid lived experiences rather than essentialised, neo‐colonial memorialisation. The article addresses urban imaginaries of indigeneity as an arena for the struggle between different representations, which are highly relevant to the new Chilean Constitution and demands for pluri‐nationalism, and form part of an ongoing (de)construction of entrenched power relations.

The cohabitation between Indigenous and non- Indigenous peoples in this post-colonial society is a hefty but necessary topic that must be discussed. This is particularly important for landscape architects, as we are responsible for designing our urban public spaces and cities. Māori, the Indigenous people of Aotearoa, have struggled with land theft, and the erasure of their history and identity since the first European settlers arrived. Aotearoa has come a long way regarding cultural acceptance, acknowledgment and collaboration when it comes to design. This is evident, as engaging with mana whenua is considered of national importance in the Resource Management Act; however, the effects of colonisation still impact Māori today. As designers responsible for our public realm, we can aim to address these issues and create a co-habitable society that embraces and empowers all. Although this is the intent of many landscape architecture groups, is it appropriate to label recent projects as transformative and progressive if the design process follows colonial thinking, lacks authenticity and spirituality, and is essentially “a copy of something that never existed”?1 Spirituality is imbued in Māori culture, evident in Te Aranga Principles such as Mana and Ahi Kā2 that Māori have gifted us. The absence of authenticity and spirituality in our designs, due to existing constraints and fixed ways of thinking, dilutes Māori culture to trivial symbols; therefore, the goal of a co-habitable society can never truly be achieved. This will be discussed by analysing the article “Whakarewarewa Thermal Reserve: The Landscape of Simulation” by Rod Barnett (Ngāti Raukawa), an internationally acclaimed professor and academic author currently a Professor of Landscape Architecture and Head of the School of Architecture at Te Herenga Waka Victoria University of Wellington. The article discusses simulation, which embodies the greater issue of exploitation of Māori culture for tokenism and commodity. Similarly, the second chapter in the book Imagining Decolonisation, “What is Decolonisation?” by Ocean Ripeka Mercier (Ngāti Porou), an academic and professor who specialises in physics and Māori science at Te Herenga Waka Victoria University of Wellington, will be examined. Mercier’s chapter highlights the ideas and processes of decolonising our minds and spaces to truly achieve cohabitation. Lastly, the theories of Barnett and Mercier will be challenged by analysing two landscape architecture projects in Tāmaki Makaurau. By doing so, this paper emphasises the gravity of the issues within our design practices that claim to be authentic and inclusive, yet, at their core, precisely lack those attributes.

Prior to colonisation, experiences of loneliness were rare among Māori (the Indigenous people of Aotearoa New Zealand), as there were sophisticated, place-based connections between people, land, housing, and nature. This reality is often not the case in 21st-century urban housing environments where feelings of loneliness are a confronting reality for older adults, impacting their health, well-being, and the suitability of their housing. The purpose of this paper was to determine how housing characteristics of contemporary Indigenous built environments prevent experiences of loneliness. Twenty residents of a modern Māori age-friendly housing village, known as an urban papakāinga, were interviewed. The thematic analysis identified four characteristics consistent with traditional Māori cultural values and practices that enabled urban housing spaces to facilitate connection to place through nature, thereby reducing experiences of loneliness. These characteristics are haporitanga (community and socialisation opportunities), āhurutanga (comfortable, safe spaces for movement and mobility that prioritise the natural world), ūkaipōtanga (sense of sustenance and belonging), and tangihanga (culturally appropriate end-of-life and afterlife care customs). The paper offers alternative ontological approaches to aging-in-place, and therefore has implications for housing providers globally, specifically those supporting First Nations and Indigenous peoples.

In downtown Portland, Oregon, Portland State University (PSU) has composed a small Oak Savanna ecosystem, no bigger than the average classroom, nuzzled into the contours of the built environment. Many different stakeholders habitually use this urban green space, some of whom may consider their interests oppositional. These groups include PSU’s Indigenous Nations Studies community and the local dog owning community, who have historically had difficulties sharing the space for different uses. Because there are so many diverse interests in the space, planners from PSU facilitated co-design meetings, or “charettes”, in which stakeholders collaboratively imagined what the space could be with the help of a contracted landscape design firm. This study used the co-creative approach to the Oak Savanna on the campus of Portland State University as a case study for evaluating the process of co-design in the urban environment, especially as it applies to ecological restoration projects. I ask whether various stakeholder’s interests are equally represented at the Oak Savanna and whether the co-design process took into account, and further, represented the ideas and needs of those who use and love the Oak Savanna. Using a mixed-methods approach with one focus group, three in-depth interviews, and participant observation as my primary methods and artistic exercises and archival research as my secondary methods, I assessed stakeholder’s interests both independently, in the context of the co-design process, and in the context of the finished, co-designed prototype. I argue that the co-design process is useful for uncovering the socio-material relationships between stakeholder groups and place, by examining the role of expertise in assigning identity through design. This study examines the role of expertise and competing epistemologies in the co-design process and its relevance to ethnographic concern, which has been largely unexplored by anthropological inquiry.

Increasing population and densification of the cities lead to increasing land value by the high demand of land for housing and other infrastructure developments are the reasons that tend to decreasing open spaces in Kathmandu Valley in general, and Kathmandu Metropolitan City (KMC) in particular. Urban open space has been considered as a place that is accessible to all residents and is important in the urban context as such space provides an opportunity as a place for social interaction, networking, recreation, and various physical health exercises. However, different social and economic contexts of the society reflect different patterns of its uses.Two different urban settings (core urban areas having indigenous dominant population and fringe urban areas having migrants’ dominant population) have been taken as a basis for analysis in this paper to look at how different urban societies use open spaces differently. Open spaces are not only important for maintaining urban greenery and beauty for the city but are valued for accumulating social capital and enhancing physical well-being to urban communities. These issues are analyzed through the interpretative research methodology by collecting the data through in-depth interviews, key informants’ interviews, informal conversational interviews, and nonparticipatory observation from two different urban settings of KMC.