Ruining the View

This story in the New York Times caught my eye because "the view" is a subject near and dear to my heart.

"The victims: Banksias, wattles, gum trees, and more. Two hundred and sixty-five in total, dead or dying. Some, approaching 100 years old. All, beloved Australian natives.

The crime: Arboricide, of the highest order."

You see, somebody killed off all the trees (poison and chainsaws) in a natural area so they could see the sea from their trophy house.

Nobody in the civilized world thinks it's okay to kill 265 trees that don't "belong" to you. By the way, I'd argue that the trees don't belong to the land-owner alone -- even if they did.  Because I'd argue the "viewshed" belongs to all.  (Think of how a watershed is protected for all.  Then think of the view.)

Before I get too far away from Australia, I'd like to offer a "solution" to their problem.

"“Successful prosecution is relatively rare and even when there are successful prosecutions, the fines are often so small as to be trivial,” said Gregory Moore, an honorary research associate at the University of Melbourne."

If the guilty (duly convicted in a court of law) own any land, seize it for the State, raze any structure on it (yes, including the million-dollar house) and let Nature have it for the next 100 years.  

I'm not sure if the neighbors will appreciate having an empty lot next door or not.  I guess that all depends on how they feel about "bandicoots and lyrebirds" (Australia has some strange critters) living next door.

Once again, perhaps it's easier for us to see these things when observing folks outside of America.  Views are like tracer bullets -- they point both ways.  You can't have a "million-dollar view" without ruining the view for millions.  

One of the best things about where I live in Huntsville, Alabama is the views.  The Land Trust of Northern Alabama has managed to save about 10,000 acres from developers.  As I understand it, that is why the organization was founded -- home-owners trying to protect their views of the mountains.  (Specifically, Monte Sano, the tallest mountain near the city.)  But the pressure to develop these beautiful hills is unrelenting.  And once they are gone, they are gone for your lifetime.  For instance:

See that scar on the mountain?  The mountain is indeed Monte Sano and the scar is a luxury condo complex being built.  Monte Sano is solid rock.  Trees struggle to survive on it and it has taken thousands of years to build up the thin layer of top soil.  Top soil that the struggling trees have built up inch by inch with their falling leaves, broken branches, rotting trunks and held in place with their roots.  As you can see, the trees have all been cut down on the site and the rock is being crushed into gravel as we speak.

A few lucky (rich) souls will get to enjoy the million-dollar views up there.  And the millions of people driving by the spot (over the years) from where I took this picture (Highway 72E) will have their view ruined.  (I'll leave the antenna rant for another time.  Oh wait.)

I was talking to a couple of engineering students on the mountain this morning and I told them one of my favorite (i.e. never-happen-in-a-million-years) ideas: No engineer can build anything they've designed without running it by an artist first. It made me think of another way to say it -- and I wish I had.

You can't make the world better by making it uglier.

Don Brown
September 10, 2023