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Bird on Fire: Lessons from the World's Least Sustainable City
Phoenix, Arizona is one of America's fastest growing metropolitan regions. It is also its least sustainable one, sprawling over a thousand square miles, with a population of four and a half million, minimal rainfall, scorching heat, and an insatiable appetite for unrestrained growth and unrestricted property rights. In Bird on Fire, eminent social and cultural analyst Andrew Ross focuses on the prospects for sustainability in Phoenix--a city in the bull's eye of global warming--and also the obstacles that stand in the way. Most authors writing on sustainable cities look at places that have excellent public transit systems and relatively high density, such as Portland, Seattle, or New York. But Ross contends that if we can't change the game in fast-growing, low-density cities like Phoenix, the whole movement has a major problem. Drawing on interviews with 200 influential residents--from state legislators, urban planners, developers, and green business advocates to civil rights champions, energy lobbyists, solar entrepreneurs, and community activists--Ross argues that if Phoenix is ever to become sustainable, it will occur more through political and social change than through technological fixes. Ross explains how Arizona's increasingly xenophobic immigration laws, science-denying legislature, and growth-at-all-costs business ethic have perpetuated social injustice and environmental degradation. But he also highlights the positive changes happening in Phoenix, in particular the Gila River Indian Community's successful struggle to win back its water rights, potentially shifting resources away from new housing developments to producing healthy local food for the people of the Phoenix Basin. Ross argues that this victory may serve as a new model for how green democracy can work, redressing the claims of those who have been aggrieved in a way that creates long-term benefits for all. Bird on Fire offers a compelling take on one of the pressing issues of our time--finding pathways to sustainability at a time when governments are dismally failing in their responsibility to address climate change.
308 pages, Kindle Edition
First published October 6, 2011
34 people are currently reading
737 people want to read
About the author
Andrew Ross
175 books50 followersAndrew Ross is Professor of Social and Cultural Analysis at New York University, and a social activist. A contributor to The Nation, the Village Voice, New York Times, and Artforum, he is the author of many books, including, most recently, Bird on Fire: Lessons from the World’s Least Sustainable City and Nice Work if You Can Get It: Life and Labor in Precarious Times.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 41 reviews
February 22, 2013
Bird on Fire might seem, on the surface, an odd choice to give five stars to as it's not really a book most people would just pick up and read. It's about urban planning for one, and even more specifically, the way truly progressive planning gets hampered by the political powers that be. Secondly, it's dry as hell, a tome utterly fixated on presenting evidence depicting the ways policy dictates sustainability. Thirdly, it's about Phoenix of all places, which has to be one of the least desirable cities in America - a distinction Bird on Fire does little to dispel.
But for the slow, meticulous, flash-less document on a city in crisis that it is, Andrew Ross's book is a masterpiece of information analysis and reporting. In it's own, fixated way, Bird is a true epic, with a breathtaking scope that at least feels as if it's leaving no corner unturned of Phoenix's decades-long descent into an unsustainable dead zone of a metropolis. All the topics you would expect are here, from the hidden downfalls of a water system that magically brings water to more than 4 million people in the middle of a desert to an economic engine built on real estate growth and literally nothing more - where other cities were harmed by the Great Recession, Phoenix was decimated.
Ultimately, Bird is about environmental justice, looking closely at poor Phoenix communities (who, like most poor communities, have the most to lose from bad city planning) and, most fascinatingly, Arizona immigrants, both illegal and otherwise. Arizona is infamous for its attempted crack-downs on immigration into the state from Mexico, but as Ross ably demonstrates, it's idiotically designed metropolises like Phoenix who are one of the primary causes of immigration, as "climate refugees" are increasingly driven from their weather-fraught lands by the sweeping effects of climate change.
Bird on Fire is not a pick-me-upper, and doesn't even pretend to be optimistic, but as the subtitle suggests, in meticulously chronicling the worst-planned city imaginable, it has a lot to teach future generations of city planners and policy makers. It should be required reading of every public official involved with urban development, Phoenix-bound or no.
But for the slow, meticulous, flash-less document on a city in crisis that it is, Andrew Ross's book is a masterpiece of information analysis and reporting. In it's own, fixated way, Bird is a true epic, with a breathtaking scope that at least feels as if it's leaving no corner unturned of Phoenix's decades-long descent into an unsustainable dead zone of a metropolis. All the topics you would expect are here, from the hidden downfalls of a water system that magically brings water to more than 4 million people in the middle of a desert to an economic engine built on real estate growth and literally nothing more - where other cities were harmed by the Great Recession, Phoenix was decimated.
Ultimately, Bird is about environmental justice, looking closely at poor Phoenix communities (who, like most poor communities, have the most to lose from bad city planning) and, most fascinatingly, Arizona immigrants, both illegal and otherwise. Arizona is infamous for its attempted crack-downs on immigration into the state from Mexico, but as Ross ably demonstrates, it's idiotically designed metropolises like Phoenix who are one of the primary causes of immigration, as "climate refugees" are increasingly driven from their weather-fraught lands by the sweeping effects of climate change.
Bird on Fire is not a pick-me-upper, and doesn't even pretend to be optimistic, but as the subtitle suggests, in meticulously chronicling the worst-planned city imaginable, it has a lot to teach future generations of city planners and policy makers. It should be required reading of every public official involved with urban development, Phoenix-bound or no.
September 20, 2012
Many of us read in the hope that, from time to time, we might come across a book that will change our lives; avid readers occasionally have this experience and are alert to its recurrence. Ross's Bird on Fire whacked me onto more or less a different path of reasoning, and in that sense, certainly opened up some possibilities. His topic is the City of Phoenix, AZ, and what I'd like to say is "sustainable growth" - in parched climes like that of Phoenix, perhaps a virtual oxymoron - but instead it's just "sustainability." Growth is somewhat problematic for what it's wrought. And Phoenicians must recognize that sustainability is well-nigh impossible given their unsustainable water picture. But to recognize the impossibility of their water situation amid a decade-long drought, with little prospect of surcease, Phoenicians would have to blast their real-estate driven model of growth to bits.
And, barring a catastrophe, that seems unlikely to happen our lifetimes, as Ross tells the tale, after scores of interviews with Phoenicians of every walk of life. And it will surely not happen as long as Midwesterners continue to throng to Phoenix and the city remains able to tie up regional water resources - such as the relatively recent court-awarded bounty granted to the Gila River Indian Reservation - that might be bought or traded for to support additional building.
And therein lies a complex story, as the interaction of economy and environment is invariably a complex phenomenon. Ross's sustainability has layer after worrisome layer but in the end comes down to the two Phoenixes (or, to generalize, even to god-help-us John Edwards' Two Americas), exemplified by the suburban sections north of town, where the affluent make pious choices to buy a Prius, eat organic, support endangered species, and the other, south side of town, where whole communities are treated as dumping grounds for waste disposal and hazardous industry, where NIMBY rules simply don't obtain. In the long run, Ross writes, "there is nothing sustainable...about one population living the green American dream while, across town, another is still trapped in poverty and pestilence."
In our lush, leafy, tranquil suburbs, we seldom have much of an idea how that other half truly lives and what miserable circumstances it at times is forced to endure. Many, but surely not most, will know some of this in the abstract, or from the news, or from actual experience. Nor do we often take the time to focus on that. We read a book that bares such elemental truths, in a dispassionate, sympathetic voice, and a sense of guilt - "liberal guilt," a salutary emotion - may set in. The solution, apart from a mad rush out the door to do good works, seems a Quixotesque quest for ending eco-apartheid and achieving genuine justice, which would entail a kind of minimax conditionality for entire communities, all the way up to the national level: grow, yes, by all means, because without growth the wherewithal for solutions might not exist, making change at best difficult - but figure out how to do so in a way that also advantages the least members of your community and leaves something for posterity...which is essentially a definition of "sustainable growth."
In 2012, this is a ferociously difficult injunction under current rules. The least we might then do is spend some time thinking about how, increment by increment, we might begin to make that happen. The problem, of course, is that the rules 90 percent of us are playing by are market-driven ones...rules, both formal and informal, we tend to agree with, that leave ample freedom of action, rules that are adjustable, to be sure, to suit a variety of conditions, not graven in stone tablets. But rules that simple cannot provide all the answers we may be looking for. Moreover, in the instance at hand, Ross is talking about Arizona, which isn't in the transcultural empathy business these days and has traditionally been on the receiving end of eco- and economic immigrants in flight from dried out windblown ranch and farmland, newly devoid of water and livelihoods. We read about that in the news.
I'm beginning to ramble: Andrew Ross has knocked me out of a comfort zone in which I wasn't quite aware I had been cosseted, into a zone of nervous disquiet. (And I really should've known better, having grown up in the heart of NJ's "Cancer Alley.") Ross's subtitle implies that there are "lessons" we can draw from the experience of Phoenix, and there are. But he doesn't produce drumrolls and trumpet fanfares to announce them: he would rather his readers weigh his narrative and evidence and reach their own conclusions. And nearly a week after finishing this challenging, quietly confrontational work, I'm still thinking about what to do. A good book can do that.
And I have a few ideas.
And, barring a catastrophe, that seems unlikely to happen our lifetimes, as Ross tells the tale, after scores of interviews with Phoenicians of every walk of life. And it will surely not happen as long as Midwesterners continue to throng to Phoenix and the city remains able to tie up regional water resources - such as the relatively recent court-awarded bounty granted to the Gila River Indian Reservation - that might be bought or traded for to support additional building.
And therein lies a complex story, as the interaction of economy and environment is invariably a complex phenomenon. Ross's sustainability has layer after worrisome layer but in the end comes down to the two Phoenixes (or, to generalize, even to god-help-us John Edwards' Two Americas), exemplified by the suburban sections north of town, where the affluent make pious choices to buy a Prius, eat organic, support endangered species, and the other, south side of town, where whole communities are treated as dumping grounds for waste disposal and hazardous industry, where NIMBY rules simply don't obtain. In the long run, Ross writes, "there is nothing sustainable...about one population living the green American dream while, across town, another is still trapped in poverty and pestilence."
In our lush, leafy, tranquil suburbs, we seldom have much of an idea how that other half truly lives and what miserable circumstances it at times is forced to endure. Many, but surely not most, will know some of this in the abstract, or from the news, or from actual experience. Nor do we often take the time to focus on that. We read a book that bares such elemental truths, in a dispassionate, sympathetic voice, and a sense of guilt - "liberal guilt," a salutary emotion - may set in. The solution, apart from a mad rush out the door to do good works, seems a Quixotesque quest for ending eco-apartheid and achieving genuine justice, which would entail a kind of minimax conditionality for entire communities, all the way up to the national level: grow, yes, by all means, because without growth the wherewithal for solutions might not exist, making change at best difficult - but figure out how to do so in a way that also advantages the least members of your community and leaves something for posterity...which is essentially a definition of "sustainable growth."
In 2012, this is a ferociously difficult injunction under current rules. The least we might then do is spend some time thinking about how, increment by increment, we might begin to make that happen. The problem, of course, is that the rules 90 percent of us are playing by are market-driven ones...rules, both formal and informal, we tend to agree with, that leave ample freedom of action, rules that are adjustable, to be sure, to suit a variety of conditions, not graven in stone tablets. But rules that simple cannot provide all the answers we may be looking for. Moreover, in the instance at hand, Ross is talking about Arizona, which isn't in the transcultural empathy business these days and has traditionally been on the receiving end of eco- and economic immigrants in flight from dried out windblown ranch and farmland, newly devoid of water and livelihoods. We read about that in the news.
I'm beginning to ramble: Andrew Ross has knocked me out of a comfort zone in which I wasn't quite aware I had been cosseted, into a zone of nervous disquiet. (And I really should've known better, having grown up in the heart of NJ's "Cancer Alley.") Ross's subtitle implies that there are "lessons" we can draw from the experience of Phoenix, and there are. But he doesn't produce drumrolls and trumpet fanfares to announce them: he would rather his readers weigh his narrative and evidence and reach their own conclusions. And nearly a week after finishing this challenging, quietly confrontational work, I'm still thinking about what to do. A good book can do that.
And I have a few ideas.
March 28, 2012
In case you couldn't tell from the clever title, the city is Phoenix, and the book is depressing. The city should not exist, really, unless it reduced itself to about 40,000 residents who live in xeriscaped adobe huts. Phoenix is the product of rampant boosterism attracting highly polluting and totally boom-and-bust-cycle-dependent businesses, the biggest of which is housing. The city could have let the world in solar energy development, but for many frustrating reasons, has not. If there is a good thing about life here (other than the sun and my relatives who live there), Ross does not share it.
So why read this? Not to feel better about wherever you live, although you certainly could do that. No, this book comes at a time when the whole country risks making many of the bad decisions Phoenix has, so this is almost literally a textbook example of how not to make a place to live. "Textbook" is actually an apt description, as Ross is a professor and his writing leans to the academic's love of long unvaried sentences. But Ross not only knows his history and policy but he also talked to a wide range of Phoenicians who offer varying perspectives on their city and it's fate.
So why read this? Not to feel better about wherever you live, although you certainly could do that. No, this book comes at a time when the whole country risks making many of the bad decisions Phoenix has, so this is almost literally a textbook example of how not to make a place to live. "Textbook" is actually an apt description, as Ross is a professor and his writing leans to the academic's love of long unvaried sentences. But Ross not only knows his history and policy but he also talked to a wide range of Phoenicians who offer varying perspectives on their city and it's fate.
March 8, 2013
This terrific book discusses the intersecting questions of sustainability at play in what he argues is the least sustainable city Phoenix, AZ. The author looks at urban sprawl, local agriculture, immigration issues, Eco-apartheid and urban planning as issues through which to understand how a place like Phoenix struggles with the need for a new way to approach urban growth and ecological sustainability. Ultimately, the author argues that it all comes down to questions of equity and environmental justice. In the final chapter the author states his conclusions based on his various analyses of the questions, arguing that greening capitalism won't work. It will only continue a pattern of Eco-apartheid that had been ever intensifying over the elastic few decades. The focus needs to be on fairness, justice, and an equitable distribution of resources--not on profits.
February 21, 2014
It first has to be asked, if the author in his two years in the valley practiced what he preached. Did he eat all vegetarian food in the valley and throughout his life outside of the valley (meat is shown to be one of the biggest contributors to greenhouse gases)? Did he take public transportation everywhere or walk? Did he find a green book manufacturer to publish his book? All too often these "educators" of sustainability, wish to dictate to the people how they live their lives, while at the same time living a life that has a carbon footprint of more than 10 people. A recent example in case is President Barack Obama, who went to California and gave a speech on the drought while later, playing golf at a course that uses millions of gallons of water. Harrison Ford and Al Gore have many mansions and private jets, while at the same time telling the public how they should cut back for climate change. So I question if he is a hypocrite like just these three examples given.
One of the more asinine theories made by Ross, is that illegal immigrants make Phoenix more green and sustainable. He uses the remarks of the city archaeologist, to try and make a stretched parallel between the ancient Hohokam having migrant labor that left after helping in certain seasons (as the theory goes), and that of immigrants today who stay for extended periods or permanently. To somehow say that increased permanent immigrant population does not have an effect on sustainability is stupidity. You can't have it both ways. Either there IS a sustainablility-green problem, that would clearly be exacerbated by an influx of immigrants that add more carbon, more demand on water, or population has zero effect on sustainability. Make no mistake about it, this is not a man who goes by facts--he twists facts to fit his own beliefs. On a personal note, I take no issue with immigrants.
Andrew Ross continually claims that because Phoenix is in a desert it should not be there. Civilization started in the desert. He also implies, that there is some water crisis with Phoenix in the future. This is simply not true. SRP has put infrastructure in place that was begun over 100 years ago, such as many reservoirs large enough to hold enough water for many years without additional inflow (lakes Roosevelt, Apache, Canyon, Saguaro) and underground aquifers that hold massive amounts of water. It is also important to note that these reservoirs have had upgrades that have taken decades to construct, to increase their capacity. Still, Mr. Ross made no mention of any of this.
He continually tries to tie development in greater Phoenix to the low Colorado river, when agriculture accounts for nearly 80% of consumption of the river. Ross makes no mention of voluntary education programs in water conservation that have cut water usage to less than that seen in the 1980s, when the population was a lot less in Phoenix.
The book tries to be critical of a 2006 referendum called prop 207, that was in response to eminent domain and forced zoning ideologies on property owners, such as historic preservation ordinances. The author is clearly driven by political opinion of the left and is hostile to property rights and individual freedom and liberty. Ross offers really no solutions to the problems he raises. I would give this book -2 if I could.
One of the more asinine theories made by Ross, is that illegal immigrants make Phoenix more green and sustainable. He uses the remarks of the city archaeologist, to try and make a stretched parallel between the ancient Hohokam having migrant labor that left after helping in certain seasons (as the theory goes), and that of immigrants today who stay for extended periods or permanently. To somehow say that increased permanent immigrant population does not have an effect on sustainability is stupidity. You can't have it both ways. Either there IS a sustainablility-green problem, that would clearly be exacerbated by an influx of immigrants that add more carbon, more demand on water, or population has zero effect on sustainability. Make no mistake about it, this is not a man who goes by facts--he twists facts to fit his own beliefs. On a personal note, I take no issue with immigrants.
Andrew Ross continually claims that because Phoenix is in a desert it should not be there. Civilization started in the desert. He also implies, that there is some water crisis with Phoenix in the future. This is simply not true. SRP has put infrastructure in place that was begun over 100 years ago, such as many reservoirs large enough to hold enough water for many years without additional inflow (lakes Roosevelt, Apache, Canyon, Saguaro) and underground aquifers that hold massive amounts of water. It is also important to note that these reservoirs have had upgrades that have taken decades to construct, to increase their capacity. Still, Mr. Ross made no mention of any of this.
He continually tries to tie development in greater Phoenix to the low Colorado river, when agriculture accounts for nearly 80% of consumption of the river. Ross makes no mention of voluntary education programs in water conservation that have cut water usage to less than that seen in the 1980s, when the population was a lot less in Phoenix.
The book tries to be critical of a 2006 referendum called prop 207, that was in response to eminent domain and forced zoning ideologies on property owners, such as historic preservation ordinances. The author is clearly driven by political opinion of the left and is hostile to property rights and individual freedom and liberty. Ross offers really no solutions to the problems he raises. I would give this book -2 if I could.
August 8, 2019
I wanted a book about Phoenix and may be feeling unduly harsh that this is a much broader book about the American Southwest, immigration, and environmentalism that rarely focuses for long on the actual nitty gritty of urban life and planning in the specified city. Ross has some interesting ideas and anecdotes to share (I particularly appreciated the section on environmental justice and the take-down of FAIR), but their disorganized arrangement and lack of thorough sourcing makes me want to ship the entire book back to him with a note reading, "Good rough draft, now rework."
April 7, 2012
Not the damning manifesto I expected, but rather a fact-based look at the fragility of Phoenix and cities like it.
A must-read for anyone interested in what too many people think is the city of the future. If we did ever live in the clouds or in space, it would look a lot like Phoenix.
A must-read for anyone interested in what too many people think is the city of the future. If we did ever live in the clouds or in space, it would look a lot like Phoenix.
April 11, 2012
They should hand a copy of this to anyone who moves to greater Phoenix from out of town. Fair warning, if your politics are right of center you'll take issue with it. Is it accurate? Well, it's a starting point for investigation, that's for sure.
April 21, 2014
Invited by Future Arts Research, an Arizona State University institute, to “come and do research of [his] choosing in Phoenix”(19), Andrew Ross, Professor of Social and Cultural Analysis at New York University endeavored “to take the social and political temperature of Metro Phoenix” (17). Historical research and 200 interviews with the region’s “more thoughtful, influential, and active citizens” (17) prove the Sunbelt a feverish place, whose post-war metropolitan growth provides a nationally instructive case study. In this book, Ross both challenges and empowers the Valley of the Sun, saying, “If Phoenix could become sustainable, then it could be done anywhere” (14).
Ross argues, however, that the path to sustainability lies not in the eco-technological fixes that we have all been encouraged to accept—recycling programs, water conservation, LEED-certified buildings, enhanced public transportation run on clean fuels, solar energy farms, urban farming, and local food systems—but in changes in “social relationships, cultural beliefs, and political customs” (16). Otherwise, no matter how innovative a technological solution, it is at nearly certain risk of being inequitably applied over social and geographical landscapes, creating and reinforcing what has been termed “eco-apartheid” (17).
While he phrases it as a question, Ross rather definitively concludes that, “The key to sustainability lies in innovating healthy pathways out of poverty for populations at risk, rather than marketing green gizmos to those who already have many options to choose from” (239). In this line of thinking, sustainability is not an effort taken on for the good of the Earth or even for future generations of children and grandchildren. It is an endeavor of the current moment that ought to be invested in for the good of “today’s most vulnerable and affected populations” (250), who inequitably suffer environmental injustices, from poor air quality to toxic exposures.
Ross argues, however, that the path to sustainability lies not in the eco-technological fixes that we have all been encouraged to accept—recycling programs, water conservation, LEED-certified buildings, enhanced public transportation run on clean fuels, solar energy farms, urban farming, and local food systems—but in changes in “social relationships, cultural beliefs, and political customs” (16). Otherwise, no matter how innovative a technological solution, it is at nearly certain risk of being inequitably applied over social and geographical landscapes, creating and reinforcing what has been termed “eco-apartheid” (17).
While he phrases it as a question, Ross rather definitively concludes that, “The key to sustainability lies in innovating healthy pathways out of poverty for populations at risk, rather than marketing green gizmos to those who already have many options to choose from” (239). In this line of thinking, sustainability is not an effort taken on for the good of the Earth or even for future generations of children and grandchildren. It is an endeavor of the current moment that ought to be invested in for the good of “today’s most vulnerable and affected populations” (250), who inequitably suffer environmental injustices, from poor air quality to toxic exposures.
August 10, 2016
This book makes a really strong argument and it's an important intervention amid hoopla around sustainability and "smart growth." It starts off well, but does get a little dry and technical in the middle. From a teaching perspective, I could imagine teaching this in a graduate or advanced undergraduate course to students with a high tolerance for detail, and who also don't demand bland objectivity.
Read
June 11, 2014http://www.full-stop.net/2012/10/05/r...
Review by Keith Spencer
It’s a bad time to be an Arizonan. Even my mother, who expatriated from New York 30 years ago, admitted to me recently that our Arizona heritage had become “an embarrassment.” In the past few years the state of my birth, once known for its desert landscape and cowboy history, has been reduced to a string of diminutives in certain, generally liberal coastal circles: “That racist state, with the crazy governor and the fascist sheriff.” Nowadays, when asked where I’m from, I feel compelled to insert asterisks in my answer. “I grew up in Arizona — but haven’t lived there for eight years,” I’ll say. This distinction is necessary for us natives to affirm that our state wasn’t always a punch line; it was only recently that we devolved into a recognizable unflattering stereotype, like Texas, East St. Louis or Gary, Indiana.
Of all the four-letter words leveled at Arizona, “green” is rarely one of them. From a strictly literal perspective, green isn’t even a color which dominates the landscape: the Sonoran and Mojave deserts are vast terrains of white sand, punctuated by blue bushes and stately saguaro cacti. The state is landlocked; no beaches to despoil here, and so much of the state’s land is archetypal desert desolation it is hard to imagine land being a limited resource. These prickly facts, along with our inherently anti-communitarian Wild West mentality, make Arizona an especially poor state for any kind of collective social action, “greening” included.
Read more here: http://www.full-stop.net/2012/10/05/r...
Review by Keith Spencer
It’s a bad time to be an Arizonan. Even my mother, who expatriated from New York 30 years ago, admitted to me recently that our Arizona heritage had become “an embarrassment.” In the past few years the state of my birth, once known for its desert landscape and cowboy history, has been reduced to a string of diminutives in certain, generally liberal coastal circles: “That racist state, with the crazy governor and the fascist sheriff.” Nowadays, when asked where I’m from, I feel compelled to insert asterisks in my answer. “I grew up in Arizona — but haven’t lived there for eight years,” I’ll say. This distinction is necessary for us natives to affirm that our state wasn’t always a punch line; it was only recently that we devolved into a recognizable unflattering stereotype, like Texas, East St. Louis or Gary, Indiana.
Of all the four-letter words leveled at Arizona, “green” is rarely one of them. From a strictly literal perspective, green isn’t even a color which dominates the landscape: the Sonoran and Mojave deserts are vast terrains of white sand, punctuated by blue bushes and stately saguaro cacti. The state is landlocked; no beaches to despoil here, and so much of the state’s land is archetypal desert desolation it is hard to imagine land being a limited resource. These prickly facts, along with our inherently anti-communitarian Wild West mentality, make Arizona an especially poor state for any kind of collective social action, “greening” included.
Read more here: http://www.full-stop.net/2012/10/05/r...
April 28, 2012
Good overview of political and institutional challenges to sustainability. Ross concludes that efforts towards sustainability should be led by principles of equality, but maybe doesn't go far enough in his critique of capitalism. The history of Phoenix is a really interesting story too.
December 11, 2012
An impressively thorough look at how Phoenix serves as a microcosm of the obstacles to major changes in our approach to the environment. The chapter linking immigration and environmental policy is especially good.
April 10, 2012
A good pairing with Desert Visions. Neither of the books knocked my socks off, but I feel like I now know quite a bit about Phoenix after reading the two.
Want to read
July 10, 2012I grew up a couple hundred miles north of Phoenix and it was always that Shining City in the Valley, so I'm quite intrigued by this book about it as the "world's least sustainable city."
November 28, 2024
Honestly, I have no idea how this fell into my TBR, but it was an educational read. VERY dense, but Ross provides an in depth analysis on how Phoenix has gotten to the crisis that it now finds itself in after being built on a tumultuous foundation. It looks at the issue of water in the desert, the property boom, pollution and how it affects different socioeconomic classes differently, and then how the Great Recession (2008) harmed an already unstable city. Hearing about how corporations polluted the water supplies that were accessible to the lower income residents in the south side of Phoenix was not surprising but disappointing nonetheless. Ross shares various strategies for sustainable growth while acknowledging that at this point Phoenix needs to change more than just outwards behavior (aka, recycling, public transport, etc. will not fix this crisis alone). He also has commentary from various individuals who have been involved in Phoenix’s transformation to get their take on what the city’s future will look like and how it got to where it is. Lots of facts, stats, reports and political context this book will not leave you feeling warm, but it is definitely an important read, if nothing else to serve as a warning for future city planning.
July 8, 2019
I'm not sure that this book was the best place for me to start learning about Phoenix, but it did cover enough of the city's history and geography for it to be a reasonable introduction. As I expected, it discussed the city's water issues at some length, but it also brought up environmental justice issues related to air pollution and the city's manufacturing economy, which was particularly interesting, since I hadn't really realized that Phoenix had a major manufacturing economy.
I do wish that Andrew Ross had talked more about the particular issues caused by the city's transportation system and suburban/exurban geography, but I think that the book covered what it focused well, and it brought up some interesting issues about Native American land stewardship and economic constraints I hadn't considered.
I do wish that Andrew Ross had talked more about the particular issues caused by the city's transportation system and suburban/exurban geography, but I think that the book covered what it focused well, and it brought up some interesting issues about Native American land stewardship and economic constraints I hadn't considered.
December 8, 2019
I wanted to like this book - I am interested in development and sustainability, and especially how we can best approach those as we move into the era of fighting climate change while large masses of people move to the cities.
In theory, the premise of the book is to explore the successes and failures of the development of Phoenix. The book begins with the history of Phoenix and an overview of its water sourcing, but quickly devolves into tangents and jargon, making the point of each chapter as muddy as Phoenix after a monsoon (or so I assume).
The author makes no attempts to come off as politically neutral - but is blinded at times by his desire to paint one side as the good without fully considering the trade offs on either side. Alas, I couldn’t finish the book and found it hard to take anything away other than a brief history of Phoenix and its water supplies.
In theory, the premise of the book is to explore the successes and failures of the development of Phoenix. The book begins with the history of Phoenix and an overview of its water sourcing, but quickly devolves into tangents and jargon, making the point of each chapter as muddy as Phoenix after a monsoon (or so I assume).
The author makes no attempts to come off as politically neutral - but is blinded at times by his desire to paint one side as the good without fully considering the trade offs on either side. Alas, I couldn’t finish the book and found it hard to take anything away other than a brief history of Phoenix and its water supplies.
May 1, 2025
I wanted to learn some more about Phoenix before I visited. I am glad I read it. What I took from this book is that you have to get involved in your city if you want to make it better and inclusive.
September 8, 2022
Very depressing....
When I started the book I noticed the date it was printed and couldn't help thinking about the draught that has continued still through today the entire time while reading it.
When I started the book I noticed the date it was printed and couldn't help thinking about the draught that has continued still through today the entire time while reading it.
December 29, 2023
Quite an insightful book on big city and sustainability with Phoenix Ariz. being at the center in this research.
January 6, 2024
Covers a very interesting topic, but verbose at times.
no-library-copy
May 19, 2025DNF from page one: this is not the book’s fault, the only library app that had a copy available was for the ebook, but the formatting/interface was frustratingly not user-friendly.
December 9, 2020
It had been a minute since indulging myself with one of my niche pleasures — a good book about the environmental issues of the American West — and this book helped whet my appetite, offering a pretty succinct history of the trials and tribulations of the sprawling metropolis that is the Greater Phoenix area.
Andrew Ross dives in a little bit of everything — the book is a study of urban planning, culture, politics, and environmental degradation in one — ultimately outlining the dilemma that a city like Phoenix faces: a sprawling boomtown that was situated in an environment that cannot sustain it. The main industry that seemed to drive this growth — real estate — is the main one that seems to be its ultimate demise, not only given the housing crash of 2008 but the increasingly decreasing water supply.
An anti-immigrant, anti-science sentiment encapsulates local politics, making sustained progressivism both difficult and unlikely, ultimately driving Ross to end his book in a deep study of environmental racism and equity concerns that constrict many of the low-income neighborhoods and people of color.
Phoenix feels like a city with its blinders on, Ross implies, setting up success in failure with its grow-at-all-costs model and model and stubborn, racist views of immigration and pollution. Ross does a good job at detailing these issues, but he fails to capture the personal touch that make city histories like Sam Anderson’s Boom Town so absorbing.
Andrew Ross dives in a little bit of everything — the book is a study of urban planning, culture, politics, and environmental degradation in one — ultimately outlining the dilemma that a city like Phoenix faces: a sprawling boomtown that was situated in an environment that cannot sustain it. The main industry that seemed to drive this growth — real estate — is the main one that seems to be its ultimate demise, not only given the housing crash of 2008 but the increasingly decreasing water supply.
An anti-immigrant, anti-science sentiment encapsulates local politics, making sustained progressivism both difficult and unlikely, ultimately driving Ross to end his book in a deep study of environmental racism and equity concerns that constrict many of the low-income neighborhoods and people of color.
Phoenix feels like a city with its blinders on, Ross implies, setting up success in failure with its grow-at-all-costs model and model and stubborn, racist views of immigration and pollution. Ross does a good job at detailing these issues, but he fails to capture the personal touch that make city histories like Sam Anderson’s Boom Town so absorbing.
May 2, 2012
Bird on Fire is about the problems faced by many big cities (using Phoenix, Arizona as an example). Ross’s contention is that if these problems can be solved in Phoenix (where the hurdles are large due to the limited resources of the desert and the misplaced reliance of the state legislature on ideology over critical thinking and problem solving) that they can be solved anywhere. Ross admits up front that the book’s subtitle Lessons from the World's Least Sustainable City is pure hyperbole, and this annoys me to no end. It’s a shame many authors are willing to sacrifice their integrity for a sensationalistic title just to sell a few extra copies.
At any rate, the book investigates such topics as energy, pollution, water resources, sprawl, jobs, urban renewal, immigration, and growth. There is no doubt that Phoenix struggles with each of these problems and Ross does a decent job documenting the issues themselves and the failure of the state and local businesses to address them.
A few things I felt Ross could have been done better:
1. In his discussion of the environment, he focuses too much on groundwater pollution. While solvent contamination of the groundwater under Phoenix is not a good thing, the reality is that no one is getting their drinking water from these contaminated plumes. A much better issue for Ross to have focused his attention would have been air quality, something that everyone experiences (since everyone breaths). Bad air quality leads to elevated rates of emergency room admittances and premature deaths of the elderly and those suffering from asthma and is far more important to resident’s health than the groundwater contamination Ross discusses.
2. Ross gives more credence and influence to fringe individuals and groups than they deserve in some cases. While colorful and perhaps motivated by noble ambitions, the reality is that their influence remains small and in certain instances the individuals are notoriously lacking in credibility.
3. In his discussion of immigration Ross seems to conflate the immigrants that cross the border from Mexico to Arizona with environmental refugees fleeing rising sea levels as a result of global warming. Perhaps I misunderstood his point, but the fact that he kept raising the two issues together as if they were related, at best muddies the waters. I don’t think there is any doubt that immigration is occurring solely due to economic considerations. I also have to take issue with his characterization of any form of discussion relating to population control as “eugenics”. It rivals the absurdity of the Catholic Church’s conflation of contraception with abortion.
So … in the end what is the biggest “Lesson from the World's Least Sustainable City”? Probably the most important one is … whatever Phoenix has done … do exactly the opposite.
At any rate, the book investigates such topics as energy, pollution, water resources, sprawl, jobs, urban renewal, immigration, and growth. There is no doubt that Phoenix struggles with each of these problems and Ross does a decent job documenting the issues themselves and the failure of the state and local businesses to address them.
A few things I felt Ross could have been done better:
1. In his discussion of the environment, he focuses too much on groundwater pollution. While solvent contamination of the groundwater under Phoenix is not a good thing, the reality is that no one is getting their drinking water from these contaminated plumes. A much better issue for Ross to have focused his attention would have been air quality, something that everyone experiences (since everyone breaths). Bad air quality leads to elevated rates of emergency room admittances and premature deaths of the elderly and those suffering from asthma and is far more important to resident’s health than the groundwater contamination Ross discusses.
2. Ross gives more credence and influence to fringe individuals and groups than they deserve in some cases. While colorful and perhaps motivated by noble ambitions, the reality is that their influence remains small and in certain instances the individuals are notoriously lacking in credibility.
3. In his discussion of immigration Ross seems to conflate the immigrants that cross the border from Mexico to Arizona with environmental refugees fleeing rising sea levels as a result of global warming. Perhaps I misunderstood his point, but the fact that he kept raising the two issues together as if they were related, at best muddies the waters. I don’t think there is any doubt that immigration is occurring solely due to economic considerations. I also have to take issue with his characterization of any form of discussion relating to population control as “eugenics”. It rivals the absurdity of the Catholic Church’s conflation of contraception with abortion.
So … in the end what is the biggest “Lesson from the World's Least Sustainable City”? Probably the most important one is … whatever Phoenix has done … do exactly the opposite.
August 1, 2012
Bird on Fire is half dense academic research project and half passionate screed against ecological degradation. Ross's best writing comes at the book's beginning and end, when he sets out the harsh realities regarding climate change and resource depletion. He calls out many modern technology and development initiatives labeled "green" or "sustainable" as merely perpetuating eco-apartheid, allowing the privileged classes to continue hoarding resources, including water and clean energy, for themselves. In Phoenix, the short-term losers are the Native Americans, Mexican migrants and poor denizens of South Phoenix. But we're all losers in the slightly longer term.
Ross's most interesting writing concerns how Phoenix and its environs came to be and the people of the Southwest continuing their obsession with living beyond their means. Settling near a sustainable water source isn't necessary when we can engineer methods of bringing water to us. Pollution (by Motorola and other dirty manufacturers) equals profit. Endless development of suburban subdivisions by any means necessary. Keep out the Mexicans at all costs. The effrontery of many conservative Phoenicians, who go so far as to green-wash the anti-immigrant movement in an effort to appeal to liberals, almost gives the reader a sense of satisfaction that these people will be the first to suffer the ultimate consequences of climate change.
Much of Bird on Fire is depressing. Why spend so much time examining the dynamics of a city and region that may be completely uninhabitable 30 years from now anyway? Ross does give reason for hope in some respects -- for example, that a city with such low density can eventually move toward infilling, attracting a new cultural class and encouraging urban agriculture. His quote from Antonio Gramsci -- "pessimism of the intellect, optimism of the will" -- is certainly apt for this book.
Ross's most interesting writing concerns how Phoenix and its environs came to be and the people of the Southwest continuing their obsession with living beyond their means. Settling near a sustainable water source isn't necessary when we can engineer methods of bringing water to us. Pollution (by Motorola and other dirty manufacturers) equals profit. Endless development of suburban subdivisions by any means necessary. Keep out the Mexicans at all costs. The effrontery of many conservative Phoenicians, who go so far as to green-wash the anti-immigrant movement in an effort to appeal to liberals, almost gives the reader a sense of satisfaction that these people will be the first to suffer the ultimate consequences of climate change.
Much of Bird on Fire is depressing. Why spend so much time examining the dynamics of a city and region that may be completely uninhabitable 30 years from now anyway? Ross does give reason for hope in some respects -- for example, that a city with such low density can eventually move toward infilling, attracting a new cultural class and encouraging urban agriculture. His quote from Antonio Gramsci -- "pessimism of the intellect, optimism of the will" -- is certainly apt for this book.
March 19, 2012
The book is an attempt to critically evaluate the concept of sustainability in the metropolitan area of Phoenix, keeping always an eye on the lessons and aspects that may apply beyond the region. Throughout eight chapters, the author exposes his view backed up by an extensive literature review as well as numerous interviews to activists, academics, politicians and citizens engaged in the struggles and key issues of the future of the city. Recognizing its usual low priority in the the policy agenda, Andrew Ross pays particular attention to the idea of environmental justice and the social aspect of sustainability, arguing that the sustainable future will be socially inclusive and just or it will not be.
As a foreigner temporary living in Phoenix, the book has been an invaluable source of information to get both the background and history of the city as well as the state of opinion (some of the facts reach past 2011) regarding several key topics. Often times during the months I've been reading the book, I've found myself coming back to some of the facts and background offered in the book and relating many places, names and events to one or another chapter. Definitely a useful read for the newcomer to the region. One last tip (and a mental note to myself): if you are unsure about committing to read the the more than 300 pages, get a taste of the main issues brought to debate as well as the author's position in all of them in the slightly more than 10 pages of the last chapter.
As a foreigner temporary living in Phoenix, the book has been an invaluable source of information to get both the background and history of the city as well as the state of opinion (some of the facts reach past 2011) regarding several key topics. Often times during the months I've been reading the book, I've found myself coming back to some of the facts and background offered in the book and relating many places, names and events to one or another chapter. Definitely a useful read for the newcomer to the region. One last tip (and a mental note to myself): if you are unsure about committing to read the the more than 300 pages, get a taste of the main issues brought to debate as well as the author's position in all of them in the slightly more than 10 pages of the last chapter.
January 23, 2013
This book is a fantastically interesting read. The title might make it seem like it would be a philippic against the Sun Belt migration, but it is far more nuanced than that. The book delves into many factors that make cities sustainable or unsustainable. Phoenix has particular issues of water scarcity and the heat island effect that pose unique challenges, especially with anthropogenic climate change, but there are many other issues that apply to all cities. In many ways Phoenix is a parable for any citizen of a developed nation, living far beyond the resources at hand.
A concise summary of the issues at play is difficult, but the author delves into the culture of the region, its politics, the tension over immigration, and social justice. All of these areas have a important place in talk about sustainability. It highlights to good work some people are doing as well as the momentous challenges that they face. The best part is how the book clearly brought to mind how I live in Ohio, and how so many of the same issues are present here, although in a slightly more forgiving natural environment.
That being said, I still do not like the idea of Americans flocking to a Sun Belt city which has so much pressure on water resources. The city could not have been built without federal water projects and even still the aquifers and rivers of the region are being siphoned out of existence.
A concise summary of the issues at play is difficult, but the author delves into the culture of the region, its politics, the tension over immigration, and social justice. All of these areas have a important place in talk about sustainability. It highlights to good work some people are doing as well as the momentous challenges that they face. The best part is how the book clearly brought to mind how I live in Ohio, and how so many of the same issues are present here, although in a slightly more forgiving natural environment.
That being said, I still do not like the idea of Americans flocking to a Sun Belt city which has so much pressure on water resources. The city could not have been built without federal water projects and even still the aquifers and rivers of the region are being siphoned out of existence.
July 19, 2013
When Andrew Ross first came to the Phoenix, he was interested in learning what local artists were doing to revitalize downtown, a desert city with an urban core that, to many urbanists, leaves much to be desired. No city exists in a vacuum, however, and Ross soon came to the conclusion that to understand Phoenix he had to understand the story of the other cities and sprawling suburbs throughout the valley. It was through this research that he concluded that the Phoenix metro area — which includes nine cities with populations of 100,000 or more — was, as he puts it in the subtitle, “the world’s least sustainable city.”
Some may take issue with that claim, but Phoenix’s problem is evident: a sprawling population of four million and counting in a sun-scorched desert certainly poses significant sustainability challenges. Further, as Ross argues, a prevailing culture of rugged individualism and a widespread aversion to all forms of regulation have only exacerbated the sustainability challenges...
- See more at: http://erb.kingdomnow.org/bird-on-fir...
Some may take issue with that claim, but Phoenix’s problem is evident: a sprawling population of four million and counting in a sun-scorched desert certainly poses significant sustainability challenges. Further, as Ross argues, a prevailing culture of rugged individualism and a widespread aversion to all forms of regulation have only exacerbated the sustainability challenges...
- See more at: http://erb.kingdomnow.org/bird-on-fir...
July 6, 2014
"The vogue for green governance by the numbers is a recipe for managing, rather than correcting, inequality."
The passionate, lively Andrew Ross I knew from The Celebration Chronicles: Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Property Value in Disney's New Town and Creditocracy and the Case for Debt Refusal seemed to be missing here--except for the stellar concluding summary chapter, which appears to serve as a through-line between those two books. That said, this is still an excellent read, and worthwhile for anyone interested in sustainability, urban planning, cultural inheritance, or ecological/economic/racial injustice as individual issues or in concert.
The passionate, lively Andrew Ross I knew from The Celebration Chronicles: Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Property Value in Disney's New Town and Creditocracy and the Case for Debt Refusal seemed to be missing here--except for the stellar concluding summary chapter, which appears to serve as a through-line between those two books. That said, this is still an excellent read, and worthwhile for anyone interested in sustainability, urban planning, cultural inheritance, or ecological/economic/racial injustice as individual issues or in concert.
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