The following is an excerpt from the recently released Petropia: The Petropolis of Tomorrow, edited by Neeraj Bhatia and Mary Casper and published by Actar Press. The volume includes essays from an array of great folks, organized by Neeraj through his Petropia project. My contribution focuses on easement landscapes, and considers this typology as a material artifact of human ingenuity, desire and labor.“Pipelines have demonstrated an ability to adapt to a wide variety of environments including remote and hostile environments.”[i]
“Glance at our map of natural gas supply and demand in South America, and at first sight the ‘Great Pipeline of the South’ promoted by Venezuela’s president, Hugo Chávez, seems to make perfect sense. This 8,000km (5,000 mile) duct to Buenos Aires, slicing through the Amazon rainforest, would deliver 150M cubic metres a day of Venezuela’s vast, but little-developed, gas reserves to energy-short consumers in the southern cone.”[ii]
Pipelines have been used as an efficient means of transporting fluids through the great expanses of the American landscape for centuries.[iii] In 1894, photographer and proto-archeologist Alice Dixon Le Plongeon wrote in Engineering Magazine that the pre-Colombian Andean civilizations had constructed vast complex networks of silver pipes with which to irrigate fields and supply their temples and palaces with drinking water[iv]. Today nearly 32,000 kilometers of new pipelines are constructed yearly, over 50 percent of which are in the Americas. The total length of International high-pressure transmission pipelines is estimated at 3,500,000 kilometers[v]. While usually understood as an achievement of technological skill, they are more than a historical-technological object; the logistics of pipelines are responsible for reshaping entire territories, creating radically new landscape types, and influencing politics across local and continental scales.
A Natural History of the Pipeline. Modern pipelines began with the development of the petroleum industry when Edwin Drake drilled the first oil well in 1859 near Titusville, Pennsylvania[vi]. At the time, oil was understood to be an excellent lubricant and burning it was thought to offer an alternative fuel source to manufactured gas that was used for municipal lighting in the burgeoning population centers of the Midwest and Northeastern United States[vii]. The fields developed around the Titusville wells quickly came to be the world’s most productive, supplying half of the world’s oil until the Texas oil boom in 1901[viii]. Unfortunately, the oil fields of central Pennsylvania were far from population and industrial centers, and were connected only by dirt roads which were often impassable during rainy seasons.
During this time, the primary mode for moving bulk goods quickly and cheaply was a horse-drawn barge on a canal-and-river system. The new oil fields of Pennsylvania were hundreds of miles from the canals of the Susquehanna River to the East and the Alleghany River to the West. Moving oil became a multi-modal operation — implicating wooden barrels, horses, teamsters, short-run cast-iron pipes, barges, and sometimes short-line railroads. Rockefeller and the principals of Standard Oil were among the first to recognize the advantage logistics offered in the production, transport, and refining of petroleum and began to build railroads to move coal and oil from Appalachia to major industrial centers. By 1879, petroleum was being shipped in special cars on lines owned by Rockefeller. Further, Standard Oil controlled 90 percent of the refining capacity in the United States and dominated the transportation and delivery systems of the industry[ix].
The first modern long-distance pipeline was an effort to break this monopoly. In 1879, a 109-mile pipeline was laid from the Bradford oil fields to the town of Williamsport, Pennsylvania, where the Pennsylvania and Reading Railroad was waiting to take the oil to New York and other cities on the East Coast. This conduit, the Tidewater Pipeline, was experimental. It was over four times longer than any previous pipeline, and had to climb 2,600 feet to cross the Alleghany Mountains. No oil pipeline had ever been designed to surmount any notable elevation. The technology for this feat was simple: steam pumps would push oil from pooling tanks in Coryville through a six-inch diameter pipe. There was a booster pump at the base of the Alleghanies that pushed the oil over the mountain, after which it ran by gravitation to large receiving tanks in Williamsport. There it was put in tank cars on the Reading and Pennsylvania Railroad. The trip initially took seven days[x].
A Thousand Miles of Easement Landscapes. Although the scale of application of the pipes and pumps used to make the Tidewater Pipeline were impressive and unprecedented, they were not the key to assembling the original pipeline apparatus. Rather, it was the development of a logistical landscape type — the easement – which was the key innovation and source of political and economic intrigue and opportunity in this history:
The first work was to get a right of way. The company went at the work with secrecy and dispatch [sic]… The Standard [Oil Company], intent on stopping them, and indeed on putting an end to all future ventures of this sort, set out at once to get what was called a “dead line” across the state. This was an exclusive right for pipe-line purposes from the northern to the southern boundary of Pennsylvania. As there was no free pipeline bill in those days, this “dead line”, if it had been complete, would have been an effectual barrier to the Tidewater [pipeline]… The Tidewater, after a little delay, found a gap not far from where it wanted to cross, and soon had pushed itself through to Williamsport. With the actual laying of the pipe there was no interference which proved serious…[xi]
Easements are a right held by one property owner to make use of the land of another for a limited purpose, such as the right of passage. They are directly tied to land-use intentions and are typically associated with linear infrastructures such as highways, canals, railroads, high-tension electricity lines, and pipelines. Easements are one landscape type that help make clear the difference between the city and the urban, as defined by William Cronon and Henri Lefebvre[xii]. While the two terms are often conflated, city is the traditional population center itself, whereas urban connotes the larger territory pertaining to a city, usually in terms of agricultural or industrial production and extraction.
As a landscape type, easements have remained largely understudied, despite their importance to the logistics of contemporary urbanism. Their nature as a landscape type is largely a result of the need for maintenance, surveillance, and protection from erosion or tree roots and the associated specifications mandated by thirty-inch diameter pipes, maintenance trucks, and what is visible to a worker from a helicopter three-hundred feet overhead. When sprawled across the vast American continents, this landscape takes the shape of uneasy alliances between disparate ecotones and geopolitical blocks. For instance, forests in the Salta region of Argentina become directly allied with salt flats in the Atacama Desert[xiii], realigning political allegiances in the southern cone of South America and creating potential ecological vectors. It is within easements that materials, technology, and labor come together on a local and continental scale.
One of the most thoroughly understood histories that offer insight into the concept of easement-as-urbanism is that of the United Fruit Company. Initially conceived by industrialists and young republican leaders as an opportunity to operate a passenger rail and open up the lowlands on the Atlantic coast of Costa Rica to real estate development, the company secured for itself easements along the future lines as a principle of the agreement to build the railroad. When the profitability of passenger rail declined, these easements were put into production as banana plantations. Micro company towns were set up at intervals along the line and the forest was replaced with monoculture banana plantations. The railroad was used as a logistical corridor for transporting labor and products between ports on the Atlantic coast and the company towns, as well as connecting the towns themselves. This logistical landscape was potent enough to bring about a structural reordering of the geopolitical relations of Guatemala, Panama, Honduras, Costa Rica, and Colombia — aligning political-economic power in the region with the interests of foreign capitalists and urban consumers of the North Atlantic[xiv]. It also reorganized the local political economy, opening up the difficult lowlands of Central American republics to new forms of habitation by lacing the country with logistics corridors through the difficult but highly productive terrain according to the logic of banana growth and shipment[xv].
This potent coupling of agricultural production and logistics was achieved thanks to a particular historical condition of the larger American landscape. In the years after independence the American Republics undertook a massive reordering of new territories. Huge tracts were given away to private interests including land grants to the railroad companies. In 1871, Costa Rica contracted Henry Meiggs to build a railroad from the populated uplands down to the Atlantic coast one hundred miles away[xvi]. By 1899, under the direction of his nephew Minor Keith, this enterprise encompassed 112 miles of railroad and 212,394 acres of land, of which 29 percent was in banana production — giving rise to the United Fruit Company. This model was replicated and intensified in neighboring countries. In Honduras by 1924 the Company owned nearly 400,000 acres, of which approximately 175,000 was in banana production[xvii]. This history offers a cautionary tale, but also a glimpse of what it might mean to grapple with the territorial implications of infrastructural easements, and the potential for developing new forms of urbanism by leveraging these easement landscapes with their capacity to bind together locomotion, labor, and ecological vectors. Each kind of easement is specific to its technology — gas pipelines need to be below the frost line, electric grid cables must eliminate tree branches, canals needed towpaths for the horses to pull the barges, and highways need an emergency shoulder and mown edge. However, with regard to three important landscape characteristics, they are all similar. These characteristics are: technological objects, logics of place, and scales of operation.
Things That Are There and Things That Are Not There. Given this potential it seems worthwhile to consider just what is at play in easement landscapes. The most obvious I’ll call the technological object; it is simply the instrumental object that is generating the easement. This can be a railroad, a pipeline, a highway, a canalized river, or a high-tension cable. It is the material demands of this class of object in relation to its expected performance that begins to determine the shape of the easement.
If it is a pipeline and occasional access is needed for maintenance or emergency work then a roughly graded swath free of trees, debris, and large rocks, will be constructed and maintained through the existing terrain. Modern pipelines are made from high-quality ‘line pipe’ steel[xviii] and are often buried three to six feet below grade, protecting them from frost heave. The pipeline network often includes pumps that are located along the line, often hundreds of miles apart, as well as distributary gates where the pipeline branches toward a population center or manufacturing facility. This assemblage moves through a variety of political jurisdictions, economic blocs, and ecological zones. As an example, the thirty-inch diameter high pressure General San Martin Pipeline begins in the southern tip of Argentina in Tierra del Fuego, running 3,756 kilometers all the way to the city of La Plata on the Rio de la Plata Estuary. On its route it crosses the Strait of Magellan in the province of Tierra del Fuego, runs through the rugged terrain of Patagonian provinces Santa Cruz, Chubut, and Rio Negro, and passes under the great productive agricultural expanses of the Argentine Pampas in the provinces of Pampa and Buenos Aires with the help of six compressor stations[xix].
For this pipeline, or any like it, the internal logic of the technological object rubs up against a certain existing condition, be it the saline currents in the Strait of Magellan, veins of gneiss running through Patagonia, or soggy pasture in the humid Pampas. These conditions are not mere context or environment; they are their own object with their own logic, albeit one that operates at a different scale and in concert with different politics[xx]. They are particular to each place, by which I mean simple a territory with its own socio-spatial logic. And it is precisely the internal contradictions of these competing logics that create a zone of opportunity for design intervention.
If we consider a wooded mountain that the General San Martin Pipeline traverses in Patagonia, the typical easement landscape is one of rocky soil roughly compacted and free of trees in a fifty-foot swath. Trees have been removed to permit access for maintenance and repair, adjacent canopies are cut back to allow for aerial surveillance of the line, and tree removal minimizes the chances that roots will damage or break the pipelines over time. Large boulders are moved or blasted and utilized as fill for nearby holes, and the easement might have an unusually high amount of loose rock at the surface leftover from the pipeline excavation. These have been discarded in such a way as to create a trail accessible to four-wheel drive maintenance vehicles. At the same time, the opening in the forest creates a highly productive and diverse ecological zone. The edges of temperate forests, such as those in Patagonia, are home to a wider variety of species and higher density of organisms[xxi]. This mountain is a place with its own logic, relations, and objects, and they are brought into conflict with the pipeline- the technological object. The landscape that is created is a mediated space that does far more than simply reconcile between the two. In the case of the wooded mountain, it enhances biodiversity while also likely increasing erosion and possibly severing certain ecological relations.
This is typically translated through the romantic lens as the hard, unforgiving engineer’s specification blazing a trail through a picturesque natural scene, with any beneficial ecological or aesthetic coupling effects merely unintentional serendipity. However, this situation might be understood as arising through the materialization of operational logics that are sometimes complimentary and sometimes conflicting, and these result in a landscape of contradictions that have been internalized. Somewhere Karl Marx said that if things were as they appeared on the surface, there would be no need for science. By analyzing the contradictions we might recognize the space they create as an opportunity for a design and develop a landscape science.
The Scale of Things. A simple question to such a charge might be “why”? Easements may display an interesting set of contradictions, but why do they matter? The third and most radical characteristic of easements is the scale at which they operate, a scale that tends to blow through political jurisdictions and parochial legal frameworks, to cut across and leverage huge disparities in wealth and consumption among disparate populations, and to create physical ecological vectors between previously unrelated continental regions. The aesthetic effect is not one of destruction and simplistic dominance, but rather a confrontation with a fantastic, monstrous corridor sometimes thousands of kilometers across a continent. It is a Richard Long transect at an industrial scale, the lines of the Nazca made of metal[xxii].
Recently, the Amazon Basin of Brazil has revealed perhaps the most compelling historical corollary to contemporary easement landscapes. Recent deforestation of the Amazon Basin combined with widespread aerial photography and satellite imagery have revealed a huge number of causeways and canals in a region the size of the continental United States previously thought to have been inhabited only by small bands of nomads[xxiii]. These landforms predate European discovery of the Americas and prove that the Amazon was not always forest but was instead a heavily populated landscape intensively managed by people living in sophisticated societies capable of earth-moving and place-specific cultivation on a massive scale.
Most compellingly, the large geometric platforms and enclosed areas connected by the causeways show few signs of human habitation (such as pottery shards), suggesting they may have been areas of intensive agricultural production (corrals or aquaculture ponds) or places set aside for religious ritual and ceremony. That is, understood as a form of urbanism, these causeways may be evidence of a highly mobile population that developed modes of production and organized cultural rituals along these lines of infrastructure in response to the logics (hydrological, biological, and geological) of the Amazon Basin. This example is instructive; it renders the Amazon basin itself not as a natural environment with pockets of settlement here and there, but as a massive territory laced with technological objects – the causeways – that exert material demands and are expected to function in relation to the dynamic logic of the Amazon River—its floods, its biological production – enabling a highly dynamic, productive, and place-specific form of urbanism. The adjacent canals can be understood as an easement landscape providing for the material demands of the technological object- in this case maintenance access and material for rebuilding the causeway.
These facts suggest that historical South American urbanisms offer alternative models less concerned with the European conceit of a population center, but instead structured around large-scale logistics structures maintained by and for highly mobile populations in dynamic landscapes. Future urbanists might develop methods to adapt these models to contemporary needs, possibly by taking advantage of tendencies and trajectories in contemporary energy industries. Rather than emphasizing the social life of population centers as the main unit of analysis and object of concern in urban studies, we should expand our focus to the rural hinterlands that are inextricably tied to these cities.
In recent decades there has been a recognition and upwelling of interest in the mines, factories, and logistics facilities that enable contemporary urbanism. This fascinating work, such as that by Julie Bargmann or Landing Studio, have done a great deal to illuminate the fundamental tie from sites of production and extraction such as mines, reservoirs, and petroleum refineries, to population centers. In this important work, the actual highway corridors, pipelines, and powerline easements through which material connections are created are have remained largely unexplored. However, they might be treated as sights of investigation in their own right. The sheer scope of their physical scale and distribution testifies to the importance of this future avenue for urbanists. More specifically, by the simple fact of the great expanses they tend to cover, they inevitably bind together populations with massive disparities in wealth and consumption, ecological regions with completely different regimens, and to cut across political jurisdictions and parochial legal frameworks. These facts force conflict and open an opportunity for design strategies such as coupling functions to achieve complex effects, or calling for the creation or reinforcement of new borders that might stop the spread of disease or prevent the introduction of unwanted predators and pests.
Geologics, Ecologics and Logistics. Considering the rate at which pipelines are being constructed the landscape type of the easement demands a reckoning. New trajectories and possibilities might be discovered for coupling pipeline easements with species migration patterns necessitated by climate change. Or symbiosis could be proposed with recreational and tourism programming, similar to that envisioned by Benton Mackaye in what would become the Appalachian Trail as the Tennessee Valley Authority was lacing the southeastern United States with hydroelectric dams and distribution facilities. In order to achieve this, the field of inquiry and action could be organized along three lines: geologics, ecologics, and logistics.
Geologics are the particular concepts and methods developed to study, organize, and propose the specific material practices — construction techniques, maintenance operations, and forms — that are deployed in a landscape. Geologics not only implicates materials — the earth that is bulldozed, the rock that is dynamited, the new erosion pattern introduced by a seeding regime — it introduces operative temporal and spatial scales that are geologic in scope. Like the great, mounded causeways of the pre-Colombian Brazilians that have shaped drainage and forestation patterns throughout the Amazon basin for a thousand years, the forms and material practices of easement landscapes can have effects extending across centuries or even millennia. Just as the particulates emitted by the burning of the fuel running through the pipelines operates on a geological time scale, so the compacted earth or the cultivated plantings of an easement might catalyze relationships a thousand years from now.
Geoff Manaugh’s essay in this volume points out that technological objects — such as his example of offshore oil platforms — actually function as a sort of synthetic geological substrate around which human and non-human organisms can organize. Understanding the particular material logics of these types of objects is a simple and important conceptual move to begin to grapple with latent potential of easement landscapes. These possibilities offer a way in for designers to shape the contemporary landscape in ways that are orders of magnitude larger than the traditional park or library building.
Ecologics are the conceptual tools used to shape, catalyze and reinforce biological and cultural interactions within a given territory. Drawing from contemporary ecological thinking, ecologics are fundamentally relational, concerned with the type and intensity of connections. Common examples include the spatial concepts of patches, corridors and fields developed by Richard Forman, as well as the idea of disturbance regimes, which undid our previous notions of climax states. I propose that another useful concept will be generative capacity, similar to the more common term “production,” (referring to the action or process of making goods from components or raw materials, or the manufacture of goods for consumption).
The generative capacity of a landscape is usually defined as something-like-production; after all, things are produced or generated from other things or aspects of things, be they mustard gas, cashmere sweaters or social space in plaza in Barcelona[xxv]. However, there is a difference; in the concept of generative capacity there is a conspicuous lack of teleology. A focus on the generative capacity of the landscape allows that efficiency is a concept dependent on mutable values of desire and time and recognizes that novel ecologies often arise from excess and inefficiencies[xxvi]. More importantly, it does not take an elemental view of things but rather an objective one, allowing that objects in relation to one another — whether a freeway overpass, a plume of industrial toxins in the soil, or a catalpa tree in a backyard garden — generate new possibilities in an open and multivalent way as opposed to reducing and recombining them according to reproducible processes.
The term logistics in its original sense refers to the “procurement, maintenance, and transportation of military material, facilities, and personnel.” Fundamental to this definition is the fact that logistics is not merely concerned with throughput vectors of consumer goods or industrial products, but is engaged with real labor and the material practices carried out in specific places. Clare Lyster notes in this volume that we now “participate in a large range of logistical flows, and we depend on the mobility… that globalization and technological innovation have facilitated.” And while this is true, the implication that this is something new is challenged by the recent discoveries in the Amazon basin, the Nazca Lines, or the great imperial infrastructure network of Tawantinsuyu. In these landscapes we have object lessons of coupled infrastructures performing multiple functions by organizing systems of labor and fields of knowledge.
In 2006 the presidents of Venezuela, Brazil, and Argentina — South America’s three largest petroleum economies — signed an agreement to construct the 8,000 kilometer “Gran Gasoducto del Sur,” a pipeline intended to run from southern Venezuela to northern Argentina and move 100,000,000 cubic meters of natural gas per year[xxvii]. While the project remains unrealized, it offers a reminder that logistical landscapes implicate political actors at a variety of scales from the nation-state to the farmer, and contain the potential to bring about uneasy alliances and potent new relations not only between federal government and local landowners, but also between corporate bureaucracies and migratory birds.
Reconceiving these logistical systems in terms of complex easement landscapes offers a way to resist reductive and simplistic representations of logistical networks as throughput systems for consumer goods, be it electricity, oil, or UPS packages. Logistical landscapes become both more and less than this- sometimes failing or slowing down and so requiring real maintenance and labor, sometimes offering an unexpected ecological armature for a terrestrial species forced into migration by climatic change, and sometimes serving as a firebreak protecting hundreds of thousands of productive acres of forestlands in Patagonia. In addition to searching for programmatic bands that might couple with the primary technological objectives of the logistical easement, landscape and architectural design might offer ways to grapple with the generative capacity of the logistical landscape, its massive temporal and scalar shifts, and the material displacements it effects.
[i] Boyun Guo, et al, Offshore Pipelines: Design, Installation and Operations (Gulf Professional Publishing, Burlington, MA), 1.
[ii] “Energy in South America: The Explosive Nature of Gas,” The Economist, February 9, 2006.
[iii] Throughout this article I use the term “American” in the sense defined by Diego Rivera, which considers the North and South American continents as America.
[iv] Alice D. Le Plongeon, “Early Architecture and Engineering in Peru,” Engineering Magazine, April to September, 1894, 58.
[v] Phil Hopkins, “Oil and Gas Pipelines: Yesterday and Today,” in the Penspen digital library, http://www.penspen.com/Downloads/Papers/Pages/Home.aspx (accessed December 12, 2012).
[vi] Edwin Bell, History of Petroleum: life of Colonel Edwin Drake, (Titusville, PA: The Bugle, Print, 1900).
[vii] At the time the population centers of North America got most of the their municipal lighting from the burning of manufactured gas, an industrial process that produced combustible gas and coke by superheating coal. For more explanation see “General Information about Manufactured Gas Plants,” New York State Department of Environmental Conservation, http://www.dec.ny.gov/chemical/24911.html (accessed December 20, 2012).
[viii] The World of Oil, “History of Titusville, PA,” Museum of the Earth, http://www.museumoftheearth.org/outreach.php?page=s_oil_home/s_oil_s6_history/s_oil_s6_titus_1, (accessed December 20, 2012).
[ix] Daniel Yergin, The Prize: The Epic Quest for Oil, Money & Power, (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1991) 27.
[x] Ida M. Tarbell, History of the Standard Oil Company: Volume 2 (New York: Cosimo Books, 1904) 3-6.
[xii] See Cronon’s Nature’s Metropolis and Lefebvre’s The Urban Revolution for discussion of how the urban is not synonymous with the city, but refers to a system by which a population center comes to dominate the production, and absorbs the surplus, from a relatively huge hinterland. In this system infrastructure and logistical planning plays a fundamental role.
[xiii] The Atacama Pipeline running from Salta, Argentina through the mining provinces of the Atacama region in Northern Chile is one of two major pipelines- the other is a subsurface aqueduct- that bring materials across some of the highest peaks in the Andes Mountains from Argentina to Chile which are critical to Chile’s critical copper mining industry, based in the Atacama region. The Guggenheim’s in the interwar period were the first to begin developing these resources in a way that crossed the Andes and implicated both nations in a regional process of mineral extraction.
[xiv] Peter Chapman, Bananas: How the United Fruit Company Shaped the World, (New York: Canongate, 2007) 25-42.
[xvi] Stacy May and Galo Plaza, The United Fruit Company in Latin America: Seventh Case Study in an National Planning Association Series on United States Business Performance Abroad, (Washington, D.C.: Organization of American States, 1958) 7-12.
[xvii] Stacy May and Galo Plaza, The United Fruit Company in Latin America: Seventh Case Study in an National Planning Association Series on United States Business Performance Abroad, (Washington, D.C.: Organization of American States, 1958) 7-12.
[xviii] Phil Hopkins, “Oil and Gas Pipelines: Yesterday and Today,” in the Penspen digital library, http://www.penspen.com/Downloads/Papers/Pages/Home.aspx (accessed December 12, 2012).
[xix] Pipelines International, “South America Snapshot,” http://pipelinesinternational.com/news/south_america_snapshot/008026/, (accessed December 20, 2012).
[xx] Deleuze offers insight in to the mechanisms wherein an object (a “pre-individual field”) with its own internal logic becomes actualized in a specific location or situation through the use of biological metaphors, especially the genome and the environment. Difference and Repetition, (London: Continuum Press, 2004), 313.
[xxi] Richard Yahner, “Changes in Wildlife Communities Near Edges,” Conservation Biology, Volume 2, Issue 4, pages 333-339, December 1988, in the Wiley Online Library, http://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/10.1111/j.1523-1739.1988.tb00197.x/abstract (accessed December 16, 2012).
[xxii] The typical anthropological/archeological reading of the Nazca lines suggests that they must be for ceremonial religious purposes. However, Peruvian architectural historian and critic Wiley Ludena Urquizo, in his great essay “Paisaje y Paisajismo Peruano: Apuntes Hacia una Historia Critica” suggest that these might be representations of artistic practices in the vein of the land artists with the provocative rhetorical question, “who are we to assume that it is only the land artists of the 1960’s that were interested in artistic practices at the scale of the landscape.” There are others that think the lines might be 1-to-1 scale mappings of the line faults in the local geology that provide subterranean water that supported agriculture and the Nazca society on just on the other side of the cordillera. Urquizo Ludena, Wiley. “Paisaje y paisajismo peruano. Apuntes para una historia critica.” Textos-arte No. 4, Facultad de Arte Pontificia Universidad Catolica del Peru. Lima, December 2008. 59-84.
[xxiii] Thomas Veblen, Kenneth Young, and Antony Orme, ed., The Physical Geography of South America, (New York: Oxford University Press, 2007) 274.
[xxiv] In her book Ecological Revolutions Carolyn Merchant notes that in the 18th century (before Marx and the Industrial Revolution) the term was different, signifying the “the power of nature to bring forth animals, trees, and herbaceous plants.” Ecological Revolutions: Nature, Gender, and Science in New England, (University of North Carolina Press: 2010), 12.
[xxv] See Lefebvre’s Production of Space for a detailed explanation of how a “society produces its own space.” Lefebvre, Henri. Production of Space, trans. Donald Nicholson-Smith. (Oxford and Cambridge: Blackwell Publishing, 1991), 46.
[xxvi] Richard J. Hobbs, et al., “Novel Ecosystems: theoretical and management aspects of the new ecological world order,” Global Ecology and Biogeography, Volume 15, Issue 1, January 2006, 1-7.
[xxvii] “Lula, Kirchner y Chavez acuerdan construir ‘el gran gas del sur’, que atrevesara Suramerica,” El Mundo, http://www.elmundo.es/elmundo/2006/01/20/internacional/1137745877.html. January 1, 2006 (accessed December 12, 2012).