Contesting Property Development in Coastal New Zealand: A Case Study of Ocean Beach, Hawke's Bay

Contesting Property Development inCoastal New Zealand: A Case Study ofOcean Beach, Hawke’s Bay

DAMIAN COLLINS

AbstractThis article considers the contested process of coastal development in New Zealand andthe implications of both governmental regulation and public concern for understandingproperty. Its empirical focus is a proposal for a substantial, new urbanist development atOcean Beach, located in the Hawke’s Bay region of the North Island. Three key sourcesof data inform the research: published reports; public submissions to council; andinterviews with a sample of those involved in the planning process. Opposition todevelopment is explained in terms of three broad areas of concern: the dramatic physicaland social changes that would accompany subdivision and construction; fears of a lossof control over a valued local landscape; and a morally informed sense of propriety. Thearticle finds that the ownership model of property is not especially powerful at OceanBeach; rather, there is a broad consensus that private property rights exist within apublic planning framework. It is this framework that contributes, in large part, toensuring that voices of community opposition to property development at Ocean Beach(and elsewhere along the coast) are heard. Nevertheless, private property rights arerarely dismissed completely.

IntroductionCoastal property development in New Zealand has recently entered a capital-intensiveand highly professional phase. This process is controversial and has been met withvarious forms of opposition, from critical journalism, to the formation of communitygroups advocating protection of local coastal landscapes, to heated public debates overproposals before local councils. This level of public concern is noteworthy for thechallenge it represents to the dominant logic of private property — although, notsurprisingly, a countervailing pro-development discourse emphasizes the financial and‘lifestyle’ benefits associated with coastal property (Collins and Kearns, 2008).

This article investigates, by way of a detailed case study, public concern aboutdevelopment on privately owned land at the coast — a process known colloquially as ‘thecoastal carve-up’ — and its implications for understanding property. Public objectionsare enabled by broad trends in property and planning regimes towards ‘extensive publicregulation, active participation by the community in determining how land shall be used,

This research was supported by a University of Auckland postdoctoral fellowship and by a grant fromthe BRCSS Network (NZ). Tara Coleman worked as a research assistant on this project and RobinKearns provided advice and encouragement. Considerable gratitude is extended to those Hawke’s Bayresidents who volunteered their time and enthusiasm to assist with this research, from its earliest daysthrough to completion.

Volume 33.1 March 2009 147–64 International Journal of Urban and Regional ResearchDOI:10.1111/j.1468-2427.2009.00836.x

© 2009 The Author. Journal Compilation © 2009 Joint Editors and Blackwell Publishing Ltd. Published by BlackwellPublishing. 9600 Garsington Road, Oxford OX4 2DQ, UK and 350 Main St, Malden, MA 02148, USA

and affirmative obligations [being] imposed on private developments’ (Sax, 2001: 233).However, the underlying reasons for contestation lie elsewhere: in long-establishedconnections between property and propriety (Blomley, 2005a), in nuancedunderstandings of local landscapes and in fears of social change and exclusion. Theresearch also finds that quite particular understandings of property rights are at work ‘onthe ground’, underscoring the potential of case study research in the study of propertyrelations (see Blomley, 2005b; Brown, 2007).

The empirical focus of this article is a proposal for a substantial, new urbanistdevelopment at a greenfield coastal site: Ocean Beach, located in the Hawke’s Bayregion of the North Island, on the Pacific Coast (see Figure 1). A popular destination forsummer recreation, Ocean Beach is close to two small cities, Hastings and Napier, andfalls within the boundaries of the democratically constituted Hastings District Council(HDC). Drawing on interview data, a sample of public submissions to the HDC andpublished reports and plans, this article analyses the way in which notions of property,property rights and propriety are debated and understood by those who have entered theplanning process.

The large-scale nature of the developers’ proposal, and its dramatic departure fromboth current land uses at Ocean Beach and traditionally modest forms of coastal housingin New Zealand (Kearns and Collins, 2006), have elicited considerable comment in thecommunity. This has been evident in the two rounds of consultation carried out by theHDC. To date, submissions have been received from some 200 individuals and groups,the great majority of whom have expressed opposition to substantial development.

Such public expressions of concern merit critical attention for the counterpoint theyprovide to conventional (Western) understandings of property development as a processrepresenting inevitable progress towards the highest and best use of land (Blomley,

Figure 1 Ocean Beach in regional and national context

148 Damian Collins

International Journal of Urban and Regional Research 33.1© 2009 The Author. Journal Compilation © 2009 Joint Editors and Blackwell Publishing Ltd.

2004). In taking discourses around the ownership and appropriate use of propertyseriously, we can move towards a more sophisticated understanding of contemporaryproperty relations. This is both a social and an academic imperative, given the vastamount of political and economic capital ‘invested’ in those relations, their substantiveinfluence on the distribution of rights, wealth and power within society, and theirfundamental if often depoliticized role ‘in mediating how people can engage land’(Brown, 2007: 508).

Property ownership, rights and coastal developmentRecent critical scholarship on property has sought to emphasize that it is more complex— both conceptually and in terms of the geographies of land it helps to constitute — thanis often imagined. What this work challenges, in particular, is the ‘ownership model’, inwhich property is envisioned in an abstract, individualized and absolutist manner. In thismodel, private ownership of property is the norm; both public ownership of land andpublic regulation of the rights of private owners are exceptions that require carefuljustification. In broad terms, it assumes that the rights of private owners (e.g. to exclude,to subdivide, to use, to develop) are natural and self-regarding, and thus properly trumpcollective claims (Blomley, 2004).

As Selznick (2003: 183) notes, the notion ‘that ownership carries with it rights ofdominion, that is, the owner can do what he wants with “his property” ’ continues to behighly influential, especially in legal thought and in the discourse of the political right,‘despite the many restrictions and responsibilities recognized by law’. It is frequentlydeployed to impede public policy, especially in environmental protection, and also hassignificant (and ethically questionable) social implications. For example, privateproperty owners are often valorized for their assumed responsibility and self-control (asfrequently occurs during debates over gentrification), while non-owners tend to be‘viewed with suspicion’ (Blomley, 2005c: 126). The idea also helps to drive, and justify,the ‘enclosing propensities’ of contemporary globalization, whereby ‘previouslycommon, public or open access resources’ are turned over to private concerns (Brown,2007: 507). Yet, for all its ‘powerful imaginative hold within Western societies’(Blomley, 2005a: 647), the model’s shortcomings are increasingly well known.

One key observation is that the articulation of private property boundaries, and theexercise of property rights, are social rather than purely self-regarding activities.Specifically, boundaries and ownership must be communicated, more-or-lesscontinuously, to an audience — for example, through the maintenance of fences andgardens, and other visible illustrations that ‘private’ rights exist. It follows from this that‘[p]roperty is a “doing”, rather than a static condition’ (Blomley, 2005a: 649). It is alsoclear that property is not neatly separated from other spheres of human endeavour andconcern. Brown (2007), for example, contends that it cannot be understood as distinctfrom morality and materiality.

The moral dimension of property is particularly evident in powerful ‘normativenotions of how land ought to be owned and engaged with’ (Brown, 2007: 508). Theseappear in commonplace debates over processes such as gentrification, sprawl,intensification, tenure conversion, and so on. Contained within such debates are implicitand explicit arguments that some configurations of property are better, or moreappropriate, than others. There is, in short, an enduring connection between property andpropriety, or ‘conformity to that which is proper’ (Blomley, 2005a: 618). Indeed, thisconnection is implicit in the very notion of property rights: while they can be articulatedin absolutist terms, their enactment has always depended upon broad social and legalacceptance.

In insisting that the material dimension of property also be taken seriously, Brownhighlights its inherent, and consequential, spatiality. Property is important, in part, for itsrole in ‘setting the ground rules for human interaction, delineating how space is to be

Contesting property development in coastal New Zealand 149


used’ (2007: 510). In addition, the enactment of property is frequently complicated by itsgeographical ‘situatedness’; the physical sites at which it unfolds are often places ofcontestation ‘where overlapping and sometimes contradictory claims are struggled over’(Brown, 2007: 508). Thus, the materiality of propertied landscapes helps to informeveryday judgements about what forms of use and development are appropriate. Thisobservation is highly pertinent for present purposes: the distinctive, yet typically fragile,physical qualities of coastal land feature prominently in debates over the appropriatenessof development in this environment.

While growth pressures and proposals for significant residential and commercialdevelopment may raise questions and attract objections wherever they occur, in coastalareas they often pose unique challenges (Gurran et al., 2005). First among the factors thatrender coastal development especially problematic is the sensitivity of the naturalenvironment: rapid growth has often been associated with biodiversity loss, waterpollution, habitat fragmentation, conversion of productive rural land and degradation ofscenic values. Such issues are a central theme of the ‘sea change’ literature in Australia(Gurran et al., 2006), and have also been highlighted in New Zealand scholarship criticalof coastal subdivision (Morton et al., 1973; Peart, 2004).

Other complicating factors include the demand for ‘strip’ development (given thegenerally linear nature of coastal amenities), the environmental and financial costsassociated with upgrading infrastructure, the pressures associated with seasonal tourism,and the tendency for coastal areas to be subject to more complex policy and legislativerequirements than inland settlements. In addition, loss of local character and sense ofplace are commonly reported consequences of coastal development: ‘Even where thescale of change is not as extreme as well-known examples like Queensland’s Gold Coast,impacts on local community structure and social relations are likely to be profound’(Gurran et al., 2005: 18).

In this context, forms of development that promise reduced environmental impacts —for example, by adopting design principles that promote compact urban forms, theidentification and protection of conservation areas, and the preservation of sense of placethrough recognition of local heritage — can be highly appealing (Gurran et al., 2006).Indeed, such a formula can be interpreted as laying the foundations for sustainablecoastal communities (Beatley et al., 2002). It also closely mirrors the principles of newurbanism (Ellis, 2002), making this style of development — which is characteristicallyaccompanied by grand promises of harmonious human–environment interactions(Marshall, 2003) — potentially very attractive.

In light of the sensitivity of coastal environments, and widespread dissatisfaction withmany developments therein, it is unsurprising that the exercise of private property rightsalong the coast is frequently subject to opposition (see, e.g., Essex and Brown, 1997;Tress, 2002; Mottiar and Quinn, 2003; Gurran et al., 2005; 2006). Much concern isspurred by a perception that the proliferation and expansion of coastal settlements candegrade the very landscapes and amenity values that attract both permanent residents andholiday-home owners to coastal environments in the first instance (Gurran et al., 2006;Hiltunen, 2007). Legal and regulatory frameworks intended to protect environmentalvalues in general, and coastal processes and landscapes in particular (see next section),provide official channels for opposition. In New Zealand, these channels are typicallystatutory, and while formal provision is made for the recognition and protection of Maorivalues, their foundations lie in ‘Western’ law (Banner, 1999).

The limitations on private property rights imposed by environmental managementand protection provisions have been interpreted as further undercutting the claims ofthe ownership model. As Delaney (2001: 219) observes, environmental regulations arecommonly seen ‘as representing the erosion of property rights’ at the same time asthey give effect to a ‘form of common property conceptually centred on “resources” ’.When such regulations are placed alongside other governmental rules regardingacceptable use of property, the distinction between owner and state is blurred. Putsimply, it is now entirely unexceptional for ‘private property interests [to] be subject to

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some public claim or servitude, both limiting full privatization, and demanding thatany private benefits be compatible with public goals’ (Sax, 2001: 234). Althoughcertain public claims continue to be met with resistance and absolutist rhetoric, it isclear that the ownership model fails to capture the complexity of contemporaryproperty relationships. Public authority and private rights are thoroughly enmeshed, asopposed to starkly opposed; even the monetary value of property rights aredetermined, in part, by the state’s exercise of planning power, which ‘confers benefitsas well as burdens’ (Barton, 2007: 8).

With respect to coastal property, the expression of public interests in privately ownedland is often clearer, and more extensive, than is the case elsewhere. This reflects, in part,the sensitivity of the natural environment, and layers of human meaning built up aroundit (as noted above), which together establish a normative foundation for governmentalintervention, but also a broader set of customs and expectations. As Rose (1986: 713–14)observes, Western property law has long recognized societal interests in accessing, andusing, coastal lands:

The land between the low and high tides [i.e. the foreshore] has traditionally been considered‘public property’, or at least subject to a public easement for navigational and fishing purposes.But some modern courts have stretched this easement to include a new use — recreation — andhave expanded its area from the tidelands to the dry sand areas landward of the high-tide mark.

Public interest in the coast has typically been recognized through both public rights overprivate land and formal, governmental ownership of coastal land on behalf of the public.Rose (1986) suggests that the concept of ‘public trust’ may underpin both arrangements.First, the state has duties to preserve rights of use and access at the coast where these arevested in society at large, rather than in formal state ownership. Second, it must exerciseits own rights over coastal land, where these exist, in a qualified manner, consistent withthe notion that the beneficial owners are, in fact, the public. This latter notion may placerestrictions on, for example, the sale of state-owned coastal land to private interests. Inthe New Zealand context, much land at the land–sea interface is under governmentalownership: approximately 70% of the coastline features a publicly owned marginal strip(or ‘Queen’s Chain’) above the mean high water mark (see LINZ, 2003; Collins andKearns, 2008), while almost all of the foreshore is vested in the Crown. In the coastalenvironment more broadly, the majority of which is under private title, public interestsare formally recognized and advanced through the environmental management andplanning regime outlined in the following section.

ContextThe term ‘Ocean Beach’ refers to a 1,000-hectare landscape encompassing a 9 km-longbeach with distinctive headlands and a large dune system, behind which coastal flats leadto steep hills and a prominent ridgeline (see Figure 2). Current land use at the site isprimarily pastoral; the built environment consists of 32 basic cottages — known as‘baches’ in New Zealand (Kearns and Collins, 2006) — and a small number of otherstructures. The baches are sited on collectively owned Maori land and have historicallybeen leased to holiday makers; today, a small number are permanently occupied byMaori families. It is this limited human presence that leads many to characterize OceanBeach as a ‘wilderness’. Land titles are divided among three private owners, two Maoriestates/trusts, the HDC (which owns a small reserve) and the Crown (which owns theforeshore and a 20 m marginal strip).

Residential and commercial development at the site has been proposed by a Hastings-based property development company, Hill Country Corporation. The developmentwould occur exclusively on private land — including that owned by the company, local



farmers and, potentially, Maori.1 A formal master-plan for the site was unveiled followinga 10-day public planning meeting (‘charrette’) at the beach in October 2005. It proposed980 residential units and associated commercial and community facilities. This relativelyintense development was to be located at the most accessible (southern) part of the studyarea. The plan was prepared for the HDC and Hill Country by the Pacific affiliate ofrenowned new urbanist designers, Duany-Plater Zyberk (DPZ).

A subsequent consultants’ report to the HDC identified this master-plan as the mostintensive of four possible options for Ocean Beach. The others were subdivision into20-hectare lots under existing zoning rules, an intermediate development encompassingseveral hundred houses, and protection (no subdivision or construction). Most recently,developers have filed a private plan change proposal with the council. It broadly followsthe earlier master-plan, providing for 1,062 dwelling units in a development footprint of140 hectares. A public hearing on this plan was scheduled to occur in late 2008.

Comprehensive master-plans have hitherto been uncommon in New Zealand coastalcommunities; beach settlements have tended to evolve in an ad hoc way. This has beenthe case in Waimarama — located immediately to the south of Ocean Beach — wheregrowth has lacked coordination and a wide variety of housing styles is evident.Internationally, however, master-planning is now ‘commonly used in the development ofnew coastal release areas’ and offers the advantage of allowing ‘conservation andsettlement planning decisions to be made in a holistic way’ (Gurran et al., 2006: 15).While the concept of master-planning remains relatively novel in coastal New Zealand,it is the content of the proposal that has elicited concern. This relates both to scale (i.e.

1 The inclusion of Maori land in development plans has been a point of enduring controversy, withdivergent views as to its appropriateness and legitimacy expressed by different parties.

Figure 2 A view to the north at Ocean Beach

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approximately 1,000 residential units) and style (i.e. a new urbanist design encompassingfour-storey buildings, apartments and mock Tudor architecture). The public response tothese features has been elicited in several stages of consultation.

This level of public involvement is provided for by the comprehensive statutegoverning resource use and planning in New Zealand — the Resource Management Act1991 (RMA) — and the policies and plans issued under it by central, regional and localgovernment. This legislative framework enables development by providing rules andpathways for consent to be sought and obtained, while also subjecting it to a degree ofbureaucratic and democratic oversight. Section 6 of the RMA specifies that protecting‘outstanding natural features and landscapes’ in general, and ‘the natural character of thecoastal environment’ in particular, are matters of national importance. In both instances,the environment is to be protected from ‘inappropriate subdivision, use anddevelopment’.

The New Zealand Coastal Policy Statement (Department of Conservation, 1994), anational-level policy instrument issued pursuant to the RMA, provides some direction ininterpreting and implementing these provisions in coastal areas. Specifically,subdivision, use and development is to be encouraged ‘in areas where the naturalcharacter has already been compromised’, and avoided elsewhere (Policy 1.1.1). Thisprovision applies irrespective of whether coastal land is owned by public or privateparties.

In articulating a strong public interest in/over land use in the coastal zone, the RMAand Coastal Policy Statement complicate any straightforward application of the‘ownership model’. In other words, the fact of private ownership of a particular parcel ofcoastal land is by no means a ‘conversation-stopping’ claim vis-à-vis its use anddevelopment (cf. Blomley, 2005a: 647). Even beyond the coast, which receivesheightened protection, the RMA so thoroughly mediates the exercise of property rights,that earlier principles of property law, such as the remedy of nuisance, have beensupplanted (Barton, 2007).

This is not to suggest that the RMA’s regulatory power is without precedent; itreplaced an earlier planning regime which sought to direct and control land use throughprescriptive zoning (Gleeson and Grundy, 1997). The effects of this regime werecontested: for some critics it impeded development to the detriment of private propertyrights; for others, it protected those rights to the detriment of the natural environment(Gleeson, 1995).2 While the advent of the RMA signalled a new method and purpose forplanning, it did not spell an end to such debates. Questions regarding the relationshipbetween planning and property rights, and regulatory biases for or against development,remain salient and politically charged. This reflects, in part, the difficult balancing actwithin the RMA: it provides for the exercise of property rights, while at the same timeempowering public authorities to ‘override’ those rights (Barton, 2007: 2).

MethodsThree principal sources of data inform the research reported here. First, it makes use ofpublic reports and proposals for Ocean Beach, in particular the Ocean Beach CharretteBooklet (DPZ and Roberts Day, 2006).3 Second, it draws on public submissions toCouncil. Of the 197 submissions made in early 2007, 32 were selected for detailed

2 Writing about the coastal environment, Morton et al. (1973: 52) fell into the latter camp, suggestingthat the ownership model of property had been ‘barely shaken’ by planning law, and thatdevelopment remained ‘largely an area of free enterprise’, in which public interests wentunprotected.

3 This document is also known as ‘the DPZ master plan’.



analysis.4 This selection was guided by a concern to ensure the inclusion of a fullspectrum of views, including those of local landowners. Preference was also given tosubmissions made by groups and institutions (thus potentially representing largenumbers of individuals), and to those that were discursively rich, rather than pro-forma.

Third, the research entailed 22 key informant interviews in the Hawke’s Bay regionover the winter of 2007: 16 with interested members of the public, three with electedmembers of the district council, one with a regional council officer, and one with adevelopment company executive. Interviews took between 45 minutes and 2 hours each,and were guided by a flexible schedule of open-ended questions These focused onrespondents’ perceptions of the site, experience of the planning process and expectationsfor the future. Questions about property and rights were included, but, followingBlomley (2005b), were not framed in formal terms; rather, they were grounded in theoft-discussed options for Ocean Beach.

A broad social mix of respondents was achieved: interviewees ranged in age from 18to 80, included 9 women and 13 men, and came from three ethnic/national backgrounds(New Zealand European, Maori and North American). Slightly over half lived in urbancentres, with the remainder in small towns or rural areas. All had long-term connectionsto the region — with many having been born and raised in Hawke’s Bay, and othershaving chosen, as adults, to make it their home. A small number were no longerpermanent residents of the area, but maintained close connections with it, and returnedfrequently. All locally based respondents lived within manageable driving distances ofOcean Beach, and most reported making frequent visits.

The methods employed were intended to produce a data set that was illustrative ofpoints raised in relation to Ocean Beach during the planning process. Thus, in recruitinginterviewees, the focus was on those who had already made submissions to the HDC —either in their professional capacities or as interested residents — and had therefore givenprior consideration to the proposal and the future of the beach. Interviewees weregenerally opposed to large-scale development, although other voices were certainlyheard. Members of the public more broadly were not surveyed. Although all parties to thedebate have a tendency to claim that the region’s ‘silent majority’ is on their ‘side’, therehas been no independent polling of local residents on the issue, and this research did notseek to investigate such claims.

Subsequent thematic analysis sought to integrate information from all three datasources. This qualitative approach is characterized by Braun and Clarke (2006: 79) as ‘amethod for identifying, analysing and reporting patterns (themes) within data’, useful forboth organizing and (richly) describing a data set. It proceeds by searching for themesacross an entire data set, rather than within any particular data item (e.g. a singleinterview). This search is not value-free, however; it necessarily reflects the interests,knowledge and priorities of the analyst. This is because thematic analysis involvesmaking a series of choices: at minimum the researcher needs to determine what ‘counts’as a theme, how to balance breadth against depth, and whether to identify themes throughdeductive or inductive means (or both) (Braun and Clarke, 2006). In this research,themes were identified and selected primarily on the basis of the author’s theoretical andanalytical interests (i.e. via a deductive approach).

Built environments present and futureThe small settlement near the southern end of Ocean Beach (see Figure 3) exemplifiesthe type of bach landscape that was constructed, and later valorized, in twentieth centuryNew Zealand (Keen and Hall, 2004). It is now increasingly rare, as coastal development

4 The standard form for making a submission to the HDC stated ‘please note all submissions are madeavailable to the councillors and public’. As at the time of writing, these submissions remain availableat the following website: URL http://www.hastingsdc.govt.nz/events/charette/obspsubs/index.htm.

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http://www.hastingsdc.govt.nz/events/charette/obspsubs/index.htm

has become more intensive, professional and suburban in style (Foster and Perkins, 2005;Collins and Kearns, 2008). Appreciation of threatened, vernacular forms of beachsettlement has also been observed in Australia, with protection being sought forremaining ‘shack’ settlements on the basis of their uniqueness and heritage value(Selwood and Tonts, 2004). It was not surprising, then, that many respondents spokeabout the 32-bach community at Ocean Beach in glowing terms:

I love that settlement. To me that’s like Kiwiana and I think it would be neat to preserve it asit is and have other things in style with it . . . Bach settlements are a rare thing. I remember oneholiday back there when I was a child and it was amazing (Julia).

I like, to use somebody’s term, the vernacular of it all. To me, it’s something that we couldpromote, y’know, for our coastal environment . . . go for the trusty old kiwi bach (Gavin).

Other respondents who viewed the baches in a positive light acknowledged that theirattachment was due, in part, to familiarity:

I remember watching The Truman Show sometime last year and there was some quote about,“we accept the reality with which we’re presented.” So to some extent, I mean, you’ve grownup with those [baches], so you don’t really question them. But I think to a larger extent, the sortof low-key bach lifestyle is found more acceptable because it’s part of our culture, it’s part ofwhat New Zealanders are (Lee).

In general, respondents valued Ocean Beach as they found it: the landscape was notunchanging, but nor was it necessarily worse for historical human intervention. Privatelandowners had exercised their property rights in ways deemed socially andenvironmentally responsible (at least in retrospect). However, the merits of furthersubstantial change, in the form of a master-planned development, are much contested.

Figure 3 A view across the beach to the bach community and prominent hillside



From the developers’ perspective, the proposed style, scale and density ofdevelopment is intended to achieve both a year-round residential community and asocio-economic mix. The essence of this claim is that the development will include avariety of housing options (including apartments) across a wider range of prices than istraditionally found in lower-density coastal subdivisions made up largely or solely ofstand-alone houses. Accordingly, households that might not otherwise be able to live ina coastal community could potentially find a dwelling to buy or rent (especially if theydo not require a large living space). Second, the presence of commercial activities andcivic facilities (and associated employment opportunities) would make the site attractivefor permanent occupants, rather than just those seeking a second home for weekend andholiday use.

These claims, while characteristic of the rhetoric associated with new urbanism (Ellis,2002; Marshall, 2003), are widely debated. Thus, a number of interviewees remarkedthat a sense of community already existed at the beach: ‘the community that uses itweekend by weekend’ (Amelia), ‘all the people that enjoy it and have got together to tryto oppose [development]’ (Lee) and ‘the Maori people, and the weekenders, and thosepeople that lease the baches’ (Terrence). They did not perceive a need for a residentialcommunity in addition to that which already exists. An alternative viewpoint did notperceive the current, largely episodic and seasonal use of Ocean Beach as constituting acommunity, but valued the currently rather modest human presence. From thisperspective, the term ‘community’ appeared to signal over-development: ‘Why would itneed a community? It needs to be left un-communitied! It needs to be left open and wild’(Paul).

More generally, respondents were sceptical of claims that the community could becreated through urban design. Echoing long-standing criticisms of new urbanism (Ellis,2002), interviewees challenged the notion that communities could be ‘contrived’ or‘constructed’ in a ‘top-down’ manner. As Julia put it: ‘there is an amazing sense ofcommunity that comes with people who have a connection with the land — it’s notsomething you can construct artificially’. Amelia was incredulous: ‘So [they’re] going tobuild this township and then overlay it with so many small children and so many very oldpeople . . . , and so many young groovy people for the cafés and artists’ studios, and I justcouldn’t get it. I couldn’t get my head around how you’d do this. Communities developover time’.

This scepticism, combined with the frequency with which developers deployed‘community’ in support of their proposal, led some to argue that the term was being usedin a disingenuous or cynical manner. It was suggested that it was ‘a warm, fuzzy word’invoked as part of a ‘political game’ to soften opposition (Katrina), and ‘a euphemismleft, right and centre’ (Bonnie). Terrence was also adamant on this point:

You know ‘community’ is one of those slightly, softer, fuzzier words, so what do theymean? . . . They mean another suburb with cafés and . . . foreign people and big houses. It’s notsomething I would value out there. I know I don’t want to see it: it would destroy the things thatI value about it, or seriously compromise the things I value about it.

Much doubt was also expressed regarding the notion of socio-economic mix in any newbeachfront development. In Amelia’s view: ‘I think that the type of person that will bedrawn towards residential development, no matter what anybody says about studioapartments and affordable housing, well, it won’t be people with low incomes’. Severalrespondents also contended that prices for houses and apartments at any future OceanBeach development would likely be set by the market, which currently places aconsiderable premium on beachfront property (Cheyne and Freeman, 2006; Collins andKearns, 2008). As one submitter put it: ‘People with higher incomes will set the price.New Zealand coastal sections are now an international commodity, and this is why pricesare beyond the reach of most residents of the local community’ (written submission #57).Related to this concern was a fear that the relaxed and inclusive character of the area

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would be lost: ‘That social aspect [i.e. the mix] is not going to be there, it’s going to bea bunch of, basically, tossers looking down on people. . . . We used to be unassuming,decent, community-oriented people, but you know everyone’s got to have their Beam-a[i.e. BMW], or their bloody four-wheel drive [i.e. SUV], now — and they’ve got to havetheir flash house at the beach’ (Bonnie).

Bonnie’s concerns spoke to fears about the changing character of many developed/developing coastal areas that is much larger than novel approaches to design. Thisconcern was expressed by a number of other interviewees, albeit slightly obliquely:

And I certainly have no desire to have a café. I don’t want that kind of experience. I like picnics,I like taking my own food and eating on the beach and all that sort of thing (Amelia).

It’ll be a place with a lot of fancy houses and fancy people and fancy toys and boats. You know,there was one woman who said to me, “I want to continue going to Ocean Beach withoutputting my make-up on!” [Laughter].You know and of course you have the people who go “Oh,that’d be lovely, would I be able to get a latté out there?” and I say, “Yeah, I think you mightbe able to get a latté out there”, and they go “Oh, that’s fabulous, I’d like that.” [Laughter]. Butyou know it’s like, well, what’s the greater good, and what’s its value? (Gavin)

In invoking well-known cultural symbols for bourgeois attitudes and lifestyles in NewZealand (cafés, lattés, make-up), these interviewees highlighted a recent trend for coastalproperty development to take not only residential but also commercial forms. Theinclusion of retail and entertainment facilities in relatively remote or wild coastal placescontributes to the perception that suburban landscapes are being replicated on the coast.It also helps to drive concerns that coastal development is a form of enclosure servingprivate and undemocratic goals (Collins and Kearns, 2008).

Towards a foreign landscape?The DPZ master-plan refers briefly to several New Zealand examples of pre-automobilesuburbs, in keeping with the new urbanist imperative of ‘draw[ing] upon traditional localvernaculars in search of an authentic, not merely manufactured, sense of place’ (Ellis,2002: 274). Its true inspiration, however, is the design toolkit pioneered in places such asSeaside, Florida. It repeats the generic new urbanist claim that ‘traditionalneighbourhood design’ will produce an attractive, mixed-density, pedestrian-friendly andlong-term community — and adds that such a community represents a desirablealternative to the suburban-style developments seen elsewhere along the New Zealandcoastline (DPZ and Roberts Day, 2006).

For most respondents, the plan was neither a welcome departure from conventionaldevelopment styles, nor a reflection of local values. It was frequently remarked that itcompletely disregarded local public input during the charrette process. For Amelia, themaster-plan was a ‘cut and paste’ of a model established elsewhere:

You go to any coastal city in New Zealand . . . you know, even established places, they have asense of informality about them, that’s an essential characteristic. But this place just, whoa[pause] . . . it had an overlay of a kind of Englishness — a very American kind of Englishness— where it had hamlets instead of houses or baches, had a village green, oh, I can’t evenremember, a village hall. I mean [dramatic pause] . . . village?! [original emphasis].

Another participant had recently watched The Truman Show (1997), set in Seaside,Florida (renamed ‘Seahaven’ for the purposes of the film), and concluded the model washighly inappropriate for Ocean Beach: it ‘would be an example of something that doesn’tfit in’ and was ‘very artificial’ (Lee). This notion of artificiality was invoked by Gavin, for



whom the cultural point of reference was the television series Desperate Housewives,which is set in a prosperous Californian street, Wisteria Lane:

So anyway, they came — those American folk, DPZ and Associates, came up with that design.What did we call it [pause] . . . Wisteria Lane. And it was their style and I didn’t like it. I meanone or two houses like that would probably, you know, be quite nice, but to have streets andstreets of them . . . And I could hear what they were saying, you know they have this Seasideplace over in the States, and its this precinct where people walk instead of [use] cars and I’msure that might fit in somewhere that was desperate for a city at the beach. But to me, I didn’tthink we were desperate for a city at the beach! We’ve got a huge town [Hastings] just here, just15–20 minutes away. I just couldn’t see the sense of it . . . I didn’t think they were very realitybased [dramatic pause] . . . affordable housing and what do they call it, a ‘cradle to the gravecommunity’ [ironic tone] . . . For me they were just looking at maximizing the potential profitto be made from a development project rather than a real, a genuine need for people to live outthere [original emphasis].

This comment merits quoting at length by virtue of the way in which it encapsulatesmany of the objections to the master-plan: that it was contrived (like ‘Wisteria Lane’);overly large in both scale and intensity (‘a city at the beach’); primarily about‘maximizing the potential profit’ rather than the community-mindedness professed bydevelopers; unnecessary, given the proximity of other settlements, such as Hastings (‘just15–20 minutes away’); and ultimately foreign (see numerous references to the UnitedStates).

In articulating concerns about proposals for Ocean Beach, members of the communityoften employed anti-American sentiment as one device in their arguments againstdevelopment. Such expression may be an effective rhetorical tool, given the longstandingtendency to see US cultural influences in New Zealand as negative (Lealand, 1988).Nevertheless, representing the proposals for Ocean Beach as ‘American’ downplayed thekey role of local people in their preparation. The critical point, perhaps, is that many ofthose opposed to development at Ocean Beach perceived it to be so foreign and out ofplace that they were moved to represent it as originating ‘half a world away’.

Property and propriety at Ocean BeachProponents of private property rights have often mobilized against local authority plansand zoning powers, portraying them as collectivist intrusions into owners’ realms ofrightful control. Such absolutist conceptions of property are certainly heard in NewZealand (Barton, 2007). Clearly, those opposed to development at Ocean Beach did notperceive private property rights in these ways. Even beyond this group, however, therewas no suggestion that (private) ownership of land brought with it the right to do as onepleased, and no strong hostility to the notion that private property rights are properlydefined and limited by public authority. The ownership model was not rhetoricallypowerful at Ocean Beach; there was broad consensus that private property rightsproperly existed within a public planning framework.

The framework determining and delimiting property rights at Ocean Beach —established by the RMA and the plans issued under it — was generally perceivedas appropriate, while also subject to change as allowed for by law. The operativezoning rules for the rural land at Ocean Beach limited subdivision to 20 hectarelots, and any changes were the prerogative of governmental bodies, who wererequired to follow statutory principles, and consult members of the public at multiplestages. In seeking a significant set of changes, the developers’ argument was that therewas a compelling case for ‘do[ing] something better at Ocean Beach’ (Harry). Theysought to achieve this change within the prevailing system; while private ownership of

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land was emphasized and portrayed as significant, it was not said to negate publicauthority.

The following exchange captured the prevailing view about how property rights do,and should, work at Ocean Beach:

Interviewer: I guess the challenge [for those who favour protection] is that you run intoprivate property rights pretty quickly, don’t you?

Charles: You absolutely run into private property rights. But in this instance, the land waspurchased and has been farmed as rural. Right?

Interviewer: Yep.

Charles: And there were subdivision rights and laws at the time and okay so those still exist.What they [i.e. the developers] are doing in my opinion is going way outside that, they’resaying we don’t want it rural, we want you [i.e. the council] to make it residential. Now they’repoles apart.

Thus Charles, like many other interviewees, contended that if development rights overand above those already existing at the site were not granted (through the democratic andlegal processes for achieving a plan change), then this did not represent a denial of rights,or a taking of private property. As Amelia explained: ‘they bought that land at aprice . . . knew what the potential was, but they also knew the status quo, and the processthey had to go through. You know, that they couldn’t go in there and by-right build atownship’. Under this resource management/planning regime, developers might notachieve their goals for the site, but this was a normal commercial risk, rather than aninsult to any sanctified notion of private property.

While property rights were not conceived of in absolute terms, development interestsportrayed the creation of a more intensely ‘propertied’ landscape as appropriate andnecessary, in part for the order it would bring to the environment. Specifically, it wascontended that residential property ownership at the beach would facilitate propriety:‘we think people living at the beach . . . will respect the place where they live — youcreate a community that keeps an eye on the beach, and protects the dunes’ (Harry). Thecounterpoint to these responsible homeowners were non-owning beach users, who,hitherto, have used the environment without being overlooked by large numbers ofprivate homesteads and their occupants.

Current use of the environment by non-owners was perceived to be disorderly inseveral respects. First, in terms of access, it was emphasized that most of the land atOcean Beach was private, but that the public engaged in ‘help-yourself access’ (Harry).This apparently referred to ways in which visitors are not restricted to publicly ownedland, but are relatively free to roam around a larger area. Second, members of the publicmay lawfully take vehicles on to the beach, but some proceed to drive in a manner thatis dangerous and/or environmentally destructive. This was bemoaned by a number ofother respondents, particularly Maori. Third, it has been controversially contended byone landowner that the undeveloped and relatively unregulated nature of Ocean Beachhas made it ‘the centre of the gay, nudist type activity in the Hawke’s Bay’ (Radio NewZealand National, 2007). This landowner went on to claim that ‘a community will in factget rid of all that’.

More generally, those in support of development contended that indiscriminate and adhoc use of Ocean Beach needed to end, and that a permanent residential communitywould bring with it appropriate social regulation of public space and controlled access toprivate property. As Kyle put it: ‘the easiest way to police things is to put population in’,as residents engaging in activities like ‘walking their dogs on the beach’ would undertakesurveillance of the landscape. This would prevent the alleged ‘rape and pillage’ attitudesof some (likely few) visitors — expressed through behaviours such as reckless drivingand littering. In addition, it was argued that people living at the beach will have anincentive to respect their environment. In this way, development interests invoked the



long-standing association of private property ownership with civic responsibility, as wellas more specific ideas about the need for proprietarian concerns to extend beyond privateproperty boundaries into public space so as to deter disorder (see Blomley, 2005a).

This association of property development with social order serves as a reminder thatalthough property rights are not envisioned in absolute terms at Ocean Beach, or as‘trumps’ to public objections, property remains politically and socially powerful. In onepassing, but nevertheless telling comment by the developer representative, some of thenegative public reactions during the charrette were likened to a disrespect for the ultimatesymbol of private property, the family home: ‘You open your house, you show peoplearound, you show them the special things, then they say “I don’t like the colour scheme”or they drop a glass or something’ (Harry).

The connection between home and property at Ocean Beach was also invoked, albeitin a very different way, by Maori respondents. From their perspective, the communallyowned land at Ocean Beach was not first and foremost a space of privacy, and nor wasit a commodity: ‘we’re here all the time and, for Maori, the land is who we are . . . Theydon’t grow any more land, once it’s gone, it’s gone’ (Aroha). In Aroha’s vision,ownership of traditional land was integral to identity; in this sense she made anontological equation of place and self.

It followed from such thinking that Maori land was not for sale, unlike that of otherlandowners in the area. This was, in part, a philosophical stance, although in the case ofone of the Maori estates at Ocean Beach, sale was prohibited by the will of a far-sightedancestor. While retention of this land was a matter of pride, it also posed challenges,particularly given increases in rates (property taxes) that often accompany propertydevelopment:

Interviewer: So what’s been the [developers’] attitude when you’ve bought up rates, thatyou’ll just be able to subdivide?

Aroha: Yes, that is their attitude: “Well yes, but your land will be very valuable, you’ll be ableto subdivide”. You know, land has only got a value when it’s for sale. Otherwise there is nildollar value, that’s what we said. We know that they’re for sale, and we should be looking ata national park for New Zealand, we should be buying the whole of it.

In discussions of options for Ocean Beach’s future, a regional or national park wasenthusiastically supported by many members of the public. Not only would acquisitionof the land for a park safeguard public interests (e.g. the enjoyment of an open and wildlandscape), it would do so by transferring private titles to a public authority. The currentowners would receive a ‘fair’ price (it was widely assumed this would be accepted), andproperty rights would be traded, not abrogated:

If the developers were told they weren’t able to do a significant amount of developing, theoption of buying the land would be proposed to them . . . I don’t know what [the developer]paid for the land, but I’d say he would be paid more by Council than he bought it for in the firstplace, so that would cover financial compensation. But I suppose rather than seeing it ascompensation, I would like to see it as an investment by the public (Lee).

If someone said “let’s buy them out for $30 million and build a regional park there” they wouldbe handsomely compensated. That’s compensation! . . . My favourite option, my reallyfavourite option, would be if the Hastings District Council tells them they can’t develop outthere, buys the land for extraordinary value, you know an extraordinarily high value, and thenrates the local ratepayers a special rate. So that every year we all have to pay several hundreddollars to pay off the developers, every year remind us what a cancer these people are!(Terrence).

Terrence’s remarks expressed a view that was shared by a minority of respondents, butwas not generally articulated in such dramatic terms: namely, that in proposing suchsignificant change for Ocean Beach, the developers had acted in a manner totally

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inconsistent with socially responsible use of property rights. While interviewees weregenerally supportive of these rights, in the conditional form outlined above, a smallnumber were sufficiently frustrated by what was proposed that they suggested theowner-developers had (almost) forfeited their rights due to greed and irresponsibility.Thus Bonnie, after a lengthy deliberation on appropriate levels of compensation thatmight be offered to the owners in return for no development, concluded: ‘I don’t carethat they own the land and their so-called rights . . . They should have known better,they’re not behaving like decent human beings . . . I think under the circumstances itshould be that the individual’s rights are overruled by a greater wisdom, for the greatergood’.

Such comments were an exception to the general rule that respondents thoughtcompeting interests at Ocean Beach could be resolved within the existing planning/resource management framework. This system allowed for a variety of outcomes,including low-density subdivision under current zoning rules and the possibility of thepublic interest being realized through government purchase of the land in question.Maori participants did not reject or challenge this system, but noted that it could poseunique challenges for Maori landowners, whose land is rated, but is not necessarily acommodity that will ever be exchanged on the land market.

ConclusionOpponents of development at Ocean Beach fear that the values they attach to the site’snatural environment — and to its informal social atmosphere — will be lost if planningpermission is granted for an intensive coastal town. In raising these concerns, membersof the local community have articulated a collective claim to the coastal environment thatundercuts conventional understandings of private property rights. This claim is voicedwithin a statutory framework intended to restrict urban development in the coastal zone,and to empower local communities in matters of resource management. In this milieu,there is certainly contestation of claims and arguments, but no a priori dismissal of theinterests of non-owners, nor any suggestion that only would-be developers have rights tospeak, and be heard (cf. Blomley, 2004: 45).

It follows from these observations that, in broad terms, property rights at Ocean Beachtend to be understood within a ‘planning and resource management model’, rather thanan ‘ownership model’. This is not necessarily surprising, given that planning law in NewZealand has long recognized, and legitimated, some public interests in privately ownedland. Nevertheless, pro-development arguments around the order and propriety that willaccompany the ‘settling’ of land at Ocean Beach invoke a familiar, and exclusionary,theme — namely, ‘the replacement of a marginal anticommunity (nonproperty owning,transitory, and problematicized) by an active, responsible, and improving population ofhomeowners’ (Blomley, 2004: 89). Such rhetoric is strongly contested by many of thoseopposed to substantial development; for this group, responsible exercise of propertyrights is understood to preclude development that seeks radical physical and socialchange.

Development of private property at the coast is always likely to attract criticalpublic attention, by virtue of the sensitivity of the physical environment, and thehuman values attached to it. While such concerns are certainly pertinent at OceanBeach, they exist alongside a strong narrative about the social character of NewZealand beaches and coastal landscapes. Given positive understandings of establisheduses of the environment, a new urbanist master-plan promising an inclusive,conservation-oriented community within mixed-density ‘villages’ and a ‘hamlet’ hadlittle appeal for most respondents. Indeed, the design was seen as not only foreign toNew Zealand, given its American origins, but also out of keeping with acceptable usesof the local environment.



Proposed development at Ocean Beach, then, has raised an array of questions, manyrelating to the meaning of property ownership and rights. These are typically understoodin highly contextual and social ways — connected to both the distinctive materiality ofthe site and morally informed notions of propriety (see Brown, 2007). In developingmore nuanced models of property, which better reflect contemporary practice (Sax,2001), such considerations must be kept to the fore. This is not to say that the institutionof private property has been divested of its considerable political and legal power. AtOcean Beach, the ‘fact’ of private ownership certainly remains consequential — and alsounlikely to change, given the vast expense that any formal transfer to public ownershipwould entail. A critical question, therefore, concerns the outcome of public decision-making for the site: will it reflect community voices, as well as the apparent statutoryimperative of protecting natural values at the coast? Or will the decision be testament tothe enduring (if somewhat battered) ‘logic’ of private property?

Damian Collins ([email protected]), Department of Earth and AtmosphericSciences, University of Alberta, Edmonton, Alberta T6G 2E3, Canada.

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RésuméCet article porte sur une démarche contestée d’aménagement côtier en Nouvelle-Zélande, ainsi sur les incidences de la réglementation gouvernementale et del’inquiétude de la population, pour mieux comprendre le sens de la propriété. Sur le planempirique, il s’intéresse à une vaste urbanisation nouvelle proposée sur le site d’OceanBeach situé dans la région de Hawke’s Bay dans l’île du Nord. L’étude tire ses donnéesde trois sources principales: rapports publiés, soumissions publiques auprès du conseil,et entretiens avec un groupe représentatif de personnes impliquées dans le processus



d’aménagement. L’opposition au complexe s’articule autour de trois grands domainesde préoccupation: les changements physiques et sociaux radicaux qu’occasionneraientsubdivision et construction; les craintes de perdre la maîtrise d’un paysage local prisé;un sens de la propriété reposant sur des valeurs morales. Le modèle de propriétéimmobilière ne s’impose pas particulièrement à Ocean Beach; on y trouve plutôt unlarge consensus pour que les droits de propriété privée existent dans un cadred’aménagement public. C’est ce cadre qui contribue en grande partie à garantir quesoient entendues les voix de la communauté opposées à l’aménagement immobilierd’Ocean Beach (ou sur tout autre site côtier). Néanmoins les droits de propriété privéesont rarement complètement rejetés.

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Documents

Contesting Property Development in Coastal New Zealand: A Case Study of Ocean Beach, Hawke's Bay