The Life and Death of the Australian Backyard

By Tony Hall

A substantial backyard has long been considered an iconic feature of the Australian suburb. Nevertheless, during the 1990s, a dramatic change occurred: substantial backyards largely disappeared from new suburban houses in Australia.

Whatever the size of lot, the dwelling now covers most of its developable area. Although the planning system does not actually promote this change, it does little to prevent it. It appears to be a physical expression of the way that Australian lifestyles are changing for the worse, in particular longer working hours. This in turn raises issues about health and wellbeing, especially for children.

Vegetation surrounding the dwelling plays an important role in microclimate, storm drainage and biodiversity, irrespective of whether the residents use their backyard. Its loss has serious ecological implications, a deficit rendered permanent by the changes to the housing stock.

The Life and Death of the Australian Backyard is based on a detailed quantitative study of this increasing, but previously unstudied, problem. It discusses the nature, uses and meaning of the traditional backyard, presents an understanding of the changes that have been happening and suggests possible remedies. All professionals working in the landscape and development industries, local government, consultancies and in universities should read this unique study of an issue of increasing significance to urban sustainability.

• Language: English
• Publisher: CSIRO PUBLISHING
• Release date: Aug 9, 2010
• ISBN: 9780643102071

Book preview

Preface and acknowledgements

Although the humble backyard may not appear, at first sight, to be a productive topic for academic research or professional practice, it has recurred throughout my career as a matter needing investigation – sometimes almost forcing itself upon me. On each occasion it has produced results of significance and interest. When I arrived in Australia in 2004, the topic was far from my mind, as I had no prior knowledge of the issue of the disappearing backyard. It was when I was staying temporarily with friends in the Brisbane suburb of Carina that the issue came to my notice. Not having a car at my disposal, I walked around the neighbourhood on foot. Many of the local houses were Queenslanders dating from the 1940s and 1950s while others were of a later period, but influenced by this style. They had gardens front and back featuring substantial trees and bushes. There was also a lot of urban infill with houses of more recent vintage. I gradually began to notice that these newer dwellings had very little space at the back and sides. They had very little in the way of backyards: something I had never seen before in a suburban context. There was one new estate, described in Chapter 3 of this book, which struck me as being extreme in its design. Not only was there almost no space at all at the back, but the houses had few windows, and those windows that they did have were tinted and none were very large. The streetscape was dominated by open-plan lawns and garage doors. The contrast with the older houses was so marked that it seemed that something extraordinary was going on here and I must find out more about it.

I had undertaken some research on both back and front gardens in Britain at different stages in my career, and an investigation of what I was now seeing would continue this interest. However, even at this stage, I did not fully realise down what paths the research would take me. It subsequently became clear that the reduction in space at the back did not just relate to changes in house design, but also to a whole range of topics across a wide range of disciplines. In one direction were issues relating to the environmental sciences, such as biodiversity and microclimate. Another set of issues came from the behavioural and social sciences, especially increasing working hours and family problems arising from them. In yet another direction were health issues relating to activity in, and outlook upon, a private garden.

By examining aerial photographs, I discovered that the phenomenon was widespread throughout Australia. I also found that I was able to abstract useful empirical data by taking measurements from the same photographs. As time went on, contact with other academics over a wide range of disciplines put me in touch with literature that eventually cohered into a complete, and extremely disturbing, picture of both social and environmental change. Many may find my conclusions controversial, or even provocative, but the purpose of this book is to start debate. Most of the time, I seemed to be the only person raising the issues that concerned me. I was therefore grateful for the interest shown by the media and the support that was shown as a result. I was also grateful for the support from a large number of academic and professional colleagues. We are just at the beginning of an important discussion that should affect many people’s lives. Even though the focus of the book is on the situation in Australia, there are also important lessons here for other countries.

The breadth of the inquiry has meant that I am indebted to a large number, and a wide range, of people. In expressing my thanks and acknowledgements, though, pride of place must go to Jeffrey Mead. This book was originally conceived as a joint effort and, although my own contribution is now predominant, the book contains a substantial amount of Jeff’s work. His contribution is taken directly from his prize-winning undergraduate study of the Australian backyard produced in 2000 as part of his studies at the University of New South Wales. Although of remarkable quality, its contents were never published at the time. Almost all of Chapter 2 and significant parts of Chapters 1, 5 and 6 are his own work.

Jeff’s work formed one of the two original foundations of the book. The other was my own research paper published in 2007 by the Urban Research Program at Griffith University where I am based. I am indebted to Professor Brendan Gleeson, the director of the Urban Research Program, for his continued support and appreciation and to Associate Professor Geoffrey Woolcock, senior research fellow within the Program, for information on the socio-economic aspects of the issues. For the biodiversity issues, I am grateful for the support of Associate Professor Darryl Jones of the Environmental Futures Centre at Griffith University and the information he was able to provide.

For academic references over the wide front of environment, landscape and health issues, the comprehensive compilation The Green We Need by Professor Allyson Holbrook of Newcastle University (Holbrook 2009) has been invaluable, as have references supplied by Greg McPherson of the US Department of Agriculture Forest Service and Dr Stephen Livesley of the University of Melbourne. A number of professional officers of local councils have also been very helpful in providing both data and policy information and especial mention must be made of Martin Clark of Townsville, Sean Collingwood of Brisbane City Council and Garth Moore of the City of Ipswich Council. Many others across Australia, too numerous to list, have assisted from time to time with the enquiry and I hope that they will forgive me if I do not name them all individually.

Introduction

The disadvantages of the low-density car-based suburbs that now surround Australian cities are widely debated. These include facilities located to the disadvantage of non-car users, wasteful use of land, cost of infrastructure, time and energy expended on driving, low incidence of social contact and lack of exercise. Many Australians now choose to live in or near to the centres of cities and there is encouragement from planning policies and property market pressures for comparatively higher density living. Nevertheless, older Australian suburbs also have compensating advantages for both the residents and the wider community. Many are comparatively near to city centres and were built around a reasonable level of public transport access, especially by train. The presence of soft landscaping around the house provides a positive environmental advantage for the community as a whole.

The presence of trees provides shade: modifying the microclimate and giving aesthetic pleasure. There is a generally high degree of biodiversity. The planted areas also aid the process of storm drainage by retaining water and reducing run-off. Indeed, open space is synonymous with the traditional image of suburbia.

The most prominent form of suburban private open space is the backyard. Taking many shapes and forms, the backyard accommodates a variety of uses, conveys multiple meanings and in the past has been seen as ingrained in the psychological consciousness of the suburbanite. The backyard has been part of the suburban vernacular. It can function as an integral domestic and child-rearing space and a focus for a substantial number of recreational activities. The private amenity space around the dwelling can accommodate not just a garden for the pleasure of the occupants but also barbeque facilities and an in-ground swimming pool. These not only benefit the residents directly, but also facilitate social interaction with friends and neighbours. The backyard can be perceived as ‘open’ to the user to display individualism and enjoy privacy. Collectively, backyards are a vivid part of the suburban image and symbolise stability in an unpredictable urban environment.

There is also an important and symbiotic interaction between the backyard and the dwelling. The space around the house provides natural light and air. Back gardens provide a pleasant outlook that is part of the amenity of the house, even if the occupants were never to venture outside. In some parts of Australia, notably Queensland, use is made of verandas to provide outdoor living sheltered from the sun. Although both house and verandas are normally covered by a large roof, a significant part of the veranda space is open to the air and to the surroundings.

Nevertheless, residential developments from the mid-1990s onwards have displayed a disturbing trend. In the contemporary suburb, the function of the backyard is not being maintained and protected. There is very little private amenity space to the rear of the dwelling, or, in extreme cases, none at all. The dwelling now extends near to the boundary of the plot and, as a result, near to adjoining dwellings. The backyard as conventionally conceived is no longer provided. The design and layout of the dwellings has also become problematic. Although the houses are predominantly single-storey, with only a proportion rising to one-and-a-half or two storeys, the outlook from the house is obstructed by a high surrounding fence. Windows are few and often small and tinted. There is little in the way of balconies and verandas. The design is square or deep-plan, and incorporates an integral double garage: greatly reducing the scope for natural lighting and ventilation. Often, only one room provides an outlook to the front, limiting surveillance of the street. While the disadvantages of suburban living still apply, the outdoor amenities have all but disappeared.

The scale and timing of this change has been little short of dramatic. A look out of the window of an aircraft, or the examination of aerial photos, immediately reveals the clear contrast between older residential areas dominated by vegetation and newer estates that are nearly roof-to-roof. Surprisingly, there has been little written about this phenomenon and little debate in the media. It is closely associated with a trend towards larger houses, often derided in the media as ‘McMansions’ whose design attracts adverse comments. Their small backyards are, however, rarely mentioned, if at all. In every day conversation, if the matter crops up at all, the view may be expressed that ‘people do not want gardens any more’ and that it is just a matter of consumer fashion. For the most part, though, the general public appears unaware of the scale of the phenomenon.

Somewhat ironically, some of the small body of writers on the history and form of Australian backyards have argued for their inevitability as part of Australian culture and lifestyle. Other authors have expressed the fear that moves towards higher residential densities – in pursuit of more compact cities, with less demand for motorised travel – will lead to a loss of urban green space. Others believe that such a loss is inevitable if urban consolidation is to be achieved. None, though, confront the actual nature and scale of what is now occurring.

This book attempts to fill the gap by considering the nature of the phenomenon, the reasons why it is occurring and the possible remedies for it. Two studies have led up to it. The first (Mead 2000) studied examples from Sydney suburbs through aerial photographs and direct interviews. It was concerned that the valuable characteristics of the Australian backyard were being lost through moves towards urban consolidation. The second (Hall 2007a) examined a selection of examples of urban form from Adelaide, Brisbane, Melbourne, Perth and Sydney through the analysis of aerial photographs. This study arose from the author’s shock at encountering some of the examples now described in this book on his arrival in Australia in 2004. Dimensions of the lot boundaries and dwelling footprints, and their relative dispositions, were measured from the aerial views. The analyses revealed the dramatic nature of the physical characteristics of the newer suburban form, without significant backyards, which stood out starkly in comparison with the older residential areas. Examination of aerial photographs of newer suburban development in Europe, New Zealand, USA and Canada appeared to show that the situation experienced in Australia did not occur there, or at least not on the same scale.

The investigation that formed the basis for this book took the measurements further, with more detail and more examples. The planning policies and regulations applying to the examples were also studied. Interestingly, no direct link between urban consolidation and the smaller backyards emerged. On the contrary, the problem seemed to be most marked in the low-density car-based developments on the very edge of the city. It appeared to be a more a question of larger houses than smaller lots. In contrast, examples from England showed that significant back gardens could be provided over a range of medium densities up to three times those in the Australian suburb. Studies of local plans and codes were undertaken to understand whether the reduction in the size of the backyard was encouraged by planning policy or, if not, why this was not prevented. The investigations showed that, although it does not appear to have been encouraged by planning policy and procedures, it was definitely not prevented by them. The policies offered very little resistance.

Why then have the large backyards been shrinking? An understanding of this question came from an apparently unrelated source: studies attempting to explain high rates of family break up in Australia. These investigations had documented the increase in working hours in Australia, which are now among the highest in the world. This offered a plausible explanation of why people were now prepared to live in houses with little space around them: they were rarely there in the daylight hours. The pattern that began to appear was one of changing lifestyles from the early 1990s onwards, which fitted exactly the trend in the backyards and the McMansions. It appeared that the shrinkage of the backyard was an outward physical manifestation of profound social and economic changes in Australian society.

What then can be done? Changes to the values of several of the quantities specified within plans and codes would largely correct the problem on the ground. However, the issue that requires more debate and empirical study is the change in Australian lifestyles that has brought about the minimisation of the backyard.

CHAPTER 1

The origins, form and function of

the backyard

Until comparatively recently, the backyard has been one of the dominant images ingrained in the psychological consciousness of the Australian suburbanite. Evolving from the negative space left over once a detached dwelling is imposed on a blank allotment, the yard symbolises a standard of domestic comfort to which the majority of Australians have traditionally aspired. The physical manifestation of the idealised large yard can be attributed to the way Australian cities have been surveyed and regulated, but the emotional and functional attachment to this space must be linked to a deeper underlying set of attitudes, which are substantially English in their origins.

The origins of the suburban backyard

Private gardens used for pleasure or for growing fruit and vegetables for a household go back to ancient times and can be found in nearly all sophisticated civilisations. However, up until the late 18th century, in most societies across the world, the decorative garden was normally the preserve of rich and powerful. Although the story of its evolution is an important and interesting one, the focus of the argument of this book is the private garden or yard possessed by the middle classes at least, if not the population at large. The story of the middle-class domestic garden is one that belongs to the history of suburban development during the 19th and 20th centuries.

The English back garden

Suburban development in general, and the garden suburb in particular, has its origins in the industrial cities of the mid 19th century, especially in Britain. The story has been told many times, but particularly accessible accounts have been provided by Helena Barrett and John Phillips in their book Suburban Style (Barrett and Phillips 1987) and Peter Hall’s many books, especially Cities of Tomorrow (Hall 2002). The invention of the steam-powered railway enabled the better-off to have houses built for them beyond the edge of the city and travel to and from it by train. The introduction of horse-drawn buses and trams, and later electric trams, enabled increasingly larger sections of the population to take advantage of this trend. Houses and gardens in suburban developments offered an escape from the pollution of the city. They also offered an approximation to the rural idyll: ‘a cottage in the country’. Such rural nostalgia was a 19th century urban phenomenon that is still with us today. In earlier centuries, agricultural dwellings in the countryside were regarded as, and usually were, primitive. It was the city that was urbane, civilised and cultured. In contrast, the 19th century industrial city was overcrowded and polluted and the idea of a house surrounded by trees and flowers became, in contrast, appealing. The low-density suburb was born.

However, as other European countries industrialised, this process did not necessarily occur to the same degree and with the same physical outcome as in England, because the growth of their major cities was still constrained by defensive earthworks. England had no such constraints. It was on an island and had seen its last land battle in the late 17th century. In consequence, the creation of a ‘house and garden’ form for large-scale suburban living became more extensive, and occurred at an earlier date, in England than in most of the rest of Europe. It was seen at the time as a remarkable innovation and was conveyed to German speaking readership by Muthesius in his influential book, Das Englische Haus (Muthesius 1908). Its effect on the form of London was well described by Rasmussen in his classic book, London: The Unique City (Rasmussen 1937).

The content and design of the 19th century English domestic garden provided much scope for invention and evolution, not to mention business opportunities for a growing body of entrepreneurs. Both Barrett and Phillips (1987) and Timms (2006) have drawn particular, and long overdue, attention to the work of John Loudon in the early part of the 19th century. He wrote books on domestic gardening, especially garden design, and founded and edited one of the first gardening magazines. He put out practical advice with great energy and also believed gardening:

‘… is a character-building activity that leads to morally upright citizens and healthy cohesive societies.’

Timms 2006

The mid-19th century garden was characterised by a profusion of formally arranged flowers with bright, sometimes gaudy, colours. Its evolution was aided by the import and discovery of new plant species from across the