Apex — out of sight, out of mind?

Every town and city in the world deals, essentially, with the same problems: housing; the cost of services; urban sprawl; pollution; and the desires and needs of its various components.

Over the centuries there have been hundreds, possibly thousands, of proposed ways of dealing with each. Some worked, most did not. The sad situation is that when a ‘solution’ is acted upon that does not work, the result is long lasting and often creates far larger and deeper problems.

One needs only to look at such ‘solutions’ as the projects in large urban centers that were seen to have been the answer to housing shortages and dispersed community linkages. This supposed crowning achievement in urban planning and architecture resulted in a ghettoized fringe of society rife with crime, poverty and unrest.

Or perhaps look at the much-sought-after ‘solution’ of the suburbs. Huge tracts of virgin land cleared to create row-upon-row of nearly identical homes that sprung up seemingly overnight. Thousands of families were instantly housed in middle to high-income boxes, fostering the cult of the suburb.

In a city such as Iqaluit, with such a small population and seemingly so far from the urban culture of the South, it is amazing to see the same things taking place.

As Iqaluit expands and seeks ways of meeting its multitude of needs and dreams, there are undoubtedly a variety of options and paths to take. The hurdles that stand between a problem or a dream and a possible solution are tall and often anchored to the ground with long rusted bolts of inertia, suspicion, budget concerns and the unspoken goals of unseen players. The result is often that the hurdles are not jumped at all, but used as excuses not to move beyond them.

As a resident of Apex it is disheartening to witness the relegation of its lands to the dispossessed of Iqaluit. Recently, two of the very few lots available within the small community were blanketed with pads of gravel – a rapidly dwindling commodity in our city – to make home for two identical houses that arrived on flatbeds from somewhere else.

These tiny houses, commonly referred to as ‘512’s’ are leftovers from a long-ago attempt to create housing in the North. These cramped, ill-planned and substandard units rarely meet the needs of their inhabitants and appear as blights on the landscape. In fact, they do not even meet the federal government minimum-size requirements for a one-bedroom apartment, and these houses have two bedrooms.

Rarely, apart from a country relegated to the third-world, would a house of five hundred and twelve square feet be considered an adequate solution to a family’s needs. Even if the buildings were new they would not suffice. However, here they are. Plucked from what was most likely prime real-estate, these run-down examples of subsistence living are thrust into the fabric of Apex, a community already fighting the issues of ghettoism and inadequate representation.

The sheer cost of moving these buildings and making them livable must certainly have been a factor for their relocation. A house of that size, if someone actually decided to build such a monstrosity, would only cost, at today’s rates, in the area of $76,000. The cost of moving them probably lies in that area.

The creation of housing is not simply a matter of erecting floors, walls and a roof for a select group of inhabitants. It should be an issue of creating a home for those people and building a relationship with the environment that the house resides within. As an architect, I have struggled for several years to make headway in the area of holistic and healthy housing and public buildings.

It should not be a choice, and indeed, does not have to be, to design and build energy-efficient, comfortable, and usable homes that are not only attractive and add to their surroundings, but are also cost-effective. Contrary to the belief held by those who ultimately make the decisions, building an environmentally friendly, efficient, attractive and modern building that respects the tundra, works with the weather and helps to define an Arctic architecture, can be done for the same cost or less than the typical homes being built today in Iqaluit.

In a time when we have to be more conscious of our energy consumption, use of natural materials, pollution, the health of our people, and the bottom line, there is no excuse for perpetuating the mistakes of a past generation of buildings. The two houses that are now firmly established on huge beds of tundra-destroying gravel fly in the face of these objectives. This is a classic case of thinking small and acting small when so much more could be achieved with only a little more effort.

With no services, at least five derelict or abandoned buildings, limited police presence and a lack of a dedicated sounding board for voicing concerns within City Hall, Apex has often been the perfect place to deposit the parent-city’s unwanted or outdated in an effort to gentrify and appease the thirst of the enterprising.

It is no wonder that the inhabitants of Apex have a hard time controlling the flow of unresolved and unanswered issues that have been gnawing at them. Public forums on specific topics degenerate into a litany of off-topic grievances. While this may appear fruitless and the ranting of a small group of people, this is a symptom of a fringe area that has been belittled in the name of making Iqaluit a better place.

The arrival of the two, aged, substandard housing units in Apex comes only weeks after there was an attempted public meeting by City Council at the Abe Okpik Hall to discuss the disposal of four troubled lots in the community. While this meeting was adjourned after only fifteen minutes due to the lack of translation services, there was an obvious apprehension with regard to the disposal of the lots.

While the lots have been deemed developable, and are surveyed and open for residential development, the meeting was essentially one of courtesy, as the City has no obligation to conduct a public meeting on this issue. The citizens of Apex were concerned over the manner that the lots would be rehabilitated to facilitate new housing and what sort of housing might spring up.

A couple years ago, Apex voiced serious objection to the relocation of two trailers, as these not only went against city zoning by-laws but also detracted even further from the atmosphere of the community. Now with four new lots possibly available, the residents are concerned that more substandard quality housing would be developed.

A couple weeks later the 512’s arrived, only substantiating the fears of the people of Apex.

As Iqaluit struggles to deal with urban sprawl, downtown rehabilitation and meeting the needs of the middle to high-income inhabitants, it should be careful not to walk in the footsteps of the decision-makers of other cities. Apex is quickly becoming the home of the ‘out-of-sight, out-of-mind.’ It is neither a suburb of Iqaluit nor considered a vital part of the parent-city’s vitality.

It is undisputed that housing is needed and Apex is not an insular, xenophobic community that wishes to stand in the way of creating homes and welcoming people who wish to add to Apex’s strong identity and sense of community. It simply does not want to be the unheeded dumping ground for what Iqaluit does not want or must move to make itself better.

The continued backward steps of Nunavut’s housing situation, not in its creation of houses, but in the kind of houses it makes available, is a sad state of affairs for any community but here in this small place where we live, even the smallest, ill-thought out moves make a big difference.

Robert G. Billard
Apex