The Generational Thinkers: Jannemarie de Jonge

Every month, design agency Verveeld � Verward interviews a leading, future ancestor from the design field about generational thinking. Dorine Baars and Jonas Martens delve deep with their inspirators, discussing substantive work, legacy, and generation-transcending design approaches. This time, they are allowed to visit Jannemarie de Jonge. Landscape architect, nature enthusiast, state advisor involved in the planning of the Netherlands, and owner of the spatial development agency Wing.

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Published on 22 January 2024
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The Generational Thinkers: Jannemarie de Jonge
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On the day the weather finally decided to embrace autumn, we set our course for Wageningen, both the knowledge centre of the living environment and, consequently, the calm residence of Jannemarie de Jonge. Sitting along a long, warm kitchen table from within a sunlit conservatory – we gaze upon a garden with at least two faces. To our left, a seemingly controlled greenery with a self-built greenhouse providing in tomatoes. On the other side, nature was deliberately left to its own devices. If you peered carefully through the ferns, you could have seen hedgehogs looking back. “If you don’t see that the landscape has been designed, that might be the biggest compliment,” says De Jonge. Three bowls of soup clatter on the kitchen table. Naturally, homegrown.

‘If we realise that we, as humans, are part of that very nature, we will not design the end-result, but the conditions.’

We are nature

Slurping, we ask about the inherent contradiction hidden in landscape architecture. The contrast in designing with and within nature. Human intervention in matters that would otherwise be resolved by nature itself—if we were to let it take its course. The contradiction lies in talking about nature, as we are nature, too. Design is essentially a reflective dialogue where you must ask (a) can it be done and (b) is it good. The design process is reflective judgement of facts and values. This is true within the living environment, where everything is large-scale, where everything often has a long and complex development time, and where it serves the general public. Here, dialogue with both the current and future society is of extra importance. And by society, she also means society with nature. In fact, we are nature, she emphasises. “If we realise that we, as humans, are part of that very nature, we will not design the end-result, but the conditions,” de Jonge explains. Healthy fundamental conditions. From there, loneliness among people as well as care for surface waters can be addressed, or any other topic for that matter. “If the soil is good, it doesn’t matter if we develop agriculture, a city, or a forest there.”

“We can’t go from A to B with the rules of A”. 

Air, water, and soil should determine our strategies: clean and in order. It must—and can—be that simple. Everything else logically follows from there. Form follows function. Humans as stewards, participants, guardians.

But we are stuck, and have been for quite some time. Stuck in our scientific models; at best, approximations of reality. Models that have frameworks, assume certain conditions, ideal circumstances, fixed values, and controllable variables. While reality is much richer and much more complex. To truly preserve nature, we must develop it – step outside models and frameworks, and accept complexity. According to Jannemarie, nature development means creating physical connections: bridging our green islands with biodiverse highways and country roads. In this way, a certain species of animal or plant from a little further away—who may have adapted slightly better to the new (weather) conditions—can provide a solution for the resilience and regeneration of the entire system.

Considering all of the above, Jannemarie de Jonge proposed an incredibly important ecological main structure back in the ’90s. This radical ecological main structure would provide a gigantic biodiverse and natural route in a significant part of the Netherlands. Now, 30 years later, that main natural structure has been developed in mere fragments only – only partly to plan, but missing a main and very important point of interconnectivity and regeneration. “I have become disillusioned with how plans work out in practice. You can’t really create an executable design on such a timescale,” says De Jonge. “When new political winds blow, the original drawings are swept off the table, no matter how well you have secured them within an organisation. “Those drawings must be able to change with the times, with the spirit of a new era.” The way to go is to design the conditions on which all new plans thrive.

In die zin spreekt m’n dochter voor een huidige generatie die zich meer en meer bewust is van onze rol en dat we ook iets in te leveren hebben - comfort, volle batterijen, droge voeten…
— Jannemarie de Jonge

B

And how do we truly embrace a transition that befits B? “For that, we really have to change our fundamental attitude; it may take generations.” Just as her father, an architect, stood for feasibility, with a great belief in technology and our ability to shape the world, she herself stood for the connection with nature and the intrinsic value of the natural system. Both speak for the prevailing sentiments within their own generation. Nowadays, it’s her daughter, a TU Delft student, focused on climate adaptation and innovation, who adds the behavioural component to physical design. The psychology of it and shaping appropriate rules. You may have thought of a perfect technical innovation, but it only breaks through when people accept and adopt it. “In that sense, my daughter speaks for a current generation that is increasingly aware of our role and that we also have something to give up—comfort, full batteries, dry feet…” De Jonge expresses the hope that this awareness continues and sees the deeply touching feeling underneath it, as a driving force for the transition towards a new attitude. This feeling sets change in motion. We dare to conclude from her words: to achieve something technocratic, we must do something very emotionally touching.

Growability

And if we are to change, the conditions of this change should be based on ‘growability,’ according to Jannemarie. Regeneration. The law of reciprocity. Considering a house can grow every 14 seconds in a forested Finland, can’t we also find a way to harvest our iPhones? Likewise, how do we grow a bridge or cultivate an entire city? We have long since moved away from nature conservation, but rather towards nature development; towards health and deep-rooted social values. True complexity. Not solvable by just a model. Design thinking is the key; constant iteration, improvement steps with current knowledge, a constant—sometimes painful — but reflective dialogue. At the very least it should be a public dialogue where stakeholders are a part of the design process. Essentially, a complex piece of music.

One of the more complex pieces that De Jonge faces is the protection of the Wadden Sea. Coastal protection and dike widening have become incredibly complex due to the large number of plots with even more owners and rules that vary from one square meter to the other. And although it is arranged this way, nature is actually the only true end-owner. Nature itself is the best and most ruthless designer there is. Plot or no plot. De Jonge tries to give her backbone as best as she can and to design that interplay between space and conditions. Seeking a unique balance, perhaps with a hidden insolubility. We must allow that movement, constant change, a rhythm.

We suddenly hear that same rhythm, as we listen to the recording of our conversation to write this article: a rhythmic, melodic tapping on the kitchen table. At the time, it went unnoticed – but the telephone lying on the wooden table did capture it – the pulsating, driven rhythm of De Jonge.

The interview series is part of Design for Generations: a comprehensive collection of projects, designs, traditions, and ideas that transcend generations. The interviews themselves are an exploration in the broadest sense; what does the term “generation thinking” mean for us as designers and developers? This series is both an internal and external quest that we, as designers, feel; when is something good for the real long term? Is our design industry the cause of short-term thinking when our business model is coming up with new things? What would we do differently if we better understood our role as ancestors, or how would decisions be different if we took into account the well-being of our distant family in our current choices? Is breaking the cycle of short-term thinking necessary at all, or have we already been too late for a long time? What is the legacy of our design world?

Design for Generations is a project by Verveeld � Verward, made possible by the World Design Embassies, and all the designers and thinkers who have contributed.

Design for Generations is een project van Verveeld � Verward, mede mogelijk gemaakt door de World Design Embassies en het College van Rijksadviseurs, en alle ontwerpers en denkers die hebben bijgedragen.

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