land_fill_wastescape



© Paula Schüler


Orthophoto 1994 X-GIS, Estonian Land Board



































© Paula Schüler, 
Based on aerial photos X-GIS, Estonian Land Board

 

© Timmo Mahlke



© Paulina Gilsbach



© Melissa Lee 



© Tizian Wojan



© Paulina Gilsbach



© Paulina Gilsbach
Kopli Hill is 30 meters high. From the top, there is a good view of the Paljassaare peninsula and the Baltic Sea. On one side you will see detached houses at the foot of the hill. On the other side, there is a red brick industrial building, which used to be a ceramic factory. After blue clay was discovered in the area, the ceramic factory was established by the Russian Tsar Peter the Great in the early 18th century to produce bricks and decorative construction materials. These materials were used to build the Kadriorg Palace and were also exported to St. Petersburg [1].

It is hard to imagine that today’s hill was once a human-made deep hole in the ground, a remnant of the massive clay extraction through mining [2, p. 14]. When the clay resources were exhausted, the hole turned into a landfill in 1996, operated by a private company [2, p. 14]. The aim was to fill the hole to prevent it from swallowing the nearby houses through landslides [2, p. 2]. However, after the hole was filled, landfilling continued, and over the years, a hill made of waste began to grow. In 2016, the landfill reached its capacity [3] and was closed in the following years. Today, the hill is used as an unofficial recreational area, although it still holds the status of a site for waste disposal [4], and its toxic legacy continues to influence its further development.

The sociologist Zsuzsta Gille introduces the term “waste regime” in her book From the Cult of Waste to the Trash Heap of History to reflect the changing politics of waste in relation to political, social, and economic transformations in society, particularly from socialism to post-socialism in Hungary. She writes: “Social institutions determine what waste is and not just what resources are considered valuable by society, and these institutions regulate the production and distribution of waste in tangible ways. Waste regimes differ from each other according to the production, representation, and politics of waste” [5, p. 34]. Waste regimes are not static but can change over time [5, p. 34], and considering waste requires an understanding of its materiality, spatiality, and temporality [5, p. 17].

Building on Gille’s work, the anthropologist Francisco Martínez describes the concept as follows: “Waste and society are mutually constitutive through ‘waste regimes’ (Gille 2007), being part of a larger set of epistemological assumptions, norms, and social conventions. Different relations to waste indicate different relations to profit, thus revealing shifting cultural values and processes of world-making” [6, p. 20].

In my previous project The Order of Disorder, my group and I were already concerned with Paljassaare’s role as a place for waste disposal. For this project, titled land_fill_wastescape, I focused on Kopli Hill, a hill made of discarded material. I used Gille’s and Martínez’s work as resources for my research to pose the question: What kinds of waste regimes become visible through Kopli Hill?

When I started my re search, I collected aerial photos that document the changes to the hill over the years. The scale of human intervention and soil movement fascinated me and led me to expand my interest to the question: What kinds of landscapes are created through certain waste regimes?

The result is an audio walk that invites listeners to experience the site bodily by walking through it while learning about the development of Kopli Hill and its relationship to changing waste politics in Estonia. The walk leads around the hill, past residential buildings, and asks participants to climb the hill, where the Paljassaare Peninsula becomes visible, inviting further reflection on the emergence of wastescapes. The walk is accompanied by a booklet that documents aerial photos over the years and provides maps illustrating the changes in waste regimes, while also allows consideration of future wastescapee





Listen here  


© Paula Schüler



Disposing Materials

The company ÖU Slops disposed construction and demolition materials in the former clay pit, including bricks, stones, asphalt, sand, wood, concrete, soil, scrap metal, and old tires [2, p. 8]. As the pit was filled, a hill of discarded materials began to grow.

When entering the site from Maleva Street, you will walk upon asbestos and the excavated soil from the foundation of KUMU, the Estonian Museum of Modern Art, which were buried next to the landfill. The foundation material of KUMU is a naturally occurring type of shale that is radioactive and can self-combust upon contact with air. Both the asbestos and shale were covered with clay and soil to prevent further contamination and self-combustion. These materials are classified as hazardous waste, and digging into the ground should be strictly avoided [7, p. 35].


Gille writes: “People categorize waste in different ways, based on spatial, symbolic, economic, legal, or technical aspects. Categorizing rubbish also depends on the waste management system, which itself creates specific epistemic categories” [5, p. 131]. Categories such as hazardous and non-hazardous waste, which require different rules for their treatment. During my research, I read many environmental reports and planning documents related to the closure of the landfill. These documents revealed soil contamination on neighboring plots with heavy metals and petroleum products [7, p. 49]. The hill was leaching, as rainwater entered the soil and carried substances into the surrounding area [7, p. 49]. However, most of the waste in the hill is classified as non-hazardous.

The audiowalk guides along a narrow path where the backyards of residential buildings come into view. The initial purpose of filling the clay pit was to protect these houses from landslide, but as landfill operations continued conflicts arose over the years. In 2014, a citizen initiative formed by local residents, which demanded the closure of the landfill. In a newspaper article, they claimed that not only construction and demolition materials were dumped here, but other types of waste also ended up in their gardens. Additionally, the dust from the landfill made it impossible to open windows during the summer [8].



Growing Hill(s)

Setting the Kopli Hill in the broader perspective of landfilling in Estonia, the Environmental Ministry designated the years 1999 to 2009 as the "Decade of Landfilling" [9]. After Estonia regained independence in 1991, numerous landfills emerged across the country. A map based on data from the ministry illustrates the density of landfills in Estonia between 2001 and 2023 [10]. The lack of recycling infrastructure, the emergence of new materials, and the low or nonexistent costs for landfilling contributed to this development. Furthermore, the privatization of the waste sector in the 1990s led to reduced state control over waste disposal [9]. Additionally, there were numerous illegal landfills which are not on the map [9].

                                                 
                                                                                       Landfills in Estonia 2001-2023
           
© Paula Schüler, based on map by Keskkonnaportaal [10]


The researchers Francisco Martínez and Kaia Beilmann describe how the perception of progress and modernity is closely linked to the question of how waste is managed. Changes in waste management can signify a shift from one political system to another [11]. And the transition from the Soviet period to the post-Soviet era was marked by a discourse centered on "cleaning up" the Soviet past, eliminating the perceived wastefulness of the Soviet Union with its decaying infrastructure, hazardous industries, and environmental pollution [6, p. 19, 25].


To align with European standards in waste management, efforts were made to reform Estonia’s waste policies in preparation for European Union membership in 2004 [11, p. 1353]. In the year of EU accession, the clay pit was filled, but operations continued [2, p. 20]. A closure report, released in 2009 on behalf of the company Slops, stated that according to waste legislation, a landfill must close once it reaches its designated capacity [2, p. 10]. For the Kopli Hill landfill, this capacity was set at a height of 30 meters, allowing operations to continue until the limit was reached [2, p. 20].

As I reviewed the documents, it became clear that the growth of Kopli Hill is strongly linked to the construction sector. The closure report indicated that the growing demand in the construction industry in the early 2000s created a need to dispose of not only leftover materials but also hazardous waste [2, p. 8]. The fact that it took seven additional years to reach the designated height shows the interconnection between the construction sector, economic trends, and waste production. The economic crisis of 2009 led to a decline in new construction projects and fewer demolitions, which extended the landfill’s lifespan [8].

When the hill reached its designated height, it was covered in 2017 with soil and planted with trees, grass, and bushes to stabilize its structure [2]. Methane collectors were installed within the hill to manage gases produced by the decomposition of organic material by microorganisms [2, p. 35]. I imagine the hill as a living organism, continuously producing landfill gases through these natural processes.



Emerging Wastescapes

During my research, I came across the term wastescape, which refers to landscapes shaped by waste [12, p. 2]. Viewing the world through the lens of wastescapes gave me the sensitivity to recognize the role of landfilling in shaping landscapes over centuries.

From the top of Kopli Hill, one can see the Paljassaare Peninsula. Historically, this area consisted of two islands that were connected by the Russian Empire through the filling of the sea with excavated soil from the construction of a new military port [13, p. 15]. Another recent landfilling project visible from the hill is a Kaelajärv. This artificial lake was created by separating part of the sea through the construction of a dam made from construction and demolition waste. The lake served as a rainwater reservoir. When I participated in the speculative urban development project ECOBAY, I learned that the lake had been partially and illegally filled with construction waste to create more land for apartment buildings [14].

I conclude that landfilling can take many forms and serve different purposes: filling holes created by resource extraction, as seen with Kopli Hill; disposing of leftover materials; or creating land for economic purposes, as demonstrated in Paljassaare. This practice is closely tied to waste regimes. In Estonia, filling holes with discarded construction and demolition materials is categorized as recycling [15]. As a result, the construction sector boasts a recycling rate of almost 90%, which is exceptionally high compared to other sectors in the country [15]. However, these materials do not end up on new construction sites but are instead used to fill voids.

Waste regimes give rise to diverse wastescapes—making islands, filling holes, and creating hills. In Tallinn, we have a hill made from construction and demolition materials, while in eastern Estonia, in the county of Ida-Virumaa, there are hills made of ash. The term hill does not fully capture the scale of these wastescapes—they are mountains. During the Diagonal trip to the oil shale mines in eastern Estonia, we climbed one of these mountains made from ash, the byproduct of burned oil shale used for fossil energy production. These human-made ash mountains left a lasting impression on me, both appalling and fascinating at the same time.

Through their materiality, wastescapes exhibit a certain agency and require ongoing maintenance. Wastescapes also have their own temporality: Kopli Hill must be monitored and measured for 30 years Currently, the hill is owned by the company Slops, which is responsible for its maintenance. However, in the future, ownership of the site is expected to be transferred to the municipality [16, p. 3].

The legacy of Kopli Hill continues to influence its future development. Heavy construction on the hill is not possible. According to the general plan for northern Tallinn, the hill is intended to become a recreational area, while the surrounding plots will be developed for industrial and commercial purposes. Due to soil contamination, food production [7, p.49] is prohibited in the vicinity, and recreational facilities such as playgrounds would require soil replacement [7, p 49].

With my research, I can underline Martinez’s notion, that waste can connect past, present, and future [6, p. 25].

Changing Waste Regimes

Municipal responsibilities, the establishment of waste collection points, and changes in taxation were introduced. However, recycling rates in Estonia remain low, and the country is at risk of facing fines from the European Union for failing to meet recycling targets for municipal waste [16]. The map landfill sites from 2023 show a significant reduction in the number of landfills, but the total volume of landfilled waste has not decreased substantially. The main reason for this is that 96% of Estonia’s waste which is landfilled is generated by the energy sector [17] resulting in massive ash hills, which are prominently visible as large dots on maps of eastern Estonia.


                                                                            Landfills in Estonia 2023



© Paula Schüler, based on map by Keskkonnaportaal [10]

At the same time, in connection with the trend towards a circular economy, the era of mining has begun again. Studies have shown the potential of landfill mining in Estonia, a practice in which former landfills are reopened to recover valuable resources [18]. Mining marked the beginning of the Kopli Hill and can transform the created wastescapes again.

While my analysis in this project cannot provide a comprehensive picture of the shifting waste regimes in Estonia, the concept is valuable for understanding how changing political, economic, and social rules shape landscapes. The perspective of waste regimes allows to consider and uncover the multiple layers of waste production and disposal, as well as how these processes transform landscapes over time.
      


© Paulina Gilsbach
References

[1] A. Vill. “Keraamikatehas ootab 293. Töökevadet,” ohtulet. 08.03.2024. https://www.ohtuleht.ee/572556/keraamikatehas-ootab-293-tookevadet (last access 18.12.2024). 

[2] AS Maves. “OÜ Slops tavajäätmeprügila sulgemiskava keskkonnamõju hindamine aruanne” Tallinn. 2009.

[3] R. Kreek. “Ümbruskonna elanikke häiriva Kopli prügila maht sai täis” Delphi ährilet. 28.08.2016. https://arileht.delfi.ee/artikkel/75465907/umbruskonna-elanikke-hairiva-kopli-prugila-maht-sai-tais. (last access 18.12.2024). 

[4] Estonian Landboard. Pacel Nr. 78408:808:0460. Intended use. https://xgis.maaamet.ee/xgis2/page/app/maainfo. (last access 18.12.2024).  

[5] Z. Gille, From the Cult of Waste to the Trash Heap of History: The Politics of Waste in Socialist and Post-Socialist Hungary. Bloomington: Indiana University Press. 2007

[6] F. Martínez. Remains of the Soviet past in Estonia. UCL Press. 2018.

[7] Adepte Ekspert. Strategic environmental assessment of the detailed plan for Maleva tn 4 and adjacent area. Tallinn. 2017.

[8] R. Sulbi. „«Pealtnägija»: Tallinna linn pööras kodanikualgatuse enda propagandaks“ Postimees 29.10.2024. https://www.postimees.ee/2972621/pealtnagija-tallinna-linn-pooras-kodanikualgatuse-enda-propagandaks. (last access 18.12.2024).  

[9] P. Eek “Decade of the Landfills: Implementation of EU Landfill Directive in Estonia 1999-2009”. Presentation for FEAD Seminar. 15.05.2009. https://www.rmel.ee/wp-content/uploads/2015/12/PEekFEAD.pdf. (last access 18.12.2024).

[10] Keskkonnaportaal. Eesti Prügilad. 2001-2023. https://keskkonnaportaal.ee/et/teemad/jaatmed/ladestamine. (last access 18.12.2024). 

[11] F. Martínez/ K. Beilmann, “Waste and postsocialism in Estonia: Becoming European through the management of rubbish,”Politics and Space. Vol. 38(7–8). Pp. 1348–1366. 2020. DOI: 10.1177/2399654420925083. 

[12] L. Amenta/ A, Van Timmermann. “Beyond Wastescapes: Towards Circular Landscapes. Addressing the Spatial Dimension of Circularity through the Regeneration of Wastescapes.” Sustainability 2018, 10(12). Pp. 1-25. https://doi.org/10.3390/su10124740.

[13] T. Pikner. “Poliitilised ökoloogiad ja antropotseen urbaansuse pingeväljade maastikes”. Mäetagused 84:7-36. Pp. 7-36. DOI: 10.7592/MT2022.84.pikner. 

[14] J. Teder. “Paljassaare pahandus: suurärimees lükkas megaarenduse lootuses järve kinni.” Äripäev. 11.09.23. https://www.aripaev.ee/uudised/2023/09/11/paljassaare-pahandus-suurarimees-lukkas-megaarenduse-lootuses-jarve-kinni. (last access 18.12.2024). 

[15] M. Koch. “Government looking to boost construction waste recycling“ ERR News. 18.08.23.  https://news.err.ee/1609067600/government-looking-to-boost-construction-waste-recycling. (last access 18.12.24). 

[16] ERR News. “Audit Office: Estonia risks EC proceedings, fines for waste recycling failure.” 26.06.2024 https://news.err.ee/1609382051/audit-office-estonia-risks-ec-proceedings-fines-for-waste-recycling-failure. (last access 22.12.2024). 

[17] Keskkonnaagentuur. Landfilling and Recovering of waste. 2021. https://keskkonnaagentuur.ee/en/estonian-environmental-indicators/estonian-environmental-indicators/waste#landfilling-and-reco. (last access 19.12.2024). 

[18] M Hogland/ D., Āriņa/ M.  Kriipsalu, et al. „Remarks on four novel landfill mining case studies in Estonia and Sweden”.  J Mater Cycles Waste Manag 20 2018, pp. 1355–1363. https://doi.org/10.1007/s10163-017-0683-48.
 



  
2024
                                                   
URBAN STUDIES - EKA
                                                    
PALJASSAARE    TALLINN, ESTONIA.