Building cities with our minds

Cities are colliding with such potent forces for change that the future of our urban landscape has never been harder to predict. First, there are unprecedented opportunities for infrastructure development in the form of stimulus spending money.  At the same time, a glance at the headlines in almost any major newspaper reflects a populace that is in the mood to hash out what it means to be a city and, more importantly, what we want it to mean in the immediate and long-term future.  A part of what is revving up the drive for a massive re-think of these issues must surely be a background awareness that our future can be nothing like our past.  The economic collapse of the past year and global fallout that will ring out for decades, a growing awareness of the precarious future of an existence based on fossil fuels, and sharp concerns about the sustainability of so many aspects of our current lifestyle have left many of us wondering whether we can even have a future.  Those of us with enough optimism to believe that we can find a way to muddle through are engaged in a furious struggle to figure out how best to pull it off.  Some of us hope, likely in vain, that some key piece of technology will fall into place that can provide cheap, clean and abundant energy sources that will allow us to carry on with the status quo.  Others are beginning to conclude that we need to look inwards to understand the big picture.  The shapes and forms of cities should reflect our psychology as much as our technology.  We may not be able to fundamentally change who we are, but understanding how our wants and needs can drive urban form may be the most important first step in finding a sustainable path to the future. 

It’s surprising how much of the critical debate about the future of the city concerns physical space and how we use and understand it.  What so attracts us to super-sized homes in the open spaces of the suburbs that we are willing to tolerate long commutes to workplaces and isolation from public spaces, entertainment, and even most retail services?  Do we make such choices because we really are happier living outside of the central core of a city, or because we feel as though we ought to be?  Can it really be true that living in the wide, winding streets of suburbia among rows of almost indistinguishable houses can make us feel as though we are in touch with nature or our neighbours?  And what of those who make equally vehement arguments for the imperatives of urban densification, as if the desire to live in a four-bedroom ranch style in the ‘burbs is a crime against humanity?  Are people who live cheek-by-jowl in small condominiums and apartments really happier because they have ready access to a cornucopia of city amenities, all within walking distance, or are they driven to such lifestyles only by feelings of civic responsibility?  What kinds of homes bring comfort, and how is it measured?  How does the rapid transit debate—now being engaged by a large number of mid-sized cities because of the obvious candidacy of such big-money projects for stimulus spending—factor into such thinking?  In cities with weak urban cores, LRT systems can be used like a surgeon’s scalpel to transform an urban landscape rapidly and dramatically.  This is a potent tool to hang from the city planner’s belt, but only if he knows what to do with it.  If we build fantastically expensive transit systems, how do we know they’ll be well-used?  There’s a fascinating psychological paradox here.  Jane Jacobs’ mentor, William Whyte, taught us what makes a great public space: people want to be with people.  Yet the most cited reason for avoidance of public transit in favour of car travel is the desire to be alone!  What is it that we want?

As a psychologist interested in how the shape of the mind helps to form our cities, I’m heartened to see such debates beginning to take shape.  We know a great deal about how to make a city, but much less about how to make a city that is pleasant, livable, and comfortable for the majority of its residents.  If we take the time now to understand who we are and what we really want, perhaps we can defy the doomsayers and actually get it right.

Comments

[smably]

Is anybody in North America actually building "fantastically expensive" transit systems?

I would define "fantastically expensive" as "more expensive than road expansion, in the long term, even after accounting for all the externalities of automobile dependence". If you use that definition, I think the ridership required to justify investment in transit is a lot less than you might expect.

[Colin]

I'm so pleased with this comment that I won't quibble with your quibble over my use of the word 'fantastic'. I think that if people really knew how much of the public budget went into the maintenance of our road system (everything from highways to municipal roads) at the expense of everything else that we need to pay for out of the public purse, they'd be utterly gobsmacked. And the idea that we need to try to take into account the extended cost of our lifestyles is one that applies not just to our road systems but to lots of other unsustainable practices as well (like the gigantic shopping malls built on top of agricultural land in the exurbs). Thanks for reading and for chiming in on this.

[land subdivision Melbourne]

The development of every city is mostly depends on the good construction of building and market, location and design are also important.