It starts with asking yourself: Do you want families downtown and in urban places? A number of cities say they do, yet they’re not willing to do what’s necessary to make it happen, such as regulate. That’s particularly a problem in the United States, where regulation is a dirty word. It’s that ideology around regulation that can often keep cities from progressing.
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Point two is, even if you have the homes, you need the services and amenities that support family living. Those start with daycare and schools.
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Point three is, you design the public realm for kids and families, because that means it will work for everyone. You have to think about all age groups: the parents with their strollers, young kids and their need for playgrounds, and then teenagers and their distinctive needs, which are different than those of younger kids.
Urban planning
As you read this, the Victorian Government is rewriting the laws and legislation that govern how the city we live within looks and feels. In 2024, we have a once-in-a-generation opportunity to reform Melbourne's design regulations, and to empower our city to become world-leading in terms of both liveability and design. Join Kerstin Thompson (Kerstin Thompson Architects), Andrew Maynard (Austin Maynard Architects), and Colleen Peterson (Ratio Consultants) to hear about the challenges of our current dysfunctional system, and the opportunities we have right now to reform these laws and create the best possible Melbourne. Hosted by YIMBY Melbourne and featuring three leaders from Melbourne's urban planning, architecture, and design industries, this night is one for enthusiasts and experts alike.
Now is not the time for anyone to announce that their city will become “bigger and better”. Cities don’t have to get bigger to evolve, and sooner or later all will have to reckon with the concept of degrowth.
Australia must become less reliant on imports of skilled workers, students, tourists and materials. We can make better use of local resources and produce much more of what we need here.
Australian cities have very good bones. They have amazing cultural scenes. Their biomedical capabilities are among the world’s best. Our education sector remains eminently exportable online and via existing overseas campuses. The manufacturing sector still has a base to build on and provide many more of the products Australians need. And our renewable energy capacity is unlimited.
We can support our local hospitality and cultural venues better, and increase intercity and interstate patronage. We can invest in research and development and maintain wealth through innovation and production, rather than the eternal consumption of land.
A master class in framing:
The project needs enough density (which, remember, are homes we badly need) to make financially viable all the expensive public costs and aspirations, including heritage restoration. It also needs the kind of population that will attract retailers to give a vibrant second life to those heritage buildings. And let’s be clear — retailers won’t provide those local, walkable shops and services without that population density.
Preserving community heritage and character isn’t about preventing badly needed and responsible change, or claiming to be OK with a different proposal that actually isn’t viable at all. It’s about doing change well, with smart design, while understanding the real-life requirements and balancing acts that achieve many important public goals.
The heritage buildings aren’t threatened by the proposal. The proposal is how they will be preserved and rehabilitated, remaining the defining features in this new urban place, with exciting new purposes.
There’s a reason why the site has seen little activity since the previous 2008 zoning was put in place — that zoning wasn’t viable or buildable.
Public works departments know how to fix a dangerous stroad. We put it in a five-year capital improvement budget. We do a big study of the conditions. We mock up several design alternatives, and we hold public workshops where we ask constituents for their feedback and preferences. We send out (typically useless) surveys. A design is selected by the city council, and over the next couple years, it’s built.
The end result of this approach is typically very pretty. There are curb bulb-outs planted with flowers. There are flashing beacons and refuge islands at newly painted crosswalks. The street is calmer, it’s safer, and it actually feels better to drive on, as well as walk along. It’s hailed as a big step forward, a boon to the neighborhood’s quality of life. Everybody is happy. This example from South Minneapolis, of a nasty stroad rebuilt after a deadly crash and public outcry, is typical of my experience.
Okay. So, we know how to do that. Now do it 1,000 times.
The “1,000 times” problem may actually be the primary reason why we can expect local governments to be resistant to adopting an approach like the Crash Analysis Studio as policy. If you truly acknowledge that a deadly crash is not a fact of life, but an anomaly that shouldn’t have happened, and a condition that should be corrected, then you suddenly have a to-do list a thousand miles long.
Nobody is going to say out loud, “We can’t come close to fixing all of them, so it doesn’t make sense to acknowledge that there’s an urgent imperative to fix any of them.” But I’ll bet a lot of traffic engineers have thought it.
The automobile is the paradoxical example of a luxury object that has been devalued by its own spread. But this practical devaluation has not yet been followed by an ideological devaluation. The myth of the pleasure and benefit of the car persists, though if mass transportation were widespread its superiority would be striking. The persistence of this myth is easily explained. The spread of the private car has displaced mass transportation and altered city planning and housing in such a way that it transfers to the car functions which its own spread has made necessary. An ideological (“cultural”) revolution would be needed to break this circle. Obviously this is not to be expected from the ruling class (either right or left).
The SimCity series has achieved the universal success few games do, with a veneer of realism that draws gaming and non-gaming fans alike. But just what is SimCity's model based on? And what politics are hidden inside the black box driving the simulation?
Somerville, Massachusetts, is a thriving city. It has, in spades, the attributes that the median city planner and real estate professional alike will tell you are in great demand and short supply in 2020s America: walkability, vibrancy, sense of place. Adjacent to central Boston, Somerville is known for top-tier educational institutions, a robust arts and culture scene, and lively civic squares surrounded by locally owned shops and restaurants.
Unsurprisingly, the city’s attractive lifestyle comes at a price. As of this writing, there are dozens of homes for sale in Somerville listed for over one million dollars.
Such a price ought to be a clear signal that there is ample market demand for a place like Somerville. According to economic theory, developers should respond by building more housing in Somerville, and by creating more blocks and neighborhoods that resemble the most in-demand parts of Somerville.
There is only one problem: they largely can’t. In 2015, Somerville’s city planners undertook a study to find out which of the city’s existing residential properties conformed to Somerville’s own zoning code. The number of fully zoning-compliant lots in the city of 80,000 people was a surprise to everyone: there were only 22.
The city of Somerville, it turned out, had declared itself illegal.
Brent Toderian, a renowned urbanist and city planner shares his insights and experiences in shaping vibrant cities as we look ahead at Mississauga’s future.