Urbanism

Giant White Houses are white, with jet-black accents: the shutters, the gutters, the rooves. They are giant—Hulk houses—swollen to the very limits of the legally allowed property setback, and unnaturally tall. They feature a mishmash of architectural features, combining, say, the peaked roof of a farmhouse with squared-off sections reminiscent of city townhomes. They mix horizontal siding, vertical paneling, and painted brick willy-nilly.

Like the giant White House just down the road from us in Washington, D.C., the Giant White House may be occupied by a Republican or a Democrat, but whoever they are, they are rich. Once the house next door was finished, it went on the market for $2.5 million. The house has five bedrooms and six baths and is 5,600 square feet.

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Kate Wagner of McMansion Hell argued that this architectural incoherence stems, in fact, from the modern homebuyer’s saturation in Zillow and Redfin. “Design magazines, HGTV, even Instagram—those are really media empires of the past,” she said. “Overwhelmingly, by sheer monthly users, the way people interact with architecture now is through real estate listings. We’re always Zillow browsing.”

And what do you see on Zillow? If you’re one of the lucky Americans who can afford to buy your first home, and you want to live in a neighborhood like our part of Arlington, you may find that the “starter house,” as you once knew it, is awfully hard to find. Because land is worth so much and old houses, comparatively, are worth so little, when families sell small houses here, they sell them to developers, not to other families. And those developers, driven by fear and money, knock the small houses down to build GWHs. The more GWHs they build, the more the neighborhood is made up of GWHs. The more you scan Zillow, the more it starts to make sense: Like nearly a million Americans a year, you’re better off just buying a brand-new house, too.

After all, in an era when a home purchase is likely the most secure, lucrative investment you will ever make, a house really no longer is a house. It is no longer simply the place where you live. It is your future in building form. It is the way you’ll pay for college, the way you might afford retirement. “I don’t think we think of the dream home anymore,” Wagner said. “We now see houses primarily as vehicles for investment. The best way to do that is if everything looks the same.”

Trams FTW!!!

This is delightful, and not only for Ray's very game attempts at pronouncing Melbourne place names (even I hesitate at Prahran). Also mortifying, as he managed to see more of Melbourne in two weeks than I had in my first two years.

Even if you don’t want to walk, wheel or ride, you should care because less driving helps everyone, including other drivers, who benefit from reduced traffic.

As a result of this over-investment in car road-building, Australia has the smallest number of walking trips of 15 comparable countries across Western Europe and North America.

Cycling rates are equally dismal.

Globally, the United Nations recommends nations spend 20% of their transport budgets on walking and cycling infrastructure.

Countries like France, Scotland, the Netherlands, Denmark, Sweden and the largest cities in China invest between 10% and 20%.

These places were not always known for walking and cycling – it took sustained redirecting of investment from roads to walking and cycling.

Meanwhile, many Australians are dependent on cars because they have no other choice in terms of transport options. 

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Greenfield sites are not the solution for housing affordability, even if it’s an easier political sell than increasing density in existing neighborhoods. Housing needs to work for nondrivers, whether that’s people like me who can’t drive, people who can’t afford to drive, young people or older adults (on average, Americans will spend the last seven to 10 years of their lives being unable to drive). When driving isn't an option for so many people, building more car-dependent communities isn't a solution.

When I see advertisements for greenfield developments, especially ones that are built with “new urbanist” ideals, I think back to my year in North Carolina. Southern Village wasn’t just an exurban housing development: The “Village” featured a town square with an organic grocery store, a small gym, and even a restaurant or two. But it definitely wasn’t possible to get everything you needed without leaving, and leaving meant navigating the highway.

For people who can drive, being able to reduce their driving trips because there’s a cute coffee shop nearby might feel great, but for people who can’t drive like me, places like Southern Village feel more like a desert island than the intended suburban paradise. Without enough transit, and often with only a highway shoulder connecting the development with all the other places a person might need to go, these places necessarily exclude people who are physically or financially unable to drive. Because, sometimes, you need more than a coffee shop or a cute grocery store.

This is a gem:

The more widespread fast vehicles are within a society, the more time—beyond a certain point—people will spend and lose on travel. It’s a mathematical fact.

The reason? We’ve just seen it: The cities and towns have been broken up into endless highway suburbs, for that was the only way to avoid traffic congestion in residential centers. But the underside of this solution is obvious: ultimately people can’t get around conveniently because they are far away from everything. To make room for the cars, distances have increased. People live far from their work, far from school, far from the supermarket—which then requires a second car so the shopping can be done and the children driven to school. Outings? Out of the question. Friends? There are the neighbors… and that’s it. In the final analysis, the car wastes more time than it saves and creates more distance than it overcomes. Of course, you can get yourself to work doing 60 mph, but that’s because you live 30 miles from your job and are willing to give half an hour to the last 6 miles. To sum it all up: “A good part of each day’s work goes to pay for the travel necessary to get to work.” (Ivan Illich).

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So, the jig is up? No, but the alternative to the car will have to be comprehensive. For in order for people to be able to give up their cars, it won’t be enough to offer them more comfortable mass transportation. They will have to be able to do without transportation altogether because they’ll feel at home in their neighborhoods, their community, their human-sized cities, and they will take pleasure in walking from work to home-on foot, or if need be by bicycle. No means of fast transportation and escape will ever compensate for the vexation of living in an uninhabitable city in which no one feels at home or the irritation of only going into the city to work or, on the other hand, to be alone and sleep.

“People,” writes Illich, “will break the chains of overpowering transportation when they come once again to love as their own territory their own particular beat, and to dread getting too far away from it.” But in order to love “one’s territory” it must first of all be made livable, and not trafficable. The neighborhood or community must once again become a microcosm shaped by and for all human activities, where people can work, live, relax, learn, communicate, and knock about, and which they manage together as the place of their life in common. When someone asked him how people would spend their time after the revolution, when capitalist wastefulness had been done away with, Marcuse answered, “We will tear down the big cities and build new ones. That will keep us busy for a while.”

Really punchy 20m intro to the Robert Putnam / Ray Oldenburg thing from Mike Pasternock at Strong Towns.

People are lonely. Is it because we are addicted to our phones, or is that a symptom of larger design choices we made when building our places? We cover some of the general concepts related to social infrastructure an try to evaluate what to do next.

I think that’s the world my parents envisioned for me as I grew up. I could just ask them for rides. As I got older, I could ask my friends, and then I’d get married and get rides from my spouse.

If you ask anyone who’s had to rely on favors to get where they need to go, it gets old, fast. In Washington State, our Legislature funded a study about the mobility of nondrivers and the researchers were surprised to find that while relying on rides was a major source of mobility for nondrivers, the emotional burden of asking for those rides was a significant deterrent, especially for women, low-income and disabled people.

When we insist on visibility as nondrivers, our presence demands a reckoning of the costs and moral efficacy of car dependency. Rather than being ashamed about our disabilities or the lack of resources that prevents us from driving, we should be proud of our status as nondrivers. Instead of a future of congested drive-thrus, oceans of parking lots and freeway-ramp spaghetti nests, our existence tips the scales in favor of communities designed in ways that work better and are healthier for all of us.