How We Live Matters: City Design in the Modern Age, Part 1

Oklahoma City skyline, circa 1955

-This is part one in a series about city design and the perception of modern-day communities-

It’s a sunny winter day as I maneuver my bicycle from Norman’s Boyd Street to Porter Avenue and finally onto Main Street, rolling toward my favorite coffee shop. The gears click harmoniously with my perpetual leg motions and – for now at least – everything seems at peace in the world. The weather is bliss, I’m riding on two wheels (a favorite pastime) and I’m not in a car. All tenets of the good life.

But why does simply riding a bike to the local coffee shop incite so much contentment? Is it just me, or is there more to the equation? I believe I can offer some answers.

Think about it for a moment. If you could live anywhere, or in any way, what would your life look like?

I am, of course, speaking of how you live in terms of community and city design.

So the question remains: how would you choose to live? Would your dream more resemble American society’s way of life, that is one largely characterized by car commutes and suburban neighborhoods? Or, would your ideal take on a more Manhattan-esque flair, with a fast-paced pedestrian life filling your idyllic dream-scape?

It’s different for everyone, but most of us would probably hit somewhere in the middle of these two paradigms. But, is there an ideal way to live? Or, at least one that is beneficial for the greatest number of people?

Whether we know it or not, we’ve all been subject to the persuasive forces of the Industrial Revolution, and the more recent car-dominated way of life.

The Revolution and pervasiveness of automobiles restructured the aim of city design. As University of Notre Dame Architecture professor Philip Bess writes:

“Today’s common wisdom is different. It views the city as governed by impersonal market forces, and devotes little thought to the good life or to the relation cities might have to the good life.”

In past times, Bess (among others) states, city design had two purposes: moral and aesthetic greatness. Cities strove for beauty while caring for their citizens (i.e., the “good life”, simply defined). These purposes shaped city design and trumped the notions of the individual. Indeed, the dominant interest was the benefit of society as a whole. This is an important distinction to make, as it can differ from a more modern view in which the parts often dictate the whole (e.g., what makes me happy is more important that what’s good for society).

In my own dreams, I would live somewhere in which I could walk or bike everywhere: To work, to church, to school, the grocery store, my friends’ houses. All manner of services and social functions would be easily accessible. Ideally this would put me in meaningful contact with my neighbors. It would allow me to know them deeply and to help them when in need (and vice versa).

Obviously, in 21st century America, this super pedestrianism is not a reality in the grand sense. I drive many if not most places, and my dream for society will likely remain just that, at least in the near future.

But others had a pedestrian dream far before I did. And certainly cities of old were ones populated by people on foot. As Bess writes in his essay Design Matters: The City and the Good Life:

“Systematic philosophical thinking about urbanism antedates Christianity, going back to Aristotle, who wrote some four centuries before Christ that the best life for human beings is lived in community with others, and most particularly in a polis. This “city-state” was typically small in scale, with flexible but definite physical and geographic characteristics. It happened also to approximate the size of subsequent historic towns and urban neighborhoods— and for an obvious reason: it is an area that can be comfortably
walked.”

So you can argue that the modern-day building practices of sprawling metropolises go against historic city designs that once dominated the landscape.

People, Aristotle believed, were meant to live in small, pedestrian communities of diverse patronage comprising multiple generations. It’s a lifestyle that is increasingly absent in modern times. Even if you actively wanted to live such a life, it would be difficult today for many Americans.

In terms of negative effects, I personally think modern neighborhood design is one of the largest enablers of prolonged racial and socio-economic inequality in the modern age. Granted, people can’t truly be forced to desegregate (as history has taught us), but think of your own experiences. If you grew up in the ‘burbs like me, your upbringing was largely homogeneous in terms of ethnicity and relative social class.

I think higher-density neighborhoods comprising multiple economic classes and age generations would do much for society. I realize the difficulties of such an endeavor, but am cognizant of the positive outcomes.

I’m not saying suburban sprawl is inherently evil, but we should be conscious about how it shapes our culture. We should also be mindful about how modern city design encourages the liberal consumption of natural resources and increases utility infrastructure costs (which, in turn costs tax payers more money).

As one indicator, consider that in 1970, Americans drove an average of 4,000 miles per year per person. Today that average rests at about 8,000 per person per year. A stark reminder of a burgeoning problem.

But the winds of change are upon us, friends. Not necessarily in the form of a city design revolution, but the proof is in the markets: commercial and residential properties are increasingly more valuable if they have pedestrian access to life’s essentials.

There’s a reason why, in college towns, homes are valued more if they’re near the university (as is the case in my own home town of Norman, Okla.). In a simple way, people want to be close to cultural and social hubs.

And with the Green movement spreading its wings in myriad ways, more people are desiring a throwback to our city design roots for environmental reasons. And land developers are listening.

In the end, I believe people want to be close to their neighbors, their friends and their work places. And they want to use their own power — as much as possible — to get there. I realize this paradigm isn’t a possibility for everyone or all situations, but it’s a worthwhile pursuit nevertheless.

I’m pumped because maybe, just maybe, there’s hope for my dream becoming a reality after all.
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My next installment will focus on what’s being done locally (Oklahoma City area) and nationally to change the face of modern neighborhoods and communities. There are a number of organizations, city governments and you, the people, who are actively at work to transform the future and with it our cultural landscape. Please stay tuned for part two!