Walkability vs. Walk-Friendliness: Are We Building Sidewalks or Pedestrian Cities?

Beyond the Checkbox of "Walkability"

"Walkability." It’s the urban planning buzzword du jour, plastered all over city plans, real estate brochures, and lifestyle blogs. And for good reason! Walkability, the idea that we can and should design cities where people can easily get around on foot, is undeniably important. But lately, I’ve been wondering if we’re stopping at “walkability” when we really need to be striving for something more: walk-friendliness. Are these just two words for the same thing? I don’t think so. “Walkability” feels… technical, almost a checklist item. Sidewalks? Check. Crosswalks? Check. Street grid? Check. Walkable! But “walk-friendliness” evokes something different, something more… human. It suggests not just the possibility of walking, but the desire to walk, the enjoyment of walking, the creation of places that actually invite and welcome pedestrians. So, what’s the real difference between “walkability” and “walk-friendliness”? Does this subtle semantic distinction actually matter? And are we, as planners and city-builders, focusing too much on the mechanics of “walkability” and not enough on the more nuanced, experience-driven reality of creating truly pedestrian-friendly cities? Let’s take a stroll through this idea and see where it leads us.

Parking Pet Peeve: Why Minimums are Maximum Nonsense (and How to Fix It)

 

The Parking Frustration is Real

Okay, let’s just get this off my chest right away: parking minimums. Ugh. Is there anything more infuriating in the urban landscape? Driving around downtown, seeing block after block of surface parking lots, gaping asphalt wastelands in prime locations, all while pedestrians are crammed onto narrow sidewalks dodging traffic. Or the absurdly over-parked suburban strip mall, surrounded by acres of empty asphalt, even on a Saturday afternoon. It feels like our cities are designed first and foremost for… parked cars, and maybe, just maybe, people are a distant second thought. And it all boils down to parking minimums – those arcane local ordinances that dictate how much parking must be built for every conceivable type of development, from apartments to yoga studios to bowling alleys. Parking minimums: they're a sacred cow of urban planning, an unquestioned dogma. But here’s the thing: I think they’re utter nonsense. Maximum nonsense, in fact. Let’s dive into the wild world of parking mandates, explore why they exist (or why we think they exist), and, most importantly, why it’s high time we took a “hands-off” approach and let cities breathe a little freer from these concrete shackles.

Two Planners, One City? Public vs. Private, and the Wild World of Urban Development

The Planner Paradox: Public Good vs. Private Gain

Urban planner: it’s a job title that seems to encompass… well, just about everything and nothing at once. You’ve got public sector planners, toiling away in city halls, wrestling with zoning codes and community meetings. Then you’ve got private sector planners, embedded in development firms, crunching numbers and pitching projects to investors. Are these even the same species? Do they speak the same professional language? Do they even use the same skills? Why, in the sprawling galaxy of urban professions, do these seemingly disparate roles both get slapped with the “urban planner” label? To unravel this urban planning paradox, let’s take a journey. We're going to follow a hypothetical development project, from the initial spark of an idea to the (hopefully) triumphant ribbon-cutting ceremony. Along the way, we’ll track the roles of both public and private planners, peek behind the curtain of the urban development process, and ask the big questions: Who really shapes our cities? And what part do these “urban planners” – public and private – actually play in the grand urban drama? Prepare for a backstage pass to the wild, and often bewildering, world of urban development.

Design vs. People: From Defensible Space to the Meat Ax – and Why One Cuts Deeper

Two Design Philosophies, One Shared Sin?

Oscar Newman, with his “defensible space” theory, tried to design crime out of existence, or at least, significantly reduce it. His idea? Shape the physical environment – create clear territorial markers, encourage natural surveillance, foster a sense of community ownership – and residents would become the de facto guardians of their neighborhoods. Contrast that with Robert Moses, who famously declared that in an "overbuilt metropolis, you have to hack your way with a meat ax." His philosophy? Radical, large-scale physical transformation, bulldozing through existing neighborhoods to create his vision of a “modern” city, prioritizing efficiency and grand design. At first glance, these seem wildly different. Yet, both Newman and Moses share a common thread, a potential… sin, in the eyes of people-centered urbanists like… well, you and me. Both seem to put design at the forefront, as the primary lever of urban change. Both, arguably, prioritize the blueprint over the messy, unpredictable reality of human behavior and community needs. So, is it hypocritical to find some merit in Newman's defensible space while utterly rejecting Moses' “meat ax” urbanism? Or is there a rational distinction to be drawn between these two design-centric approaches, one that explains why one feels… less wrong than the other? Let's sharpen our critical knives and dissect this design dilemma.

The Urban Tightrope: Balancing Individuals, Aggregates, and the Market's Mirage

 

The Urban Balancing Act Begins

Urban planning: it’s a bit like being a cosmic juggler. We're trying to catch a million individual desires while simultaneously keeping the whole darn aggregate city from crashing to the ground. It's a tightrope walk from the get-go. We want to make your life better, my life better, everyone's individual lives better in the city. But to do that, we have to plan in the aggregate, to think in terms of systems, flows, and population-level trends. Then, just to make things extra complicated, we throw in this persistent false dichotomy: the individual versus the group. As if we’re somehow forced to choose between celebrating individual freedom and pursuing collective well-being. And lurking in the background, whispering promises and threats, is the Market. That mystical, often misunderstood force that we’re told holds all the answers (or is the root of all evil, depending on your political persuasion). Are we supposed to worship at the altar of the Market? Ignore it entirely? Or, just maybe, treat it like… well, a tool? Urban planning, folks, is a balancing act of epic proportions. Let's grab our metaphorical balancing poles and try to navigate this urban tightrope without falling into the abyss of either-or thinking.

The City Perfect is a Flawed Idea: In Praise of the 'Offal City'

Is the 'City Perfect' a mirage?

Embracing the messy beauty of the 'Offal City' – where urban life truly thrives.

Beyond the Immaculate Urban Vision

"Make no little plans; they have no magic to stir men's blood…" So went the rallying cry of the City Beautiful movement. Grand boulevards, neoclassical monuments, parks as manicured as a politician's promises – the vision was intoxicating: a city sculpted into an image of pristine, idealized beauty. But let’s be honest, the "City Beautiful," for all its aesthetic aspirations, always felt a little… unattainable. A bit like chasing a mirage shimmering on the urban horizon. Because here's a philosophical truth bomb for your morning commute: perfection? It’s a myth. Ask Plato. He’d tell you all about “Forms” – perfect, ideal versions of things that exist only in the realm of pure thought, while earthly reality is just a pale, imperfect imitation. Cities, bless their messy, chaotic hearts, are resolutely earthly. They are tangled, evolving, delightfully flawed creations. Even Navajo weavers, masters of intricate patterns, traditionally weave a deliberate imperfection into their rugs – a humble nod to the idea that only the divine is truly perfect. Maybe, just maybe, we’ve been chasing the wrong urban ideal all along. Maybe the “City Beautiful” was a seductive, but ultimately misguided, pursuit. Maybe… the flawed city, the imperfect metropolis, is actually… perfectly itself. And maybe, just maybe, it’s time to embrace the messy, un-sanitized, gloriously real city – the "Offal City," if you will – in all its gritty, delicious, and utterly essential glory.

From City-Machines to City-Organisms: Le Corbusier, Beaver Dams, and Why Urban Balance Matters

From City-Machines to City-Organisms: Why Urban Balance Matters

Beyond the Urban Machine

"Cities are a machine for living," declared Le Corbusier, a visionary whose ideas about urban design continue to evoke love and loathing alike. His vision captured the industrial-age obsession with efficiency and order, portraying cities as vast, well-oiled engines designed for optimal living. But what if our cities are something more? What if, instead of machines, they are organisms—living, breathing, evolving systems that thrive on the interplay of their myriad parts? Imagine cities as human-built hives, akin to beaver dams or anthills, constructed through collective effort and buzzing with social activity. Yet, like any thriving organism or hive, cities require balance. Just ask Jane Jacobs, who famously illustrated the "nothing fails like success" paradox, reminding us that even the best-intended developments can disrupt urban ecosystems if not carefully balanced. So, let's swap the city-as-machine metaphor for one that embraces the messy, vibrant, and wonderfully organic reality of our urban environments.

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