Beyond the Surface: Unpacking the Success of Ethnic Enclaves

 

Contrasting Perceptions and a Call for Deeper Analysis

When we think of successful ethnic enclaves in America, vibrant Chinatowns often come to mind. These communities are widely recognized for their economic vitality, their rich cultural traditions, and their strong social bonds. And while I agree that Chinatowns represent a significant success story, I believe it's crucial to examine the factors that contribute to this success and to contrast it with the experiences of other ethnic enclaves, particularly some African American communities, which are sometimes perceived as less successful. However, before drawing any quick conclusions, we must delve deeper into the historical and systemic forces that have shaped these communities. The story is far more complex than a simple comparison of current conditions.

Why Don't Americans Ride Transit? Look Closer at the Map (and the Schedule)

  

Challenging the "No One Rides" Narrative

"Why don't Americans ride transit?" It's a question urbanists and policymakers have debated for decades. The common response often boils down to a shrug and a statement like, "Well, nobody rides transit in [insert American city]." While ridership numbers in many US cities lag behind their global counterparts, the first truth we must acknowledge is simple: you can't choose what isn't there. In numerous American cities and vast swathes of their surrounding areas, usable public transit is simply not an option. Beyond the basic lack of availability, two other reasons are frequently cited for America's low transit ridership: coverage and density. And while both factors certainly play a role, the crucial element often missed in this discussion is something far more fundamental: frequency.

Traffic Isn't the Enemy: It's the Speed That Kills (Businesses)

The word "traffic" tends to elicit a collective groan, a mental image of brake lights stretching into the horizon, the soundtrack of honking horns. We think of wasted hours on the highway, the daily grind of commuting. It's no wonder we've come to view "traffic" as inherently bad.

But let's consider another context for that very same word: foot traffic. Suddenly, the connotation shifts entirely. Ask any small business owner how their weekend went, and they might reply with, "Great! We had fantastic foot traffic." In this instance, "traffic" isn't a source of frustration; it's a measure of success, of exposure to potential customers.

We're using the same word with fundamentally the same meaning – the movement of people through a space. So, what's the crucial difference between the "bad" traffic of cars and the "good" traffic of pedestrians? The answer, quite simply, is speed.

As the old adage goes, "speed kills." And in the context of businesses, that statement rings surprisingly true. Every shop owner, every restaurateur, dreams of being located in an area with high foot traffic. For any business that caters to the general public, maximizing the number of people who pass by their storefront is paramount. And here's the kicker: the slower that movement, the better it is for business.

Think about it. Cars whizzing by on a highway are essentially useless to the vast majority of roadside businesses. They're moving too fast, focused on their destination, and unlikely to stop on a whim. Cars driving slowly down a side street in a commercial district? Better. They're moving at a pace where drivers and passengers can actually notice the shops and restaurants lining the road. But the real sweet spot? Cyclists riding slowly in front of your shop – good. Even better? Cyclists dismounting and locking their bikes right outside your door so they can stroll down the street. Now you've got prime potential customers lingering, browsing, and ready to spend.

We see this principle in action all around us. Consider the appeal of quiet, low-speed commercial districts designed for strolling and window shopping. Think of the vibrant boardwalks by the sea in countless American cities, where the entire point is to encourage leisurely movement past shops, arcades, and food vendors. Even the very concept of the suburban shopping mall is predicated on getting people out of their cars and into a pedestrian-friendly environment where they can wander from store to store.

The reality remains: for businesses that rely on public interaction, the slower someone moves by their establishment, the greater the opportunity for a sale. So, perhaps it's time we reframe our thinking about "traffic." Maybe it's not the movement itself that's the problem, but the speed at which that movement occurs. And maybe, just maybe, a little less speed could lead to a lot more prosperity for our local businesses and a more vibrant, walkable urban landscape for everyone.

"Nobody Goes There Anymore. It's Too Crowded." - The Self-Defeating Logic of Our Cities

Yogi Berra’s timeless quip, "Nobody goes there anymore. It's too crowded," perfectly encapsulates a strange kind of thinking that seems to dominate our approach to urban planning, particularly when it comes to transportation. It’s a logic that, upon closer inspection, reveals itself to be utterly self-defeating.

Take parking minimums, for example. Driven by the fear that there won't be enough parking in our downtown areas (or, frankly, anywhere), cities mandate the creation of vast seas of asphalt. We demolish existing buildings or prevent the construction of new ones – shops, factories, offices, the very things that might draw people to the city in the first place – all in the name of accommodating cars that might or might not arrive. Every space dedicated to parking is a space not used for something that actually generates economic activity or cultural vibrancy. It's the urban equivalent of saying, "Nobody comes to my restaurant because there's no seating… so I'll just replace the kitchen with more chairs."

The reverse, and equally baffling, logic seems to apply to public transit. American cities often boast some of the most skeletal transit systems in the developed world. Rail systems are relics, bus service is infrequent to the point of being unusable, with a bizarre aversion to any bus line operating more than a couple of times an hour. Yet, when the question of improving transit arises, the common refrain is, "Well, nobody rides transit in [insert city name]." It’s a classic chicken-and-egg scenario. How can anyone ride transit if it’s unreliable, infrequent, or simply doesn't exist where they need it? I’ve personally experienced the absurdity of waiting an hour for a bus, only to have it arrive so packed that boarding was impossible. "Nobody goes there anymore. It's too crowded," indeed.

And this brings us to the fascinating, and often counterintuitive, ideas presented by transportation thinkers like Anthony Downs. For decades, traffic planners have built their careers on the premise that traffic congestion is the enemy, something to be eradicated at all costs. But what if we’ve been looking at it wrong all along? What if the real issue isn't congestion itself, but traffic volume?

Downs, in his insightful work, argues that any attempt to alleviate congestion through conventional means is ultimately doomed to fail due to the phenomenon of triple convergence. Build more lanes, and drivers who previously took different routes, different modes of transport, or traveled at different times will all converge onto the newly "freed-up" road, quickly filling the new capacity and bringing congestion levels right back to where they started.

But let’s flip this on its head. If the fundamental issue is traffic volume, then congestion isn't the problem; it's the automatic solution. And instead of "triple convergence," we get triple divergence. High traffic volume leads to congestion. This congestion, in turn:

• Drives people to seek alternative modes of transportation, creating a built-in ridership for robust public transit systems. Suddenly, that bus that was once empty becomes a viable and attractive option.
• Creates traffic flow down corridors that might otherwise be overlooked, making those areas more visible and potentially fostering the development of new commercial districts along those less-congested routes.
• Incentivizes individuals and institutions to operate at different start and end times, breaking the rigid 9-to-5, Monday-to-Friday schedule. This can lead to more vibrant and active communities at times outside of traditional peak hours, spreading out demand and creating a more dynamic urban fabric.

So, perhaps the Yogi Berra joke isn't just a humorous anecdote. Maybe it holds a key to understanding our urban transportation woes. By obsessively trying to eliminate congestion through more parking and highway expansions, we are inadvertently destroying the very reasons people want to be in our cities and undermining the potential for robust transit systems.

Instead of fearing congestion, perhaps we should embrace it as a natural consequence of a healthy volume of people wanting to be in the same place. Our focus should shift to providing viable, attractive alternatives – frequent, reliable public transit, safe and accessible pedestrian and cycling infrastructure – that allow people to opt out of that congestion if they choose.

Maybe then, we can finally create cities where people actually want to go, even if it means occasionally encountering a bit of… well, you know.