I am surprisingly old, faithful readers, old enough in fact to remember the Cold War, when the United States and the Soviet Union possessed enough nuclear weaponry to destroy all human life multiple times (as if once wouldn't be bad enough?). My response to this ever-present danger was to ignore it, because there was seemingly nothing I could do to change it, except to sign a nuclear freeze petition, which seemed and seems rather ineffectual. According to former Assistant Secretary of Energy Thomas P. Grumbly (2021), there are still too many nukes, and I'm still ignoring them, all 13,400 of them.
(L to R) Paul Ness, Alexis Diediker, Aaron Voss, Colin Gage
I was thinking about my life under nuclear threat while attending a panel on cybersecurity that was part of the Cedar Rapids Gazette's Business Breakfast Series. The panel--Paul Ness of Foliance, Alexis Diediker of Pro Circular, Aaron Voss of True North, and Colin Gage of Farmers State Bank--discussed "Lessons Learned from a Global Tech Outage," specifically the CrowdStrike incident of July 19. Do you remember that? I'm ashamed to say I'd already forgotten it. Maybe if I'd been flying anywhere that day?
July 19 was caused by faulty software, not malefactors, though there are plenty of malefactors out there. All panel members are involved in some way or other in protecting firms and other institutions from the effects of hacking and other dangers of our cyberconnected world. (Diediker has the intriguing job of penetration tester i.e. she tests organizations' systems for both technical and human vulnerabilities.) As a non-technical gentleman-urbanist, I don't think I'm unusual in leaving cybersecurity up to our friends in information technology, except to complain about multifactor authentication and security awareness training they make us do. Math is hard, and I've got urbanism things to do. (Worth pondering: If Google, which owns Blogger, ever disappears, this blog is disappearing with it.)
One could say, correctly, that I am not paying enough attention to the threats to my own as well as my organization's security posed by cyberthreats. After all, one tech outage can ruin your whole day. The panel called for better communication between "the basement and the boardroom" (Voss's phrase) and for that matter, the rest of the organization as well. Gage referred to "a balancing act" between connectivity and security, and while the technically trained are best equipped to enact that balancing, everyone should understand the basics of how that balance is struck.
If we can under-attend to risks, we can also over-attend to them. One of the factors that has driven the suburban development pattern for the last eight decades has been the perception that urban centers are dangerous and it is wise to spare no expense to get away from them. That has increased social isolation, individual health problems, and traffic crashes (which kill many more people annually than do guns). We can build fences, buy guns and/or post signs saying we're not afraid to use them, take pictures of everyone who passes by, buy larger and larger vehicles, and never go outside--I've encountered all of these in Cedar Rapids--but at what cost to our common life and our own souls?
After the panel, a fellow at my table who'd found out I teach political science asked if there wasn't a danger that the Federal Reserve Board has a plan to use digital currency to enable the government to control our lives? Maybe there is. I can't prove there isn't. But as an entrepreneur, he is in far more danger of a financial catastrophe from a health problem or a cyberattack than he is of the government controlling his life. To deny the government a role in economic stabilization or health care access is to play a far riskier game.
There's a psychology to risk assessment that I only dimly understand. Allowing for phenomena like discounting future impacts, or greater concern for potential losses than potential gains--two common human traits that bedevil urbanist initiatives--it's not easy to predict why some people find some risks terrifying while ignoring or discounting others. I know I've become less self-protective over time, and more concerned about human connection, and I don't even understand why that is.
Maybe the first challenge is to understand the nature of risks. For one thing, as long as we're alive we can't avoid them. We can try to achieve an informed understanding of them, and to give them the attention they deserve, and not overlook the tradeoffs involved in over-focusing on certain risks at the expense of others. (Risk reduction always involves tradeoffs. My Uncle Dwight used to tell a joke about a fellow who quit smoking and replaced the habit with chewing toothpicks, until the guy died of Dutch elm disease.) We can understand the ethics of self-protectively pushing risks onto others. Mostly we can keep in mind the goal of living the best life, which as Aristotle reminds us, is life lived in common.
After Hours Denver is still going! (Source: afterhoursdenver.org)
We have big holes in our social fabric.--RICHARD WEISSBOURD, Making Caring Common (Shaer 2024)
Ten years ago, a pastor's reference to an unconventional church in Denver, Colorado, that meets in bars and focuses on feeding hungry people, led me to reflect on the concept of "home" as applied to houses of worship, living spaces, and towns. But by the end of the piece, I had pivoted to talking about connection: Does the way we create homes of all types, in this era of suburban development, exclude others and isolate ourselves? Belonging is important, but so is connection, and maybe connection is essential to belonging.
Recently there has been a lot of attention to individual loneliness as a public problem, as opposed to a personal one. Loneliness has negative effects on physical health comparable to serious cigarette smoking including raising blood pressure, high cholesterol, and even risk of Alzheimer's disease (Magen 2018, Birak and Cuttler 2017); perhaps this is because connection to others encourages more healthy behavior, but also possibly because the presence of other people can mitigate stress which has its own negative health effects (Holt-Lunsted, Smith and Layton 2010). This goes for mental as well as physical health: loneliness is associated with greater risk of anxiety, depression, and suicidal thoughts (Fu 2020).
Besides preventing harms to individuals, interactions of various types--ranging from intimate to random--benefit the whole community. Jane Jacobs's landmark The Death and Life of Great American Cities is rooted in her observation that it's all those random human interactions that form the basis for community ties:
The trust of a city street is formed over time from many, many little
public sidewalk contacts. It grows out of people stopping by at the bar
for a beer, getting advice from the grocer and giving advice to the
newsstand man, comparing opinions with other customers at the bakery and
nodding hello to the two boys drinking pop on the stoop, eyeing the
girls while waiting to be called for dinner, admonishing the children,
hearing about a job from the hardware man and borrowing a dollar from
the druggist, admiring the new babies and sympathizing over the way a
coat faded. ([1961] 1993: 73; cf. also Calthorpe and Fulton 2001: 32-34)
For cities, the walkable design and third places that facilitate interactions also support economic activity and financial strength. "Walkable places are thriving places," said Jeff Speck at Cedar Rapids's City Services Center in March 2015. A 2015 study of three cities found:
[S]treets with a mix of old and new buildings have [both] greater population density and more businesses per commercial square foot than streets with large, new buildings... [T]hese areas also have significantly more jobs per commercial square foot... [N]eighborhoods with a smaller-scaled mix of old and new buildings host a significantly higher proportion of new businesses, as well as more women and minority-owned businesses than areas with predominantly larger, newer buildings.... [O]lder, smaller buildings house significantly greater concentrations of creative jobs per square foot of commercial space. ("Older, Smaller, Better" 2014: 4)
Jan and Ingrid Gehl noticed the same phenomena in their observations in Italy during the 1960s, which came to inform Jan Gehl's designs for Copenhagen (Montgomery 2013: 146-150). Kim Samuel (2015), McGill professor and founder of the Belonging Forum, argues that by contrast cities designed around cars inhibit social connection, especially (but not only) for people with disabilities and the elderly.
Building for belonging can mean designing cities for the varied dimensions of people’s lives, with mixed-use environments that integrate opportunities to shop, work, learn and relax; where neighbourhoods are walkable, people of different ages and incomes are mixed together, and natural prospects for connection exist, from pedestrian zones to public parks to farmers’ markets. (Samuel 2015)
Samuel also commends attention to the quality of housing, and respecting local knowledge. (See also Montgomery 2013: 56-58; he titles this section "The Lonely Everywhere.")
But people can also experience urban areas as hideous parodies of belonging and connection, where the bad effects of loneliness are even magnified. When Olivia Laing (2016) first moved to Brooklyn, she found no sense of belonging and only intrusive connections:
I wanted very much not to be where I was. In fact part of the trouble seemed to be that where I was wasn't anywhere at all. My life felt empty and unreal and I was embarrassed about its thinness, the way one might be embarrassed about a stained or threadbare piece of clothing....
Outside the window, people threw dinner parties. The man upstairs listened to jazz and show tunes at full blast, and filled the hallways with pot smoke, snaking fragrantly down the stairs. Sometimes I spoke to the waiter in my morning cafe, and once he gave me a poem, typed neatly on thick white paper. But mostly I didn't speak. Mostly I was walled up inside myself, and certainly a very long way from anyone else. I didn't cry often, but once I couldn't get the blinds closed and then I did. It seemed too awful, I suppose, the idea that anyone could peer over and get a glimpse of me, eating cereal standing up or combing over emails, my face illuminated by the laptop's glare. (14-15)
As Laing's experience suggests, cities aren't automatic solutions for loneliness, and can even aggravate those feelings. Loneliness exists in multiple forms and has numerous external as well as personal causes, and a recent New York Times Magazine article manages to survey the whole scene without once mentioning suburban sprawl (Shaer 2024); the "holes in the social fabric" referenced by Richard Weissbourd in this post's opening quotation may or may not be surface parking lots.
Improved design is a necessary but not sufficient condition for connection. A survey of Americans finds connection improving after the coronavirus pandemic, but still down long-term, particularly among nonwhites, the working class, and those with less than college education; for example, college-educated respondents spend more time in public and community spaces like parks and coffee shops (Cox and Pressler 2024). At least one analysis found social isolation so strongly correlated with demographics that more walkable older neighborhoods actually had more social isolation because they had more elderly and poor residents; it's worth noting the study was done in Korea, where even the newest developments are nothing like American suburbs (Kim and Kim 2024).
However, design done right can facilitate social connection. Andres Duany and colleagues focus on the public realm, the existence of which requires places to which people can walk, narrow streets to slow the cars, a sense of enclosure (from street trees and right-sized buildings), and visible signs of other people (2010: ch 4; for a fuller treatment see Speck 2012). Jane Jacobs highlights the need for stores, but not too big as to be impersonal, and accommodations like benches in public parks (among other trenchant observations about what works and what doesn't work for sidewalks, parks, and so forth.
Besides complete streets designed to human scale, Jay Walljasper (2011) commends housing built around common space, whether semi-private neighborhood squares or residential pedestrian streets. Happy Cities (2024) has a multi-unit housing design toolkit with plans for designing common amenities, circulation spaces, and outdoor areas. A 2018 post in The Conversation looks to "third" places where people can gather informally and interact, like community gardens and space in a park for tai chi classes (Matthews and Dolley 2018). In Shanghai, retired people, particularly singles, have been gathering at People's Park and the Ikea cafeteria (Stevenson 2024).
Montgomery, whose book fuses city design with findings from neuroscience research, notes that certain places draw people and encourage them to linger, long enough to connect. The Project for Public Spaces is credited with the discovery of triangulation, "in which external stimuli are arranged in ways that nudge people close enough together to begin talking. In its simplest form, triangulation might mean positioning a public telephone booth, a garbage can, and a bench beside one another, or simply giving a busker permission to perform near a set of stairs--anything to slow people down in proximity" (2013:165). Things that alienate people are sharp architectural angels (light up the brain's fear centers), long dead facades like blank or smoked glass walls, painful or no seating, dark areas, parking lots, and closeness to high-speed or high-traffic roads. "No amount of triangulation can account for the corrupting influence that high-velocity transport has on the psychology of public space" (2013: 168).
Tiffany Owens Reed of Strong Towns argues that proximity does not produce connection unless there are common projects, and suggests cities outsource tasks community members can do, like playground cleanup and sidewalk snow removal (Owens Reed 2022). After Hours Denver may be onto something with its assembly line of congregants constructing peanut butter sandwiches. Jacobs, however, cautions that people want most of their connections "without unwelcome entanglements, without boredom, necessity for excuses, explanations, fears of giving offense, embarrassments respecting impositions or commitments, and all such paraphernalia of obligations which can accompany less limited relationships." Faced with the choice between too much "togetherness" and no contact at all, many people will choose solitude; "either has distressing results" ([1961] 1993: 81-82).
I remember when I first read The Great Good Placeand, while I was enthusing over Ray Oldenburg's depiction of third places, I was also reflecting that without prior experience I wouldn't know how to act in such a place. Once at a train station in England, Laing was chatted up by an old man until she finally succeeded in freezing him out and he walked away (2016: 25). She felt guilty afterwards, but no one wants to be the unwelcome old man in that story! When everyone else seems to how to mix (or not) in public, it can cause people to turn in on themselves, adding feelings of incompetence and inadequacy to the already-toxic personal stew. I wondered after reading Oldenburg "whether after 70 years out of practice we still know how to behave in [third places]." Maybe there are sets of lessons we could take? Or is there an app for that? Apparently the late Dr. Ruth is on the case!
SOURCES
Peter Calthorpe and William Fulton, The Regional City: Planning for the End of Sprawl (Island, 2001)
Andres Duany, Elizabeth Plater-Zyberk, and Jeff Speck, Suburban Nation: The Rise of Sprawl and the Decline of the American Dream (North Point Press, 10th anniversary ed, 2010)
Jane Jacobs, The Death and Life of Great American Cities (Random House, [1961] 1993)
Olivia Laing, The Lonely City: Adventures in the Art of Being Alone(Picador, 2016)
Charles Montgomery, Happy City: Transforming Our Lives Through Urban Design (Farrar Straus Giroux, 2013)
Ray Oldenburg, The Great Good Place (Paragon House, 1999)
Jeff Speck, Walkable City: How Downtown Can Save America, One Step at a Time (Farrar Straus Giroux, 2012)
