As we
assembled for the first of two mentoring sessions, I chatted with the organizer. This was during the weeks immediately preceding
the Petaluma Urban Chat when StrongTowns founder Chuck Marohn spoke with us by
video link. I mentioned this to this organizer,
who expressed some interest. That
evening, I send him links to several posts about StrongTowns and the upcoming
video chat.
As we
assembled for the next mentoring session, the organizer sidled over and thanked
me for the links. Although I didn’t
sense much enthusiasm, my proselytizing juices were flowing. I suggested he come to Petaluma for the video
chat. You would have thought that I had
suggested satanic worship. He quickly
backed away, assuring me, and himself, that he would never do anything like
that.
It wasn’t
the first time that I’ve seen senior planners with years of experience react in
discomfort, fear, and denial about urbanism.
I did
several projects in a community that was generally known for its progressive
approach to land-use planning. The
planning director was thought by many to be at the cutting edge of new thinking
about land use. In fact, he was an adamantine
opponent of urbanism.
He never put
that position in words during his day-to-day duties, but the evidence was
overwhelming. Reports came back about
him deprecating urbanism at planning conferences. He would go to great lengths to impede
urbanist projects in his community, including one situation that I rank among
the most unprofessional I’ve seen in my career.
It was a tragedy for his town, with repercussions that still linger.
I want to
make clear that I’m not painting all planners with this brush. I’ve previously written about planners who see
the logic of urbanism and yet are forced to conceal that knowledge. And there are a great many public planners
who competently and diligently apply the codes of their municipalities without
bias.
But there is
an aging cadre of planners for whom urbanism is anathema.
I’ve
pondered the situation and the best analogy I can draw is religion. Religious faith can be a marvelous thing, but
ultimately it is just that, faith. The definitive
evidence for religious beliefs is lacking.
Similarly,
the drivable suburban planning model was largely based on faith. Despite a paucity of evidence and based
solely on a seemingly plausible but untested hypothesis, the walkable urban
model that had served well for millennia was discarded and replaced by the
drivable suburban model.
Even as the
evidence began to mount that the experiment was failing, as municipal balances
sheet began to dip into the red, and as the threat of climate change loomed
ever larger, we found ways to jiggle the results and convince ourselves that if
we just stayed with the hypothesis a little longer, all would be well.
And the high
priests of this blind faith were a generation of planners, some of whom still
hold important planning positions.
I’m trying
not to be overly critical of them. Faith
can be wonderfully comforting thing. And
that comfort can grow with time and age.
It can be a difficult thing to reach an advanced professional age and
then be forced to confront the possibility that object of one’s faith is a
failed hypothesis.
And so these
planners, like many people in similar situations, ignore the evidence and
continue to blindly, even aggressively, stay strong in their faith.
(I may
sometimes poke fun at my engineering brethren, but we have the good fortune of
working in a discipline that steeped in data, not faith. There may be some professional backbiting,
but no one goes to war over whether a bridge would function better in
orthotropic steel or post-tensioned concrete.)
But the problem
with having planning directors who continue to have faith in a failing vision
is that they are directing us away from the future that we need.
So what
should we do with these relics of a failed religion? I’m reminded of a moment in Indian history as
reported by historian Jan Morrison. The
Thuggee were a Hindu sect who believed that the correct spiritual path was to
befriend traveling strangers and then to ritualistically murder and bury them
during the night.
Bringing the
Thuggee under control was a challenge for the 19th century imperial British authorities. But even after the enforcement task was complete,
a problem remained. The Thuggee acknowledged
that the British seemed to have superior gods because they were able to
suppress the Thuggee, but the Thuggee believed that the path of ritual murder
was still the correct one for them.
Even the
young Thuggee, who had yet committed no crimes and therefore couldn’t be jailed,
willingly admitted that they would follow the Thuggee path given the
opportunity.
The British
solution was to place the Thuggee in villages where they could live in peace
and dignity, but without the option of leaving.
The Thuggee accepted the wisdom of the solution and gradually vanished
from history.
It seems
that a similar solution is required is required for the planners who cling to
the failed drivable suburban hypothesis.
We needn’t strip them of their dignity or their professional positions,
but we need to isolate them from opportunities to perpetuate their failed
belief system.
Our future
requires it.
As always,
your questions or comments will be appreciated.
Please comment below or email me.
And thanks for reading. - Dave Alden (davealden53@comcast.net)
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