My last
three posts might have projected a curmudgeonly air. I didn’t feel curmudgeonly when writing them. But when I read back over them, I realize
that I may have come across as grumpy by challenging the civic value of some parks, by suggesting that the
environmental elements of a road design might have been incorrectly valued more highly than walkability,
and by arguing that historic preservation can sometimes go awry.
But upon
looking deeper, there’s a connection between the posts that was decidedly not
cranky.
Parks? Love them, as long as they’re well-used and
building a better community.
Environmental-sensitive
roadway design? Great idea, as long as
we don’t put it on a pedestal above a greater civic good such as walkability.
Historic
preservation? Absolutely
supportive. It’s always painful to lose an
older building, especially when it’s architecturally interesting or
historically relevant. But historic
preservation must be within the context of building a better city. If a building can’t be made to fit with a city
that is evolving in a healthy direction, then perhaps it should be demolished,
for the greater good.
So I’m not a
curmudgeon. It’s just that I believe in
a higher good. That higher good being a
well-functioning, environmentally-sustainable, and financially-stable city.
In “Walkable
City”, author Jeff Speck writes about how wide Main Street would become if we
allowed every specialist to claim his or her optimal width. Between two lanes of travel in each
direction, left turn pockets, landscaped medians, wide bicycle lanes, diagonal
parking, etc, our downtown streets would become wide enough to serve as runways. The vastness of the street would inhibit
walkability because of the daunting task of crossing the street and because of
the exposed feeling of being on a sidewalk where the building across the street
is more than 150 feet away.
Speck uses
that example to argue that we can’t allow specialists to design our
streets. Instead, we should rely on
generalists who understand the concern and desires of the specialists, but are
capable of finding reasonable balances between the competing demands. I think it’s one of the best points that
Speck makes in his book.
I also feel that
the point about specialists versus generalists can be extended to standards
such as park requirements and historic preservation. In the abstract, those requirements may seem absolute
positives. But the real world can often
undermine what seems unassailable in the abstract, resulting in logical
absurdities. We need processes that
allow us to find reasonable balances.
When I was
younger, I was a fan of objective rules.
I thought that, if we’d only work a little harder, we could write objective
rules that would cover every situation, making land development completely
straight-forward and predictable.
I was
wrong. Reality has the unerring ability
to find ambiguities, loopholes, and grey areas in any development standard that
we write. It was hubris to think that we
could anticipate the myriad of possibilities that the real world could throw at
us.
I’m not
arguing that objective standards are never needed. There are elements of land development where objective
standards are an absolute necessity, such as water pressure, fire protection,
and safe exits.
But there is
also a need to admit that some development standards should be more subjective and
to acknowledge that judgment, hopefully tempered by common sense, is needed to
balance desirable but incompatible goals.
Those with a
sense of land-use history may raise an objection at this point, noting that
allowing more subjectivity into a hearing room would also allow more
opportunity for decision-makers to be inappropriately influenced. Those critics would be right.
I suspect
that one of the reasons behind the rise of objective standards was to reduce
the possibility of officials making decisions based on campaign contributions
or other favors. I also believe that objective
standards have largely met that goal.
(For all of
the complaints I hear about city hall being the lapdog of developers, there has
probably been no time in history when that was less true than today. There are certainly still pockets of undue
influence, but the promulgation of transparent processes and objective rules
have greatly reduced the opportunities.)
But excessive
reliance on objective standards may result in worse decision-making than
relying on the sometimes slanted subjective judgment of public officials. The example I offered in my last post about
the possibility of delaying a public housing project for
reasons of historic preservation is only one example.
Compared to
the rote application of objective standards, a little subjective balance can be
a good thing, even if it comes with a risk of increased bribery or graft.
I understand
that the fringes of the internet are populated by folks who will willfully
misinterpret content so they can attack with contrived outrage. So I’m sure that someone will read what I’ve
written above and argue “Wow, this guy thinks that graft is a good thing.”
I’ve said
nothing of the sort. Instead, I’ve
suggested that, in a headlong effort to eradicate bribery and graft, we’ve
imposed rules that sometimes lead to deeply flawed land-use decisions. Compared to the cost of those land-use
mistakes, risking a little graft might be acceptable. Although we should remain ever alert to
malfeasance so it can be quickly rooted out.
Before
closing, I should turn this conversation back toward urbanism. Subjective balancing of land-use goals is
more important to walkable urban development than it is to drivable suburban. On a typical drivable suburban site, there’s
room to move elements around to meet objective standards. But a typical walkable urban site doesn’t
have that flexibility. And yet urban
sites are more likely to have conflicts with objective standards such as
historic preservation.
The trend over
the past decades toward objective standards in place of subjective balancing is
yet one more piece of evidence that our land-use processes were developed
during a time when drivable suburban was the default land-use pattern. It’s also another example of the subtle but
effective systemic biases against urbanism.
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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