The
Washington Post recently ran a story about
an Iraqi village south of Baghdad. To
keep the village sociable and productive, all political conversations had been banned. (Other strictures had also been imposed, such
as bans on religious conversations, cigarettes, and sodas, but my only focus here
is the political discussion ban.)
I don’t have
the knowledge to argue about the need for ban on political debate in
Albunahidh. I certainly know that Iraq has
continued unrest and that the traditions of that part of the world include
regular political discussion in cafes and meeting places. It may be that the ban was the best way to
keep the village productive and at peace.
But the ban
reminded me of similar bans, informal but nonetheless effective, that exist
throughout much of American family life, with the most obvious example being the
ban on discussions of politics or religion over Thanksgiving dinner. (Personally, I remember the debates at the
Thanksgivings of my youth being about the relative roles of mass transit and
private cars, but my childhood may not have been typical.)
I’ve long
argued that the American bans are a bandage on the real problem, which is that
we don’t teach our children how to have respectful conversations about personal
beliefs. And when they grow up without
the skills that we’ve declined to provide them, we forbid the conversations that
might become difficult and the cycle continues.
You may ask
why this should matter to urbanism. The
answer is that if we don’t talk about things, the status quo remains the status
quo. If we don’t educate children about
the comparative beliefs of different religions, they tend to adopt the same
religion as their parents. If we don’t
explain the differing political philosophies, our children tend to follow in
their parents political footprints. And
if we don’t talk about the pros and cons of different land-use approaches, then
we tend to keep building drivable suburbia.
Recently, as
I sat on an outside deck in Petaluma awaiting a friend, I listened in as the
man at the next table chatted with his eight-year-old daughter about land-use
topics. He talked about the solid, imposing
architecture that once upon a time defined banks, pointing to a former bank
building in the nearby downtown. He
noted the value of streetfront retail, comparing it to on-line shopping. And he commented on the number of pedestrians
enjoying the sunny morning.
I realized
how infrequently I’d heard parents have conversations like that with their
children. The daughter may not have
understood every nuance, but she offered responses that showed she was grasping
at least a few elements of her father’s thinking. He was planting seeds that would hopefully
grow. And he was teaching his daughter
to be aware of her surroundings and the ways they could be configured.
(However,
two minutes later, the father was arguing with a traffic officer about whether
his illegally parked Mercedes should get a ticket, so not all his lessons were
good.)
If the ban
on political chat in an Iraqi village has kept the peace, that’s great. But in the U.S., frank and open conversation,
at least about land use, is the path to a better future.
Speaking of
frank and open conversation, the next meeting of Petaluma Urban Chat will be
Tuesday, July 14, 5:30pm at the Aqus Café, 2nd and H Streets in Petaluma. There is no planned speaker or topic this
month, just a chance to talk about whatever subjects interest the folks who
attend, from the Rainier Connector to water conservation.
In my next
post, I’ll tell of a recent breakthrough observed by the folks at StrongTowns.
As always,
your questions or comments will be appreciated.
Please comment below or email me.
And thanks for reading. - Dave Alden (davealden53@comcast.net)
This is a great point!
ReplyDeleteSeth, thanks.
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