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{{a|book review|
{{a|book review|{{image|Jane Jacobs|jpg|Jane Jacobs}}}}{{br|The Death and Life of Great American Cities}}<br>{{author|Jane Jacobs}}
[[File:Jane Jacobs.jpg|450px|center]]
}}{{br|The Death and Life of Great American Cities}}<br>{{author|Jane Jacobs}}
===Systems thinking 1960s style===
===Systems thinking 1960s style===
There is so much that is breathtaking about this book. That its author, Jane Jacobs, had neither tertiary education nor experience in urban planning; that she published it ''sixty years ago'' yet its prescriptions depict uncannily the [[high-modernist]] attitudes that persist today; that Jacobs’ prescription, while superficially counterintuitive, is so visionary, pluralistic and ''brilliant''. Anyone interested in how distributed networks should best be organised —or should be allowed to organise ''themselves'' — should read this, imaginative magnificent  book.
{{drop|J|ane Jacobs moved}} from Scranton, Pennsylvania to Greenwich Village, New York with her sister during the Great Depression. There she found freelance work writing about New York and later joined the staff of ''Architectural Forum'' magazine, which must have been the ''Computer Weekly'' of its day a niche specialist publication that found itself unexpectedly at the vanguard of a public debate.  


It resonates with some other minor classics in adjacent fields over the last sixty years which caution against the folly of the [[reductionist]], disposition which sees top-down control as the only way of harnessing the networks and mitigating the caprice of unreliable, inconstant individuals. Of course that's very unreliability and caprice is a feature and not a bug. Contributors to this of this contrary position are impressive: {{author|Adam Smith}} and {{author|Charles Darwin}} hashed out the basic template, and then a series of brilliant works in the middle of last century, of which Jane Jacobs’ was one of the first, gave these remote principles vivid articulation in specific fields. Jacobs’ was urban planning — wait: bear with me — and she targeted her ire at the likes of Le Corbusier and Robert Moses, father of what might have seen as still a good idea at the time, the ''housing project''.  
Learning about, and being horrified by, Robert Moses’ grand plans for New York, Jacobs developed a deep scepticism of mid-1950s urban planning policy.  


In doing so Jacobs articulates — or at any rate spookily anticipates — later developments in thinking on [[complexity]], [[systems theory]] and [[antifragile|(anti)fragility]]. So read ''Great American Cities'' with {{br|Seeing Like a State}}, {{author|Charles Perrow}}’s {{br|Normal Accidents}} and {{author|Donella H. Meadows}}’ {{br|Thinking in Systems}} and {{author|Nassim Nicholas Taleb}}’s {{br|Antifragile}} and you will have the bones of a grand unifying theory of everything.
Of Moses, quoth {{plainlink|https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robert_Moses|Wikipedia}}:
{{quote|
“Robert Moses (December 18, 1888 – July 29, 1981) was an American urban planner and public official who worked in the New York metropolitan area during the early to mid-20th century. Moses is regarded as one of the most powerful and influential people in the history of New York City and New York State. The grand scale of his infrastructure projects and his philosophy of urban development influenced a generation of engineers, architects, and urban planners across the United States.


This contrarian, “bottom-up” thesis is simple: those on the ground generally understand their own predicament better, and are better placed, motivated and incentivised to make appropriate, quick, and proportionate decisions to improve it for themselves; that ''homo sapiens'' are naturally adapted to co-operate in unexpected ways if only given the chance and not presented with direct disincentives to doing so, and will go out of their way to do so if incentives run that way.
Never elected to any office, Moses held various positions throughout his more-than-40-year career. He held as many as 12 titles at once, including New York City Parks Commissioner and chairman of the Long Island State Park Commission. By working closely with New York governor Al Smith early in his career, he became expert in writing laws and navigating and manipulating the workings of state government. He created and led numerous semi-autonomous public authorities, through which he controlled millions of dollars in revenue and directly issued bonds to fund new ventures with little outside input or oversight.”}}


Yet in much modern management theory, regardless of how putatively liberal, the same conditions for disastrous central planning that {{author|James C. Scott}} recognises in {{br|Seeing Like a State}} are present: an unrealistic faith in simplistic organisational models that only make sense from 30,000 feet; an unshakable conviction that human relations are homogeneous and predictable and can be can be described without loss of fidelity by the these simplistic models; central authorities with the authority and capacity to impose their simplified designs on on the population; and a supine population without the will or faculty to resist them.
The order of the day, in a nutshell, was to reorganise communities from the top-down, bulldozing tenements and in their place building integrated, purpose-designed modern communities — known today as “housing projects” — and reengineering transit with bypasses, tunnels, bridges and parkways.


The self-direction that [[Emergence|emerges]] from the aggregation of micro-decisions individuals with “skin in the game” can hardly ''fail'' to be more effective than a future state imagined by a public-spirited homunculus sitting in a corner office pulling levers. It is no bloody wonder that high-modernist incentive structures don’t work.  
Jacobs rightly saw that this would be a disaster.


Yet here we are.  
Though she had neither a tertiary education nor experience in urban planning her views quickly became popular. By 1958 she had been awarded a Rockefeller grant to study city planning methodology in the US. It took three years and in 1961, she published its result: ''The Death and Life of Great American Cities.''


So, of the thundering, plainly right, observations Jacobs made in 1961, and which we seem to have forgotten, are these:
It was an excoriating critique, and became instrumental in turning opinion against Moses’ proposed “Mid-Manhattan Expressway”. Had the expressway been completed, it would have destroyed much of the Greenwich Village then frequented by bohemians like the young Bob Dylan.
*Streets, and not the buildings, and critically, not parks, that are the veins and arteries of the city. Where they are clearly demarcated from private space, regularly occupied, or mixed use, and where activity is there for all to see and as such there are eyes on the street belonging not to the authorities but to the “natural proprietors of the streets”, the conditions are right for a safe, dynamic and prosperous neighbourhood. It is where these conditions are not met —long blocks, deserted sidewalks, little diversity and especially and where buildings face ''away'' from the streets — as they tend to in the projects — that the security and vibrancy is lost.
*Far from being calming influences, planned parks tend to be magnets for delinquency, crime and antisocial behaviour. The modernist view has the relationship between parks and streets exactly backwards.
*A mixture of uses, residential and commercial, educational and recreational, together, ''adds'' cohesion, and ''reinforces'' positive feedback loops. This steadfastly flies in the face of modernist orthodoxy. Businesses open by day, bars by night, ensure that the street are constantly over-watched by those natural proprietors. School children should interact with shopkeepers and publicans. They will, soon enough!
*You need old buildings as much as you need ones: not just fancy old ones, but also humdrum, run down, or even dilapidated old ones. For some members of the community, they will be all they can afford. If you have mechanisms to allow these people into the community in places they can with their limited means sustain, they have the opportunity for development. If the whole place has gentrified, there will people who can’t afford to live there.
*The modernist disposition to organise, make efficient and eradicate redundancy and disorganisation in the organic community necessarily prioritises homogeneity and, at the limit, monopoly, and these accentuate ''fragility''.


The “city” is comprised of people when and where you can see them, and they can see each other, and not when they’re behind closed doors and, as far as the city dynamic is concerned, out of circulation. This is a profound, but obvious, observation. It is hard not to analogise to our modern corporate sufferance. Are our carefully demarcated, siloed, ring-fenced and security-controlled sub-teams, where specialists in strictly demarcated functional units are penned together, away from other units, in separate “housing projects” optimised for a richness, diversity, and agility? It doesn’t really feel like it. And what does Jacobs’ observation that we naturally seek out humanity, and thrive most the more we have of it — that the sight of people in the street ''attracts'' people, and does not, as the modernists suppose, repel them — tell us about our modern(ist) obsession with secrecy, confidentiality, and proprietary information?
While superficially counterintuitive, Jacobs’ argument was visionary, pluralistic and brilliant.  


Central to her argument is the inestimable, practical value of ''[[diversity]]'' — not just the cosmetic facsimile it has become today, but ''real'' diversity, an essential foundational quality of any live community. The richness and variety of everyday life — the durability and vitality afforded by a great mix of different people of different ages, different backgrounds, different perspectives, different ways and means — this is the heartbeat of Jacobs’s observations. This collective — as long as it really is diverse — can adapt to anything. The city is an ecosystem. It depends on the caprice, slack, redundancy, oddness, idiosyncrasy and multiple facets to respond to the unexpected vicissitudes, and opportunities, that life presents us.  
Anyone interested in how distributed networks are best organised — or should be allowed to organise ''themselves'' — should read this, imaginative magnificent book which anticipates later developments in [[complexity]] and [[systems theory]]. If you take it with [[James C. Scott]]’s {{br|Seeing Like a State}}, [[Charles Perrow]]’s {{br|Normal Accidents}} and [[Donella H. Meadows]]’ {{br|Thinking in Systems}} you will have the bones of a grand unifying theory of everything: one that would caution against a patrician [[Reductionist|reductionism]] where top-down control is the only way of managing networks of people and mitigating the caprice of unreliable, inconstant individuals.


The very thought that we should leave the great unwashed to sort themselves horrifies the [[high-modernist]]s, of course. Partly because it would leave them with so little to do. And this perspective infuses the prevailing [[dogma]] of modern business that, above all else, values ''scale''. [[Scale]] afforded by technology, processing power and the amplifying effect of the [[distributed network]]. Scale emphasises ''efficiency'' and ''speed'' and the removal of cost, [[waste]] and [[redundancy]]: tightening margins, aggregating categories, standardising, commoditising, offshoring, compartmentalising, just-in-time producing, straight-through processing. These are exactly the dispositions advance by Le Corbusier, Robert Moses and the brutalist administrators of the post war accord.
In a lecture at Harvard’s Urban Design Conference in 1956 Jacobs would say that “unreliability” and “caprice” were features and not bugs:
{{quote|
“The least we can do is to respect — in the deepest sense — strips of chaos that have a weird wisdom of their own not yet encompassed in our concept of urban order”}}


Jacobs observes that diversity and efficiency are, at some level, ''mutually exclusive''. You can’t move with infinite economy ''and'' have a multiplicity of viewpoints. You can’t have everyone housed in homogenous boxes ''and'' cater for every shape and size. You do one or the other. That is another profound idea. And so obvious, that it beggars belief no-one is harping on about it today. You ''can’t'' homogenise, economise, compartmentalise, rationalise, standardise ''and'' embrace caprice, idiosyncrasy and divergence. The [[high-modernist]] who claims commitment to [[diversity]] — and they all seem to — is ''lying''.  
Jacobs’ contrarian, “bottom-up” thesis is simple: those on the ground generally best understand their own predicament, and are best placed, motivated and incentivised to make appropriate, quick, and proportionate decisions to improve it for themselves. ''Homo sapiens'' are naturally adapted to co-operate in unexpected ways if only given the chance and not presented with direct disincentives to doing so, and will go out of their way to do so if incentives run that way.


This is the great, huge irony of our modernist diversity agenda: it’s so ''homogenous'' — so ''[[legible]]''. We are expected to wear the same badges, [[virtue signalling|signal the same virtues]], declare ourselves each others’ allies as if there is a war on, or we are Stepford wives. That is not what Jacobs is talking about at all. She is talking about a variety, a serendipitous, redundant, overlapping, scattershot fripperousness that generates all kinds of unexpected opportunities and challenges. ''This'' is the richness of city.
==== Counterintuitive observations ====
{{drop|W|hy should this}} matter to us? Because much modern management theory shares Moses’ disastrous premises: an unrealistic faith in simplistic models, the conviction that human relations are homogeneous, predictable and may be described without loss of fidelity by simplistic models; and that if central authorities do impose such models on a supine population without the will or faculty to resist them, it will work.


That it was laid out with such clarity so long ago and with so little lasting effect has to make you a little pessimistic as to whether we will ever get there, but we can but battle on on in hope.
Among Jane Jacobs’ thundering observations, which we seem to have forgotten, are these:
 
''Streets are good'': Streets, and not buildings, are the veins and arteries of the city. Where streets are clearly demarcated from private space, regularly occupied, of mixed-use, and where street activity is there for all to see — where there are “eyes on the street” belonging not to the authorities but to the community itself (they who are the “natural proprietors of the streets”) the conditions are right for a safe, dynamic and prosperous neighbourhood. Where these conditions are ''not'' met — where there are long blocks, deserted sidewalks, little diversity of function and especially where building entrances face ''away'' from the streets, as they tend to in housing projects, the security and vibrancy are lost.
 
''Parks are bad'': Far from being calming influences, planned parks tend to be magnets for delinquency, crime and antisocial behaviour. The typical [[High modernism|high-modernist]] view has the relationship between parks and streets exactly ''backwards''.
 
''Mixed uses'': A mixture of uses, residential and commercial, educational and recreational, together, ''adds'' cohesion, and ''reinforces'' positive feedback loops. This steadfastly flies in the face of modernist orthodoxy.  Businesses open by day and bars by night, ensuring that the street is constantly over-watched by those natural proprietors. Schoolchildren should interact with shopkeepers and publicans. They will, soon enough!
 
''Some dilapidation is good'': You need old buildings as much as you need ones: not just fancy old ones, but also humdrum, run-down, or even dilapidated old ones. For some members of the community, they will be all they can afford. If you have mechanisms to allow these people into the community in places they can with their limited means sustain, they have the opportunity for development. If the whole place gentrifies, there will be people who can’t afford to live there.
 
''Homogeneity is bad'': The modernist disposition to organise, make efficient and eradicate redundancy and disorganisation in the organic community necessarily prioritises homogeneity and, at the limit, monopoly, and these accentuate ''fragility''.
 
==== The city is the people you see ====
The “city” is comprised of people when and where you can see them, and they can see each other, and not when they’re behind closed doors and, as far as the city dynamic is concerned, out of circulation.
 
This is a profound, but obvious, observation.
 
It is hard not to analogise to our modern corporate sufferance: we [[Subject matter expert|specialist]]<nowiki/>s are penned together in carefully demarcated, [[Silo|siloed]], ring-fenced and security-controlled functional sub-teams, away from other units, in separate “housing projects”. Is that optimised for richness, diversity, and agility? It doesn’t feel like it.
 
Jacobs observes that we naturally seek out humanity, and thrive most the more we have of it. The sight of other people in the street ''attracts'' people, and does not, as the modernists suppose, repel them.
 
What does this tell us about our obsession with secrecy, [[confidentiality]], and [[proprietary information]]?
 
Modern business management, above all else, values ''scale''. [[Scale]] afforded by technology, processing power and the amplifying effect of the distributed network. Scale emphasises ''efficiency'' and ''speed'' and the removal of cost, [[waste]] and [[redundancy]]: tightening margins, aggregating categories, standardising, commoditising, offshoring, compartmentalising, just-in-time producing and straight-through processing. 
 
These are ''exactly'' the dispositions of Le Corbusier, Robert Moses and the brutalist administrators of the post-war period.
 
==== Diversity versus efficiency: pick one ====
Central to Jacobs’ argument is the inestimable, practical value of ''[[diversity]]'' — not just the cosmetic facsimile it has become today, but ''real'' diversity: the essential foundational quality of any vibrant community. The richness and variety of everyday life; the durability and vitality brought by a great mix of different people of different ages, different backgrounds, different perspectives, different ways and means — this is the heartbeat of Jacobs’s observations. A truly diverse collective can adapt to anything. The city is a dynamic ecosystem. It depends on the caprice, slack, [[redundancy]], oddness and idiosyncrasy of its inhabitants to respond to the unexpected vicissitudes and opportunities that life presents.
 
Jacobs observes that diversity and efficiency are, at some level, ''mutually exclusive''. You can’t move with infinite economy ''and'' have a multiplicity of viewpoints. You can’t have everyone housed in homogenous boxes ''and'' cater for every shape and size. You must do one or the other. 
 
That is another profound idea. And so obvious, that it beggars belief no one is harping on about it today. You ''can’t'' homogenise, economise, compartmentalise, rationalise, standardise ''and'' embrace caprice, idiosyncrasy and divergence. The [[high-modernist]] who claims commitment to [[diversity]] — and they all seem to — is ''lying''.
 
That is not the sort of diversity Jacobs is talking about at all. She is talking about a variety, a serendipitous, redundant, overlapping, scattershot ''clangour'' — it will not always be pretty — that generates all kinds of unexpected opportunities and challenges. ''This'' is the richness of the city.
 
Jacobs continued to fight the high-modernists throughout the sixties. The Lower Manhattan Expressway was eventually mothballed in the seventies, but not before Jacobs had been arrested for inciting a riot! Not long after, she moved to Toronto.
 
That Jane Jacobs, and others, laid it all out with such clarity so long ago and it has had so little lasting effect makes you wonder whether we’ll ever get there. We can but box on in hope.


If, like me, you prefer your books on the go, buy with confidence, by the way: Penguin’s 50th anniversary audiobook is beautifully narrated by Donna Rawlins.
If, like me, you prefer your books on the go, buy with confidence, by the way: Penguin’s 50th anniversary audiobook is beautifully narrated by Donna Rawlins.
Line 41: Line 77:
*{{author|Charles Perrow}}’s {{br|Normal Accidents}}  
*{{author|Charles Perrow}}’s {{br|Normal Accidents}}  
*{{author|Donella H. Meadows}}’ {{br|Thinking in Systems}}
*{{author|Donella H. Meadows}}’ {{br|Thinking in Systems}}
*[https://g.co/kgs/DBPBJr New Town Utopia] a British equivalent, about Basildon.
*[[Complexity theory]]
*[[Complexity theory]]
{{Book Club Wednesday|27/1/2021}}
{{Book Club Wednesday|27/1/2021}}
{{c|Systems theory}}
{{ref}}

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The Death and Life of Great American Cities
Jane Jacobs

Systems thinking 1960s style

Jane Jacobs moved from Scranton, Pennsylvania to Greenwich Village, New York with her sister during the Great Depression. There she found freelance work writing about New York and later joined the staff of Architectural Forum magazine, which must have been the Computer Weekly of its day — a niche specialist publication that found itself unexpectedly at the vanguard of a public debate.

Learning about, and being horrified by, Robert Moses’ grand plans for New York, Jacobs developed a deep scepticism of mid-1950s urban planning policy.

Of Moses, quoth Wikipedia:

“Robert Moses (December 18, 1888 – July 29, 1981) was an American urban planner and public official who worked in the New York metropolitan area during the early to mid-20th century. Moses is regarded as one of the most powerful and influential people in the history of New York City and New York State. The grand scale of his infrastructure projects and his philosophy of urban development influenced a generation of engineers, architects, and urban planners across the United States.

Never elected to any office, Moses held various positions throughout his more-than-40-year career. He held as many as 12 titles at once, including New York City Parks Commissioner and chairman of the Long Island State Park Commission. By working closely with New York governor Al Smith early in his career, he became expert in writing laws and navigating and manipulating the workings of state government. He created and led numerous semi-autonomous public authorities, through which he controlled millions of dollars in revenue and directly issued bonds to fund new ventures with little outside input or oversight.”

The order of the day, in a nutshell, was to reorganise communities from the top-down, bulldozing tenements and in their place building integrated, purpose-designed modern communities — known today as “housing projects” — and reengineering transit with bypasses, tunnels, bridges and parkways.

Jacobs rightly saw that this would be a disaster.

Though she had neither a tertiary education nor experience in urban planning her views quickly became popular. By 1958 she had been awarded a Rockefeller grant to study city planning methodology in the US. It took three years and in 1961, she published its result: The Death and Life of Great American Cities.

It was an excoriating critique, and became instrumental in turning opinion against Moses’ proposed “Mid-Manhattan Expressway”. Had the expressway been completed, it would have destroyed much of the Greenwich Village then frequented by bohemians like the young Bob Dylan.

While superficially counterintuitive, Jacobs’ argument was visionary, pluralistic and brilliant.

Anyone interested in how distributed networks are best organised — or should be allowed to organise themselves — should read this, imaginative magnificent book which anticipates later developments in complexity and systems theory. If you take it with James C. Scott’s Seeing Like a State, Charles Perrow’s Normal Accidents and Donella H. MeadowsThinking in Systems you will have the bones of a grand unifying theory of everything: one that would caution against a patrician reductionism where top-down control is the only way of managing networks of people and mitigating the caprice of unreliable, inconstant individuals.

In a lecture at Harvard’s Urban Design Conference in 1956 Jacobs would say that “unreliability” and “caprice” were features and not bugs:

“The least we can do is to respect — in the deepest sense — strips of chaos that have a weird wisdom of their own not yet encompassed in our concept of urban order”

Jacobs’ contrarian, “bottom-up” thesis is simple: those on the ground generally best understand their own predicament, and are best placed, motivated and incentivised to make appropriate, quick, and proportionate decisions to improve it for themselves. Homo sapiens are naturally adapted to co-operate in unexpected ways if only given the chance and not presented with direct disincentives to doing so, and will go out of their way to do so if incentives run that way.

Counterintuitive observations

Why should this matter to us? Because much modern management theory shares Moses’ disastrous premises: an unrealistic faith in simplistic models, the conviction that human relations are homogeneous, predictable and may be described without loss of fidelity by simplistic models; and that if central authorities do impose such models on a supine population without the will or faculty to resist them, it will work.

Among Jane Jacobs’ thundering observations, which we seem to have forgotten, are these:

Streets are good: Streets, and not buildings, are the veins and arteries of the city. Where streets are clearly demarcated from private space, regularly occupied, of mixed-use, and where street activity is there for all to see — where there are “eyes on the street” belonging not to the authorities but to the community itself (they who are the “natural proprietors of the streets”) the conditions are right for a safe, dynamic and prosperous neighbourhood. Where these conditions are not met — where there are long blocks, deserted sidewalks, little diversity of function and especially where building entrances face away from the streets, as they tend to in housing projects, the security and vibrancy are lost.

Parks are bad: Far from being calming influences, planned parks tend to be magnets for delinquency, crime and antisocial behaviour. The typical high-modernist view has the relationship between parks and streets exactly backwards.

Mixed uses: A mixture of uses, residential and commercial, educational and recreational, together, adds cohesion, and reinforces positive feedback loops. This steadfastly flies in the face of modernist orthodoxy. Businesses open by day and bars by night, ensuring that the street is constantly over-watched by those natural proprietors. Schoolchildren should interact with shopkeepers and publicans. They will, soon enough!

Some dilapidation is good: You need old buildings as much as you need ones: not just fancy old ones, but also humdrum, run-down, or even dilapidated old ones. For some members of the community, they will be all they can afford. If you have mechanisms to allow these people into the community in places they can with their limited means sustain, they have the opportunity for development. If the whole place gentrifies, there will be people who can’t afford to live there.

Homogeneity is bad: The modernist disposition to organise, make efficient and eradicate redundancy and disorganisation in the organic community necessarily prioritises homogeneity and, at the limit, monopoly, and these accentuate fragility.

The city is the people you see

The “city” is comprised of people when and where you can see them, and they can see each other, and not when they’re behind closed doors and, as far as the city dynamic is concerned, out of circulation.

This is a profound, but obvious, observation.

It is hard not to analogise to our modern corporate sufferance: we specialists are penned together in carefully demarcated, siloed, ring-fenced and security-controlled functional sub-teams, away from other units, in separate “housing projects”. Is that optimised for richness, diversity, and agility? It doesn’t feel like it.

Jacobs observes that we naturally seek out humanity, and thrive most the more we have of it. The sight of other people in the street attracts people, and does not, as the modernists suppose, repel them.

What does this tell us about our obsession with secrecy, confidentiality, and proprietary information?

Modern business management, above all else, values scale. Scale afforded by technology, processing power and the amplifying effect of the distributed network. Scale emphasises efficiency and speed and the removal of cost, waste and redundancy: tightening margins, aggregating categories, standardising, commoditising, offshoring, compartmentalising, just-in-time producing and straight-through processing.

These are exactly the dispositions of Le Corbusier, Robert Moses and the brutalist administrators of the post-war period.

Diversity versus efficiency: pick one

Central to Jacobs’ argument is the inestimable, practical value of diversity — not just the cosmetic facsimile it has become today, but real diversity: the essential foundational quality of any vibrant community. The richness and variety of everyday life; the durability and vitality brought by a great mix of different people of different ages, different backgrounds, different perspectives, different ways and means — this is the heartbeat of Jacobs’s observations. A truly diverse collective can adapt to anything. The city is a dynamic ecosystem. It depends on the caprice, slack, redundancy, oddness and idiosyncrasy of its inhabitants to respond to the unexpected vicissitudes and opportunities that life presents.

Jacobs observes that diversity and efficiency are, at some level, mutually exclusive. You can’t move with infinite economy and have a multiplicity of viewpoints. You can’t have everyone housed in homogenous boxes and cater for every shape and size. You must do one or the other.

That is another profound idea. And so obvious, that it beggars belief no one is harping on about it today. You can’t homogenise, economise, compartmentalise, rationalise, standardise and embrace caprice, idiosyncrasy and divergence. The high-modernist who claims commitment to diversity — and they all seem to — is lying.

That is not the sort of diversity Jacobs is talking about at all. She is talking about a variety, a serendipitous, redundant, overlapping, scattershot clangour — it will not always be pretty — that generates all kinds of unexpected opportunities and challenges. This is the richness of the city.

Jacobs continued to fight the high-modernists throughout the sixties. The Lower Manhattan Expressway was eventually mothballed in the seventies, but not before Jacobs had been arrested for inciting a riot! Not long after, she moved to Toronto.

That Jane Jacobs, and others, laid it all out with such clarity so long ago and it has had so little lasting effect makes you wonder whether we’ll ever get there. We can but box on in hope.

If, like me, you prefer your books on the go, buy with confidence, by the way: Penguin’s 50th anniversary audiobook is beautifully narrated by Donna Rawlins.

See also

References