Peggy Noonan argues, in this recent WSJ article, that the world has changed forever. A human habit was broken during this pandemic and city life, including office life, will never be the same in New York City. She qualifies this by saying that some people will return to offices, potentially in significant numbers. (People like being around other people.) But that things will never be what they once were. We've learned that we can decentralize and still get work done.
As many of you know, I am bullish on cities and I am bullish on offices. So I found myself disagreeing with many of her arguments. But Peggy does raise some valid concerns: How are cities going to pay for what just happened over the last 12 months? According to the Partnership for New York City, the city lost about 500,000 private-sector jobs since March 2020. About 300,000 residents from high-income neighborhoods also filed for a "change of the address" during this time period.
Given that the top 5% in New York represent about 62% of the state's income tax base, the movement of people to low-tax states (and warmer places) is something to watch. It's also a trend that existed well before this pandemic.
At the same time, I'm not necessarily convinced that (at least some of) these fleeing rich people aren't coming back. I was speaking with a real estate agent over the weekend who is based in a popular US resort/recreation market and while he told me that, yes, he's seeing a massive influx of people from expensive coastal markets, these people are largely choosing to rent. They want to take the lifestyle for a test drive and they are also waiting to see what happens with the world once city life returns.
There will be real financial challenges coming out of this. But as I've said time and time before, cities are remarkably resilient. And as Jack Shafer argued in this recent article about "memorializing the pandemic," humans tend to have short memories, especially when it comes to bad things. The Spanish Flu has been regarded by many as a forgotten pandemic. We moved on and the same will happen this time around.
One of things I love about cities is the hustle and bustle of people.
I would rather eat at a busy restaurant than a quiet or dead one. I would rather workout at a busy gym than one with nobody there. And I would rather work in an office or at a coffee shop than work at home by myself. Working at home actually drains me if I do too much of it.
The reason for that is because I derive a lot of my energy from the outside world. Urban life energizes me. To Swiss psychiatrist Carl Jung, that is the defining characteristic of an extrovert. I am focused on the “outside world of objects.”
But because of this, I can’t help but slowdown during the holidays. Once the city dials down and the streets become emptier, my mood actually changes. I don’t feel as energized.
It’s fascinating to think about the connection that many of us have with urban life. Since the first cities were established there has always been some kind of centralized place, market, or agora (in the case of ancient Greek cities) where people came together to exchange goods and ideas.
But one of the most interesting turning points for modern urban life, as we know it today, came in 19th century France with poets and writers such as Charles Baudelaire.
At the time that Baudelaire was active, Paris was undergoing Hussmannization. It was being transformed from a medieval city with cramped narrow streets into a modern metropolis of broad avenues.
And essential to these new streets and urban spaces was the flâneur. At the time, the flâneur was an important literary and artistic figure. He was a man about town. A man of leisure. An urban explorer in the new modern metropolis.
Here is how Baudelaire defined the flâneur in his Painter of Modern Life:
The crowd is his element, as the air is that of birds and water of fishes. His passion and his profession are to become one flesh with the crowd. For the perfect flâneur, for the passionate spectator, it is an immense joy to set up house in the heart of the multitude, amid the ebb and flow of movement, in the midst of the fugitive and the infinite. To be away from home and yet to feel oneself everywhere at home; to see the world, to be at the centre of the world, and yet to remain hidden from the world—impartial natures which the tongue can but clumsily define. The spectator is a prince who everywhere rejoices in his incognito.
One of the central themes at the time was that of anonymity. The modern city had grown to such a scale that a paradox had emerged. Despite all its density and physical proximity, urban life had an isolating effect. It had become easy to just be a number in an ephemeral crowd.
But fascinating to me is this idea that urban life – with all its ebbs and flows – could bring “immense joy” to the flâneur. In fact, the very definition of a flâneur was someone who did nothing. They weren’t capitalists on the pursuit of new material possessions. Their sole focus was urban life and nothing else.
And while most of us probably don’t routinely wander around our own cities as tourists without purpose, I suspect that many of us can appreciate the impact that urban life has on us. I know I do. It gives me energy.
One of the most interesting things about cities is that as they grow their “urban metabolism” also tends to increase. People become more productive. Economic output increases. It becomes easier to hail a cab (which is a test I like to use). And, according to this recent article by CityLab, people walk faster.
Yes, research has shown that there’s a correlation between population size and the speed in which people walk. And some of the studies go as far back as the 1970s – like this one from psychologists Marc and Helen Bernstein:
In many ways, this makes intuitive sense. Life in the big city is a fast paced one. But why exactly do people start literally walking faster? The most probable answer seems to be, quite simply, that time is money. Subsequent research from the 1980s and 1990s has revealed that the best predictor of fast walking is economic output.
When a city grows larger, they wrote, wage rate and cost of living increase, and with that the value of a resident’s time. As a result, “economizing on time becomes more urgent and life becomes more hurried and harried,” Walmsley and Lewis suggest. (Source: CityLab)
The first thing that crossed my mind when reading all of this is that there must be some sort of upper limit. Humans don’t just keep walking faster and faster as the city in which they live in grows bigger. If that were the case, the mega cities of the world – such as Tokyo – would have people sprinting around all the time. But that’s obviously not the case.
So this is a topic that could probably use some more data. And I would imagine it would be a lot easier to collect today given that we all now walk around with mobile sensors in our pockets (our smartphones). And pretty soon we may have mobile sensors on our wrists (smart watches).
I would certainly like to see more data on this. The idea of an “urban metabolism” has always interested me.
Image: Dundas Square, Toronto via Flickr