This week, May 25 to 29, is Toronto Tech Week. If you'd like to check out the event calendar, click here.
What's interesting about how the week is structured is that it's not a traditional conference. It's more of a decentralized, open platform where anyone can join or host an in-person event, as long as it serves the shared goal of showcasing Toronto as a city of builders. It feels very tech-appropriate, and it means you can tailor the week to your interests.
I'm laser-focused on my own building right now (otherwise I'd be all over the it), but I am enjoying following it online and seeing the energy that it brings to our city. Toronto is one of the greatest cities in the world, and there's no shortage of talented entrepreneurs working to build the future right here.
What we do need to be better at, though, is celebrating the people taking risks and providing them with the capital and resources to make wild and crazy bets. But I'm sure that's all happening right now at Tech Week. Go Toronto!
Entrepreneurship is a critical component of city-building. You want people taking risks, starting new companies, and creating jobs to grow the overall economy. And to accomplish this, you roughly need a bunch of smart people, access to money, and a culture that accepts failure and risk-taking. Then, maybe, you might get some successful startups.
The key word, however, is maybe.
Here's an interesting essay by Jerry Neumann — a retired venture investor — called "We Have Learned Nothing." In it, he argues that there is no science of entrepreneurship:
Of course, no science of entrepreneurship can be a science in the sense most people think of the term. There are no fixed and universal recipes, no ultimate truth. This may be unsatisfying to the aspiring founder, but any science that guaranteed success would bring us right back to the perpetual money machine. The best we can hope for is a science that makes startups meaningfully more likely to succeed and that is honest about the limits of its own prescriptions. And then, when those prescriptions harden into orthodoxy, we try something different. A true science of entrepreneurship embraces the Red Queen dynamic so completely that it rejects any attempt to permanently systematize it.
The "Red Queen hypothesis" is an evolutionary biology concept that states that one has to constantly adapt and evolve just to survive and maintain a position, never mind make any progress. It follows that as soon as you stop innovating as a company, you don't just stay where you are; you fall behind. And that's because the entire landscape is constantly shifting around you. Neumann argues that this is a better mental model for startups and that it's a fool's errand to try to permanently codify what it takes to create a successful one.
I'm going to take this even further and say that the same is true for cities. It's not enough to just follow "best practices" and copy what has been successful in other places. There is no set formula for urban leadership. Cities are rewarded most for being different, and for doing that different thing first. This is particularly true in a world of increasing global sameness. Creating a replica of the London Eye or New York's High Line will not magically turn you into a comparable global city. It is a recipe for mediocrity.
Cover photo by Laine Cooper on Unsplash
Vietnam has a building typology known as tube housing.
It is characterized by narrow building frontages, often in the range of 3 to 4 meters, and multiple skinny levels. From what I've read, tube housing first appeared in the 17th century in cities like Hanoi. Its ubiquity over the years, however, has been aided by a myriad of factors, including Vietnam's transition from capitalism to socialism. This change meant that far fewer apartment buildings were being constructed, and so households had to take matters into their own hands and build what they could.
I've also read that this building type may have something to do with the way properties were taxed based on their frontage rather than their site area, though I haven’t been able to find a reliable source for this. Whatever the case, the end result is exactly what we discussed in this recent post — The 9-Step Rule: Why Simple, Narrow Buildings Are Good for Cities. Except with these frontages, it wouldn’t even take nine steps if the average building width is closer to 3–4 meters.
What is equally interesting about this housing type is that it represents a ground-up intervention (as opposed to the result of top-down urban design) and it is highly adaptable. It is not uncommon for additional floors to be added to these tube houses as needs change, and for the ground floors to serve as garages, living rooms, thriving commercial spaces, or as all three at once. It is an entirely flexible space that fuels entrepreneurship and allows households to make money.
Just think about how much easier it would be to open your own shop if you already owned the space. Conversely, how many of these ground-floor businesses wouldn’t exist if only there were a single line in the zoning regulations that said: “Nah, sorry, you can’t start and operate your own business here.” That is what I often worry about when it comes to land-use policy: what human potential are we quashing as a result of our decisions?