Read through planning documents across North America and you're bound to find language that refers to low-rise residential neighbourhoods as "physically stable areas" where the "existing neighbourhood character" is paramount. But to be more precise, what this kind of language is actually saying is not that these neighbourhoods need to be broadly stable; it is saying that they just need to look more or less stable.
Here in Toronto, for example, it has been widely documented that many of our low-rise neighbourhoods are losing people. Household sizes are getting smaller, and houses that used to be subdivided are being returned to single-family use. A similar thing is happening in other cities like New York:
Bloomberg News recently reported that since 2004, at least 9,300 homes have been lost as a result of multi-family buildings getting "rolled up" into single-family homes. More recently, the city has even seen an increase in people combining two or more buildings into large urban mansions.
And while the total number of homes removed is relatively small for New York as a whole, it can be quite impactful to individual neighbourhoods. In the West Village, where there's a high concentration of rowhomes and townhouses, Bloomberg estimates that one out of every six small apartment buildings has been rolled up into a single-family home since 2004!
From a built form standpoint, you could say these are "physically stable" areas that are obediently adhering to their existing neighbourhood character. But under the hood and behind their street walls, they are clearly changing.
It is one of the great ironies of city building. People often fear new development because they worry it might disrupt the character of a neighbourhood. But preventing development does not guarantee stasis. In fact, we know that not building new housing actually increases the pressures felt on a city's existing housing stock, as people compete for a more fixed amount of supply.
The wealthy can always outbid the less wealthy on housing. So if you don't provide any new options, the wealthy will just buy up the existing stuff and turn it into what they want. Alternatively, you can build more housing and create a "moving chain" that frees up more existing housing for people of lower incomes.
Cover photo by Chanan Greenblatt on Unsplash
Map from Bloomberg
One of the ways that cities determine where they should spend money and invest is through something known as Participatory Budgeting. The birthplace of this approach is generally thought to be Porto Alegre in Brazil, which first adopted it in 1989. Since then, it has become a mainstream practice and spread to cities all around the world, including New York and Paris, both of which operate ambitious programs.
In the case of Paris, they have committed 5% of their capital budget to be spent in this way. The way it generally works is simple: citizens get to propose ideas and then vote on which urban projects they think should be funded. Last year, Paris saw 2,079 ideas proposed, 261 projects put to a vote, 162,395 votes, and 104 projects selected. And since the program launched in 2014, over €768 million has been allocated.
Some of these projects are very local and specific, such as "build a sports facility on this street," while others are city-wide, like "make things cleaner, be better at sorting waste and recycling, and reduce noise."
While there's lots of debate about the effectiveness of Participatory Budgeting, it does offer a number of benefits. Studies have shown that it can improve public trust in government institutions by making them more accountable. It can also help to educate residents on what things actually cost, making trade-offs more understandable. But most importantly, it can help to better allocate funds.
After all, who better to decide what a neighborhood needs than the locals who live there every day? Just don't ask about building new housing.
Cover photo by Ness P. Colmart on Unsplash
One of the themes we cover on this blog is the importance of place in a world where people are becoming increasingly untethered. While I'm a firm believer that great local places have enduring value, this does not mean that technology isn't driving greater fluidity in the way people live, work, play, and optimize their taxes.
Over the last decade, the population of ultra-wealthy Americans (those with a net worth greater than or equal to $30 million) has risen noticeably in two states: Texas and Florida. California, a high-tax state, still dominates; however, Texas has overtaken New York, and Florida has overtaken Illinois. Notably, both Texas and Florida have no state income tax — they also have warmer weather than New York and Illinois.
As we have talked about before, there's a longstanding migration trend in the US toward sun, urban sprawl, and lower taxes. But it's not always as clear-cut as a rich person fully relocating to a lower-tax jurisdiction and completely severing ties. The enduring value of place means that many people still travel back and forth to meet whatever personal or professional obligations they might have.
And today, there are apps, such as TaxBird, that will meticulously track the number of days you spend (or your phone spends) in each jurisdiction to ensure you don't cross any important residency thresholds.
The global standard is the 183-day rule (or roughly half a year). In many or most cases, if you are physically present in a place for more than 50% of the year, you are automatically considered a resident for tax purposes. But it's not always this simple, so check with your tax advisor. Regardless, the untethering of life and work is surely allowing more people to tax-optimize in this way.
None of this is surprising.
As Charlie Munger used to say, "Show me the incentive, and I'll show you the outcome." But now we need to think about the longer-term ramifications for colder, higher-tax jurisdictions as capital and tax revenue continue to be siphoned off, not only to Texas and Florida, but to Dubai, Singapore, Hong Kong, Switzerland, Monaco and other places.
Cover photo by Colin Lloyd on Unsplash