Ben Thompson is an American technology analyst who writes a widely read newsletter called Stratechery. He also used to live in Taipei, where he lived continuously for 12 years.
But this past summer he moved back to Wisconsin, trading his urban life for a suburban one. And so his latest article starts with a more personal note, talking about what it's like to return to the US (though the larger point of the post is the intersection of robotaxis and suburbia).
I spent a summer in Taipei in my early 20's and grew to love the place after the first few weeks, and so I was expecting his re-acclimation to have been a bit more jarring. But it turns out, Ben is happy to be back and, in particular, he's happy to be back living in the suburbs.
His post even goes on to question whether the mobility transformations we are seeing today might be about to cement some kind of "end to urbanism":
What is worth considering, however, is if the last wave of urbanism, which started in the 1990s and peaked in the 2010s, might be the last, at least in the United States (Asia and its massive metropolises are another story). The potential physical transformation in transportation and delivery I am talking about is simply completing the story that started with entertainment and television in the first wave of suburbia, and then information and interactivity via the Internet, particularly since COVID. There are real benefits to being in person, just like there are to living in the city, but the relative delta to working remote or living in the suburbs has decreased dramatically; meanwhile, offices and urban living can never match the advantages inherent to working from a big home with a big yard.
Whether or not this is good thing is a separate discussion; I will say it has been good for me, and it’s poised to get even better.
I grew up in the suburbs of Toronto. I initially made the mistake of going to university in Waterloo, but I immediately started to envy my friends who were living downtown and going to the University of Toronto. So I course-corrected and transferred.
When it came time to go to grad school, I had learned my lesson: a proper urban center was a non-negotiable item. So I moved to Philadelphia and absolutely fell in love with the city's walkability, historic scale, and nightlife. It also didn't hurt that I could take a Chinatown bus to Manhattan for $10.
In fact, when I temporarily returned to the suburbs of Toronto after school — before once again moving into the city — I vividly remember missing Philly. I missed its urbanity. I missed walking everywhere. It was either that, or I just missed the good old "special" at Bob and Barbara's on South Street.
Since moving back to Toronto after school, I have yet to live beyond the confines of High Park, St. Clair Avenue, and the Don River. Maybe one day I will, or maybe I won't. The oldest parts of our city have always felt the most like home to me.
Sure, I also have a deep love for the mountains, but when I daydream about places where I could really live, my mind always goes to big cities like Paris, Tokyo, and Rio de Janeiro (city and mountains!).
I'm not here to impose my views (just write about them). We all have our lifestyle preferences. And I can appreciate that, for many, like Ben, the suburbs offer a compelling value proposition. His view is also supported by history: new technologies do often have a decentralizing effect on cities.
Cover photo by TangChi Lee on Unsplash
Good news: If you would like to open a small-scale retail business in Toronto — and you have a property that is residentially zoned on a major street (in one of the approved areas), or you have a corner property on a designated “community street,” or you have a property that abuts a non-residential use such as a park or public school — you may now be allowed to do it, with some restrictions. (Consult your local planner for exact details.)
We all know what value engineering is when it comes to buildings. Generally speaking, it is the process of trying to identify high-cost items with relatively low perceived value. Once you identify these items, you then remove them (if you can), replace them with alternatives, or find other creative solutions. All projects have to do this at one point or another because, well, money doesn't grow on trees.
One way to think about this is in terms of the following four-quadrant chart:
Low-value and low-cost items aren't expensive, so you will probably just leave them alone. But if you can move them up to the next quadrant, that's even better.
High-value and low-cost items are the ideal place to be. One example might be a low-cost material that gets applied in a creative way so as to create high perceived value. This is where design really becomes alpha.
Low-value and high-cost items are the fertile ground for value engineering exercises. If the perceived value is low, why spend the money on it? Surely there must be other options.
High-value and high-cost items, on the other hand, require the most thought and debate. How high value is it? Do we really need or want to spend the money on it? One example of this would be the architectural facade lighting at
Ben Thompson is an American technology analyst who writes a widely read newsletter called Stratechery. He also used to live in Taipei, where he lived continuously for 12 years.
But this past summer he moved back to Wisconsin, trading his urban life for a suburban one. And so his latest article starts with a more personal note, talking about what it's like to return to the US (though the larger point of the post is the intersection of robotaxis and suburbia).
I spent a summer in Taipei in my early 20's and grew to love the place after the first few weeks, and so I was expecting his re-acclimation to have been a bit more jarring. But it turns out, Ben is happy to be back and, in particular, he's happy to be back living in the suburbs.
His post even goes on to question whether the mobility transformations we are seeing today might be about to cement some kind of "end to urbanism":
What is worth considering, however, is if the last wave of urbanism, which started in the 1990s and peaked in the 2010s, might be the last, at least in the United States (Asia and its massive metropolises are another story). The potential physical transformation in transportation and delivery I am talking about is simply completing the story that started with entertainment and television in the first wave of suburbia, and then information and interactivity via the Internet, particularly since COVID. There are real benefits to being in person, just like there are to living in the city, but the relative delta to working remote or living in the suburbs has decreased dramatically; meanwhile, offices and urban living can never match the advantages inherent to working from a big home with a big yard.
Whether or not this is good thing is a separate discussion; I will say it has been good for me, and it’s poised to get even better.
I grew up in the suburbs of Toronto. I initially made the mistake of going to university in Waterloo, but I immediately started to envy my friends who were living downtown and going to the University of Toronto. So I course-corrected and transferred.
When it came time to go to grad school, I had learned my lesson: a proper urban center was a non-negotiable item. So I moved to Philadelphia and absolutely fell in love with the city's walkability, historic scale, and nightlife. It also didn't hurt that I could take a Chinatown bus to Manhattan for $10.
In fact, when I temporarily returned to the suburbs of Toronto after school — before once again moving into the city — I vividly remember missing Philly. I missed its urbanity. I missed walking everywhere. It was either that, or I just missed the good old "special" at Bob and Barbara's on South Street.
Since moving back to Toronto after school, I have yet to live beyond the confines of High Park, St. Clair Avenue, and the Don River. Maybe one day I will, or maybe I won't. The oldest parts of our city have always felt the most like home to me.
Sure, I also have a deep love for the mountains, but when I daydream about places where I could really live, my mind always goes to big cities like Paris, Tokyo, and Rio de Janeiro (city and mountains!).
I'm not here to impose my views (just write about them). We all have our lifestyle preferences. And I can appreciate that, for many, like Ben, the suburbs offer a compelling value proposition. His view is also supported by history: new technologies do often have a decentralizing effect on cities.
Cover photo by TangChi Lee on Unsplash
Good news: If you would like to open a small-scale retail business in Toronto — and you have a property that is residentially zoned on a major street (in one of the approved areas), or you have a corner property on a designated “community street,” or you have a property that abuts a non-residential use such as a park or public school — you may now be allowed to do it, with some restrictions. (Consult your local planner for exact details.)
We all know what value engineering is when it comes to buildings. Generally speaking, it is the process of trying to identify high-cost items with relatively low perceived value. Once you identify these items, you then remove them (if you can), replace them with alternatives, or find other creative solutions. All projects have to do this at one point or another because, well, money doesn't grow on trees.
One way to think about this is in terms of the following four-quadrant chart:
Low-value and low-cost items aren't expensive, so you will probably just leave them alone. But if you can move them up to the next quadrant, that's even better.
High-value and low-cost items are the ideal place to be. One example might be a low-cost material that gets applied in a creative way so as to create high perceived value. This is where design really becomes alpha.
Low-value and high-cost items are the fertile ground for value engineering exercises. If the perceived value is low, why spend the money on it? Surely there must be other options.
High-value and high-cost items, on the other hand, require the most thought and debate. How high value is it? Do we really need or want to spend the money on it? One example of this would be the architectural facade lighting at
This, as we talked about recently, is meaningful progress for Toronto. But as is always the case, it was not easy. Toward the end, local community groups even started using AI slop in an attempt to terrify the public into thinking that this would be a harbinger of littering hoodlums loitering in all of our neighborhoods.
Thankfully, this city has people like Dan Seljak, Blair Scorgie, and many others — including, of course, the EHON team at the City — who have been instrumental in getting something passed, even if it had to change a little along the way. City building ain’t easy. They should all be proud of what they've accomplished. I look forward to seeing what kind of local entrepreneurship this unlocks. Go Toronto.
Years ago, the team presented it as a possible value-engineering option. But ultimately, we viewed it as being fundamental to the overall design. Its perceived value was off the charts. I mean, why invest so much in the architecture only to cut the very thing that helps prominently display it? So a decision was made to keep it and, boy, am I glad we did.
There's nothing else going up in Toronto like it.
This, as we talked about recently, is meaningful progress for Toronto. But as is always the case, it was not easy. Toward the end, local community groups even started using AI slop in an attempt to terrify the public into thinking that this would be a harbinger of littering hoodlums loitering in all of our neighborhoods.
Thankfully, this city has people like Dan Seljak, Blair Scorgie, and many others — including, of course, the EHON team at the City — who have been instrumental in getting something passed, even if it had to change a little along the way. City building ain’t easy. They should all be proud of what they've accomplished. I look forward to seeing what kind of local entrepreneurship this unlocks. Go Toronto.
Years ago, the team presented it as a possible value-engineering option. But ultimately, we viewed it as being fundamental to the overall design. Its perceived value was off the charts. I mean, why invest so much in the architecture only to cut the very thing that helps prominently display it? So a decision was made to keep it and, boy, am I glad we did.
There's nothing else going up in Toronto like it.
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