Last week's general election in the UK was yet another example of the urban-rural divide that we are all seeing emerge around the world. Taking a look at this chart from the Centre for Towns, it's pretty clear that the type of community someone lives in (i.e. how urban), says a lot about the way in which they probably voted. In big cities, the vote share was 49% Labour. And in villages, communities, and small towns, the vote share was about 48-58% Conservative.
But what does this stem from? According to John Burns Murdoch of the Financial Times, the biggest predictor (for constituencies) of a swing vote over to the Conservatives during this last election was the share of the population in a blue collar job. Here is a graph from John's article. Circles with a black outline are constituencies that changed hands last week. Note Great Grimsby, which I wrote about here, in the top right corner.
These facts probably aren't all that surprising to most of you. But it is an important reminder of how concentrated the new economy is becoming in big -- or perhaps I should say, certain -- cities. The Brookings Institution recently referred to this as "a crisis of regional imbalance." Because it's not just a case of urban vs. rural. Brookings found that from 2005 to 2017, more than 90% of innovation sector growth in the US could be traced back to just five metro areas. (You'll be able to guess most of the five. Only one stood out for me.)
This is the world we live in.
Here is an excerpt from a Guardian article that was published last year (by Tim Burrows) about Grimsby, England:
In Grimsby’s 1930s heyday, fishermen used to head to Freeman Street as soon as they were off the trawler, straight to the Lincoln or the Corporation Arms to spend their bountiful earnings. A century previously, Grimsby had been a fairly sleepy fishing village, but by the 1890s it was on the way to becoming the biggest fishing port in the world. In the mid 20th-century, trawlers were bringing in 500 tonnes of fish a day.
Today, Grimsby still has a thriving indoor market (paid for by the EU and the Enrolled Freemen of Grimsby, an organisation that dates back to the 13th century), but the further north towards the docks you walk, the emptier and more dilapidated things get. A local businessman says sex workers wait around at night for lorries to take them to the deserted docks. “It’s a legacy of the old fishing days.”
There is scant legacy to be found elsewhere. After a long decline, the fishing industry died in the mid 1980s, its owners selling their trawlers to companies in Aberdeen or Japan. Unlike Hull across the river, currently basking in its year as Capital of Culture, Grimsby is the Humber city that never was.
More than 70% of people in Grimsby, England voted to leave the European Union in the 2016 "Brexit" referendum. It was one of the highest shares in the country. But with one of the highest unemployment rates in the country, that outcome is not all that surprising.
Supposedly, at its peak, there were eight onshore jobs for every one at sea in Grimsby. And like all thriving cities, there were economies of agglomeration, which resulted in things like the largest ice factory in the world. The fishing fleets needed crushed ice -- and lots of it.
The Grimsby story is, of course, not a unique one. You just have to replace fishing with some other industry. Many cities have managed to diversify their economies either out of necessity or because they saw the writing on the wall. But for others it has been a real struggle.
It's one of those things that is perhaps simple, but far from easy.
In this January 2018 report from the Fraser Institute, they pegged the average population density of Paris to be about 21,067 inhabitants per square kilometer (2014 population year). It is the second densest city in their report after Hong Kong, but the densest in Europe. By comparison, Vancouver sits at around 5,493 inhabitants per square kilometer (2016 population year).
Now, these are of course city averages. Some neighborhoods will be higher and some will be lower. According to a January 2018 study by Alasdair Rae -- who is a works in the Department of Urban Studies and Planning at the University of Sheffield -- these are the most densely populated square kilometers across Europe (or at least within the 39 countries that he looked at).
Paris, once again, comes in near the top with a peak density somewhere around 52,218 inhabitants per 1km square. The square in question is in the neighborhood of Goutte D'Or. And the only square within the study to come in denser is one from the L’Hospitalet de Llobegrat in Greater Barcelona (53,119 inhabitants per square kilometer).
Last week's general election in the UK was yet another example of the urban-rural divide that we are all seeing emerge around the world. Taking a look at this chart from the Centre for Towns, it's pretty clear that the type of community someone lives in (i.e. how urban), says a lot about the way in which they probably voted. In big cities, the vote share was 49% Labour. And in villages, communities, and small towns, the vote share was about 48-58% Conservative.
But what does this stem from? According to John Burns Murdoch of the Financial Times, the biggest predictor (for constituencies) of a swing vote over to the Conservatives during this last election was the share of the population in a blue collar job. Here is a graph from John's article. Circles with a black outline are constituencies that changed hands last week. Note Great Grimsby, which I wrote about here, in the top right corner.
These facts probably aren't all that surprising to most of you. But it is an important reminder of how concentrated the new economy is becoming in big -- or perhaps I should say, certain -- cities. The Brookings Institution recently referred to this as "a crisis of regional imbalance." Because it's not just a case of urban vs. rural. Brookings found that from 2005 to 2017, more than 90% of innovation sector growth in the US could be traced back to just five metro areas. (You'll be able to guess most of the five. Only one stood out for me.)
This is the world we live in.
Here is an excerpt from a Guardian article that was published last year (by Tim Burrows) about Grimsby, England:
In Grimsby’s 1930s heyday, fishermen used to head to Freeman Street as soon as they were off the trawler, straight to the Lincoln or the Corporation Arms to spend their bountiful earnings. A century previously, Grimsby had been a fairly sleepy fishing village, but by the 1890s it was on the way to becoming the biggest fishing port in the world. In the mid 20th-century, trawlers were bringing in 500 tonnes of fish a day.
Today, Grimsby still has a thriving indoor market (paid for by the EU and the Enrolled Freemen of Grimsby, an organisation that dates back to the 13th century), but the further north towards the docks you walk, the emptier and more dilapidated things get. A local businessman says sex workers wait around at night for lorries to take them to the deserted docks. “It’s a legacy of the old fishing days.”
There is scant legacy to be found elsewhere. After a long decline, the fishing industry died in the mid 1980s, its owners selling their trawlers to companies in Aberdeen or Japan. Unlike Hull across the river, currently basking in its year as Capital of Culture, Grimsby is the Humber city that never was.
More than 70% of people in Grimsby, England voted to leave the European Union in the 2016 "Brexit" referendum. It was one of the highest shares in the country. But with one of the highest unemployment rates in the country, that outcome is not all that surprising.
Supposedly, at its peak, there were eight onshore jobs for every one at sea in Grimsby. And like all thriving cities, there were economies of agglomeration, which resulted in things like the largest ice factory in the world. The fishing fleets needed crushed ice -- and lots of it.
The Grimsby story is, of course, not a unique one. You just have to replace fishing with some other industry. Many cities have managed to diversify their economies either out of necessity or because they saw the writing on the wall. But for others it has been a real struggle.
It's one of those things that is perhaps simple, but far from easy.
In this January 2018 report from the Fraser Institute, they pegged the average population density of Paris to be about 21,067 inhabitants per square kilometer (2014 population year). It is the second densest city in their report after Hong Kong, but the densest in Europe. By comparison, Vancouver sits at around 5,493 inhabitants per square kilometer (2016 population year).
Now, these are of course city averages. Some neighborhoods will be higher and some will be lower. According to a January 2018 study by Alasdair Rae -- who is a works in the Department of Urban Studies and Planning at the University of Sheffield -- these are the most densely populated square kilometers across Europe (or at least within the 39 countries that he looked at).
Paris, once again, comes in near the top with a peak density somewhere around 52,218 inhabitants per 1km square. The square in question is in the neighborhood of Goutte D'Or. And the only square within the study to come in denser is one from the L’Hospitalet de Llobegrat in Greater Barcelona (53,119 inhabitants per square kilometer).
Now let's take a look at how these sorts of densities actually manifest themselves. Below is an aerial capture from Google Maps showing a section of Goutte D'Or in Paris. The buildings are all pretty much 7 storeys (mid-rise), but the blocks are mostly filled in. Lots of interior courtyard apartments. This is one way to get to over 50,000 people per square kilometer.
Returning to Vancouver as a point of comparison, below is an aerial capture from downtown Vancouver at exactly the same scale as the Paris capture. I couldn't find a density map of downtown, but it's probably safe to assume that it's greater than 5,493 and a lot less than 52,218 residents per square kilometer.
What you see here is typical Vancouverism. Lots of slender point towers, careful tower positioning and spacing, and generally low podiums. It is a perfect demonstration that height and density do not necessarily correlate. It is possible to have low buildings and high density, which is something that Europe obviously does very well.
But here's the important question: In which of these two examples would you rather live? Please leave a comment below.
Now let's take a look at how these sorts of densities actually manifest themselves. Below is an aerial capture from Google Maps showing a section of Goutte D'Or in Paris. The buildings are all pretty much 7 storeys (mid-rise), but the blocks are mostly filled in. Lots of interior courtyard apartments. This is one way to get to over 50,000 people per square kilometer.
Returning to Vancouver as a point of comparison, below is an aerial capture from downtown Vancouver at exactly the same scale as the Paris capture. I couldn't find a density map of downtown, but it's probably safe to assume that it's greater than 5,493 and a lot less than 52,218 residents per square kilometer.
What you see here is typical Vancouverism. Lots of slender point towers, careful tower positioning and spacing, and generally low podiums. It is a perfect demonstration that height and density do not necessarily correlate. It is possible to have low buildings and high density, which is something that Europe obviously does very well.
But here's the important question: In which of these two examples would you rather live? Please leave a comment below.
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