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
Within a week, Paris will know, with near certainty, who its next mayor will be. (The first round of results will be announced this evening.) The two frontrunners are Emmanuel Grégoire (on the left) and Rachida Dati (on the right). Grégoire is the status quo vote, and Dati is the "I want change" vote.
From a city-building standpoint, one of the ways that this is being presented is as a battle between bikes and cars. Not surprisingly, the current mobility approach has been criticized for creating a divide between wealthier residents in transit-rich central Paris (where only about a quarter of households own a car) and residents in the more car-oriented suburbs.
Because after 12 years under Mayor Anne Hidalgo it's pretty clear that "the bike beat the car in Paris." From 2002 to 2023, car traffic fell by more than half, dedicated cycle lanes expanded sixfold, and today, bike trips outnumber car trips by more than 2 to 1 in the city.
As an outsider to the city, I can only read about what's going on, but what I find interesting is that this particular mobility issue doesn't appear to be as political as the headlines might suggest.
Dati has softened her initial criticism of popular cycle lanes and instead focused on concerns over dirty streets.
“We’re not fighting an ideological battle on [transportation] issues,” Dati told news agency Reuters while greeting shoppers in northern Paris. “We just want things to be organised.”
And:
She [Dati] has promised not to reverse the left’s flagship policy of transforming a once traffic-clogged dual carriageway into a car-free pedestrian walkway along the banks of the Seine, but will renovate those pedestrian spaces.
Correct me if I'm wrong, but what this tells me is that Parisians actually like the city's transition away from the car. I'm reminded of last summer in Paris when I was in an Uber and the driver surprised me by saying that these mobility changes needed to be done — bikes are a more efficient form of urban transport and they have greatly reduced pollution within the city.
General public sentiment also seems to reflect my anecdotal evidence. A recent Keolis-IFOP survey found that more than one in two French people (~56%) would like to see cars play a smaller role in the cities of tomorrow. Importantly, this response also seems to transcend geography and socio-economic divides. The same sentiment is found in Paris and in rural areas.
This month's mayoral election will certainly tell us something about Parisian preferences for the status quo versus change. But I'm always encouraged when issues can become less about ideology and more about whether we are accomplishing productive objectives based on, you know, facts and information.
Cover photo by Irina Nakonechnaya on Unsplash
I saw Paul Graham write this week that "Cities inhale and exhale each generation. People move to cities in their 20s in search of colleagues and mates, move back out to raise their kids, and then when their kids are in their 20s, they return."
I don't like it being presented in such a single-minded way, but there is, of course, a lot of truth to this remark, particularly for North American cities. It's basically the "dumbbell" housing demand profile that we in the industry often talk about.
Whether you believe this is an innate housing preference, a deeply-rooted cultural bias, a fundamental truth about the optimal way to raise children, or the result of poor land-use decisions, it is a common housing outcome and, in some cities, the de facto housing outcome. But again, it is not universally the case.
This is a semi-regular topic on this blog, but I've been thinking about it more now that Bianca and I are about to graduate to being urban parents. In fact, now that it has become known, we've started getting some questions: "So, do you think you will move to a house?" (We live in an apartment condominium.) And sometimes it's not even a question; it's a flat-out assumption: "Once you move to a house..."
I wasn't aware that this was a prerequisite. Little do they know that I spend my free time fantasizing about apartment renovations in Paris, Tokyo, and Rio de Janeiro.
I'm sure that our thinking will evolve over time, but to a meaningful extent, I would classify us as being typologically agnostic, and instead resolute on a particular kind of urban context. What matters most to us is that we remain in a city where we can walk or bike to things, where a car is not an absolute necessity, and where exciting and cultured things take place from time to time.
I'm not sure what definition of "city" Paul had in mind when he was talking about people leaving it. Did he mean downtowns? Are the inner suburbs within a city an acceptable geography? I don't know, but I can confidently say that leaving the city is the last thing on our minds right now.
Maybe that will change. Or maybe it won't.