Michael Beach used to have a YouTube channel where he "looked at Google Maps a lot." Meaning, he would pan around various cities and comment on their planning and overall built form. Technically the channel still exists, but he stopped making new videos a few years ago. Here is one where he talks about Dubai being "an absolute mess" (3.8 million views) and here is one where he looks at North York (in Toronto) and asks: "why is it here?"

The most important point from his North York video is that it illustrates the deep divide that exists in Toronto (and other North American cities) between single-family "Neighbourhoods" (a defined planning term) and higher-density transit nodes, where things like tall buildings are allowed to go.

In the case of North York, this contrast is perhaps at its most stark. Even the street network is designed to stop these two urban forms from commingling with each other too much. There are ring roads that surround the transit-oriented density, and separate, more suburban streets on the other side of it:

This contrast is why there are so many people talking about the "missing middle." And I'm sure that if you started asking random people on the street, most would agree that it would be nice if we could build more moderately-scaled housing. You know, like those buildings you see in Paris.

The problem: Where should it go? Some people would probably suggest the left side of the above ring road. Just don't build as tall, okay? But this kind of land is already a scarce commodity in a city like Toronto. We need these tall buildings because most of the city is codified to look like the right side of the above ring road.

So if we have any chance of actually finding the missing middle, it is going to need to happen here, on the right side. Some progress has been made, not just in Toronto but across North America, with accessory dwellings (laneway suites). But it's not going to be enough.

This was simply a first step. It was us finding a solution to, "how can we add some more housing here without changing the look and feel and character of these residential streets in any way?" But even this small and incremental change has proven to be exceedingly controversial. People still react to new laneway suites like this:

There are complex dynamics at play here.

If you're a homeowner that decides to create a new rental home at the rear of your property, you might be viewed as greedy. You are creating something (a home) that someone needs, and you intend to make a small margin on the transaction. It's like making and selling bread for a small margin, except that selling delicious bread to people is typically viewed in a positive light. On the other hand, ensuring that the value of your house remains as high as possible is generally good practice here. Greed doesn't factor in this way because, you know, single-family homes.

There is no surprise why the missing middle is missing. It is missing because we have decided that we want it to be. But hey, $2,145 per month seems like a very reasonable price for a 2-bedroom house.

These days, everybody seems to be talking about the 15-minute city -- Bloomberg, Treehugger, the Financial Times, as well as countless others. While not a new concept, it is a moniker that is easier for most people to digest. COVID-19 has also created the right backdrop for the moment that it is currently enjoying.

The 15-minute city is a polycentric and somewhat decentralized approach to urbanism. It is about encouraging and creating multiple centers of urban activity near where people live. The idea being that everybody should have most of their essential services within a 15-minute walk of their home. Put even more simply, it's about creating an urban environment where people can live locally.

The benefits to this are numerous. It encourages more compact forms of development, which in turn encourages people to rely more heavily on active modes of transportation such as walking and cycling. The result is less commuting, less carbon emissions, more time, and likely better health outcomes given the reliance on active mobility.

Indeed, living in a walkable urban community is something that I personally put a huge value on. If I can't walk out of my home to go grab a coffee and something to eat, it's probably not the neighborhood for me. But at the same time, I don't think we can ignore the fact that there are powerful centralizing forces present within our cities.

As Natalie Whittle points out in this FT article from the summer, new technologies -- from the telegraph to the internet -- have always elicited predictions that humans would now flee cities and move to the countryside. While it is true that there are other technologies -- everything from the streetcar to the automobile -- that have allowed us to decentralize to a greater extent, most of us are all still bound to cities.

In fact, you could argue that the opposite of decentralization has played out. As we have transitioned to a knowledge and information economy, the returns to being embedded within cities and within a particular place have only become greater.

Take for example the phenomenon of "collab houses" that has been playing out in Los Angeles for some time now, including during this pandemic. Collab houses are typically LA mansions where clusters of young people come and live together in order to create content for platforms like YouTube and TikTok. It's like a big dorm for creators. And supposedly the biggest one is Hype House.

What's fascinating to me about this phenomenon is that it reinforces two things. One, if you want to be rich and famous (emphasis on famous), Los Angeles is seemingly still an important place to be. And two, if you really want to be at the top of your game, it's apparently not enough to be in the same city as other likeminded individuals; you also need to be under the same roof, bouncing ideas around and pushing one another.

So what does this all mean? Well, maybe this time is different and we are all currently living through a reorganization of how we will live, work and play. Or, maybe this time isn't all that different. And the 15-minute city, while an important goal, won't be the be-all and end-all of modern city building.

Photo by Lukas Geck on Unsplash

Guy Jones is a videographer who specializes in archival footage, or at least that is what his YouTube account suggests. He edits old videos and makes them more watchable by doing things like adding sound and slowing them down to a natural rate. 

(Older films often appear sped up because they were recorded at less than 24 frames per second and then later played at 24 or more frames per second.)

I’ve blogged about one of his videos before. This one of New York City in 1911. But he has so many other fascinating films on his channel – including a frozen Ottawa from 1942 – that I figured I would share it in its entirety today. 

For the city builders in the room, here are some street life videos of Paris in la Belle Époque (1896-1900), New York City in 1927, and London in 1967. Among other things, it is fascinating to see how quickly the car crept its way into our cities.

The video of Paris is all horses and moving walkways. The video of New York City (1927) is all cars. And if you look at the other video of New York from 1911, you’ll see a city in the midst of that transition.