The day Donald Trump was elected, I was attending the World Urban Forum in Cairo. Contrary to what many of us believed, it wasn’t just the white, aged countryside that voted for him, but also young urban and suburban folks. Admittedly, not all of them, but enough to pave a populist’s way into the White House. At the forum, I was surrounded by tens of thousands of people who, in their vast majority, were criticizing the outcomes of a democratic vote. In this bubble, one could experience a very different agenda unfolding: topics of progressive learning, and an activist professional and academic populace dominated the agenda. While I support many of these topics myself, the contrast between the events in Cairo and Washington made me wonder: Are we really planning cities for the people? Do we still understand who the people are, what moves them, and how they want to live? Maybe there is a group that, at least in the United States, accounts for more than 50% of the voting population and thinks differently. Maybe they have other expectations about what their city should look and feel like, what it should offer, and how it should offer that.

Not only since Trump’s victory, but evolving over at least a decade, we have seen dramatic shifts in political debates. Where less than five years ago, we all believed we were heading for a more climate-adapted, just, and equal city, today we see forces at work that are heading in the opposite direction. This should not come as a surprise, since the evolution of our cities is a complex negotiation process of all kinds of interests that ultimately manifest themselves in space. If politics at large change, why should our cities not be affected? They are, and they will be changing, and current political trends will leave their marks.

But how did all this come about? Why are we seeing populist, nationalist, and partially racist narratives take over? This is not an easy question to answer. Undoubtedly, there are many different interpretations possible. Therefore, I am not claiming to hold the ultimate truth or a complete answer. But to understand how to best move forward, trying to understand the underlying motivations that support a less progressive and more divisive future seems important.

I remember some statements from a decade ago that claimed that conservative politics in the near future would not be able to win majorities because more and more people live in cities and cities lean towards a progressive agenda represented by left-liberal parties. I have no doubt that this position was credible then, and it could have materialized if those representing these parties had acted differently. Remember – back then, the world seemed to converge, and the blessings of a highly interconnected world with open markets seemed to bring prosperity and progress to all. Apps made our lives easier, and everyone could customize their own life. Everything seemed easily available as desired. This is what many thought and lived: The young urbanites discovered the sharing economy that gave access to previously unreachable services. Uber allowed all of us to have a chauffeur. Airbnb allowed us to rent out our homes while we were on holidays and earn money back home while spending it elsewhere. Even working did not require going to a boring office any more – one could work from home or go to a co-working space with endless free coffee and yoga classes. Speaking of yoga classes: of course, it was not necessary to commit to anything, since there was an app with DIY at-home lessons from the yoga teacher. We have seen an unprecedented increase in possibilities to add comfort to our lives at unprecedentedly affordable prices. Many of these services, however, were only affordable because they were provided by people who work under less comfortable conditions and for low salaries. We did not want to give up comfort – at least not to such an extent that these services could create proper incomes – but we felt we had to do something about the status of the poor workers of the sharing and service economy. Gender and race became the playing fields for the just society that we were proclaiming. We also elegantly linked this to climate change and the need for a different type of urbanism – greener and nature-inclusive. The result was gender-neutral toilets, community empowerment programs, new all-green squares, and the proliferation of buildings soaked in chlorophyll.

As progressive urbanists, we pushed hard to achieve in a short time what we had been struggling with for centuries. We kept reiterating the narrative that if all these questions were addressed, all inherited problems would disappear miraculously. In that way, we lost many of those we were claiming to work for. We tried to push urban societies up the Maslow Pyramid. But we did not solve the basic problems at the base of the pyramid. On the contrary: Housing became unaffordable in many cities. The private motor car was outlawed, pushed out, and discredited as a symbol of status (except for the posh neighbourhoods where a supercar seems to be a prerequisite to be allowed to live there). Police disappeared from our streets because crime declined, resulting in a feeling of absence of safety, further boosted by social media’s omnipresence. We believed this all is just a matter of communication, sending the right message and making people enthusiastic for this bright and just future. We did not understand that many have problems that are a lot more basic than what we were fighting for. Rather than trying to leap into the 22nd century, we probably should have looked back to the 1960s and 70s. Planners learning from Jane Jacobs and Jane Drew, from Ralph Erskine, from Nikita Khrushchev, Lyndon B. Johnson, and others could have delivered a different view on the problems we are facing and how to approach solutions: Not by philosophical debates and two or three trees planted during a community workshop, but by clear and actionable messages, big programs, and a focus on what is essential. Back to the base. The top must wait.

by Markus Appenzeller

cover image: wikimedia.org