A Note on Past Planning Sins in America

While recognizing the inexcusable marginalization of Indigenous peoples, this country, in its current form, is relatively young. Just as an example, the societies of Europe and Asia were well established, disestablished, reshuffled, turned upside down, and rebuilt multiple times over before this country was ever thought about.

While America's founding ideals were admittedly limited to the desires of a very select few (sound familiar? Ahem... today's world), the foundations of this country were rooted in questioning the status quo. Unfortunately, systems of indentured servitude, slavery, and countless other injustices were not questioned nearly enough, and the guaranteed success of some was realized through the exploitation of others. Far too much standing on the neck, literally and figuratively. The more things change, the more they stay the same.

All of that is a necessary preface to what I am about to say.

As the wheels of European colonization were set in motion, much was done out of perceived necessity and desperation, for survival, as well as the pursuit of that longed-for self-determination. We see this in everything from the most basic physical necessities of survival to the ways these new settlements began functioning as small societies that gradually grew into larger political entities. We see it, too, in how the places people lived were ultimately designed.

What started as haphazard homebuilding and scattered settlements slowly became more organized as economies gained traction and stability. As populations grew, so did the need for systems of organization. Land had to be surveyed and divided. Goods had to move from one place to another. Services emerged to meet people's needs, and people needed ways to reach them. Towns and cities sprang up across this part of North America wherever there was access to navigable water, fertile soil, and developable land.

These places didn't emerge fully formed. They evolved, often imperfectly, responding to the needs, and biases, of the people shaping them. And because they are still relatively young, so too are many of the decisions that continue to define them today.

I recently saw a sliding-scale timeline showing, as most of us already know, just how short the history of this country in its current form really is. The establishment of the colonies. The fight for independence. Westward expansion. The Civil War. Continued segregation and the era of Jim Crow. And finally, where we find ourselves today.

A lot has happened in roughly 250 years. But I think our finite human memory, combined with our own mortality, causes us to forget that it really hasn't been all that long. The Civil Rights Act wasn't even five years old when my parents were born. My great-grandparents were young adults during the Great Depression. Time moves incredibly fast, but so do we.

I think we tend to forget just how close we still are to many of the defining moments in this country's history, regardless of our age. And yet, how quickly does the magnitude of those events fade into distant memory? Everyone experiences history differently. Our perspectives, emotions, and lived experiences shape how we remember it. But how quickly does the gravity of a moment become little more than a timestamp in our minds, especially when it isn't something that directly affected us?

And when we forget, we also forget that many of the systems and places around us were built within living memory. They weren't inevitable. They were choices. Which means they can also be changed.

Those in power, overwhelmingly white men, were trying to preserve something that didn't actually exist, even as those who had been marginalized for decades, and in many cases centuries, were finally demanding what was rightfully theirs: a place at the table. The ability to live their own lives, determine their own futures, and simply have access to what everyone else already had.

As the segregationist mindset began losing its grip on large parts of the country, it found new expression through redlining, the systematic devaluation of neighborhoods, and the use of eminent domain in the name of "urban renewal." In the middle of the twentieth century, established neighborhoods were erased, often with federal subsidies, to entice like-minded constituents back to city centers once they had been made "shiny and new." The nation itself was still relatively young, yet so many communities were sacrificed to preserve power rather than expand opportunity.

All of that is to say that while there is no way to go back and completely remedy the mistakes of the past- displacement, segregation, and the destruction of communities among them- we still have an obligation to continue moving forward and wrestle with what it means to get it right.

Have mistakes been made over the last sixty-odd years? Absolutely. Will more be made? Without question.

But as long as the conversation continues to ask- How do we bring this community into the development? Does this highway actually need to be expanded? Is this bus service meeting people's needs? Should this highway exist at all? -I still have hope for the future of this country.

That hope, however, demands participation. And I'm saying this to myself as much as anyone else.

No one can passively sit back and watch time, space, and the places around them change with indifference. When you see something wrong, call it what it is. Wrong. When someone's voice is being stifled, or they don't feel safe, step in on their behalf, with their permission. At the individual level, that's where it starts.

At a larger scale, call your representative. Call your local reporter. Organize your neighbors. Start the petition. Speak out plainly against what is wrong. Unjust. Inequitable.

The built environment has always reflected the values of the people making decisions about it. Our responsibility now is to ensure those decisions are guided by guardrails in public policy and private development that intentionally create opportunity, expand access, and promote inclusive communities rather than diminish them.

As long as people are still willing to stand up and fight for what is right in the face of injustice, I believe there is hope for this country, and a future worth building.

Does this country need to continue looking the way it always has? Absolutely not. Some things, many things, deserve to be left behind. Our long-term viability depends on it.