Incrementalism as a Policy Litmus Test
(Source: Unsplash/Ömürden Cengiz.)
in anticipation of the birth of our first child, my husband and I spent a few weekends driving around neighborhoods in Waco, Texas, to look at homes that were slightly larger than the one-bedroom garage flat we’re currently renting. After surveying an array of housing options, we quickly came to realize that staying put was our best option. Yes, our garage apartment might be unconventional and perhaps a little small, but we came to see the value of living near friends, in a safe and quiet neighborhood on a pretty property with a pool. (The latter I came to appreciate even more as pregnancy advanced and with it, back pain.)
Realizing our small space would need some organizing, downsizing, and decorating, I got to work. First came the spreadsheet and the list of everything I thought we might need. One column for the item, a second for the purchasing link, a third for the price. Quickly the “price” column began to add up and I realized I’d need to maybe trim things down a bit. I admit I have, let's say, quality taste. In my ideal scenario, I’d purchase beautiful items that could last a long time: real wood dressers, breathable linen sheets, and hand-thrown pottery dishes.
Okay, okay…obviously, this is pretty unrealistic on several fronts and I realized I’d need to choose less grand but more affordable and practical items that fit our stage in life. In our age of Instagram ads that seem to read your mind and a mailbox full of tempting credit card offers, this can feel challenging, especially when it feels like a good cause: organic sheets, after all, are better for you! And isn’t it better to buy items that will last a while? On one hand, I wanted to make purchases in line with my values (quality over quantity), but I also wanted to respect the reality of our space and budget.
Ultimately, organizing the apartment came to be a two-month long exercise in learning how to, in my mom’s words, “work with what you’ve got.” Along the way, I realized something Instagram doesn’t tell you: yes, beautiful homes full of quality items are worth curating, but sometimes it takes time to get there. In other words, building a beautiful life and home is incremental. A new couch this spring, and maybe in the fall we’ll get that real wood bedroom set or a longer-lasting set of pots.
Learning to think this way about my home is equally helpful and challenging. Helpful because, contrary to the images we see on social media and the Internet, life doesn’t have to be perfect all the time. Real life happens in steps and in phases. Yet, it’s challenging because I can be impatient and I want everything to be beautiful and organized now. But, to put it in Strong Towns terms, a beautiful home isn’t built to a finished state all at once (unless you’re Martha Stewart or Joanna Gaines). In Mary Oliver’s words: “Things take the time they take. Don’t worry.” I have time to get it right.
I suspect if we can “let things take the time they take,” we’ll be better off for it, not just in becoming more patient and resourceful but also by becoming more trustworthy. After all, isn’t it by taking this incremental approach with the “small things” of life that we earn the credibility (and the wisdom) to be entrusted with bigger investments and bigger projects later on? Ideally, learning to manage a small garage flat will give me skills I need to one day manage a full house. I’ll have refined my skills, run some successful experiments, and hopefully made enough mistakes that will culminate in lessons I rely on when it’s time to manage a bigger home.
The same is true for our cities, many of which are facing serious challenges, from underfunded liabilities to housing shortages and increasing crime. We expect our public leaders to try their best to solve these problems, but we ought to expect them to solve them in an incremental way that values working with what’s on hand, implementing ideas quickly and testing to see what works. It’s not only a more effective way for finding solutions that work, but it can also serve as protection against potentially wasteful and ineffective policies.
Sure, sometimes cities have no choice but to take on complex and time-consuming processes in order to solve problems. But other times, the ideas advanced as “solutions'' could more rightly be described as “interesting ideas we could get funding for that may or may not solve the problem,” not so much the “next best step,” in an incremental process. As engaged citizens, we can weed out the difference between these two by taking time to ask a few questions: “What have we tried so far?” “Is this the simplest option?” “How will we measure results to know if this works?”
In a final bout of homemaking before our son arrived, I found myself staring at a simple cotton quilt at our local Homegoods, conflicted. Part of me wanted to invest in a much nicer linen duvet that I had found online and that I knew would last us a long time. The other part of me knew it was a little bit out of budget. I walked in circles around the store for 10 minutes, debating internally before finally taking it up to the register. Sometimes, the more affordable, less organic quilt is what you have to work with. Start simple. Upgrade later.
In our cities, we urgently need a similar mindset. Wherever and whenever possible, we should be learning to reach for the simplest solution and put it to work. While it might be “best practice” to hire the expensive consultants and conduct several studies before fixing a dangerous street, maybe we should reach for the can of paint or the bollards instead. It might be nice to buy a fleet of electric fire trucks or buses, but how can we make do with the traditional ones we have on hand while we get our finances in order? Installing solar panels and building wind farms might be trendy, but what about building a connected bike network and planting trees?
As citizens, we should be wary of solutions that represent leaps instead of hops. And those who serve as public leaders should embrace the hops. Not only are they usually simpler, leaner and cheaper, but they give you a chance to build credibility. This way, when the time comes to make bigger investments, the foundation of trust is already there. After all, it’s easier to trust someone with a lot who’s maximized having a little.
A graduate of The King's College and former journalist, Tiffany Owens Reed is a New Yorker at heart, currently living in Texas. In addition to writing for Strong Towns and freelancing as a project manager, she reads, writes, and curates content for Cities Decoded, an educational platform designed to help ordinary people understand cities. Explore free resources here and follow her on Instagram @citiesdecoded.